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Show Why We Cry Butch and Fenn Stories 160 race. Some of them had two bicycles and would change midway through. One kid named Gibson crashed one time and tore his forehead and his knee up. He sat on the lawn bleeding while the other cyclists went round and round. They seemed impossibly old, and now I am older than they were then. As I circle, I don't see anybody; I don't see Cling. Then out of nowhere I'm thinking about Linda Aikens and standing there with her in her sideyard and she's asking me if I received her note. I slow my bike and stagger to a stop on both feet. This is terrible. Poetry in Motion. From out of nowhere I'm thinking about girls. It is the end of one world. I know it is. The whole world is ending. I see Cling walk across the tennis courts and out of the park. I stand frozen. Mr. Millard walks by on his way to the drinking fountain, and he looks at me. Now, he knows it's the end of the world; he can see it on my face. I do one hundred and ninety-one laps before I see my father's truck go by and my mother calls me for dinner. Dinner is a trial. My father is cheerful and keeps asking things like "When does school start?" and "You boys will be in different schools this year." I'm nodding and saying "Yeah," which my mother would spot as a bluff, but she's busy with Regan. Bobby keeps his face down at his plate, but his eyes come my way several times. He's worried I'm going to mention Cling. I'm not going to mention anything. It's an old |