雙語暢銷書·怦然心動 Chapter 03　哥們兒，小心點！

Chapter 03

哥們兒，小心點！

好吧，七年級是充滿變化的一年，但是最大的變化并非發(fā)生在學(xué)校，而是在家里。鄧肯外公搬來和我們一起住了。

最開始的時候是有點奇怪，因為我們中間沒有誰真正認(rèn)識他。當(dāng)然，除了媽媽。雖然她用了一年半的時間告訴我們他是個多么偉大的人，但在我看來，他最喜歡做的事就是從臨街的窗戶朝外望。除了貝克家的前院，那里沒什么好看的，但他不管白天黑夜都待在那兒，坐在和他一起搬進(jìn)家門的大號安樂椅上，望著窗外。

好吧，他也讀湯姆·克蘭西的驚悚小說、看報紙、做填字游戲、看看股票行情，但這些不過是對他看街景這件事的插花。沒人提出反對意見，這人總是看著窗外直到睡著為止。雖然也說不上有什么不對，但這樣真的……挺無聊的。

媽媽說，他眺望窗外是因為想念外婆，但外公是不會和我討論這件事的。實際上，他從來不跟我討論什么事，直到幾個月前，他在報紙上看到了朱莉。

不像你想的那樣，朱莉安娜·貝克并不是作為八年級的未來的愛因斯坦登上了《梅菲爾德時報》頭版。不，伙計，她能登上頭版是因為她不愿意從一棵無花果樹上下來。

雖然我分不清無花果樹、楓樹和樺樹，但朱莉顯然知道那是什么樹，并且守在那里把這個常識分享給她遇見的每一個人。

所以，這棵樹，這棵無花果樹，長在山坡上克里爾街的一片空地里，很大很大，而且又大又丑。它的樹干扭曲，長滿節(jié)疤，彎彎曲曲，我總覺得一陣風(fēng)就能把它吹倒。

去年的某一天，我終于聽夠了她關(guān)于這棵蠢樹的嘮叨。我徑直走到她面前，告訴她那棵無花果樹一點兒也不美，實際上，那是有史以來最難看的一棵樹。你猜她怎么回答？她說我的眼睛大概有毛病。眼睛有毛??！這就是那個鄰里環(huán)境破壞之王家的姑娘說出來的話。她家的灌木長得比窗戶還高，到處雜草叢生，谷倉前面的空場快變成野生動物園了。我是說，她家有狗、貓、雞，甚至養(yǎng)了幾條蛇。我敢對天發(fā)誓，她哥哥在臥室里養(yǎng)了條大蟒蛇。十歲那年，他們把我拽進(jìn)屋子，強迫我看著那條大蟒蛇吞下一只耗子。一只活蹦亂跳、眼睛滴溜溜轉(zhuǎn)的耗子。他們提著那只嚙齒動物的尾巴，大蟒一下子就整只吞下去了。這條蛇讓我做了一個月的噩夢。

不管怎么說，我平時很少關(guān)心別人家的院子，但貝克家一團混亂的院子是我爸爸最大的心病，而他則把這種挫折的情緒傾瀉在我家院子里。他說，我們有義務(wù)讓鄰居看看一個正常的院子該有的模樣。

所以，當(dāng)麥克和馬特忙于投喂蟒蛇的時候，我只好忙著給院子除草、修剪草坪，打掃車道和水溝，而且依我看，我好像還真干得越來越投入了。

如果你以為朱莉的爸爸——一位又高又壯的磚瓦工——會打理院子，那就錯了。據(jù)我媽媽透露，他把全部業(yè)余時間都用來畫畫了。他的風(fēng)景畫對我來說沒什么特別的，但是從價簽上看，他很看重這些畫。每年梅菲爾德縣交易會上都能看到它們，我爸媽從來只說一句話：“如果他肯把花在畫畫上的時間拿來打理院子，世界會變得更美好?！?/p>

