'Hold on,' Kurtz said tenderly. The comforter tumbled off him and Jonesy saw he had a pretty good potbelly pooching out the front of his sweater. But what riveted Owen's attention (it had to; it was at the center of the picture Duddits had sent h 17As the two boys advance on the overgrown bed, Mr Gray begins to push the CALL button repeatedly, but nothing happens.
'Duds, I'm so sorry,' Henry said. Dear God, Mr Gray is me. He couldn't see the pumping fists, couldn't hear the strong thought-voice that was leading the chant. We are, in our sum, Duddits, and all our noblest aspirations come down to no more than keeping track of the yellow lunchbox and learning to put our shoes on the right way — fit wha, fit neek.
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