its from bud not buddy
HERE WE GO AGAIN. We were all standing in line waiting for breakfast
when one of the caseworkers came in and tap-tap-tapped down the line. Uh-oh,
this meant bad news, either they'd found a foster home for somebody or
somebody was about to get paddled. All the kids watched the woman as she
moved along the line, her high-heeled shoes sounding like little fire- crackers
going off on the wooden floor.
Shoot! She stopped at me and said, "Are you Buddy Caldwell?"
I said, "It's Bud, not Buddy, ma'am.''
She put her hand on my shoulder and took me out of line. Then she pulled
Jerry, one of the littler boys, over. "Aren't you Jerry Clark?" He nodded.
"Boys, good news! Now that the school year has ended, you both have been
accepted in new temporary- care homes starting this afternoon!"
Jerry asked the same thing I was thinking. "Together?"
She said, "Why, no. Jerry, you'll be in a family with three little girls ..."
Jerry looked like he'd just found out they were going to dip him in a pot of
". .. and Bud ..." She looked at some papers she was holding. "Oh, yes, the
Amoses, you'll be with Mr. and Mrs. Amos and their son, who's twelve years
old, that makes him just two years older than you, doesn't it, Bud?"
She said, "I'm sure you'll both be very happy."
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