Dad walked with Brad to school. They took their time—there were three dogs that would meet them at the edge of their yard—a golden retriever and two blue heelers. Brad had to say hi to each of them and pass them a biscuit from his pocket that he carried just for this reason. They also stopped to look at the coots in the irrigation ditch—Brad liked to count them.  His dad gave him a hug at the edge of the lawn in front of the school. Not many dads did this, but Brad didn’t care—he wouldn’t think of entering the building without a hug first, even when other kids laughed at him.  

Brad always dropped by the secretary’s desk. She asked “how’s Brad this morning?” Mr. Zeitler said “love your shirt, Brad—Spiderman has always been my favorite.” “Me too,” Brad replied. Some kids, younger and smaller than Brad, snickered at this comment. Brad mostly liked talking to the grownups—the kids made comments about his weight, saying he was “special ed,” that he still watched cartoons and played with legos. 

On the way to class Brad stopped at a drinking fountain. He bent over to take a drink and two boys made farting sounds near him. “Hey Tard!” they jeered. Brad stood up fast and water dripped all over his shirt. He didn’t want to turn around because everyone was laughing and he was crying.