Chapter 18I was too tired to go to algebra that morning. I ate a couple of pieces of toast for breakfast and was sipping my fifth cup of coffee out of a paper cup when I stumbled and fell on my hands in the Radio and TV breezeway.
“Hey Pete…Pete!” It was Earl, crossing the street. “Are you okay?”
I shakily picked myself up. “I just skinned my hand.”
Earl was closely looking at me and at the burst paper coffee cup on the sidewalk in front of me. “Are you having problems sleeping again?”
“My algebra tutor died yesterday…Herb Crowley, and I’ve been studying a lot and…” I was too tired to tell him anything else.
“I’m really sorry, Peter. I read that in the Egyptian this morning. Herb seemed like a really decent guy.”
I just stood there looking at him.
“Well, I was on my way to c