我媽媽和朱莉的媽媽有時聊天。我猜想媽媽比較同情貝克夫人——她說她嫁了一個夢想家，所以，他們倆當(dāng)中總有一個人過得不快樂。

那又怎樣。也許朱莉?qū)γ赖拿舾姓沁z傳自她爸爸，并不是她的錯。但朱莉總覺得那棵無花果樹是上帝送給我們宇宙中這個小小角落的一份禮物。

三年級和四年級的時候，她經(jīng)常和哥哥們一起坐在樹杈上，或者剝下大塊的樹皮以便沿著樹干滑到杈彎。無論什么時候媽媽開車帶我們出門去，總能看見他們在那里玩。我們等紅燈的時候，朱莉就在樹杈間蕩來蕩去，總是快要摔下來跌斷每一根骨頭的樣子，于是媽媽就會搖著頭說：“你永遠(yuǎn)也不許像這個樣子爬樹，聽見沒有，布萊斯？我永遠(yuǎn)也不想看到你這樣！你也是，利奈特。實在太危險了！”

姐姐一般會翻個白眼，說“廢話”。而我則把頭躲到車窗下面，祈禱在朱莉還沒把我的名字喊得震天響之前趕緊變燈。

我確實試著爬過那棵樹，只有一次，在五年級。在那之前一天，朱莉幫我把風(fēng)箏從樹上那些會“吃玩具的葉子”里取了下來。為了取我的風(fēng)箏，她爬到特別高的地方，下來之后一臉淡定。她沒有扣下風(fēng)箏作為“人質(zhì)”，也沒像我擔(dān)心的那樣噘起嘴巴不理我。她只是把風(fēng)箏遞給我，然后轉(zhuǎn)身走了。

我松了口氣，同時覺得自己太遜了。當(dāng)時我看到風(fēng)箏掛住的位置，馬上認(rèn)定它已經(jīng)回不來了。但朱莉不這么想。她二話不說就爬上樹幫我拿下來。嘿，這真讓人尷尬。

我默默地計算了一下她到底爬了多高，然后第二天計劃至少爬到比她高出兩根樹枝的位置。我攀上了第一個大的杈彎，向上爬了兩三根枝杈，然后——只是想看看自己進(jìn)展如何——我向下看去。

大——錯——特——錯！我仿佛站在帝國大廈的頂層，沒系安全帶。我試著抬頭尋找昨天風(fēng)箏掛住的位置，但是根本看不見。我是個不折不扣的爬樹白癡。

上了初中，我以為朱莉會從此消失的夢想也破滅了。我需要坐校車，而那個名字也不能提的人也是。我們這一站大概有八個學(xué)生一起等車，總是吵吵嚷嚷的，算是緩沖地帶，但絕不是個安全地帶。

朱莉總想站在我身邊，跟我說話，或者用別的什么方法來折磨我。

最后她選擇了爬樹。一個七年級的女孩，開始爬樹——爬得高高的。為什么？因為這樣她就能居高臨下地沖我們喊：校車離這兒還有五……四……三條街！一個掛在樹上的流水賬式的交通崗哨！每個初中同學(xué)每天早上聽到的第一句話就是她說的。

她想叫我爬上去跟她待在一起：“布萊斯，上來呀！你絕對無法想象這兒的景色有多美！太神奇了！布萊斯，你一定要上來看看！”

是啊，我都能想象出來：“布萊斯和朱莉坐在樹上……”二年級的往事，難道還陰魂不散嗎？

一天早晨，我刻意地沒有向樹上看去，她忽然從樹杈上跳下來，生生地撞到了我。害得我心臟病都要犯了！

我的背包掉在地上，還扭到了脖子，都賴她。我再也不愿意跟這只從精神病院跑出來的發(fā)瘋的猴子一起在樹下等車了。從此以后，我總是拖到最后一分鐘才從家里出來。我設(shè)置了屬于自己的校車站，看到校車快到了，就沖到山坡上去登車。

沒有朱莉，就沒有麻煩。

這種狀況貫穿了七年級和八年級的大多數(shù)時間，一直延續(xù)到幾個月前的一天。那天，我聽到山坡上一陣騷動，幾輛卡車停在克里爾街平時的校車站。一些人仰著頭沖朱莉喊著什么，而她當(dāng)然是在五層樓高的樹頂上。

