Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
The power of Leslie's words drew Jess with her under the dark water. Suddenly he could hardly breathe
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How he yearned to reach out and capture the quivering life about him and how when he tried, it slipped past his fingertips, leaving a dry fossil upon the page? "I just can't get the poetry of the trees," he said.
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Gary Fulcher could go to you-know-where and warm his toes.
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Leslie was one of those people who sat quietly at her desk, never whispering or daydreaming or chewing gum, doing beautiful schoolwork, and yet her brain was so full of mischief that if the teacher could have once seen through that mask of perfection, she would have thrown her out in horror.
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Jess didn't concern himself with what would "become of it". For the first time in his life he got up every morning with something to look forward to.
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Leslie's favorite place besides the castle stronghold was the pine forest. There the trees grew so thick at the top that the sunshine was veiled. No low bush or grass could grow in that dim light, so the ground was carpeted with golden needles.
"I used to think this place was haunted," Jess had confessed to Leslie the first afternoon he had revved up his courage to bring her there.
"Oh, but it is," she said. "But you don't have to be scared. It's not haunted with evil things."
"How do you know?"
"You can just feel it. Listen."
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"Jess Aarons, I'm going to kill you."
"Hey, girl, you kill the king of Terabithia, and you're in trouble."
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"Did I ever tell you the story of Hamlet?"
He rolled over on his back. "Not yet," he said happily. Lord, he loved Leslie's stories.
Someday, when he was good enough, he would ask her to write them in a book and let him do all the pictures.
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"Then we'll name him Prince Terrien and make him the guardian of Terabithia."
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That was the rule that you never mixed up troubles at home with life at school. When parents were poor or ignorant or mean, or even just didn't believe in having a TV set, it was up to their kids to protect them.
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To be able to be Leslie's one whole friend in the world as she was his - he couldn't help being satisfied about that.
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"You have to believe it, but you hate it. I don't have to believe it, and I think it's beautiful."
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She smiled. "OK," she said. "But I still don't think God goes around damning people to hell."
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He wondered what it would be like to have a mother whose stories were inside her head instead of marching across the television screen all day long.
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Lord, it would be better to be born without an arm than to go through life with no guts.
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He may not have been born with guts, but he didn't have to die without them. Hey, maybe you could go down to the Medical College and get a gut transplant. No, Doc, I got me a perfectly good heart. What I need is a gut transplant. How 'bout it?
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If he got up now and went down to the old Perkins place and knocked on the door, Leslie would come to open it, P. T. jumping at her heels like a star around the moon.
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"Everybody gets scared sometimes, May Belle. You don't have to be ashamed."
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"people kept telling me not to cry, kept trying to make me forget." "But I didn't want to forget."
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Mrs. Myers had helped him already by understanding that he would never forget Leslie.
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"Shhh," he said. "Look."
"Where?"
"Can't you see 'em?" he whispered. "All the Terabithians standing on tiptoe to see you.
"Me?"
"Shhh, yes. There's a rumor going around that the beautiful girl arriving today might be the queen they've been waiting for."
