BRAD’S SITUATION
Saturday morning Justin phoned Brad to see if they could get together. Mrs. Beatty answered the phone and right away said Brad was grounded and couldn’t have visitors. Brad would be spending his Saturday washing windows, she told Justin. He was about to hang up when Mrs. Beatty asked if he’d be willing to help out. She even offered to pay him. Justin thanked Mrs. Beatty and said he’d be over in half an hour. He needed the money, and he and Brad could talk while they washed windows.
Brad looked awful, but he seemed really glad to see Justin. Mrs. Beatty had them stand on ladders to wash the outside of the windows while she polished the inside glass. They didn’t get a chance to say much. She did all the talking, mostly pointing out streaks they’d left on the glass. When she wasn’t complaining about their window-washing techniques, she was running down Brad’s dad.
Once Justin cracked a joke, and Brad laughed so hard he dropped his cloth.
“Will you be serious, Brad?” his mother yelled. “I swear, you are just like your father!”
Brad got real serious after that. He was obviously upset. Justin wondered how Mrs. Beatty could say such bad things about his dad and then say Brad was just like him. Besides, it wasn’t even true. Justin had never seen Brad’s father laugh about anything.
Later the two boys escaped up to Brad’s room for a few minutes and took turns using the binoculars to look into the mockingbird nest, which now held two babies. The parents flew back and forth feeding them, but the young ones never seemed to get enough.
“I wish I could feed them,” Brad said wistfully.
Justin didn’t tell Brad that feeding animals was one of his biggest problems. Baby birds might eat a lot, but not as much as a goat and a rabbit.
“Can you stay awhile?” Brad asked.
Before Justin could answer, Mrs. Beatty called from downstairs, “Time for you to go, Justin. You know Brad is grounded, and that means no visitors.”
“When are you coming back to school?” Justin asked quickly.
Brad shrugged his skinnier-than-ever shoulders. “Maybe never. Mother’s trying to get them to take me back, but my father thinks I ought to be sent to a military school. They’re still fighting about it. I can’t tell who’s winning.” He looked at Justin with sad brown eyes. It reminded Justin of the way Little Billy had looked at them when he was locked in the garage and thought he would never get out.
“Ah, they’ll let you come back after spring break,” Justin said, although he had no way of knowing if that was true. He turned to go, then thought of something that might make Brad feel a little better.
“You gotta come back. Now that I don’t have you there to practice with at lunchtime, my ball playing’s gone to pot.”
“Justin!” Brad’s mother called, her voice sharper than before.
When Justin got downstairs Mrs. Beatty was standing there holding his jacket in one hand and a five-dollar bill in the other. “This is for your share of the work,” she said.
“Thanks,” Justin mumbled. He hopped on his bike, glad to be getting away. Brad’s house had plenty of windows, but in some ways it seemed worse than Grimsted’s garage.