孩子們也慢慢朝樹下聚攏過來，我聽見他們說她必須從樹上下來。她很好——對于任何一個耳朵沒有問題的人來說都聽得出來——但我不明白他們在吵什么。

我沖上山坡，當(dāng)我離得近一點兒、看清那些人手里拿的是什么，我立刻明白了為什么朱莉拒絕從樹上下來。

那是一臺鏈鋸。

千萬別誤解。這棵樹長滿了多瘤的樹脂，糾結(jié)成難看的一團。和那些人吵架的人是朱莉——全世界最麻煩、最霸道、永遠(yuǎn)全知全能的女人。但是一瞬間我的胃就抽搐起來。朱莉愛這棵樹，雖然聽起來很蠢，可她就是愛這棵樹，砍樹就等于在她的心里砍上一刀。

每個人都勸她下來，包括我在內(nèi)。但她說絕不下樹，永遠(yuǎn)也不，然后她試圖說服我們?！安既R斯，求你了！上來跟我一起。如果我們在這兒，他們就不敢砍樹了！”

我思考了一秒鐘。但這時校車來了，我告訴自己不要卷進(jìn)去，這不是我的樹，同樣這也不是朱莉的樹，雖然她表現(xiàn)得好像是她的。

我們登上校車，把她一個人留在那里，但這些都沒有用。我忍不住一直在想朱莉，她還在樹頂上嗎？他們會不會把她抓起來？

放學(xué)后，當(dāng)校車把我們送回來的時候，朱莉已經(jīng)不見了，一起消失的還有上半棵樹。頂部的樹枝，我的風(fēng)箏曾經(jīng)卡住的地方，她最最心愛的棲身之地——統(tǒng)統(tǒng)消失了。

我們在那兒看了一會兒，看鏈鋸如何開足馬力，冒著濃煙，就像在把木頭嚼一嚼吞下去似的。大樹看起來搖搖欲墜，毫無還手之力，沒過多久，我就非得離開那里不可。這活像是在觀察一個分尸現(xiàn)場，有生以來，我第一次有種想要尖叫的感覺。為了一棵愚蠢的、我痛恨已久的樹而尖叫。

回到家里，我試著忘掉這一切，但總是不由自主地想到，我是不是應(yīng)該爬到樹上，和她在一起？那樣會有用嗎？

我想給朱莉打個電話，說我很抱歉他們還是把樹砍掉了，但始終沒有打。我不知道這是不是會顯得，呃，很奇怪。

第二天早上，她沒有出現(xiàn)在校車站，下午也沒有坐校車回家。

那天晚上，快要吃飯之前，外公把我召喚到前廳。他并沒有在我經(jīng)過那里的時候叫住我——那樣就顯得我們已經(jīng)是朋友了。他只是告訴了我媽媽，然后媽媽再轉(zhuǎn)告給我?！拔也恢浪敫墒裁矗H愛的，”她說，“也許他準(zhǔn)備更進(jìn)一步地了解你?！?/p>

很好。他已經(jīng)認(rèn)識我超過一年半了，卻選擇眼下這個時候來了解我?？晌矣植桓曳潘澴?。

我的外公是個高大的人，他長著一只肉乎乎的鼻子，灰白的頭發(fā)向后梳成背頭。他常年穿著室內(nèi)拖鞋和運動衫，我從來沒見他留過胡須。胡子確實在長，但他幾乎一天要刮三遍。對他來說，這是一種休閑娛樂活動。

除了一只肉肉的鼻子，他的手也又大又厚。我想人們大概不會太在意別人的手，但那只結(jié)婚戒指會讓你意識到他的手有多結(jié)實。它從來沒有被摘下來過，雖然媽媽說婚戒本來就不該摘下來，但我想恐怕只有切斷它才能從他手上拿下來。如果外公再胖上幾磅，戒指就會勒斷他的手指。

當(dāng)我見到他的時候，那雙手握在一起，蓋在他膝蓋頭的報紙上。我說：“外公，你找我？”

“坐下，我的孩子。”

孩子？大部分時間他根本就像不認(rèn)識我一樣，而現(xiàn)在我卻忽然變成了他的“孩子”？我在對面的椅子上坐下，等著他說話。

“跟我說說你的朋友朱莉安娜·貝克吧。”

