April 3, 1970

Finding the Worm

I found a note in my coat pocket when I got to school. It was from Howie. He must have slipped it in there during the bus ride this morning.

Dear Julian,

So here’s the thing I wanted to say before except I couldn’t say it when we were talking in front of your house on account of I’m so ashamed because I did you dirt even though you didn’t do nothing to me except hurt my feelings which you did even though you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s been eating at me for a long time, but I wasn’t ever going to tell you except ever since I saw how you stuck up for Quentin a couple of weeks ago and got beat up, it’s been eating at me even more, and I can’t take it anymore, so I got to tell you that I’m the one who messed up Beverly’s painting and got you in trouble. I thought you were sweet on her on account of how you always stopped to look at it, which it turned out maybe you were, but then it turned out she was sweet on you, so maybe it’s not your fault. But anyway Lonnie says I got no right to be sore because that’s just how life is. Even though I think it’s wrong. So anyway if you want to tell Principal Salvatore and get me in trouble, you can. I won’t be mad. I know I’ve got it coming.

Your friend,
Howie

I read the note a couple of times, then tore it up and threw it out. What else could I do? Telling on Howie wasn’t going to get me off the hook with Principal Salvatore. That much I knew for sure.

When I saw Howie over lunch, I walked around the table and whispered in his ear that I wasn’t mad. He looked up at me in a grateful way. Then he gave me a soft punch in the shoulder, which was his way of saying things were back to normal between us.

The rest of the guys gave us a quick look. It must’ve seemed like a strange thing, with me whispering to Howie and then Howie punching me. But a second later, they went back to their lunches, and I walked back around to my usual side of the table and sat down next to Lonnie.