And Don't Bring Jeremy Read Online Free PDF Page A

knew he was different, but it still hurt at times. Like in the baseball games. I sure was glad that he wouldn’t be embarrassing me there anymore.
    I told Mr. Gordon about Jeremy’s dropping out at our next practice. Eddie’s father was short and wiry like Eddie, only his hair was a much darker red, almost brown, and when he took off his cap I could see it was thinning on top. But he still had good muscles; it was plain to see by the way he moved that he’d been a fine athlete when he was younger.
    Mr. Gordon stared at me for a moment, then said, “I understand, Adam. I suppose it’s best all the way around.”
    I nodded. He reminded me of a sergeant in the army—strict but fair, although he did come down heavy on Eddie when he made an error, even in practice. I guess he just wanted his own son to be the very best.
    Eddie realized that Jeremy wasn’t at practice when our half of the team was taking turns hitting. It was his turn at bat, then mine.
    “Where’s Jeremy?” he asked me.
    “He dropped out,” I said.
    Eddie laughed. “Good move. Too bad he didn’t do it sooner. Next he should think about dropping out of school and going to a place for dummies.”
    I walked away. I could hear Mark, who was playing catcher, say, “Hey, Gordon, you’re a jerk. You know that?”
    Then Eddie’s voice, aggrieved. “What do you mean? Adam knows I’m only kidding.” He came over to me and put his arm around my shoulders. “You know I’m kidding, don’t you, Adam?”
    I nodded, not knowing what else I could do. Eddie had become very important to me. I didn’t want to risk losing his friendship by fighting over Jeremy.
    Of course I didn’t like it when Eddie made cracks about Jeremy, but I could understand why he and some other kids did it. Sometimes Jeremy just seemed to be asking for it—the funny way he walked, how he always looked sloppy. And those times he acted silly and had a giggling fit. I often wondered if Jeremy was looking for attention and didn’t care that the only attention he got was being made fun of.
    Besides, I knew that Eddie wasn’t really mean or anything. And lately he’d been acting especially nice to me. He showed me how he threw his curveball and worked with me until I got it. And a few nights before that I went over to his house for dinner. After we ate he went through his collection of baseball cards and gave me a big pack of doubles, almost thirty cards. When it came time for me to leave, I thanked Mr. and Mrs. Gordon. She was a real quiet lady. She hardly said a word during dinner. When I said good-bye to Eddie, he kept grinning and patting me on the back, like he was real glad to have me as his friend. Suddenly I wished that Eddie was my brother instead of Jeremy—Jeremy who had never helped me or taught me anything in his entire life.
    Most school days around four o’clock, after Danny and I worked on the sets for the sixth-grade play, the four of us—Danny, Eddie, Mark, and I—would play softball in the school yard. Other kids started coming, too, and we’d have about six men on a side. Sometimes during the games I found myself hoping that nothing would go wrong for Eddie, because if things didn’t go just so, he could blow his stack. Like the time Mark fielded his pop-up and caught it low to the ground. Eddie had reached first and insisted that the ball had touched the ground and that he was safe on base. But everyone told him he was wrong, even his own teammates. He didn’t like it any better when Danny and I chimed in and said that Mark was right. He just narrowed his eyes and walked off the base. A shiver ran up my spine. Still, he was learning to keep quiet and not make a fuss about every little thing. I guess it bothered me to see him act like he had to make a hit every time he was up at bat. Where did he ever get such a weird idea? Even the professional ball players struck out and made errors. And Eddie was one of the best ball players around.
    Jeremy couldn’t stand