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Real night started cohosts Emma tinkled her little crystal bell to call o, but couldn't do it

So was in the hollow tree behind me I turned and crawled out of s inside! Phew! I putaround for what I couldn't see So had a collar around its neck with points that cutClover?

I sobbed, ith fear

They'd think I did it

They were always thinking I did everything that was bad And I'd loved Clover, I had Alanted him to like me more than Jory Now poor Clover would never live in that wonderful doghouse I'd finish someday

Jory ca for me "Come out from where you are, Bart! Don't make waves now that we're all ready to leave"

Found me a new place he didn't know about and lay flat on my stomach

Jory left Next came my mother "Bart," she called, "if you don't come insidePlease, Bart I'" I sniffed away my tears of self-pity I had only accidently du I could help Hoas I to know one small box could make a whole ocean of suds? Foamy suds that filled the kitchen This time it was Daddy "Bart," he called in a normal voice, "come in and eat your dinner No need to sulk We knohat you did was an accident You are forgiven We realize you were trying to help Emma So come in"

On and on I sat, feeling guilty forthem suffer more Panic had been in Momma's voice, as if she really did love ht? Wasn't fit for her to love

The pain in my knee was much worse Maybe I had lockjaw Kids at school had told ether so you couldn't eat,doctors knock out your front teeth so they could put a tube in your mouth and you could suck in soup Soon the a down our street, and, with me inside it, would sound its siren all the way to Daddy's hospital They'd rush eon would shout: "Off with his rotten, stinking leg!" They'd hack it off short, and I'd be left with a stump full of poison that would put me in my coffin

Then they'd put me in that cemetery in Clairmont, South Carolina Aunt Carrie would be at my side, and at last she'd have someone small like her to keep her company But I wouldn't be Cory I was me, the black sheep of the family--so John A with his "choppers"

On my back, with my arms crossed overupward as I waited for winter to co Marave Bet they wouldn't bring rave I'd stiffly s them know I liked the killer Spanish moss much better than I liked the smelly roses with prickly thorns

My faround, in the dark, forever and ever When at last I was in the cold-cold ground, and the snow lay all around, I wouldn't have to pretend to be like Malcolm Neal Foxworth I pictured Malcolm when he was old Frail, with thin hair and a li than John Aly

Just in the nick of ti all of Momma's problems and Cindy could live on and on in peace Now that I was dead

Wounds of War