Small Steps (17 page)

35

Over the next two months, a lot more people signed Armpit’s cast, most of them females who decorated their names with hearts and flowers. He didn’t get an F in economics, but an Incomplete, which turned into an 89 after he made up the final.

He was very lucky, and he knew it. If Jerome Paisley had succeeded in killing Kaira, Armpit would have spent the rest of his life in jail.

His fingerprints were on the bat. The knife came from his room. Her room key was found in his hotel suite. Traces of his blood and hair would be discovered in the next letter from Billy Boy. Then there was his prior criminal history, and the very public argument at the coffeehouse.

“If I was on the jury, even I would have voted to convict me,” he said.

“No, you’da gotten off,” X-Ray assured him. “How did you get the bat? You couldn’t have brought it from Austin. It wouldn’t fit in your backpack. And what? Did Ginny fake a seizure just so you could meet Kaira DeLeon? And you could have gotten Debbie Newberg to investigate for you and she would have found out about the missing money. Besides, how did your hair and blood get inside the envelope? What—did you cut yourself while brushing your hair, while you were writing the letter? The frame was too obvious. If you’re going to frame somebody, you got to be more subtle about it.”

“You should be a lawyer,” said Ginny.

“A lawyer,” said X-Ray as he mulled it over. “Now you’re talkin’. I’m good at the art of verbal persuasion.”

“Otherwise known as BS,” said Armpit.

The three of them were sitting in Ginny’s room, with all her stuffed animals.

As it turned out, the evidence that would have been used to convict Theodore Johnson would now be used against Jerome Paisley to prove premeditation—to show he had planned to murder her. However, El Genius had pretty much confessed to everything, so it didn’t look like there would even be a trial.

Armpit had been a little disappointed when the San Francisco district attorney told him that. If there were a trial then he’d get to go back to San Francisco and see Kaira again. Maybe they would go to Chinatown together and eat a couple of those steamed pork buns.

He still hadn’t heard from her. He thought about trying to get in touch with her but didn’t know where or how to find her.

“You shouldn’t have to call her,” said X-Ray. “She should call you! Not even a thank you! She’s such an ungrateful—” He stopped because Ginny was there.

“She’s going through some hard times,” Armpit said.

From everything he’d read in the papers, Kaira’s life was a train wreck. That woman Aileen had stolen most of the money from the concert tour, and there were still many people who needed to be paid and ticket holders who needed to be reimbursed. According to the newspapers, Kaira was broke. Whatever money she had left was being eaten up by lawyers and accountants. Of course, he realized, broke for someone like her didn’t mean the same as broke for someone like him.

Aileen had been arrested in Belize a few weeks earlier, but the money was never recovered. A police detective had discovered that Theodore Johnson’s airline ticket was purchased over the Internet and that the same computer had also purchased a ticket to Costa Rica for someone named Denise Linaria.

Worse for Kaira than the loss of her money was the loss of her voice. The doctors said she might never be able to sing again.

Armpit looked around at Ginny’s stuffed animals. Like Hooter, the owl who couldn’t see, or Daisy, the dog who couldn’t hear, Kaira might be a singer who couldn’t sing.

36

But she did sing again.

It was in late February. Armpit was just getting out of bed when he heard her voice on the radio.

It’s a lost and lonely kind of feeling,

To wake up wearing a disguise.

I lie in bed staring at the ceiling,
I don’t know who I am,
There’s little that I can

Fully recognize. . . .

Her voice sounded fragile, like fine crystal that might break at any moment, but each note was true and clear. There weren’t any backup singers or elaborate instrumentation; just the gentle plinkity-plank of a piano.

But I’m taking small steps,

’Cause I don’t know where I’m going.

I’m taking small steps

And I don’t know what to say.

Small steps,
Trying to pull myself together,
And maybe I’ll discover

A clue along the way. . . .

Armpit smiled despite the lump in his throat.

Just to make it through the day and not to get hurt,

Seems about the best that I can hope.

