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Authors: Matt Christopher
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into the bush not far from where you live.”
Pete’s eyes crinkled. “How about that? You’ve got it all figured out.”
The sharpness of the remark stung Jabber. He stared painfully at his brother. “Pete, trust me, Ididn’t take your money,” he repeated, his voice rising. “The wallet was empty. Would I have picked it up and brought it to
you if I had stolen it?”
He was breathing faster. Sweat glistened on his upper lip.
“Who’s accusing you of stealing it?” said Pete. “I’m not. I just can’t figure out anybody taking the money and dumping the
empty wallet near our house, that’s all. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” exclaimed Jabber, his throat aching. “You’re thinking that I stole your money and used it to
buy my soccer shoes. Would you think I’d pull a dirty trick like that?”
Pete stood silent. Jabber knew that his brother was thinking hard, weighing the evidence against him.
“No, Jabber,” replied Pete. “I wouldn’t think you’d pull a dirty trick like that. As a matter of fact, I think you showed
a lot of guts bringing that empty wallet to me.”
“You mean that, Pete?” Jabber wasn’t sure whether to believe Pete or not.
“Of course I mean that,” said Pete, smiling and thrusting out his hand.
Jabber shook it.
“Thanks, Pete.” He felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Pete really sounded sincere. “Come on.
Dinner’s ready, and Tony’s waiting to see you.”
12
T here were chores to be done early on Saturday morning before Pete and Jabber could leave for hang-gliding. The garbage had
to be bagged. The lawn had to be cleaned of the tiny branches that had broken off the two willow trees during the heavy wind
the previous night. The lawn had to be mowed, and right after breakfast a hole had to be dug for a magnolia tree Mrs. Morris
had purchased from a nursery. She had been wanting to do it for days. Jabber knew it, but wished she had forgotten about it.
He and Pete had dug a dozen holes for trees for their mother over the past two years, and hole-digging wasn’t his idea of
fun. Besides, most of the trees still looked like spindly sticks.
But Mrs. Morris had her heart in her plants, trees,and flower garden, and didn’t mind when the boys chided her about them.
Both their father and mother had loved the garden. Since their father had died she had continued taking care of it herself,
not minding it because she loved it so, and because, she had once admitted to the children, it kept her “close to Dad.”
Jabber thought it was a bit silly of her, but didn’t say so. If she was happy with that thought, let her be.
Tony drove up at noon, his hang-glider strapped to the roof of his car.
“We haven’t eaten yet,” said Pete, when Tony came to the door.
“I brought some sandwiches and a Thermos jug of hot coffee,” said Tony. “I thought we’d eat at the hill.”
“Hey! You’re thinking, man!” cried Pete. “Got enough for the three of us? Jabber’s coming, too.”
“Got plenty,” answered Tony. “Besides, I had my mother stick an extra half a loaf of Italian bread and a hunk of salami into
a bag. You ready?”
“In that case, we’re ready!” said Pete, laughing.
The conversation in the car on the way to KnobHill touched on a sensitive topic for Jabber. It surprised and embarrassed him. It was Tony who brought it up.
“I heard that you might quit soccer and play football, Jabber,” he said. “That true?”
He looked at Jabber in the rearview mirror, and must have noticed the surprised expression come over the younger boy’s face.
The sudden confusion.
“I said that?” said Jabber, frowning.
When? he wondered to himself. When did I say a thing like that? And to whom?
Then he remembered. He had said it to Mose Borman at the soccer game. In a fit of disgust. Oh, man!
Pete turned in the front seat and looked at him, his eyes brightening. “Hey!
Pete’s eyes crinkled. “How about that? You’ve got it all figured out.”
The sharpness of the remark stung Jabber. He stared painfully at his brother. “Pete, trust me, Ididn’t take your money,” he repeated, his voice rising. “The wallet was empty. Would I have picked it up and brought it to
you if I had stolen it?”
He was breathing faster. Sweat glistened on his upper lip.
“Who’s accusing you of stealing it?” said Pete. “I’m not. I just can’t figure out anybody taking the money and dumping the
empty wallet near our house, that’s all. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” exclaimed Jabber, his throat aching. “You’re thinking that I stole your money and used it to
buy my soccer shoes. Would you think I’d pull a dirty trick like that?”
Pete stood silent. Jabber knew that his brother was thinking hard, weighing the evidence against him.
“No, Jabber,” replied Pete. “I wouldn’t think you’d pull a dirty trick like that. As a matter of fact, I think you showed
a lot of guts bringing that empty wallet to me.”
“You mean that, Pete?” Jabber wasn’t sure whether to believe Pete or not.
“Of course I mean that,” said Pete, smiling and thrusting out his hand.
Jabber shook it.
“Thanks, Pete.” He felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Pete really sounded sincere. “Come on.
Dinner’s ready, and Tony’s waiting to see you.”
12
T here were chores to be done early on Saturday morning before Pete and Jabber could leave for hang-gliding. The garbage had
to be bagged. The lawn had to be cleaned of the tiny branches that had broken off the two willow trees during the heavy wind
the previous night. The lawn had to be mowed, and right after breakfast a hole had to be dug for a magnolia tree Mrs. Morris
had purchased from a nursery. She had been wanting to do it for days. Jabber knew it, but wished she had forgotten about it.
He and Pete had dug a dozen holes for trees for their mother over the past two years, and hole-digging wasn’t his idea of
fun. Besides, most of the trees still looked like spindly sticks.
But Mrs. Morris had her heart in her plants, trees,and flower garden, and didn’t mind when the boys chided her about them.
Both their father and mother had loved the garden. Since their father had died she had continued taking care of it herself,
not minding it because she loved it so, and because, she had once admitted to the children, it kept her “close to Dad.”
Jabber thought it was a bit silly of her, but didn’t say so. If she was happy with that thought, let her be.
Tony drove up at noon, his hang-glider strapped to the roof of his car.
“We haven’t eaten yet,” said Pete, when Tony came to the door.
“I brought some sandwiches and a Thermos jug of hot coffee,” said Tony. “I thought we’d eat at the hill.”
“Hey! You’re thinking, man!” cried Pete. “Got enough for the three of us? Jabber’s coming, too.”
“Got plenty,” answered Tony. “Besides, I had my mother stick an extra half a loaf of Italian bread and a hunk of salami into
a bag. You ready?”
“In that case, we’re ready!” said Pete, laughing.
The conversation in the car on the way to KnobHill touched on a sensitive topic for Jabber. It surprised and embarrassed him. It was Tony who brought it up.
“I heard that you might quit soccer and play football, Jabber,” he said. “That true?”
He looked at Jabber in the rearview mirror, and must have noticed the surprised expression come over the younger boy’s face.
The sudden confusion.
“I said that?” said Jabber, frowning.
When? he wondered to himself. When did I say a thing like that? And to whom?
Then he remembered. He had said it to Mose Borman at the soccer game. In a fit of disgust. Oh, man!
Pete turned in the front seat and looked at him, his eyes brightening. “Hey!
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