“朱莉？她不算是我的朋友……”

“為什么？”他冷靜地問，好像早就知道我會這么說。

我開始辯解，然后停下來：“你為什么要問這個？”

他翻開報紙，撫平上面的折痕，我這才發(fā)現(xiàn)，朱莉安娜·貝克上了今天《梅菲爾德時報》的頭版。

那是一張她在樹上的大照片，周圍是一整支消防隊，還有警察，旁邊配了幾張小圖片，我看不清楚?！澳茏屛铱纯磫?？”我說。

他把報紙疊起來，但沒有遞給我：“她為什么不是你的朋友，布萊斯？”

“因為她……”我猛搖頭，試著向他解釋，“你認(rèn)識了朱莉自然會明白。”

“我很想認(rèn)識她?！?/p>

“啊？為什么？”

“因為這姑娘很有骨氣。你為什么不找個時間請她來家里玩呢？”

“有骨氣？外公，你不明白！她是我遇到過的最大的麻煩。她是個活寶、百事通，還固執(zhí)得不可救藥！”

“真的嗎？”

“沒錯！千真萬確！而且她從二年級就開始跟蹤我！”

他皺起眉頭，然后望向窗外：“他們在那兒住了這么久？”

“我覺得他們簡直在隔壁住了一輩子了！”

他眉頭上的皺紋又加深了，目光回到我的身上：“你知道嗎，不是每個人的隔壁都住著一個這樣的女孩。”

“那他們真是太走運了！”

他長時間地、深深地審視著我。我問他：“怎么了？”但他沒有退縮，而是繼續(xù)盯著我看，而我退縮了——把目光轉(zhuǎn)向一邊。

別忘了，這是我和外公之間的第一次對話。這是他第一次想要跟我說點除了“把鹽遞過來”以外的話題。而他是想了解我嗎？不！他只想了解朱莉！

我真恨不得馬上跳起來逃跑，但還是按捺住了。不知怎么的，我知道如果我真的離開這里，那他就再也不會跟我說話了，連遞鹽這種話也不會再說。我坐在那兒，像受刑一樣。他生氣了嗎？他憑什么對我生氣？我根本什么也沒做錯！

當(dāng)我抬起頭的時候，他坐在那里把報紙遞了過來?！翱纯催@個，”他說，“不要有偏見。”

我接過報紙，而他又開始眺望窗外，我知道——我被丟在一邊了。

回到自己的房間里，我氣壞了。我關(guān)上臥室的門，把自己摔到床上，對外公生了一會兒氣之后，把報紙塞進(jìn)了書桌最下面的抽屜。誰愿意再多了解朱莉安娜·貝克的事??！

吃晚飯的時候，媽媽問我為什么拉著一張臉，還不停地把目光停留在我和外公身上?？磥硗夤恍枰疫f鹽給他，幸好如此，否則我很可能會把鹽瓶扔給他。

不過，姐姐和爸爸都和平時一樣。利奈特從她的胡蘿卜沙拉里挑出兩個葡萄干吃了，然后把雞翅剝掉皮、切成幾段、細(xì)細(xì)地從骨頭上啃下軟骨；爸爸則占領(lǐng)了大家的耳朵，談?wù)撝k公室政治和高管換血的需要。

沒人在聽——每次他說起這些“假如我是老大”的白日夢，都沒人認(rèn)真在聽——但是這一次，甚至連媽媽都沒有假裝在聽。

而且今天她也沒有試著說服利奈特多吃點。她只是一直看著我和外公，想找出我們彼此怒目相向的原因。

他沒什么理由可生我的氣。我到底怎么惹著他了？沒有，我什么都沒做。但他確實生氣了，我能看得出來。而我則徹底不去看他，直到晚飯吃到一半的時候，我才偷偷地向他瞥了一眼。

好吧，他在端詳著我。他的目光即使不算是惡狠狠的、冷酷的，也至少是嚴(yán)格的、堅定的，讓我覺得如坐針氈。

他到底想干嗎？

我不再看他，也不看媽媽，繼續(xù)專心吃飯，假裝聽爸爸聊天。一有機會，我就找了個借口回到自己的房間。

我打算像平時一樣，在心煩意亂的時候給我的朋友加利特打個電話。號碼撥出去了，我卻不知道該說些什么，只好又掛了電話。當(dāng)媽媽進(jìn)屋的時候，我假裝自己已經(jīng)睡著了。這是好幾年都沒有發(fā)生過的事了。整個晚上，我都被這種奇怪的情緒包圍著，只想一個人待著。

