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Authors: Kathryn Erskine
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the Devon-ness of the list will give me the answer but it doesn’t.
I look up at Devon’s carving of SCOUT and wonder if I can still be Scout if the person who called me Scout is now gone. I still want to be Scout for him. Devon said, If you want to be a Scout you have to Work At It. I know he was talking about Boy Scouts and Eagle Scouts but he also said that about anything I had to do. You have to Work At It Scout. I KNOW, I told him because he said it a lot lot lot and sometimes I don’t want to hear the same thing over and over and over. Especially if it’s hard. And Work At It is VERY hard. I Work At It ALL the time. My whole day is Work At It. Sometimes I don’t want to Work At It anymore. Like when I FINALLY get my own friend and then Mrs. Brook TAKES HIM AWAY FROM ME! It’s just—too—HARD! It’s—NOT—FAIR!
I hear Dad calling my name but I don’t want to come out of my hidey-hole. I’m busy stuffed-animaling the carving of SCOUT. It’s warm and soft and quiet and safe in here. And I don’t have to Work At It. I’m thinking about staying here. Living here. Forever.
Finally when Dad says, Answer me please Caitlin! I answer because he asked nicely.
The door opens. Caitlin? His voice sounds funny. Are you in here?
I’m under the dresser.
What are you doing in here?
Thinking.
Thinking about what?
Thinking I’m going to stay here and make this my room now.
Oh? Why?
It was always supposed to be mine. I asked Devon if I could have it.
He’s quiet for a minute. Then he takes a deep breath. When Devon was gone to college.
He IS gone.
I hear the squishy breathy sound of Devon’s mattress squishing. But . . . he’s not just gone to college. He’s gone . . . forever.
I don’t tell Dad that I didn’t ask Devon if I could have his room when he was gone. I asked him a different way.
And Devon said it was a weird way and I shouldn’t say it like that and I asked why.
He said people would get upset.
I don’t want Dad to get upset.
So I don’t say what I really said: Can I have your room when you’re dead?
I think maybe I understand what Devon meant. Because now I have a recess feeling in my stomach.
I slide out from my hidey-hole and crawl past Dad’s shoes to my room. I get a clean piece of paper and make a sign. It says, Devon’s Room, and I draw Devon’s eyes in the top left corner. In the top right corner I draw his mouth with his lips curled up to show he’s happy. I draw his crooked nose in the bottom left corner. His chest is in the bottom right corner. It’s still not finished. And I guess it never will be.
CHAPTER 19
SHOES
EARLY TUESDAY MORNING RACHEL Lockwood comes into class and her face is scratched up and purple. Her left arm and leg are bandaged. Everyone crowds around her saying, Oh my gosh! What happened? Are you okay?
I fell off my bike, Rachel says.
How? someone asks.
I was riding past the middle school and I heard sirens and I thought there was another shooting.
Oh my gosh! Was there? a girl asks.
No—duh! a boy says. We would’ve heard by now.
Rachel shakes her head. No. But I was watching the police car coming up the road so I wasn’t watching where I was going and I went off the sidewalk and fell off my bike. She looks down. It really hurt. I was riding so fast to try to get away because I was scared of being shot like . . . She stops talking and turns to me. So does everyone else. It is very quiet.
You should watch where you’re going when you’re riding a bike, I tell her. That’s what Devon always told me.
Some people turn away and some shake their heads but I know I’m right. Emma and some of the other girls stand around Rachel so she is in the middle of a circle and they are all staring at her. I wouldn’t like that so I stare at them and hope they get the message to leave her alone.
Finally Rachel asks if her face looks really bad and Emma says, Of course not. It looks totally fine.
Rachel says, Really? She looks around and her eyes
I look up at Devon’s carving of SCOUT and wonder if I can still be Scout if the person who called me Scout is now gone. I still want to be Scout for him. Devon said, If you want to be a Scout you have to Work At It. I know he was talking about Boy Scouts and Eagle Scouts but he also said that about anything I had to do. You have to Work At It Scout. I KNOW, I told him because he said it a lot lot lot and sometimes I don’t want to hear the same thing over and over and over. Especially if it’s hard. And Work At It is VERY hard. I Work At It ALL the time. My whole day is Work At It. Sometimes I don’t want to Work At It anymore. Like when I FINALLY get my own friend and then Mrs. Brook TAKES HIM AWAY FROM ME! It’s just—too—HARD! It’s—NOT—FAIR!
I hear Dad calling my name but I don’t want to come out of my hidey-hole. I’m busy stuffed-animaling the carving of SCOUT. It’s warm and soft and quiet and safe in here. And I don’t have to Work At It. I’m thinking about staying here. Living here. Forever.
Finally when Dad says, Answer me please Caitlin! I answer because he asked nicely.
The door opens. Caitlin? His voice sounds funny. Are you in here?
I’m under the dresser.
What are you doing in here?
Thinking.
Thinking about what?
Thinking I’m going to stay here and make this my room now.
Oh? Why?
It was always supposed to be mine. I asked Devon if I could have it.
He’s quiet for a minute. Then he takes a deep breath. When Devon was gone to college.
He IS gone.
I hear the squishy breathy sound of Devon’s mattress squishing. But . . . he’s not just gone to college. He’s gone . . . forever.
I don’t tell Dad that I didn’t ask Devon if I could have his room when he was gone. I asked him a different way.
And Devon said it was a weird way and I shouldn’t say it like that and I asked why.
He said people would get upset.
I don’t want Dad to get upset.
So I don’t say what I really said: Can I have your room when you’re dead?
I think maybe I understand what Devon meant. Because now I have a recess feeling in my stomach.
I slide out from my hidey-hole and crawl past Dad’s shoes to my room. I get a clean piece of paper and make a sign. It says, Devon’s Room, and I draw Devon’s eyes in the top left corner. In the top right corner I draw his mouth with his lips curled up to show he’s happy. I draw his crooked nose in the bottom left corner. His chest is in the bottom right corner. It’s still not finished. And I guess it never will be.
CHAPTER 19
SHOES
EARLY TUESDAY MORNING RACHEL Lockwood comes into class and her face is scratched up and purple. Her left arm and leg are bandaged. Everyone crowds around her saying, Oh my gosh! What happened? Are you okay?
I fell off my bike, Rachel says.
How? someone asks.
I was riding past the middle school and I heard sirens and I thought there was another shooting.
Oh my gosh! Was there? a girl asks.
No—duh! a boy says. We would’ve heard by now.
Rachel shakes her head. No. But I was watching the police car coming up the road so I wasn’t watching where I was going and I went off the sidewalk and fell off my bike. She looks down. It really hurt. I was riding so fast to try to get away because I was scared of being shot like . . . She stops talking and turns to me. So does everyone else. It is very quiet.
You should watch where you’re going when you’re riding a bike, I tell her. That’s what Devon always told me.
Some people turn away and some shake their heads but I know I’m right. Emma and some of the other girls stand around Rachel so she is in the middle of a circle and they are all staring at her. I wouldn’t like that so I stare at them and hope they get the message to leave her alone.
Finally Rachel asks if her face looks really bad and Emma says, Of course not. It looks totally fine.
Rachel says, Really? She looks around and her eyes
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