CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOVEMBER 20, 1960
I can’t stop thinking about Laura. Without her, life would be terminally dull here. Even the cows are so bored they just stand in one spot like cow-print wallpaper. If livestock could climb, they’d be throwing themselves off barns all over Indiana right now.
My grades aren’t exactly noteworthy these days. (I’m smashing records in the impressive ‘C’ category.) But I can’t see any reason to worry about it. I’ll be gone before graduation. My new plan is to head to Stockbridge, Massachusetts, where Norman Rockwell lived. From what I read, it’s a really peaceful town. And I doubt if the Report Card Magistrate will check my grades at the town border. Imagine the inquisition:
“Weed Clapper, huh? Let’s see that report card, son. Hmmm, you’re a helluva dunce,
