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THE DECISION

When Rodney Timmons left the junkyard, he was limping. "Rats on old Mr. Jarvis," he muttered to himself. "Imagine having a pipe sticking out of the ground like that. It's a wonder I didn't break my whole leg, not just bash my ankle."

Rodney was on his way home. Already, he could hear his father reminding him he'd been told to stay out of the junk yard.

"The way Jarvis stacks things any which way is dangerous," Mr. Timmons had lectured only last week. "Be patient, Rodney. The first Saturday I have off, I'll go with you. With me along, Mr. Jarvis will hunt out what you need for a go-cart."

Then, as Rodney looked rebellious, he insisted, "I mean it. Don't go near that junk yard alone!"

Now Rodney swallowed the lump in his throat and wished his stomach didn't feel so much like jelly.

He hadn't meant to disobey. Only Dad had worked on Saturday and another whole week to wait seemed forever. Then today, when Mrs. Rogers got sick and dismissed the class fifteen minutes early-well, seeing what parts Mr. Jarvis had seemed a chance too good to miss.

"Dad sure was right about Mr. Jarvis," Rodney grumbled as he reached his corner. "He wouldn't leave that old radio to find anything for me. Just told me to look around."

Sighing, Rodney glanced down at the ankle that, although covered by his jeans, throbbed so fiercely that he knew it was swollen. Still, if he kept the ankle covered, maybe his parents would never have to know.

"I'll have to walk on it though," he thought. "I'd better practice now."

Automatically, Rodney checked for cars. Then carefully, he lowered the bad foot off the curb.
As his weight came down on the foot, the ankle twisted again. He fell just as something whooshed past, spewing dust and wind with such force that he winced and shut his eyes.

"Wow! That car must have been flying," he thought as he lay stunned. "It was way down the next block when I looked."

Rodney sat up, rubbed the grit from his eyes. Vaguely, he realized that several people had gathered around him.

"I saw Rodney look before crossing," his mother's friend Mrs. Loomis was telling a policeman.

"He'd been staring at something in the gutter. Then he checked for cars. Both ways. Officer, I saw it all from my front window. This-this maniac came tearing along and knocked Rodney flat!"

"I was going too fast," a new voice spoke as the policeman squatted beside Rodney and began to probe gently for broken bones. "I was late getting home from school and my mother needs the car."

Rodney saw that the speaker

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