第三章

As for the first person to actually stop and talk with Maniac, that would be Amanda Beale. And it happened because of a mistake. It was around eight in the morning, and Amanda was heading for grade school, like hundreds of other kids all over town. What made Amanda different was that she was carrying a suitcase, and that's what caught Maniac's eye. He figured she was like him, running away, so he stopped and said, "Hi." 
Amanda was suspicious. Who was this white stranger kid! And what was he doing in the East End, where almost all the kids were black! And why was he saying that! But Amanda Beale was also friendly. So she stopped and said "Hi" back. "Are you running away? "Jeffrey asked her. "Huh!" said Amanda. Jeffrey pointed at the suitcase. Amanda frowned, then thought, then laughed. She laughed so hard she began to lose her balance, so she set the suitcase down 
and sat on it so she could laugh more safely. When at last she could speak, she said, "I'm not running away. I'm going to school." 
She saw the puzzlement on his face. She got off the suitcase and opened it up right there on the sidewalk. Jeffrey gasped. "Books!" Books, all right. Both sides of the suitcase crammed with them. Dozens more than anyone would ever need for homework. Jeffrey fell to his knees. He and Amanda and the suitcase were like a rock in a stream; the school-goers just flowed to the left and right around them. He turned his head this way and that to read the titles. He lifted the books on top to see the ones beneath. There were fiction books and nonfiction books, who- did-it books and let' s-be-friends books and what-is-it books and how-to books and how-nor-to books and just-regular-kid books. On the bottom was a single volume from an encyclopedia. It was the letter A. "My library," Amanda Beale said proudly. Somebody called, "Gonna be late for school, girl?" 
Amanda looked up. The street was almost deserted. She slammed the suitcase shut and started hauling it along. Jeffrey took the suitcase from her. "I'll carry it for you." 
Amanda's eyes shot wide. She hesitated; then she snatched it back. "Who are you!" she said. "Jeffrey Magee." "Where are you from? West End?" No. 
She stared at him, at the flap-soled sneakers. Back in those days the town was pretty much divided. The East End was blacks, the West End was whites. "I know you're not from the East End." "I'm from Bridgeport." "Bridgeport! Over there! That Bridgeport?" "Yep. " "Well, why aren't you there?" 
"It's where I'm from, not where I am." "Great. So where do you live?" 
Jeffrey looked around. "I don't know... maybe... here?" 
"Maybe."' Amanda shook her head and chuckled. "Maybe you better go ask your mother and father if you live here or not." 
She speeded up. Jeffrey dropped back for a second, then caught up with her. "Why are you taking all these books to school!" 
Amanda told him. She told him about her little brother and sister at home, who loved to crayon every piece of paper they could find, whether or not it already had type all over it. And about the dog, Bow Wow, who chewed everything he could get his teeth on. And that, she said, was why she carried her whole library to and from school every day. 
First bell was ringing; the school was still a block away. Amanda ran. Jeffrey ran. 
"Can I have a book?" he said. 
"They're mine," she said. 
"Just to read. To borrow." 
No. 
"Please. What's your name?" 
"Amanda. " "Please, Amanda. Any one. Your shortest one." 
"I’m late now and I'm not gonna stop and open up this thing again. Forget it." 
He stopped. "Amanda?" 
She kept running, then stopped, turned, glared. What kind of kid was this, anyway ! All grungy. Ripped shirt. Why didn't he go back to Bridgeport or the West End, where he belonged? Bother some white girl up there! And why was she still standing here.
"So what if I loaned you one, huh! How am I gonna get it back?" 
"I'll bring it back. Honest! If it's the last thing I do. What's your address?" 
"Seven twenty-eight Sycamore. But you can't come there. You can't even be here." 
Second bell rang. Amanda screamed, whirled, ran. 
"Amanda?" 
She stopped, turned. "Ohhhh," she squeaked. She tore a book from the suitcase, hurled it at him - "Here!" and dashed into school. 
The book came flapping like a wounded duck and fell at Jeffrey's feet. It was a story of the Children's Crusade. Jeffrey picked it up, and Amanda Beale was late to school for the only time in her life.