Illustration courtesy of Dave Thomson
Of course we all went barefoot in the summertime. Arch Fuqua was about
my own age--ten or eleven. In the winter we could stand him, because he
wore shoes then, and his great gift was hidden from our sight and we were
enabled to forget it. But in the summertime he was a bitterness to us.
He was our envy, for he could double back his big toe and let it fly and
you could hear it snap thirty yards. There was not another boy in the
school that could approach this feat. He had not a rival as regards a
physical distinction--except in Theodore Eddy, who could work his ears
like a horse. But he was no real rival, because you couldn't hear him
work his ears; so all the advantage lay with Arch Fuqua.
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