Part 2 (2/2)
The boy before him hesitated, his face contorted with effort. He forced a hand part way up.
Don continued to stare at him.
The other drew a sobbing breath, then turned away and knelt by the scattered books and papers.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Don wheeled to confront the other two.
”Get over by those lockers,” he ordered. ”Now, let's hear it. What's your excuse for this row?”
”Aw, you saw it. You saw that little gersal trip Gerry there.” The two had backed away, but now one of them started forward again.
”Come to think of it, you don't look so big to me.” He half turned.
”Come on, Walt, let's----”
”Be quiet!” Michaels' gaze speared out at the speaker.
”Now, get over to those lockers. Move!” He swiveled his head to examine the boy who had picked up the books.
”Put them down there by the locker,” he said coldly. ”Then get yourself over there with your pals.” He took a pad and pencil from his pocket, then pointed.
”All right. What's your name?”
”Walt ... Walter Kelton.”
”Cla.s.s group?”
”Three oh one.” The boy looked worried. ”Hey, what you----”
”I'll tell you all about it--later.” Don scribbled on the top sheet of the pad, then tore it off. He pointed again.
”What's your name?”
”Aw, now, look. We----”
”Your name!”
”Aw ... Gerald Kelton.”
”Cla.s.s group?”
”Aw, same as his. We're brothers.”
”What's the number of your cla.s.s group?”
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