Wolf Hollow by Lauren Wolk Page B

me?”
    Yes
, we nodded.
    â€œMind your sister,” he told the boys, which was like telling them to fly to the moon.
    But the boys, too, surprised me, waiting until we reached the fields on the downslope above Wolf Hollow before breaking away at a run to spook a grouse at the edge of the woods and then disappearing down the path into the trees without me.
    When the path turned and I saw Betty sitting on a stump ahead, I was filled with regret that the reprieve I’d had was over and I was again to be her target.
    But then I felt something else rise in its place.
    I can’t call it courage, since that’s what people have when they are scared but do a hard thing regardless.
    And I can’t call it anger, though I’d been angry at Betty for the bruises she’d given me and the threats she’d made and the quail she’d killed.
    I suppose I should have been both afraid and angry, but Ruth had lost her eye the day before, and what I felt now, looking at Betty’s empty face, was more like indifference. She seemed, on that morning, insignificant and small, even as she stepped out in front of me.
    â€œWhat?” I said impatiently.
    She looked at me curiously. “Did you think I would leave you alone just because that crazy man told me to? Or because your little friend got hurt?”
    â€œShe got more than hurt,” I said. “She lost her eye, Betty. Did you know that?”
    Betty looked away. “My grandma told me. I’ll bet someone was aiming for that filthy German. Not her.”
    â€œMr. Ansel isn’t filthy,” I said. “You don’t even know him.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “Way out here in these woods you might not know much, but I do. He might act all nice and jolly, but Germans are bullies who aim to take over the world. And they will if they can.”
    I noticed a long red thread of fresh scab across Betty’s cheek, as if she’d been in brambles, and her socks were stuck all over with sticktights. I thought it odd that she’d been out in the rough so early in the day. And so soon after the ivy had laid her low.
    â€œYou’re the only bully I know, Betty,” I said. “But you’re going to leave me alone now. And not because Toby said so. And not because Ruth got hurt. You just will. I’m not going to give you anything. I’m not going to worry about you. I’m not going to run away from you. I’m just not. So you might as well leave me alone and get on with something else.”
    I waited, looking her full in the face, determined not to cut this short. I wanted to be done with Betty. If she was going to hurt me, she could hurt me right then and there, and I could finally do something about it before the day was out.
    But she didn’t do anything except spend another moment, thoughtful. And then she stepped aside.
    I wasn’t relieved. I wasn’t happy about being left alone. I wasn’t anything much. Just so sad, and tired in a way I’d never been before. I wanted nothing more than to hide in the hayloft in the barn and watch the rock doves napping in the rafters. To close my eyes and think about nothing at all. Not Ruth. Not Mr. Ansel. Not Germans. And not Betty Glengarry.
    But if I couldn’t retreat to the barn, school was the next best thing, and I gave myself over to my lessons. Andy didn’t come to school that morning, so Benjamin reclaimed his customary seat; no one sat with me as Ruth usually did, and we all passed the morning quietly.

    When recess came, I sat on the steps with some of the other girls, making crowns from long grass and supposing what Ruth might be doing instead. The whole while I kept an eye on my brothers, but they didn’t go near the road or the hill on the other side of it. As usual, they spent their time racing each other from here to there, making mud pies in the dirt around the well, and throwing rocks through the forks of trees.
    Betty stood