Free The Word Eater by Mary Amato Page A

me.”
    Bobby’s chest tightened. Warily, he looked at his father, waiting for another insult to fly.
    Mr. Nitz looked back at him with clear eyes. “I feel a little funny. Funny in a good way. How about you?”
    â€œHow about me?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou’re asking me how I feel?” Bobby squinted up at his dad.
    Mr. Nitz shrugged, smiling. “Seems like a simple enough question.”
    â€œIt’s just that you don’t usually say stuff like that.”
    â€œI don’t? Well, old dogs can learn new tricks.” He sat down next to Bobby on the steps. “We were talking about Ripper, weren’t we?”
    The tightness in Bobby’s chest moved to his throat. Why wasn’t his father yelling at him? “You won’t believe me. But I swear I didn’t let Ripper out.”
    Behind the curtain in her room, Lerner winced. Bobby was going to tell his dad that it was her fault. She closed her eyes and waited to hear him blurt it out.
    â€œMaybe it isn’t anybody’s fault,” Bobby said. “Maybe Ripper just got out.”
    Lerner opened her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Bobby Nitz was not a tattler.
    â€œMaybe you’re right,” Mr. Nitz said.
    Bobby looked up, surprised that his father was agreeing. He caught sight of Lerner in her window.
    She ducked behind the curtain. Inside her room, she gazed down at the magical little worm in her hand. “Go, Fip!”
    Fip could sense an incredible energy vibrating from Lerner’s entire being. This was more like it. All the tension of yesterday melted away, and Fip skinched around on her palm with joy.

    Later on in the day, the Nitzes came over to talk about the “school situation,” as Mr. Chanse said. Lerner didn’t stare at Mr. Nitz, although she wanted to. She could tell he’d changed, though, in a matter of minutes. There was a bright, pleasant atmosphere in the room, even though they were gathered to talk about serious school problems. And Mrs. Nitz kept looking over at her husband with the same expression you see on people’s faces when they open their doors in the spring and discover that all their daffodils have bloomed.
    Mr. Chanse cleared his throat. “Well, I have to say I’m confused. It sounds like we’ve got a big mess here. I’m sure that one person isn’t to blame for everything. I think we’ll be able to sort it out if you each accept the blame for whatever mistakes you made.”
    Lerner nodded. She knew it was pointless to tell the truth. Parents preferred simple apologies. “I took a dare that would have gotten Bobby into trouble. And I stole candy bars and quarters from a vending machine. And I was really the one responsible for getting rid of Mr. Droan’s tests. . . .” She hoped they wouldn’t ask how. “And I can’t really say what happened to Ripper, but I wished he would disappear.” She stopped.
    Bobby cleared his throat, and everybody looked at him. He was sitting on the edge of acushioned footstool, jiggling his feet, one on top of the other. “I did a lot of wrong things,” Bobby said.
    There was a long, awkward silence. Lerner held her breath. He didn’t sound the way he sounded when he was talking back to Mr. Droan or Ms. Findley.
    â€œI hate it,” he finally said and looked up. “I hate it.”
    â€œHate what?” Mr. Chanse asked.
    â€œSchool. The MPOOE Club. Everyone in it.” His words were like the red-hot coil of an electric broiler, and the truth of his hatred radiated out like heat.
    The grown-ups shifted back a little in their seats. It wasn’t exactly a detailed confession, but the emotion underlying what he said was so big that they didn’t want to push it any further.
    â€œWell then,” Mrs. Chanse said. Everybody stood up.
    The Chanses grounded Lerner, made her apologize to Bobby, gave her extra chores to pay for the