Barry Squires, Full Tilt by Heather Smith

Author:Heather Smith [Smith, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PRH Canada Young Readers
Published: 2020-09-22T00:00:00+00:00

I sat on the floor and put my hand through the slats. I put my hand on Gord’s arm and matched my breathing to his. I’d missed our bedtime song, so I wiped my eyes and sang:

Beer, beer, beer, tiddly beer, beer, beer…

CHAPTER SIX

I thrust the tap shoes into Billy Walsh’s chest. “Here.”

“How did it go?” he said.

“Swell.”

He looked at his crotch. “Wish I could say the same.”

“Were you thinking about God?” I said. “He likes to invade impure thoughts.”

“It wasn’t God,” he said. “It was me mudder invading my underwear drawer. She found the Playboy and dragged me to confession.”

“Jesus Murphy,” I said. “What did Father O’Flaherty say?”

“He said he’d have to confiscate it but Mom had already burned it. He seemed disappointed.”

“Better luck next time,” I said.

When I walked into Mr. McGraw’s class, he told me Mrs. Muckle wanted to see me. I walked into her office like I owned the place.

“Can’t get enough of me, can you, Judes?”

She pointed at the chair across from her. “Sit.”

She said she’d heard about the incident at the nursing home.

“I’m sorry it didn’t go as planned, Barry, but you must control that temper of yours. Apparently you were so upset, you ran out of the home and accidentally knocked over three lamps.”

“Who told you that?” I asked.

“Steven Morris.”

“Steven who?”

“Steven Morris. You know, the homeless man?”

“Oh. Uneven Steven.”

“Don’t call him that,” she said. “It’s cruel.”

“Cruel is having one leg longer than the other,” I said. “Or a port-wine stain across your face.”

“Oh, Barry,” she said.

Her voice had gone soft and I wanted it hard again.

“It wasn’t an accident,” I said. “I whacked the lamps with a cane.”

She sighed. “In any case, Steven has offered to replace them.”

I clasped my hands behind my head and relaxed back. “Well, there you go,” I said. “Problem solved.”

“No,” she said. “Problem not solved. That man doesn’t have two pennies to rub together. You should be the one taking consequences for your actions. Not him.”

“You know,” I said, putting my feet up on her desk, “this incident is not a school issue, and quite frankly this conversation is starting to feel a little bit inappropriate.”

She pushed my feet to the floor. “Father O’Flaherty felt it was his duty to inform me of your behavior. It takes a village, you know, Finbar.”

“Oh, please. What does Father O’Flaherty know? He certainly doesn’t know a good dancer when he sees one.”

“Actually,” she said, “it was your attitude that bothered him. He said your dancing has potential.”

I sat up. “He did?”

She studied my face. “Why do you want this so bad, Barry?”

“Everyone wants to be known for something,” I said.

She opened her mouth and closed it again.

“Go on,” I said. “Tell me. What am I known for?”

The answer was written all over my face.

“Your humor. Your smarts. Your way with words.”

I sighed. “In adult circles, perhaps. But with the other students?”

Again, she had no answer.

I stood up and leaned forward.

“You know exactly what I’m known for, Judes.” I pointed to my cheek.

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