Window Boy (24 page)

Tears collect in Mrs. Davis’ eyes. “Mr. Jordache promised that when we got married, Sam could have all the tutors that we wanted. That he could go to college. I wish Sam could forget Mannville ever happened.” She pauses. “That awful director and his golf.”

Mrs. Davis made a mistake, all right. She underestimated Sam, her own son. Shut him up in a place that she refused to visit. She put her own life ahead of Sam’s. And now Mrs. Davis needs to apologize. But if Miss Perkins tells her this, she’ll just make Mrs. Davis angry.

“I need to talk to him,” Mrs. Davis finally says. “I should tell him that I’m sorry.”

Miss Perkins studies her coffee to hide her smile.

Mrs. Davis takes one last sip, dabs at her lips with her napkin, and sighs heavily. “Even when I was going to expensive restaurants in London, I missed Sam. I wished he were there. He’s all the family I have.”

*
*
*

Sam has caught only snatches of the conversation between his mother and Miss Perkins. But one thing he did hear—his mother missed him!

His heart is so full that it feels like it’s going to burst. His mother missed him. As far as he knows, no one has ever missed him before.

His mother is standing in the doorway in her white robe.

As beautiful as an evening star
,
^34
†
Winnie says.

“MMom,” he calls.

Her house shoes shuffle towards his bed. “Someday, you’ll understand that even adults can make big mistakes.”

Sam nods.

“But right now,” his mother continues, “I just want to tell you that when I saw that big bully hurting you, I realized that if anything happened to you, I would die.” She leans over the bed and stares into his eyes. “From now on, I promise that I am going to protect you. You can stay with me always.” His mother clears her throat. “Now, do you have any questions?”

Sam, who is an expert on how much words cost, knows that she has paid dearly for this question. It’s the first that she’s asked in months and months. “No, MMom,” he says.

___
†
Reprinted with permission of Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group, from MY EARLY LIFE: A ROVING COMMISSION by Winston Churchill. Copyright © 1930 by Charles Scribner’s Sons; copyright renewed© 1958 by Winston Churchill. All rights reserved.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

In Mrs. Ellsworth’s office, Principal Cullen’s paddle is gone. Two diplomas and a photo of six grandchildren hang on the wall in its place. The grandchildren, who are dressed in matching red vests, are all trying to touch a Great Dane.

“Mrs. Davis said that Sam would be at school tomorrow,” Mrs. Ellsworth says.

“Sam is so excited,” Miss Perkins says. “He wanted to start today, but his mum convinced him to let her take him shopping.”

“Was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss? Because, if not…” Mrs. Ellsworth’s gaze fixes on the clock on her desk.

10 a.m. My goodness, Miss Perkins thinks. I have been here for a while, haven’t I?

“I just wanted to make sure. You see, Sam’s been through so much. I know that Mrs. Riley, the P.T.A. president …”

Sometimes, despite all her words, Miss Perkins thinks, she has as much trouble communicating as Sam.

Mrs. Ellsworth nods. “The P.T.A. was upset about Sam. Luckily, we have an enlightened superintendent. When the newspaper story broke about Sam’s prize, Superintendent Dewitt called and demanded an explanation as to why Sam was no longer at Stirling.”

Miss Perkins catches a hint of steel behind Mrs. Ellsworth’s smile. “If any parents are upset about Sam, they’ll need to talk to Superintendent Dewitt,” Mrs. Ellsworth says.

Miss Perkins lets out a sigh of relief. “I’m so grateful. I can’t…”

“If you arrive by 8:15,” Mrs. Ellsworth interrupts, “we’ll still be in assembly, and I’ll welcome Sam.”

“Thank you so much,” Miss Perkins says.

“Times are changing, Miss Perkins. Soon, I believe that even crippled kids will be entitled to a public education,” Mrs. Ellsworth says.

As Miss Perkins gathers her purse to leave, she does feel hopeful. More hopeful than she’s felt in a long time.

The next morning, Sam rolls across the parking lot in back of Stirling Junior High. The trees are bare now, and the wheelchair crunches dead leaves. Due to the cold, Sam sees the puffs of Miss Perkins’ breath, small clouds. He hears the band playing
The Star-Spangled Banner
. The school must be having an assembly. He’s never been to one before, and he’s excited. Along with his coat, he is wearing a new pair of blue jeans and tennis shoes. He’s refused a haircut. All to get ready for school.

He stares at the double green doors. He’s really returned to Stirling. He’s escaped from the bad food, the smell of pee and the noisy front room. He’s heard of people who stay in school for their whole lives, and at that moment, he wants to be one. He’ll gladly memorize thousands of prepositions now.

When he and Miss Perkins arrive at Mrs. Martin’s room, the classroom is empty. As they pass by the open door, he eagerly soaks up the sight of the potted plants and the dusty blackboard.

“Mrs. Ellsworth tells me that not only was Principal Cullen fired, but he can’t ever teach school again. He hit Bobby Sur so hard that he broke the boy’s rib. All because Bobby was blowing a gum bubble.” Miss Perkins pushes Sam past the classroom doors down the long hallway. The other classrooms are empty, too.

Inside the auditorium, Sam sees a petite woman with white hair standing on the stage. She is holding a microphone.

Sam takes it all in. The kids wiggling in their seats. The band on the stage. The flagpole. The box marked
lost and found
. The red and white banner—Stirling Tomcats, Tournament Champs. Unlike the noise at Mannville, this din sounds happy.

“Those who want to go on the field trip need to turn in their permission slips,” the woman says into the microphone. Sam decides that the speaker must be Mrs. Ellsworth, the new principal. “I repeat. No one can attend who has not returned their form.”