第二天，朱莉沒有出現(xiàn)在校車站，星期五的早晨也是。她去學(xué)校了，但如果沒有親眼見到她，你根本感受不到她的存在。她沒有揮著手要求老師叫她回答問題，也沒有沖過走廊奔去上課。她沒有在老師講課的時候搶著接下茬，也沒有制止不按順序排隊的孩子。她只是坐在那兒，安安靜靜地坐著。

我想說服自己，說她現(xiàn)在這樣很好——就像她根本不存在一樣，這不是我長期以來的希望嗎？但是，我仍然高興不起來。因為她的樹，因為她在圖書館里一個人狼吞虎咽地吃午餐，因為她哭紅的眼眶。我想跟她說：“嗨，我真為你的無花果樹感到難過?！钡冀K沒有說出口。

接下來的一個星期，他們又花了幾天的時間運走那棵樹。工人們清理了土地，還試圖挖出樹根，但它頑固地不肯動地方，所以人們轉(zhuǎn)而鋸掉樹樁，讓剩余的部分隱沒在土里。

朱莉仍然沒有出現(xiàn)在校車站，周末的時候，我聽加利特說她騎了一輛自行車。他說上個星期有兩次看到她在路邊騎著一輛生銹的老舊十擋變速車，鏈條拖在變速器上。

我猜她會回來的。去梅菲爾德中學(xué)的路很長，等她把樹的事忘在腦后，就會重新回到校車上。我甚至發(fā)現(xiàn)自己會不由自主地搜索她的身影。不是有意去找，只是希望能看到她。

一個雨天，我以為她肯定會來等校車，但她沒有。加利特說看到她穿著一件鮮黃色的雨衣踩著單車，數(shù)學(xué)課上我發(fā)現(xiàn)她的褲子從膝蓋以下全濕透了。

下課以后，我跟在她后面，想說服她重新乘坐校車，但是在最后一刻，我還是放棄了。我到底在想什么？朱莉根本不會在意一句友善的關(guān)懷，并且完全可能誤解我的意思。嘿，伙計，你要注意了！最好還是離她遠(yuǎn)點吧。

不管怎么說，我最不希望看到的事情，就是讓朱莉安娜·貝克以為我在想她。

Chapter 03

Buddy, Beware!

BRYCE

Seventh grade brought changes, all right, but the biggest one didn't happen at school — it happened at home. Granddad Duncan came to live with us.

At first it was kind of weird because none of us really knew him. Except for Mom, of course. And even though she's spent the past year and a half trying to convince us he's a great guy, from what I can tell, the thing he likes to do best is stare out the front-room window. There's not much to see out there except the Bakers' front yard, but you can find him there day or night, sitting in the big easy chair they moved in with him, staring out the window.

Okay, so he also reads Tom Clancy novels and the newspapers and does crossword puzzles and tracks his stocks, but those things are all distractions. Given no one to justify it to, the man would stare out the window until he fell asleep. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It just seems so ... boring.

Mom says he stares like that because he misses Grandma, but that's not something Granddad had ever discussed with me. As a matter of fact, he never discussed much of anything with me until a few months ago when he read about Juli in the newspaper.

Now, Juli Baker did not wind up on the front page of the Mayfield Times for being an eighth-grade Einstein, like you might suspect. No, my friend, she got front-page coverage because she refused to climb out of a sycamore tree.

Not that I could tell a sycamore from a maple or a birch for that matter, but Juli, of course, knew what kind of tree it was and passed that knowledge along to every creature in her wake.

So this tree, this sycamore tree, was up the hill on a vacant lot on Collier Street, and it was massive. Massive and ugly. It was twisted and gnarled and bent, and I kept expecting the thing to blow over in the wind.

