Last But Not Least

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Matt stood in the field on the bitter October morning. The wind’s icy fingers reached right through Matt’s skin to chill his bones. It was crazy that Mr. Donner made them wear their gym shorts on a day like today—but if Donner had any compassion in him, any humanity, any kindness at all, Matt had never seen it.

“I’ll take Spalding.”

“Gimme Chen. ”

Last week, Matt had tried to get out of phys. ed. class by pretending he’d lost his gym shorts; he’d put his own shorts in the school’s lost and found. But Donner had an extra pair he lent him—and he said if Matt showed up without shorts again, he’d make him take the class in his underwear.

“I pick Oxnard.”

“I’ll take Modigliani.”

Matt didn’t mind being outdoors, and he didn’t mind getting some exercise, but he hated phys. ed.—hated it as much as he hated it when his parents fought; when he had to go to the dentist; when that dog over on Parkhurst came chasing after him.

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