Free Me and Rupert Goody by Barbara O'Connor Page B

buttoned the door, Rupert, Uncle Beau, and Jake would walk me home. Rupert liked to pull the leaves off the rhododendrons beside the road. He’d spread them out like a fan and wave them in my face. (That irritated the heck out of me.) When we got to Arrowhead Road, Rupert would say, “Adios, Jennalee.” Every time. Don’t ask me where he ever learned that, but that’s what he said. Every time.
    The end of July, I had to go to vacation Bible school at Mountain Creek Baptist Church. I’ve been going there since I was little, cause Mama makes us go there so she can visit her sister in Raleigh and know where we are till Daddy comes home. Now, except for Ruth and Jimmy, we were old enough to stay by ourselves, but Mama kept signing us up for vacation Bible school anyway. Vernon and Marny just flat don’t go. John Elliott goes just so he can talk to girls. Me, I go for the arts and crafts.
    The first day, I sat at a picnic table in the shade and used a strip of rawhide to sew up a leather wallet with a bear carved on one side and an Indian chief on the other. Imagine my surprise when I heard Rupert’s voice say, “Hey, Jennalee.”

    There was Rupert, peeking out of the bushes.
    â€œRupert?” I said, even though I knew it was him.
    â€œIt’s me. Rupert Goody.”
    â€œWhat you doing in there?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œYou spying on me?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen what you doing?”
    â€œNothing.”
    I looked around. I didn’t especially want Rupert Goody at vacation Bible school. Groups of kids were scattered around the churchyard making lanyards and wallets or painting posters of Bible stories. Nobody seemed to notice Rupert.
    â€œGet on home,” I snarled into the bushes.
    Rupert just stood there, staring at the wallet in my hand.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with you? I said get on home.”
    â€œWhat you doing?” he said.
    â€œMaking something. Now, go away.”
    â€œWhat you making?”
    â€œThis here’s a wallet.” I jabbed the air with the wallet. “What does it look like?”
    Somebody’s hand grabbed the wallet from me. I whirled around. Kevin Rochester and his gang of nitwit friends.
    â€œWhat you doing, Jennalee?” Kevin said.
    â€œNone of your damn business.”
    â€œWho’s that?” He pointed to Rupert, who ducked farther into the bushes.

    â€œNone of your damn business.”
    â€œWhat’s he doing in there?”
    â€œNone of your damn business.”
    I heard Rupert rustling in the bushes. Why did he have to go messing up everything I do?
    Kevin tossed my wallet on the picnic table. “I know who that is,” he said. “I seen that retard over at Uncle Beau’s.”
    To describe what happened in the next few minutes is going to be hard, cause it was a big jumble of craziness. I remember my fingernails digging into the palm of my hand when I made a fist. I remember the feel of Kevin’s shirt button on my knuckles when I punched him in the stomach. And I remember Kevin’s “oomph.”
    When Miss Gainer came running over all hysterical, I picked up my wallet, tossed my hair out of my eyes, and headed off down the road. I could hear her behind me, hollering, “You come back here, Jennalee Helton!” Kids were laughing and yelling and I didn’t even look back.
    By the time I got to Uncle Beau’s, Rupert was sitting on the porch steps looking like a beat dog. I climbed the steps and looked down at him with my hands on my hips.
    â€œYou shouldn’t’ve done that, Rupert Goody!” I hollered.
    I stomped into the store and told Uncle Beau what happened.
    â€œYou’re right, Jennalee,” he said. “Rupert shouldn’t’ve done that.”
    â€œHe should’ve stayed where he belongs. What’s he mean coming over there to church like that?”

    Uncle Beau nodded. “He should’ve stayed