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I
looked
from
his
hands
to
his
sand
-
stained
khaki
pants
;
my
eyes
traveled
up
his
thin
frame
to
his
torn
denim
shirt
.
His
face
was
as
white
as
his
hands
,
but
for
a
shadow
on
his
jutting
chin
.
His
cheeks
were
thin
to
hollowness
;
his
mouth
was
wide
;
there
were
shallow
,
almost
delicate
indentations
at
his
temples
,
and
his
gray
eyes
were
so
colorless
I
thought
he
was
blind
.
His
hair
was
dead
and
thin
,
almost
feathery
on
top
of
his
head
.
When
I
pointed
to
him
his
palms
slipped
slightly
,
leaving
greasy
sweat
streaks
on
the
wall
,
and
he
hooked
his
thumbs
in
his
belt
A
strange
small
spasm
shook
him
,
as
if
he
heard
fingernails
scrape
slate
,
but
as
I
gazed
at
him
in
wonder
the
tension
slowly
drained
from
his
face
.
His
lips
parted
into
a
timid
smile
,
and
our
neighbor
’
s
image
blurred
with
my
sudden
tears
.
"
Hey
,
Boo
,
"
I
said
.
"
Mr
.
Arthur
,
honey
,
"
said
Atticus
,
gently
correcting
me
.
"
Jean
Louise
,
this
is
Mr
.
Arthur
Radley
.
I
believe
he
already
knows
you
.
"
If
Atticus
could
blandly
introduce
me
to
Boo
Radley
at
a
time
like
this
,
well
—
that
was
Atticus
.
Boo
saw
me
run
instinctively
to
the
bed
where
Jem
was
sleeping
,
for
the
same
shy
smile
crept
across
his
face
.
Hot
with
embarrassment
,
I
tried
to
cover
up
by
covering
Jem
up
.
"
Ah
-
ah
,
don
’
t
touch
him
,
"
Atticus
said
.
Mr
.
Heck
Tate
sat
looking
intently
at
Boo
through
his
horn
-
rimmed
glasses
.
He
was
about
to
speak
when
Dr
.
Reynolds
came
down
the
hall
.
"
Everybody
out
,
"
he
said
,
as
he
came
in
the
door
.
"
Evenin
’
,
Arthur
,
didn
’
t
notice
you
the
first
time
I
was
here
.
"