“Our final announcement.” Mrs. Ellsworth gestures towards the back of the auditorium. Sam doesn’t even have time to straighten in his chair. “Sam Davis, our League of Women Voters award winner, has returned to school today.”

The kids start clapping.

“TThank You,” Sam murmurs.

If you can’t have the world’s applause, a whole school’s is pretty good
, Winnie says.

For once, Sam is tongue-tied inside and out. He can’t think of anything else that he even wants to say to the auditorium of cheering kids.

Sometimes, short speeches are best,
Winnie says.

Chapter Forty

After the special assembly is over, Miss Perkins pushes Sam down the hallway. Kids throng on either side of him. A boy pretending to play a guitar walks behind him. Two kids are arguing over a locker.

Marigold hurries past, her arms swinging at her sides. He hears another set of footsteps, and Ann joins him. She has on the same red and white dress that she wore the first day Sam met her.

“I’m excited that you’re back,” Ann says.

“NNot hher.” Sam raises his finger and points at Ann’s dance partner and friend.

“Marigold will be fine. I just have to remind her that I can have two best friends,” Ann says.

As a question, Sam points at himself.

Ann nods. “You and I are best friends.” She grabs his hand and squeezes it.

Sam grins. He’s never had a best friend before.

What about me?
Winnie asks.

Ann’s a real best friend,
Sam thinks.

Can you talk to a “real” best friend anytime that you want?
Winnie asks.
Can a real best friend read your thoughts? No. The advantages of a “real” best friend are limited,
he points out.

Sam realizes that Winnie’s pride is hurt.
If Ann can have two best friends, I can too,
Sam tells Winnie. But as Ann grips his hand and Sam stares into her blue eyes, he’s not sure that he means it.

Charlie rushes up. He stares at Sam for a minute before punching him playfully on the arm.

Sam points outdoors. “YYes,” he says.

A few minutes later, Ann parks Sam right in his spot next to the court. She is wearing her blue coat. It’s a cold but sunny day.

“Marigold and I are going inside. It’s too cold out here,” Ann says.

“TTThanks, Ann Riley,” Sam calls.

“Brrr,” Ann says. “You’re welcome, Sam Davis.”

“You shouldn’t be out here either, Sam,” Miss Perkins scolds.

“PPlease,” Sam says.

Their eyes meet, and Miss Perkins’ face melts into a smile. Sam knows she is remembering Mannville Institution, Ralph and the bad food. She buttons Sam’s coat. She unlocks his seat belt and removes a blanket that Sam has been sitting on and drapes it over his legs.

Before she drapes it over him, Sam catches a quick view of his legs. He is amazed at how skinny they’ve become.

“We won the championship game.” The day is so cold that Charlie Simmons rubs his hands together as he tells Sam this amazing fact.

Charlie motions toward Mickey. “All because of our new point guard.”

Mickey dribbles the ball up to Sam. He stops and stares at him. “Thiinks, Sam.”

Did Sam hear Mickey right? Did Mickey just thank him? Mickey’s taunt is still fresh in his memory.
Vindow Boy.
Luckily, Mickey doesn’t wait for a response but passes the ball to A.J. Watching Mickey run back onto the court, it occurs to Sam that people change. Losers become winners. Like the Tomcats. Like Mickey. Like himself. Now, Sam is an award winner. A Window Boy no more.

Do people change, Sam wonders, or is it just the way we think about them that changes? After all, Mickey was always a good basketball player, and Sam was always smart.

Charlie leans closer to Sam. “At first, I thought you were our cheerleader, but now I know better. Got any other tips, Coach?”

Sam smiles.

Is that it?
Winnie asks.
Is that all you’re going to say or do? You have no sense of the dramatic.

What should I do?
Sam asks.

Why, old chap, surprise all of them
, Winnie orders him.
Stand up and say something big!

Why not?
Sam thinks as he grips the arms of the wheelchair. His legs feel shaky, but they’ll bear his weight for a few seconds. Then, he remembers his seat belt.

I can’t stand after all,
he tells Winnie.

You have no excuse.
Winnie reminds him.
Miss Perkins removed your seat belt when she got out the blanket.

Sam grasps the handles of the chair and shifts his weight onto both legs.

“What are you doing?” Miss Perkins asks, but he ignores her.

“Be careful,” she cautions him.

Charlie and the other kids gawk at Sam. They are probably noticing his trembling legs.

Sam lifts his pointer finger. “PPPlay Ball,” he bursts out.

Afterword

I. The Man

After that day in the playground, I never heard Winnie’s voice again. At least, not in the strong personal way that I did during my days of watching from the window—before I went to school and had friends. Once I lost my imaginary friend, I asked myself many times: who was the voice who talked to me? The voice that gave me hope? The voice that I trusted?

For many years, I was confused by the fact that Winnie’s voice was a man’s. It couldn’t be my father’s. I had never known him. A boy’s idea of God? Then, the night of my graduation from high school, Miss Perkins had a bad cold. When she hugged me, she rasped into my ear,

“You made it, old chap.”

And I did.

With the help of physical therapy, I have regained the use of all my fingers on my right hand. I can:

Operate an electric wheelchair—I no longer have to wait to be pushed.

Type—I can now communicate even complicated thoughts quickly and easily.

Feed myself—I love not having to eat peas when I don’t want to. And I can perform simple chores, like pulling on my pants by myself.

Although I read many books, both fiction and non-fiction, I still want to learn as much as I can about Winston Churchill. I remain fascinated by him, partly because I believe that my life was shaped by his.