significantly. There was a kindergarten teacher called Miss Tiffany. A Little League coach. Mr. Rogers …
Then Bingo got to Melissa’s desk. Melissa was bending over her paper. The long sleeves of her Declaration of Independence t-shirt blocked his view.
Then she lifted her arm and—to Bingo’s horror—she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Melissa was crying!
Bingo drew in a deep breath of concern.
Melissa started writing again, but a tear fell onto her page. She tried to write over the tear, but she bore down on her pencil and the point broke.
Now Bingo saw the reason for the tears. Melissa was writing about her father, and Melissa’s father was unemployed.
Bingo stood there, aching with sympathy, ready to cry himself. At that moment, blinded by her tears, Melissa jumped up to go to the pencil sharpener, and she plunged directly into Bingo’s waiting arms.
“Excuse me,” she gasped.
“Of course, of course.”
She tried to go around him and he tried to get out of her way, but they both went in the same direction and embraced again.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped.
“Me too.” Then Bingo said manfully, “Here. Let me.” He took the pencil from her and she sank back in her seat. It seemed a grateful sink to Bingo.
He stepped to the pencil sharpener and then proceeded to do the second most thrilling thing he had ever done in his life. He sharpened Melissa’s pencil.
It was so rewarding that he kept sharpening and sharpening. He would have sharpened down to the eraser except that Miss Brownley said, “Bingo.”
“What?”
“I didn’t give you permission to go to the pencil sharpener.”
“Oh, sorry, Miss Brownley. I didn’t know we had to have permission. Mr. Mark just lets us use our own judgment.”
“Class, while I’m here, I’d like for you to ask permission to leave your desks.”
“I will next time. Anyway, I’m sharpening Melissa’s pencil right now. Afterwards, I’ll be—”
“Isn’t Melissa capable of sharpening her own pencil?”
“Yes,” Bingo said gallantly, “but since I was already up and she was down—”
“Bingo, I don’t want to have to send you to the principal’s office.”
Bingo stopped being gallant. Mr. Boehmer had not been seen all morning, and so the first student his eyes would fall on would be Bingo. The first shirt his eyes would see would say WØRDS , a cruel reminder of his morning cowardice.
“I am going to my desk at once,” Bingo said. He turned to Melissa. “Here,” he said and presented the pencil.
“Thanks, Bingo.”
His name! She said his name! He loved his name the way she said it!
He then returned to his desk. Even Mr. Markham could have found no fault with the purposeful way he walked. He didn’t check out a single paper. At his desk, he turned smartly and took his seat.
It was then that he discovered he had forgotten to sharpen his own pencil, but what was that compared with holding Melissa and the Declaration of Independence in his arms?
Friday night’s supper was one of the best Bingo could remember. Every member of the family had something to be happy about.
Bingo was the happiest. He had double triumphs—the wear-in and the embrace. His father was next happiest because someone named Mr. Kroll was going to Lima, Ohio. Now he could be standing on his hands with the other cheerleaders. His mom was third happiest because now she did not have to decide whether to go to homecoming without him.
“Would you have gone without me?” Bingo’s father asked.
“I might have, because I told them I would and they’re counting on my trumpet.”
“Oh.”
“But I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. You know that.”
Bingo said, “Isn’t anyone going to ask about the wear-in?”
“I am,” his mom said. “I’m dying to hear about the wear-in. How did it go?”
“It was a triumph. Boehmer never showed up. He was too chicken. He pretended to be in a staff meeting.”
“Maybe he was in a staff meeting.”
“Mom, don’t be
Then Bingo got to Melissa’s desk. Melissa was bending over her paper. The long sleeves of her Declaration of Independence t-shirt blocked his view.
Then she lifted her arm and—to Bingo’s horror—she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Melissa was crying!
Bingo drew in a deep breath of concern.
Melissa started writing again, but a tear fell onto her page. She tried to write over the tear, but she bore down on her pencil and the point broke.
Now Bingo saw the reason for the tears. Melissa was writing about her father, and Melissa’s father was unemployed.
Bingo stood there, aching with sympathy, ready to cry himself. At that moment, blinded by her tears, Melissa jumped up to go to the pencil sharpener, and she plunged directly into Bingo’s waiting arms.
“Excuse me,” she gasped.
“Of course, of course.”
She tried to go around him and he tried to get out of her way, but they both went in the same direction and embraced again.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped.
“Me too.” Then Bingo said manfully, “Here. Let me.” He took the pencil from her and she sank back in her seat. It seemed a grateful sink to Bingo.
He stepped to the pencil sharpener and then proceeded to do the second most thrilling thing he had ever done in his life. He sharpened Melissa’s pencil.
It was so rewarding that he kept sharpening and sharpening. He would have sharpened down to the eraser except that Miss Brownley said, “Bingo.”
“What?”
“I didn’t give you permission to go to the pencil sharpener.”
“Oh, sorry, Miss Brownley. I didn’t know we had to have permission. Mr. Mark just lets us use our own judgment.”
“Class, while I’m here, I’d like for you to ask permission to leave your desks.”
“I will next time. Anyway, I’m sharpening Melissa’s pencil right now. Afterwards, I’ll be—”
“Isn’t Melissa capable of sharpening her own pencil?”
“Yes,” Bingo said gallantly, “but since I was already up and she was down—”
“Bingo, I don’t want to have to send you to the principal’s office.”
Bingo stopped being gallant. Mr. Boehmer had not been seen all morning, and so the first student his eyes would fall on would be Bingo. The first shirt his eyes would see would say WØRDS , a cruel reminder of his morning cowardice.
“I am going to my desk at once,” Bingo said. He turned to Melissa. “Here,” he said and presented the pencil.
“Thanks, Bingo.”
His name! She said his name! He loved his name the way she said it!
He then returned to his desk. Even Mr. Markham could have found no fault with the purposeful way he walked. He didn’t check out a single paper. At his desk, he turned smartly and took his seat.
It was then that he discovered he had forgotten to sharpen his own pencil, but what was that compared with holding Melissa and the Declaration of Independence in his arms?
Friday night’s supper was one of the best Bingo could remember. Every member of the family had something to be happy about.
Bingo was the happiest. He had double triumphs—the wear-in and the embrace. His father was next happiest because someone named Mr. Kroll was going to Lima, Ohio. Now he could be standing on his hands with the other cheerleaders. His mom was third happiest because now she did not have to decide whether to go to homecoming without him.
“Would you have gone without me?” Bingo’s father asked.
“I might have, because I told them I would and they’re counting on my trumpet.”
“Oh.”
“But I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. You know that.”
Bingo said, “Isn’t anyone going to ask about the wear-in?”
“I am,” his mom said. “I’m dying to hear about the wear-in. How did it go?”
“It was a triumph. Boehmer never showed up. He was too chicken. He pretended to be in a staff meeting.”
“Maybe he was in a staff meeting.”
“Mom, don’t be
Similar Books