Like coffee stains splattered on your sweatshirt,
There isn’t any pattern.
Everything’s uncertain.

It’s difficult to cope. . . .

The lump in his throat turned into tears.

But I’m taking small steps,

’Cause I don’t know where I’m going.

I’m taking small steps,

And I’ve forgotten how to play.

Small steps,
Trying to pull myself together,
And maybe I’ll discover,

A clue along the way. . . .

The coffee stains were still on his sweatshirt. His mother had tried washing them out, but they were permanently set.

And if someday my small steps bring me near you,

Please don’t rush to tell me all you feel.

You don’t have to speak for me to hear you.
If I softly sigh,
Look me in the eye

And let me know I’m real. . . .

Then we’ll take small steps,

’Cause we won’t know where we’re going.

We’ll take small steps,

And we’ll have too much to say.

Small steps,
Hand in hand we’ll walk together,
And maybe we’ll discover

A clue along the way. . . .

She didn’t say she would see him again, just if. The song could mean anything or nothing at all, he realized. It might just be a song that he inspired, and that was nice too. More than anything, he was just glad to hear her singing again.

Anyway, he couldn’t let his life revolve around Kaira DeLeon. He had his own set of small steps to take. 1. Graduate from high school. 2. Attend two years of Austin Community College. 3. Do well enough to transfer to the University of Texas. (Jack Dunlevy wanted him to major in landscape architecture, but Armpit wasn’t sure he wanted to dig holes the rest of his life. He was considering studying occupational therapy, so he could help people like Ginny.) 4. Don’t do anything stupid. And 5. Lose the name Armpit.

Small steps,

’Cause I don’t know where I’m goin’.

Small steps,

I just take it day to day.

Small steps,
Somehow get myself together,
Then maybe I’ll discover

Who I am along the way. . . .

About the Author

LOUIS SACHAR
is the bestselling author of the award-winning novel
Holes,
as well as
Stanley Yelnats’ Survival Guide to Camp Green Lake, Dogs Don’t Tell Jokes, The Boy Who Lost His Face, There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom,
and the Marvin Redpost series, among many others.

OTHER BOOKS BY LOUIS SACHAR

Holes

Stanley Yelnats’ Survival Guide to Camp Green Lake

Dogs Don’t Tell Jokes

The Boy Who Lost His Face

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom

Awards for

HOLES

Winner of the Newbery Medal

Winner of the National Book Award

Winner of the
Boston Globe–Horn Book
Award

An ALA Best Book for Young Adults

An ALA Notable Book

An ALA Quick Pick

Winner of the Christopher Award for Juvenile Fiction

A
New York Times Book Review
Notable Children’s

Book of the Year

A
Horn Book
Fanfare

A
Publishers Weekly
Best Book of the Year

A
Bulletin
Blue Ribbon Book

A
School Library Journal
Best Book of the Year

Praise for

HOLES

“A smart jigsaw puzzle of a novel.” —
The New York Times Book Review

“[A] rugged, engrossing adventure.” —
School Library Journal

“Larger-than-life.” —
Publishers Weekly

Published by

Delacorte Press

an imprint of

Random House Children’s Books

a division of Random House, Inc.

New York

Text copyright © 2006 by Louis Sachar

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

The trademark Delacorte Press is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

Visit us on the Web!
www.randomhouse.com/teens

Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at
www.randomhouse.com/teachers

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Sachar, Louis.

         Small steps / Louis Sachar.

                           p.         cm.

         Summary: Three years after being released from Camp Green Lake, Armpit is trying hard to keep his life on track.

[1. Juvenile delinquents—Rehabilitation—Fiction.         2. Cerebral palsy—Fiction.          3. People with disabilities—Fiction.         4. Singers—Fiction.         5. Interpersonal relations—Fiction.         6. African Americans—Fiction.]         I. Title.

         PZ7 .S1185Sma         2006

         [Fic] — dc22

2005009102

eISBN: 978-0-375-84069-2

v3.0