Free Stumptown Kid by Carol Gorman and Ron J. Findley Page A

see where Lobo was till I’d run about a half block underground.
    Finally, still running, I whipped my head around to look behind me. I could see the small light from the opening of the storm sewer way down at the end. I thought I’d see a silhouette of Lobo running between me and the light. But he wasn’t there.
    Where was he?
    I stopped, breathing hard, and stared at the light. I could see Eileen, Will, and Johnny standing in the opening like small plastic soldiers. They were looking this way, I’m sure trying to see me. But it’s impossible to see anything this far into the tunnel.
    Lobo must not have wanted to follow me into the dark of the storm sewer. If he’d never been in it before, he probably lost his nerve.
    I suddenly felt ashamed for running away. Eileen and Johnny wouldn’t congratulate me this time. All I did was act like a scared rabbit, scampering down its rabbit hole. Will would probably understand, though. He’d been too scared to say much to Lobo himself.
    A tiny pinpoint of light was shining from above me a little ways off. That meant there would be a manhole overhead where I could climb out.
    I walked to the manhole. Above me, iron bars like giant staples were cemented into the concrete. Last summer was the first year I was tall enough to reach the lowest one. Before that, I climbed on Will’s back. Anyway, I grabbed it and pulled myself up, then pushed my shoulder into the heavy manhole covering. It moved, and I shoved it to the side, climbed out, and pushed it back. I was in the field next to Hayes School.
    The sunlight was blinding. It took a full minute before I could stop squinting.
    I took a deep breath, and the air around me was hot and heavy. Feeling heavy myself from shame and embarrassment, I trudged home.
    * * *
    When I got to my front stoop, I opened the milk box and pulled out the two glass bottles. We get two quarts of milk delivered every day, and it’s my job to bring them inside. It was good I remembered to bring them in right away. Even with all the insulation in the metal box, the milk would turn bad pretty fast on a day as hot as this one.
    I was putting the milk in the Frigidaire when the telephone rang.
    “Hello?”
    “Hey, Charlie.” It was Will.
    “Hey.” I’d been hoping he’d call, but I wasn’t sure if he would. I wanted to hear what he’d say about Lobo. Maybe he’d say he didn’t blame me for running, that he was kind of scared of him, too.
    “You wanna get some kids together and play workup at the park later?” he asked.
    It was too hot to play, but I didn’t want to look like the biggest sissy in Holden, so I said, “Sure.”
    “Okay.” Then there was a long silence.
    “Hey, Will?”
    “Yeah?”
    “What did Lobo do? I mean, after I ran into the tunnel?” I had to know.
    “Oh, he just said some stuff and left. I bet he’d never been in the storm sewer before.”
    “Oh.”
    A week ago, Will would’ve called him a chicken.
    There was a
click
on the line. Then old Mrs. Whitley said, “Who’s there?”
    I sighed. “It’s me, Mrs. Whitley. I’m gettin’ off the phone in a second, okay?”
    “Well, hurry up, then,” she said. “I have to order my groceries.” She hung up.
    “I swear,” I said to Will. “We have the crabbiest people on this party line. And they’re all a bunch of busybodies. You never know who’s listenin’ in.”
    “I heard that, Charlie Nebraska!” It was Lucy Stetton, a girl in our class. Her family was on the party line with us and Mrs. Whitley.
    “Get off the phone, Lucy!” I yelled at her.
    “Too bad you ran away from Brad Lobo,” she said before slamming the phone down hard.
    Great. Now the whole town would know what a chicken I am.
    “What time we playin’ workup?” I asked Will.
    “Four-thirty,” Will said. “The McNally guys have to help their mom move furniture this afternoon so they can paint the living room.”
    “Okay,” I said. “See you.” I started to hang up. “And, um,