Free The Sledding Hill by Chris Crutcher Page B

character in the story who, after many attempts, finally stands up loud and strong, like Chad wishes he could. “I just kept going back and reading the parts about him. When Ms. Lloyd told us to pass the book in, I almost couldn’t breathe. Itfelt like I lost a friend I can’t get back. Hey, could we slow down a little?”
    Eddie slows more, smiles, trying to tell Chad without words that everything’s cool, but Chad is way too wrapped up in getting it all out to read him. “Man, my family.” He stops. “I’m gay, Eddie.”
    Eddie stops with him, shrugs.
    â€œMy dad’s a decathlon champion, my brother’s got a scholarship to play football at Michigan, and I’m a frigging homo.”
    Eddie lays his hand on Chad’s shoulder.
    â€œAnyway,” Chad says, “I know they want you to start talking again, but don’t tell anybody, okay? I mean, I know you’re getting baptized and joining YFC and everything, but you always seemed like somebody a guy can tell stuff. I always wanted to be friends with you and Billy, but you guys were always off on your own. Don’t tell anybody, okay? Please?”
    Eddie zips his lips.
    â€œThanks, man,” Chad says. “I was so scared to sayanything, except I was more scared not to, like I was going to blow up. We’re supposed to come out all together for getting rid of that book, YFC, I mean, only I can’t. I just can’t. It would be like turning my back on a friend or something.”
    Eddie nods.
    I whip over into Chad and experience the massive relief. They start jogging, slow. “I’m scared all the time,” Chad says after a couple hundred yards cooling down. “I’m scared people will find out, scared they already know. I’m scared somebody might do something like they did with that kid in Laramie, Wyoming.”
    Eddie makes a fist and shakes his head no. Eddie Proffit doesn’t weigh 125 pounds. The only kid in our class he could whip with his fists checked out under a hail of Sheetrock. But if you saw him make the fist, you’d believe no harm will come to Chad Nash on Eddie Proffit’s watch.

10
H OLY W AR W HOLLY D ECLARED
    â€œD ang, it feels good to talk ,” Eddie says. He and my dad are having lunch in the janitor’s room with me, only I’m not eating and they don’t know I’m here, and Eddie is catching up full speed.
    â€œThis is the place to do it,” Dad says, nodding toward the door. “Door’s three inches thick and locked. The band could be playing the “1812” Overture in here and not a soul could hear it. What did you bring me?”
    Eddie reaches into his lunch sack and brings out twoextra turkey sandwiches and a thermos of clam chowder.
    â€œThis is such a great trade-off. All I have to do is let you talk and I get lunch.”
    â€œAnd you don’t even have to listen,” Eddie says.
    â€œTrue, but I do, because I am an educator who believes in showing respect to my customers, unlike some I know.”
    Eddie chuckles.
    My dad says, “Oh, I don’t get to call myself an educator?”
    â€œWell, you’re the…yeah, I guess.”
    â€œYeah, I guess,” Dad says. “I may come face-to-face with more students in a day than any teacher in this building. And I almost always deliver.”
    â€œAnd you’re pretty smart,” Eddie says.
    â€œAnd I’m way smart, as you guys like to say,” Dad says back.
    â€œWhat do you think about Mr. West challenging Warren Peece? ”
    Dad says, “Tell me this doesn’t have the reverend’s fingerprints all over it.”
    â€œI’m glad you said that,” Eddie says. “He put me on the fast track to salvation, so I have a feeling he has plans for me.”
    â€œFast track?”
    Eddie explains how, for the next few weeks, his life will have about three hours a day without Tarter in it. It’s an