Here’s something I think about sometimes. I wonder if bullies like Doolin and his fiends ever feel really bad about what they do? And if they don’t, why the heck not? What is wrong with these idiots?
Anyway, I finally caught up with Norman back at the cabin. Rusty watched me go. I think he was okay with it. Maybe he even understood how Norman must have felt?
“Go away,” Norman said when I came in. He was already on his bunk with a book but not really reading. He didn’t even have his glasses on.
“Doolin’s a world-class butt-wipe. We both know that,” I said. “Don’t worry about him.”
“I’m not worried,” he told me, but it sounded like he was trying not to cry.
Maybe I should have let it drop right there. But I didn’t.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said. “Why do you even come to this camp? It sure doesn’t seem like you’re having any fun. And don’t say it’s because you need extra school, because I’m pretty sure you’ve got the biggest brain in the whole camp.”
Norman rolled over then and looked me right in the eye.
“Do you seriously want to know?” he asked.
“I swear I won’t tell anyone,” I said. That’s not what he asked, but I think that’s what he meant.
Finally, he sat up and put down the book.
“I guess you could say my dad’s not a very nice guy,” he said.
“Oh,” I said. And then, “Wait. What do you mean?”
“Well… he doesn’t have a job, for one thing,” Norman said. “If I was home all summer, it would just be him and me, every day, and we don’t really get along. He says he yells at me to toughen me up, but I think it’s just ’cause he’s mad all the time.”
“Mad at you?” I said.
Norman shrugged. “I think he wanted a different kind of son,” he said.
I kind of knew how he felt. It made me think of Bear, my mom’s old boyfriend who used to live with us. He never had a job either. He just hung out on the couch, taking up space and telling me what a loser I was.
And I thought—where do these guys come from, anyway? Like, if we had summer school for dummies, did they have grown-up school for annoying jerks?
As long as he was spilling, Norman told me all those books of his were from his school library back home. The librarian was kind of a friend (no surprise), and she let him borrow a whole bunch for the summer, as long as he brought them back in the fall. That’s why he kept them locked up like that.
It was getting way too heavy inside the cabin. I mean, seriously heavy.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s do something crazy. You want to run down and jump in the lake?”
“No, thanks,” Norman said. He got up and started heading for the door. “I’m going to go back down to the play.”