Bridge to Terabithia

He broke out in a cold sweat.

“Jess?”

He licked his lips and shoved his hair off his face.

“You still there, Jess?”

“Yes’m.” He tried to get a deep breath so he could keep talking.

“Would you like to go with me?”

Lord. “Yes’m.”

“Do you need to get permission?” she asked gently.

“Yes—yes’m.” He had somehow managed to twist himself up in the phone cord. “Yes’m. Just—just a minute.” He untangled himself, put the phone down quietly, and tiptoed into his parents’ room. His mother’s back made a long hump under the cotton blanket. He shook her shoulder very gently. “Momma?” he was almost whispering. He wanted to ask her without really waking her up. She was likely to say no if she woke up and thought about it.

She jumped at the sound but relaxed again, not fully awake.

“Teacher wants me to go to Washington to the Smithsonian.”

“Washington?” The syllables were blurred.

“Yeah. Something for school.” He stroked her upper arm. “Be back before too late. OK?”

“Umm.”

“Don’t worry. I done milking.”

“Umm.” She pulled the blanket to her ears and turned on her stomach.

Jess crept back to the phone. “It’s OK, Miss Edmunds. I can go.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. Just tell me how to get to your house.”

As soon as he saw her car turn in, Jess raced out the kitchen door through the rain and met her halfway up the drive. His mother could find out the details from May Belle after he was safely up the road. He was glad May Belle was absorbed in the TV. He didn’t want her waking Momma up before he got away. He was scared to look back even after he was in the car and on the main road for fear he’d see his mother screaming after him.

It didn’t occur to him until the car was past Millsburg that he might have asked Miss Edmunds if Leslie could have come, too. When he thought about it, he couldn’t suppress a secret pleasure at being alone in this small cozy car with Miss Edmunds. She drove intently, both hands gripping the top of the wheel, peering forward. The wheels hummed and the windshield wipers slicked a merry rhythm. The car was warm and filled with the smell of Miss Edmunds. Jess sat with his hands clasped between his knees, the seat belt tight across his chest.

“Damn rain,” she said. “I was going stir crazy.”

“Yes’m,” he said happily.

“You, too, huh?” She gave him a quick smile.

He felt dizzy from the closeness. He nodded.

“Have you ever been to the National Gallery?”

“No, ma’am.” He had never even been to Washington before, but he hoped she wouldn’t ask him that.

She smiled at him again. “Is this your first trip to an art gallery?”

“Yes’m.”

“Great,” she said. “My life has been

worthwhile after all.” He didn’t understand her, but he didn’t care. He knew she was happy to be with him, and that was enough to know.