Even though Paul was happy he'd given Hank the tools he needed to pass his driver's test when he was allowed to retake it, he would have given anything to protect Hank from the looks on his friends' faces when he had to face them the following day and tell them he hadn't passed.
"What? You failed??"
"How does a tough guy like you fail anyway? You're the star of our football team!"
"I thought only babies failed their driver's tests."
If Paul had been the same type of guy that these friends were, he would have punched them. Instead he put his arm around Hank's shoulders and led him away from them into the school building. "Come on, Hank. You don't need to stay here and listen to these real losers."
"Oh, right, Paul," one of Hank's buddies called after him. "You'll look like a real loser yourself in your new pink hippie van!"
Hank started to turn around, fists clenching, but Paul shook his head and pulled him through the doorway. "They're not worth it."
Hank's head was downcast. "What's the matter with them? I thought they were my friends."
Paul turned to face Hank, hands on his shoulders. "You'll show them, Hank. Just wait another fifteen days, and then they'll see who isn't a loser."
All the same, Paul could tell it was a hard fifteen days for Hank, and he tried to support him as much as he could. It wasn't easy, because Hank still preferred to eat lunch with the rest of the football team and all their jeers, and all their excited conversations about what cars they had already gotten, than "admit defeat", as he put it, and eat lunch with his brother and the drama club. One time, Hank was even left out of a party his friends were having because it was "bring your own car only".
Paul's parents had already offered to take him to look at cars, but he'd refused.
"Hank and I will do it together," he said. "I'm not getting myself a car until he does."
"What? You failed??"
"How does a tough guy like you fail anyway? You're the star of our football team!"
"I thought only babies failed their driver's tests."
If Paul had been the same type of guy that these friends were, he would have punched them. Instead he put his arm around Hank's shoulders and led him away from them into the school building. "Come on, Hank. You don't need to stay here and listen to these real losers."
"Oh, right, Paul," one of Hank's buddies called after him. "You'll look like a real loser yourself in your new pink hippie van!"
Hank started to turn around, fists clenching, but Paul shook his head and pulled him through the doorway. "They're not worth it."
Hank's head was downcast. "What's the matter with them? I thought they were my friends."
Paul turned to face Hank, hands on his shoulders. "You'll show them, Hank. Just wait another fifteen days, and then they'll see who isn't a loser."
All the same, Paul could tell it was a hard fifteen days for Hank, and he tried to support him as much as he could. It wasn't easy, because Hank still preferred to eat lunch with the rest of the football team and all their jeers, and all their excited conversations about what cars they had already gotten, than "admit defeat", as he put it, and eat lunch with his brother and the drama club. One time, Hank was even left out of a party his friends were having because it was "bring your own car only".
Paul's parents had already offered to take him to look at cars, but he'd refused.
"Hank and I will do it together," he said. "I'm not getting myself a car until he does."