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either."
        "Don't you go to school at all?"
        "Sure I go to school."
        "Where?"
        "At home."
        "You go to school at home?"
        I nodded.
        "What grade are you in?"
        I said I wasn't in any grade.
        Puzzled, he said, "You go to school at home, and don't know what grade you're in. Who teaches you?"
        "My mother."
        "What does she teach you?"
        I said, "Reading, writing, and arithmetic, and I bet I'm just as good at it as you are."
        He asked, "Don't you have any shoes?"
        I said, "Sure, I have shoes."
        "Why aren't you wearing them?"
        "I don't wear shoes until it gets cold."
        He laughed and asked where I lived.
        I said, "Back in the hills."
        He said, "Oh, you're a hillbilly."
        He ran back to the mob. I saw him pointing at me and talking to several boys. They started my way, yelling, "Hillbilly, hillbilly."
        Just before they reached me, a bell started ringing. Turning, they ran to the front of the building, lined up in two long lines, and marching like little tin soldiers disappeared inside the school.
        The playground was silent. I was all alone, and felt lonely and sad.
        I heard a noise on my right. I didn't have to turn around to recognize what it was. Someone was using a hoe. I'd know that sound if I heard it on a dark night. It was a little old white-headed woman working in a flower bed.
        Looking again at the long, blue pipe, I thought,
        "There's no one around. Maybe I could have one slide anyway."
        I eased over and looked up into the dark hollow. It looked scary, but I thought of all the other boys I had seen crawl into it. I could see the last mark on the ground, and thought, "I bet I can beat that."
        Laying my sack down, I started climbing up. The farther I went, the darker and more scary it got. Just as I reached the top, my feet slipped. Down I sailed. All the way down I tried to grab on to something, but there was nothing to grab.
        I'm sure some great champions had slid out of that pipe, and no doubt more than one world record had been broken, but if someone had been there when I came out, I know the record I set would stand today in all its glory.
        I came out just like I went in, feet first and belly down. My legs were spread out like a bean-shooter stalk. Arms flailing the air, I zoomed out and up. I seemed to hang suspended in air at the peak of my climb. I could see the hard-packed ground far below.
        As I started down, I shut my eyes tight and gritted my teeth. This didn't seem to help. With a splattering sound, I landed. I felt the air whoosh out between my teeth. I tried to scream, but had no wind left to make a sound.
        After bouncing a couple of times, I finally settled down to earth. I lay spread-eagled for a few seconds, and then slowly got to my knees.
        Hearing loud laughter, I looked around. It was the little old lady with the hoe in her hand. She hollered and asked how I liked it. Without answering, I grabbed up my gunny sack and left. Far up the street, I looked back. The little old lady was sitting down, rocking with laughter.
        I couldn't understand these town people. If they weren't staring at a fellow, they were laughing at him.
        

V
        
    ON ARRIVING AT THE DEPOT, MY NERVE FAILED ME. I WAS  afraid to go in. I didn't know what I was scared of, but I was scared.
        Before going around to the front, I peeked in a window. The stationmaster was in his office looking at some papers. He was wearing a funny little cap that had no top in it. He looked friendly enough but I still couldn't muster up enough courage to go in.
        I cocked my ear to see if I could hear puppies crying, but could hear nothing. A bird started chirping. It was a yellow canary in a cage. The stationmaster walked over and gave it some water. I thought, "Anyone that is kind