At recess everyone is talking about Toulouse.
Everyone but me. I’m not talking to anyone, nor is anyone talking to me. They’re all talking together by the swing set, and I’m hanging by my knees from the climbing structure next to them, the one that’s a ladder that goes up, then bends horizontally, then bends back down, ending up on the ground again. Climb it and you end up no higher than you started. A pointless ladder. A ladder to nowhere.
I do listen, though.
Monique says, “He never speaks.”
Ursula: “He doesn’t speak English.”
Monique: “He has a briefcase.”
Ursula: “He keeps an ink bottle in his briefcase.”
Hubcap: “Yeah! And a tie.”
Ursula: “His eyes are huge.”
Monique: “He’s little.”
Ursula: “He’s odd.”
Garrett: “He’s seriously weird. Look at him!”
Hubcap: “Yeah, look at him!”
He points at a tree at the edge of the playground. Toulouse is perched on a high branch, reading.
I jump down from the Ladder to Nowhere and walk over to Toulouse’s tree. He’s holding an old hardcover book, the kind without a jacket. It looks enormous in his tiny lap.
“Excuse me? Toulouse?” I call to him. “I’m Woodrow? You know … from … I’m in your group?”
He looks up from his book and says, “Who?” It’s the first word I’ve heard him say. His voice is whispery and hollow. Kind of ghostlike. Kind of flutey. Kind of spooky.
“Woodrow?” I say again. “I’m in … I sit next … you don’t remember?”
He nods yes, then sits waiting for me to say something else. The problem is that I don’t have anything else. Striking up conversations is not something I’m good at.
So we stare at each other for a while.
Quite a while.
Then at last I think of something to say.
“I like your hat.”
He nods thank you.
“What’s that you’re reading?” I ask. I’m warming up.
He turns the book toward me, though I’m not sure why. I can’t possibly read its title from way down here.
“Is it good?”
He nods yes.
I run out of things to say again, so we go back to staring.
In time, the bell rings. Toulouse doesn’t move.
“That means it’s time to … you know … go in?”
I look away, point to the students all rushing to get in line. When I look back, he’s not on his branch anymore. I gasp. I mean, the guy was really high. Did he fall?
No. He’s standing next to me. How did he get down so fast?
We walk together toward the others. Toulouse comes up to my elbow, even with his hat on.
“Hey, Woody!” Garrett howls. “I think you finally found someone weirder than you!”
He always calls me Woody. He’s the only one who does, except Hubcap, who repeats everything Garrett says.
“Yeah, Woody!” Hubcap echoes. “Even weirder than you!”
Toulouse seems calm, like being insulted doesn’t bother him. I’ve lived in this country since I was born, and have gone to Uwila Elementary since kindergarten, and I still get upset when Garrett taunts me. I’m impressed how Toulouse doesn’t let him ruffle his feathers.
“Ignore them,” I whisper.
“Who?” he says.
“Exactly,” I say.