One day last year I'd finally had enough of her yakking about that stupid tree. I came right out and told her that it was not a magnificent sycamore, it was, in reality, the ugliest tree known to man. And you know what she said? She said I was visually challenged. Visually challenged! This from the girl who lives in a house that's the scourge of the neighborhood. They've got bushes growing over windows, weeds sticking out all over the place, and a barnyard's worth of animals running wild. I'm talking dogs, cats, chickens, even snakes. I swear to God, her brothers have a boa constrictor in their room. They dragged me in there when I was about ten and made me watch it eat a rat. A live, beady-eyed rat. They held that rodent up by its tail and gulp, the boa swallowed it whole. That snake gave me nightmares for a month.

Anyway, normally I wouldn't care about someone's yard, but the Bakers' mess bugged my dad big-time, and he channeled his frustration into our yard. He said it was our neighborly duty to show them what a yard's supposed to look like. So while Mike and Matt are busy plumping up their boa, I'm having to mow and edge our yard, then sweep the walkways and gutter, which is going a little overboard, if you ask me.

And you'd think Juli's dad — who's a big, strong, bricklaying dude — would fix the place up, but no. According to my mom, he spends all his free time painting. His landscapes don't seem like anything special to me, but judging by his price tags, he thinks quite a lot of them. We see them every year at the Mayfield County Fair, and my parents always say the same thing: "The world would have more beauty in it if he'd fix up the yard instead."

Mom and Juli's mom do talk some. I think my mom feels sorry for Mrs. Baker — she says she married a dreamer, and because of that, one of the two of them will always be unhappy.

Whatever. Maybe Juli's aesthetic sensibilities have been permanently screwed up by her father and none of this is her fault, but Juli has always thought that that sycamore tree was God's gift to our little corner of the universe.

Back in the third and fourth grades she used to clown around with her brothers in the branches or peel big chunks of bark off so they could slide down the crook in its trunk. It seemed like they were playing in it whenever my mom took us somewhere in the car. Juli'd be swinging from the branches, ready to fall and break every bone in her body, while we were waiting at the stoplight, and my mom would shake her head and say, "Don't you ever climb that tree like that, do you hear me, Bryce? I never want to see you doing that! You either, Lynetta. That is much too dangerous."

My sister would roll her eyes and say, "As if,"while I'd slump beneath the window and pray for the light to change before Juli squealed my name for the world to hear.

I did try to climb it once in the fifth grade. It was the day after Juli had rescued my kite from its mutant toy-eating foliage. She climbed miles up to get my kite, and when she came down, she was actually very cool about it. She didn't hold my kite hostage and stick her lips out like I was afraid she might. She just handed it over and then backed away.

I was relieved, but I also felt like a weenie. When I'd seen where my kite was trapped, I was sure it was a goner. Not Juli. She scrambled up and got it down in no time. Man, it was embarrassing.

So I made a mental picture of how high she'd climbed, and the next day I set off to outdo her by at least two branches. I made it past the crook, up a few limbs, and then — just to see how I was doing — I looked down.

Mis-take! It felt like I was on top of the Empire State Building without a bungee. I tried looking up to where my kite had been, but it was hopeless. I was indeed a tree-climbing weenie.

Then junior high started and my dream of a Juli-free existence shattered. I had to take the bus, and you-know-who did, too. There were about eight kids altogether at our bus stop, which created a buffer zone, but it was no comfort zone. Juli always tried to stand beside me, or talk to me, or in some other way mortify me.

And then she started climbing. The girl is in the seventh grade, and she's climbing a tree — way, way up in a tree. And why does she do it? So she can yell down at us that the bus is five! four! three blocks away! Blow-by-blow traffic watch from a tree — what every kid in junior high feels like hearing first thing in the morning.

She tried to get me to come up there with her, too. "Bryce, come on! You won't believe the colors! It's absolutely magnificent! Bryce, you've got to come up here!"

Yeah, I could just hear it: "Bryce and Juli sitting in a tree..." Was I ever going to leave the second grade behind?

One morning I was specifically not looking up when out of nowhere she swings down from a branch and practically knocks me over. Heart a-ttack! I dropped my backpack and wrenched my neck, and that did it. I refused to wait under that tree with that maniac monkey on the loose any more. I started leaving the house at the very last minute. I made up my own waiting spot, and when I'd see the bus pull up, I'd truck up the hill and get on board.

