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Chapter 3
Thecootie’shostshowednotthefaintestinterestinthefurorhehadwrought.Hesearchedthescalpabovehisforehead,locatedhisguestandpincheditbetweenhisthumbandforefinger.
MissCarolinewatchedtheprocessinhorridfascination.LittleChuckbroughtwaterinapapercup,andshedrankitgratefully.Finallyshefoundhervoice."Whatisyourname,son?"sheaskedsoftly.
Theboyblinked."Who,me?"MissCarolinenodded.
"BurrisEwell."
MissCarolineinspectedherroll-book."IhaveaEwellhere,butIdon’thaveafirstname...wouldyouspellyourfirstnameforme?"
"Don’tknowhow.TheycallmeBurris’thome."
"Well,Burris,"saidMissCaroline,"Ithinkwe’dbetterexcuseyoufortherestoftheafternoon.Iwantyoutogohomeandwashyourhair."
Fromherdesksheproducedathickvolume,leafedthroughitspagesandreadforamoment."Agoodhomeremedyfor—Burris,Iwantyoutogohomeandwashyourhairwithlyesoap.Whenyou’vedonethat,treatyourscalpwithkerosene."
"Whatfer,missus?"
"Togetridofthe—er,cooties.Yousee,Burris,theotherchildrenmightcatchthem,andyouwouldn’twantthat,wouldyou?"
Theboystoodup.HewasthefilthiesthumanIhadeverseen.Hisneckwasdarkgray,thebacksofhishandswererusty,andhisfingernailswereblackdeepintothequick.
