第5部分(第4/8 頁)

for　sure　she'd　be　up　at　the　bus　stop；　but　no。　Garrett　said

he　saw　her　trucking　along　on　her　bike　in　a　bright

yellow　poncho；　and　in　math　I　noticed　that　her　pants　were　still　soaked　from　the　knees　down。

When　math　let　out；　I　started　to　chase　after　her　to　tell　her　that　she　ought　to　try　riding　the　bus

again；　but　I　stopped　myself　in　the　nick　of　time。　What

was　I　thinking？　That　Juli　wouldn't　take　a　little　friendly　concern　and　pletely　misinterpret　it？

Whoa　now；　buddy；　beware！　Better　to　just　leave　well

enough　alone。

After　all；　the　last　thing　I　needed　was　for　Juli　Baker　to　think　I　missed　her。

The　Sycamore　Tree

I　love　to　watch　my　father　paint。　Or　really；　I　love　to　hear　him　talk　while　he　paints。　The　words

always　e　out　soft　and　somehow　heavy　when　he's

brushing　on　the　layers　of　a　landscape。　Not　sad。　Weary；　maybe；　but　peaceful。

My　father　doesn't　have　a　studio　or　anything；　and　since　the　garage　is　stuffed　with　things　that

everyone　thinks　they　need　but　no　one　ever　uses；　he

paints　outside。

Outside　is　where　the　best　landscapes　are；　only　they're　nowhere　near　our　house。　So　what　he

does　is　keep　a　camera　in　his　truck。　His　job　as　a

mason　takes　him　to　lots　of　different　locations；　and　he's　always　on　the　lookout　for　a　great

sunrise　or　sunset；　or　even　just　a　nice　field　with　sheep　or

cows。　Then　he　picks　out　one　of　the　snapshots；　clips　it　to　his　easel；　and　paints。