No Juli, no problem.

And that, my friend, took care of the rest of seventh grade and almost all of eighth, too, until one day a few months ago. That's when I heard a commotion up the hill and could see some big trucks parked up on Collier Street where the bus pulls in. There were some men shouting stuff up at Juli, who was, of course, five stories up in the tree.

All the other kids started to gather under the tree, too, and I could hear them telling her she had to come down. She was fine — that was obvious to anyone with a pair of ears — but I couldn't figure out what they were all arguing about.

I trucked up the hill, and as I got closer and saw what the men were holding, I figured out in a hurry what was making Juli refuse to come out of the tree.

Chain saws.

Don't get me wrong here, okay? The tree was an ugly mutant tangle of gnarly branches. The girl arguing with those men was Juli — the world's peskiest, bossiest, most know-it-all female. But all of a sudden my stomach completely bailed on me. Juli loved that tree. Stupid as it was, she loved that tree, and cutting it down would be like cutting out her heart.

Everyone tried to talk her down. Even me. But she said she wasn't coming down, not ever, and then she tried to talk us up. "Bryce, please! Come up here with me. They won't cut it down if we're all up here!"

For a second I considered it. But then the bus arrived and I talked myself out of it. It wasn't my tree, and even though she acted like it was, it wasn't Juli's, either.

We boarded the bus and left her behind, but school was pretty much a waste. I couldn't seem to stop thinking about Juli. Was she still up in the tree? Were they going to arrest her?

When the bus dropped us off that afternoon, Juli was gone and so was half the tree. The top branches, the place my kite had been stuck, her favorite perch — they were all gone.

We watched them work for a little while, the chain saws gunning at full throttle, smoking as they chewed through wood. The tree looked lopsided and naked, and after a few minutes I had to get out of there. It was like watching someone dismember a body, and for the first time in ages, I felt like crying. Crying. Over a stupid tree that I hated.

I went home and tried to shake it off, but I kept wondering, Should I have gone up the tree with her? Would it have done any good?

I thought about calling Juli to tell her I was sorry they'd cut it down, but I didn't. It would've been too, I don't know, weird.

She didn't show at the bus stop the next morning and didn't ride the bus home that afternoon, either.

Then that night, right before dinner, my grandfather summoned me into the front room. He didn't call to me as I was walking by —that would have bordered on friendliness. What he did was talk to my mother, who talked to me. "I don't know what it's about, honey,"she said. "Maybe he's just ready to get to know you a little better."

Great. The man's had a year and a half to get acquainted, and he chooses now to get to know me. But I couldn't exactly blow him off.

My grandfather's a big man with a meaty nose and greased-back salt-and-pepper hair. He lives in house slippers and a sports coat, and I've never seen a whisker on him. They grow, but he shaves them off like three times a day. It's a real recreational activity for him.

Besides his meaty nose, he's also got big meaty hands. I suppose you'd notice his hands regardless, but what makes you realize just how beefy they are is his wedding ring. That thing's never going to come off, and even though my mother says that's how it should be, I think he ought to get it cut off. Another few pounds and that ring's going to amputate his finger.

When I went in to see him, those big hands of his were woven together, resting on the newspaper in his lap. I said, "Granddad? You wanted to see me?"

Have a seat, son.

Son? Half the time he didn't seem to know who I was, and now suddenly I was "son"? I sat in the chair opposite him and waited.

Tell me about your friend Juli Baker.

Juli? She's not exactly my friend ... !

Why is that? he asked. Calmly. Like he had prior knowledge.

I started to justify it, then stopped myself and asked, "Why do you want to know?"

He opened the paper and pressed down the crease, and that's when I realized that Juli Baker had made the front page of the Mayfield Times. There was a huge picture of her in the tree, surrounded by a fire brigade and policemen, and then some smaller photos I couldn't make out very well. "Can I see that?"

He folded it up but didn't hand it over. "Why isn't she your friend, Bryce?"

Because she's... I shook my head and said, "You'd have to know Juli."

I'd like to.

What? Why?

