Bradley Wallace Murphy just turned thirteen, and he's not happy about it. He doesn't fit in at school, he's no good at sports, a bully torments him, he's a disappointment to his parents, and his only "friends" are fictional characters on a TV show c...
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CHAPTER 5
Lessons
Saturday morning dawned a bright orange slashed with patches of reddish-yellow, the sky was cloud-free, and the air was crisp. Bradley Wallace got dressed early so he could go out to the back yard and watch the purple and pink morning glories burst into brilliant bloom. It fascinated him that a flower could blossom only in the morning and be nearly dead by nightfall, and he felt sad that something so beautiful should have so fleeting an existence, without any real chance to experience life.
As he sat on the pebble-encrusted concrete and gazed at the slowly opening flowers, he considered what his father would say if the elder Murphy knew his son got up early on Saturday mornings to stare at a bunch of flowers. He'd probably call out the sissy squad, for sure. Grown-ups just didn't understand how to look at things, he'd long ago realized, and that's why he never wanted to grow up. He didn't want to become like them.
After Bradley Wallace finished his chores, his dad him to fetch his new football. He'd harbored the forlorn hope that his father would forget about that but wasn't surprised to find out the older man hadn't. He always remembered the wrong things, Bradley Wallace noted to himself as he dutifully trudged off to his room. He was in no hurry, that's for sure. In fact, he'd almost prefer cleaning the pool but could figure no way to get out of this one.
His mind already focused on the afternoon's activities with both Whilly and Mr. O'Conner, he followed his father outside to the front lawn and tossed him the football. His dad went on to show his son how to catch the ball by hugging it to the body, how to throw it in a nice smooth arc (though, if the truth be told, Bradley Wallace's throws, while by no means great, were far and away better than his father's), and how to run patterns with the ball clutched under both arms. He feigned interest for his father's sake but itched for the lesson to end. He always felt clumsy whenever he played such games.
At long last his father tired and suggested they "call it a day." Bradley Wallace nearly cried aloud with relief. He asked permission to go hiking in the hills, or maybe down to the schoolyard to play, and Jack thought it a good idea, shoving the football into his arms and suggesting (translation: "telling") him to get a game going with some of the other kids. Bradley Wallace cursed silently and took the stupid ball. Anything to get away from there!
After riding down to Rakestraw's to buy Whilly more food, he bicycled back toward the Gully, fighting down the rising tide of nausea in his stomach.
Whilly was hungry.
By this time it was early afternoon and Bradley Wallace found the famished dragon pacing the warehouse. He unwrapped his parcel of meat, which Whilly instantly pounced upon. He'd bought himself a poor boy at the Rakestraw's deli and sat on the arm of the Masher to eat his lunch in the peace and solitude of the musty old warehouse. Without realizing it, he'd also brought into the warehouse the football he so loathed and between mouthfuls of food, Whilly asked what it was.
