Free Dexter the Tough by Margaret Peterson Haddix

hands. “Keep writing about the fight.”

Chapter 19
    R obin was back in the grass at recess. Once again, he was tearing up blades of grass and dropping them on the ground. Dexter paced around the playground, watching. He told himself there were plenty of other things he could do—maybe he should join the kickball game, after all. But he kept circling back toward Robin. His third time around, he finally walked right over to him.
    Robin barely glanced up.
    â€œHey,” Dexter said.
    â€œHey,” Robin said. He tore another blade of grass in half.
    Dexter sat down.
    â€œI thought you were helping the janitor,” he said.
    Robin shrugged.
    â€œIt’s no fun alone,” he said.
    Dexter thought about pointing out that if Robin was helping the janitor, he wouldn’t be alone. He’d be with the janitor. But Dexter knew what Robin meant. Robin wouldn’t have fun helping the janitor without Dexter helping, too.
    Robin peeled three more blades of grass down to their veins.
    Dexter picked up one of the grass pieces Robin dropped.
    â€œI bet nobody could ever glue this back together,” he said. “Not even with superglue.”
    â€œI guess not,” Robin said. But he stopped tearing up blades of grass and started watching Dexter.
    Dexter lined up the ripped pieces of grass on a bare patch of ground. He made a pattern: short, long, short, long. He curved the line of grass into a curlicue.
    â€œEver done something you wanted to take back?” he asked Robin.
    â€œSure,” Robin said.
    â€œLike what?” Dexter asked, still moving grass strips around.
    â€œWell . . . one time I fed my dog a Hershey’s bar,” Robin said. “Mom told me a million times that Petunia can’t have people food, but I just thought, everybody loves chocolate. It’s mean not to give Petunia some. So I did.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Dexter asked.
    â€œPetunia got really, really sick,” Robin said.
    â€œAnd you wanted to take back the chocolate, but you couldn’t, because it was too late?” Dexter said.
    Robin frowned at him.
    â€œSort of. But Petunia got so sick that she threw everything up, so it was kind of like she did give the candy back.”
    Dexter made a disgusted face.
    â€œYuck,” he said.
    â€œYeah, it was really gross,” Robin said. But he sounded happy about it.
    Dexter had run out of grass pieces. He hadn’t put any grass blades back together, but he’d made a cool design.
    â€œI want to take something back, too,” Dexter said. “Something I can’t change at all.”
    â€œWhat?” Robin said.
    â€œI’m sorry I beat you up,” Dexter said, the words coming out in a rush.
    Robin squinted at him, puzzled.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” he said. “You never beat me up.”
    â€œHuh?” Dexter said, letting out such a great huff of air that he scattered all the loose pieces of grass. “What are you talking about? Of course I beat you up! Remember? In the bathroom? When you were crying? My first day at school?”
    â€œThat? That wasn’t beating me up,” Robin said.
    â€œYes it was!” Dexter had never expected to have to fight about whether or not they’d had a fight. “I hit you all those times, you didn’t hit back—I won!”
    Robin stared at him, his jaw dropped.
    â€œDexter, you only hit me once,” he said.
    â€œThat’s crazy!” Dexter said. “I hit you with my fist, and then—”
    He tried to remember. He could see his fist crashing into Robin’s jaw. He’d played that scene in his mind so many times. But what had happened next?
    â€œYou yelled at me,” Robin said. “You screamed, ‘Stop crying! Don’t ever cry! Don’t let anyone see you cry!’ ”
    Dexter remembered that. He remembered how much he’d wanted to cry, how close he’d come to letting the tears