Because the girl's got an iron backbone. Why don't you invite her over sometime?

An iron backbone? Granddad, you don't understand! That girl is a royal pain. She's a show-off, she's a know-it-all, and she is pushy beyond belief!

Is that so?

Yes! That's absolutely so! And she's been stalking me since the second grade!

He frowned, then looked out the window and asked, "They've lived there that long?"

I think they were all born there!

He frowned some more before he looked back at me and said, "A girl like that doesn't live next door to everyone, you know."

Lucky them!

He studied me, long and hard. I said, "What?"but he didn't flinch. He just kept staring at me, and I couldn't take it — I had to look away.

Keep in mind that this was the first real conversation I'd had with my grandfather. This was the first time he'd made the effort to talk to me about something besides passing the salt. And does he want to get to know me? No! He wants to know about Juli!

I couldn't just stand up and leave, even though that's what I felt like doing. Somehow I knew if I left like that, he'd quit talking to me at all. Even about salt. So I sat there feeling sort of tortured. Was he mad at me? How could he be mad at me? I hadn't done anything wrong!

When I looked up, he was sitting there holding out the newspaper to me. "Read this," he said. "Without prejudice."

I took it, and when he went back to looking out the window, I knew — I'd been dismissed.

By the time I got down to my room, I was mad. I slammed my bedroom door and flopped down on the bed, and after fuming about my sorry excuse for a grandfather for a while, I shoved the newspaper in the bottom drawer of my desk. Like I needed to know any more about Juli Baker.

At dinner my mother asked me why I was so sulky, and she kept looking from me to my grandfather. Granddad didn't seem to need any salt, which was a good thing because I might have thrown the shaker at him.

My sister and dad were all business as usual, though. Lynetta ate about two raisins out of her carrot salad, then peeled the skin and meat off her chicken wing and nibbled gristle off the bone, while my father filled up airspace talking about office politics and the need for a shakedown in upper management.

No one was listening to him — no one ever does when he gets on one of his if-I-ran-the-circus jags — but for once Mom wasn't even pretending. And for once she wasn't trying to convince Lynetta that dinner was delicious either. She just kept eyeing me and Granddad, trying to pick up on why we were miffed at eachother.

Not that he had anything to be miffed at me about. What had I done to him, anyway? Nothing. Nada. But he was, I could tell. And I completely avoided looking at him until about halfway through dinner, when I sneaked apeek.

He was studying me, all right. And even though it wasn't a mean stare, or a hard stare, it was, you know, firm. Steady. And it weirded me out. What was his deal?

I didn't look at him again. Or at my mother. I just went back to eating and pretended to listen to my dad. And the first chance I got, I excused myself and holed up in my room.

I was planning to call my friend Garrett like I usually do when I'm bent about something. I even punched in his number, but I don't know. I just hung up.

And later when my mom came in, I faked like I was sleeping. I haven't done that in years. The whole night was weird like that. I just wanted to be left alone.

Juli wasn't at the bus stop the next morning. Or Friday morning.She was at school, but you'd never know it if you didn't actually look. She didn't whip her hand through the air trying to get the teacher to call on her or charge through the halls getting to class. She didn't make unsolicited comments for the teacher's edification or challenge the kids who took cuts in the milk line. She just sat. Quiet.

I told myself I should be glad about it — it was like she wasn't even there, and isn't that what I'd always wanted? But still, I felt bad. About her tree, about how she hurried off to eat by herself in the library at lunch, about how her eyes were red around the edges. I wanted to tell her, Man, I'm sorry about your sycamore tree, but the words never seemed to come out.

By the middle of the next week, they'd finished taking down the tree. They cleared the lot and even tried to pull up the stump, but that sucker would not budge, so they wound up grinding it down into the dirt.

Juli still didn't show at the bus stop, and by the end of the week I learned from Garrett that she was riding a bike. He said he'd seen her on the side of the road twice that week, putting the chain back on the derailleur of a rusty old ten-speed.

I figured she'd be back. It was a long ride out to Mayfield Junior High, and once she got over the tree, she'd start riding the bus again. I even caught myself looking for her. Not on the lookout, just looking.

Then one day it rained and I thought 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 completely 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.