Free Johnny Long Legs by Matt Christopher Page A

jabbed Johnny's shoulder. “Come on,” said Jim Sain. “Grab your English book.”
    Johnny followed him to a classroom down the hall. Students passed back and forth in the hallway in droves, their arms loaded
     with books. Boys greeted Jim and looked at Johnny appraisingly.
    Johnny saw Toby and for the first time felt like smiling. “Hi, Toby.”
    “Hi, Johnny. How are you doing? Hi, Jim.”
    “Hi,” said Jim.
    Johnny wanted to stop a moment and talk with his stepbrother. But Jim kept walking and Johnny didn't have a chance to.
What's the matter with the guy?
Johnny asked himself.
Is it my fault that Miss Abby asked him to show me to my classes?
    At lunchtime, twelve-fifteen, the two boys walked down the long white corridor to the cafeteria.
    “You stand in line here to buy lunch,” grunted Jim.
    Johnny looked around for Toby. “When do the seventh graders eat?” he asked.
    “They already have,” answered Jim. “We're the last ones.” He looked at Johnny and chuckled. “That makes us big shots, I guess.”
    They got their lunches and carried them to the long tables. Johnny started to follow Jim, then paused when Jim put his tray
     on the table and sat between two boys. Thenext vacant place was five chairs away. Johnny went to it, placed his tray on the table, and sat down.
    Several girls sitting across from him were talking in soft tones and laughing, and for a minute he wondered whether they were
     laughing at him. After a while he realized they were talking about some girl's hair style.
    “Are you Toby's cousin?” asked the boy next to him.
    “Stepbrother,” said Johnny.
    “I'm Bert Buttons,” said the boy. He had a mop of blond hair and lots of freckles. “Guys call me Stitch.”
    He held out a hand and Johnny took it.
    “Stitch, huh?” Johnny grinned. “I'm Johnny Reese.”
    “I've never seen you before.”
    “Came Saturday,” said Johnny.
    “From where?”
    “New York City.”
    He lifted his glass of milk. Just as he started to drink it someone bumped his head and half of the milk spilled over his
     shirtfront and pants.
    “Oh! Sorry!”
    Johnny looked around. Jim Sain was standing there, a faint, apologetic smile on his face.
    Instant anger flashed in Johnny's eyes. He felt like belting Jim, but he controlled himself and didn't move.
    “What happened?” asked a sharp, adult voice.
    Johnny saw a man in a black suit and green tie looking at them from the next table.
    “I bumped into him,” confessed Jim. “And the milk spilled on his shirt.”
    Johnny wiped the milk from his clothes with a napkin. Jim might have bumped him by accident but there was a lot of room between
     the chairs. And the way Jim had been acting toward him…
    “I saw it happen,” said one of the girls. “Jim did it on purpose.”
    “I did not!” Jim snarled. “Anyway, who asked for your two cents?”
    He suddenly swung off to the kitchen with his tray, then stamped out of the cafeteria with long, bold strides.
    Johnny looked at the girl. Her brown eyes matched her thick shoulder-length hair. “Are you sure he did it on purpose?”
    “Yes, I'm sure. If I were you I'd knock his block off.”
    “Enough of that, Karen.” The man in the black suit had come over and was standing behind Johnny. “I'll speak to Jim about
     this,”he said. “You're the new boy, aren't you? Johnny Reese?”
    “Yes. But you don't have to speak to him, sir. It could have been an accident.”
    “I'll speak to him anyway.” The man smiled, patted Johnny on the shoulder, and left.
    “That's Mr. Thomas,” said Stitch. “He'll speak to Jim, but I doubt if it'll do any good.”
    “He's a punk,” said the girl.
    Johnny finished his lunch, feeling better now that someone had come on his side. Jim was a strange one, all right. His type
     was the last Johnny had expected to see here in Lansburg.
    “Do you play basketball?” asked Stitch.
    “Some,” replied Johnny.
    “Maybe you can play with us. We're the White Cats. Toby's on