Maragold in Fifth Part One

Bill Sheehan

13225 101st St., Lot 156

Largo, FL  33773

Home: 727-729-6001

Cell:     727-501-6666

                                    MARAGOLD IN FIFTH

                             by  Bill  Sheehan

                                                DEDICATION

            This book is dedicated to my loving wife and best friend, Sandra

Grace Sheehan.  Her Advice and assistance with editing was invaluable and

significantly added to this book’s overall quality and readability.

CHAPTER 1: SUPER SUMMER

            Top-O’-The-Morning to you. I hope your summer vacation was as good as mine was. Remember me? I’m Bert, Mara Shane’s magical leprechaun. During the summer vacation I went to Ireland to visit my dear mom, dad, brothers, sisters, other relatives, and friends. We had a wonderful time. There were parties, picnics and too much to eat; but it was a grand celebration, until my dad asked me when I would be coming back to work at the Shamrock Magic Supplies factory. He informed me that my old job of preparing the magical emerald wands had been saved and was waiting for me. As a matter of fact, the factory boss leprechaun, who was also the owner, wanted me to return to work as soon as possible. He said that the magical emerald wands that they were making, since I left last year, weren’t as good as they were when I was in charge of making them. Apparently my replacement, and all of his replacements, couldn't get the chemical formulas correct. One was the standard formula used for the final, pale-green, glass-like coating of the wands. Then there was also, and perhaps most importantly, my own perfected formula for the tips of the magic wands, where the magic power of the wand came out, either like a narrow laser beam or, if desired, in a spread-out pattern to cover larger areas. The tips of each wand were a darker green color than the rest of the wand, and had sparkling gold flakes¾real gold that was highly valued by leprechauns. It was these pure gold flakes, plus my secret chemical formulas, mixed in the correct proportion with the wand's coating formula that made the wands so powerful.

            Most of the chemical measurements, and the mixing of liquids and powders, were extremely delicate procedures. They had to be absolutely precise; not one-thousandth of a drop more or less would provide the maximum power. Even the mixing jars and glass stirring rods had to be sterilized and thoroughly dried before mixing the chemicals, or the liquid formula might become accidentally diluted and lose much of its power.

            Also, as with any standard recipe that's in the hands of an excellent cook, that recipe gets ingredients added to it and deleted from it by the cook. That recipe becomes more exact, more demanding and more complicated, but the food becomes more and more tasty. That’s also what happened to my magic wand formulas. I learned, like a master chef, how to greatly improve the standard recipe by adding and deleting certain ingredients from it.

            From what my teachers have told me, I have a natural and gifted ability in math and science. Scientific formulas and math equations just appear in my mind when I’m thinking of solutions to science and math related problems. I don't brag about it, or claim credit for those skills any more than I would brag about, or claim credit for, the color of my eyes. I didn't have to work hard to learn those skills; I was just born with them. But being born with those skills, or working hard to learn them, is not as important as how those skills are used. I wanted to use those skills to help my friends and family, to make my community a better place, to add more happiness to the world and, maybe ,even make the world a better place.

            I hope that doesn't sound like I’m bragging. It certainly isn't intended that way. I have no right to brag since I was born with those skills. The only people who have the right to brag are the people who have worked hard to gain their great skill. Even then, however, I don’t think that a happy, satisfied person needs to brag. It usually looks ridiculous, sounds insincere, and often has a hurtful affect¾I’m so much better than you are¾on friends and family. No, I wouldn't brag even if I did earn my great skills. Dear reader, I believe it's best to let your effort, dedication, and the quality of your work show what kind of person you are.

            I told my mom and dad that I was only back to the beautiful Emerald Isle¾that’s green Ireland¾for the summer and that I would be returning to America at the end of August. Everyone was sad to hear that I wasn’t home to stay, but they all envied me when I told them all about my wonderful friend, Maragold, and all the exciting activities, as well as the humorous jokes and situations that we had experienced both in and out of school.

            Everyone seemed to understand my need to return to America except my mom and dad, and my magic wand factory boss. Mom and Dad said that I was too far away from them and they missed me a lot. My magic factory boss wanted me to return to the factory so he could, once again, produce those highest-quality, powerful, magic wands that I had been making for him. He also indicated that there were a lot of other workers at the factory whose jobs depended on me and my formulas to help sell the wands. He said if the wands became less attractive to magicians, then sales would decrease. If sales decreased too much, then they would have to decrease the number of wands made. Decreasing the number of wands made in the factory meant that not as many workers would be needed, and then some leprechauns would lose their jobs. I worried about that. I didn't want anyone to lose their job at the factory because then their family would suffer.

            Leprechauns can become grumpy, very quickly; kind of like one of Snow White’s dwarfs¾but dwarfs are imaginary and leprechauns are real. Bosses have a lot of concerns, worries and stress to deal with, so the factory boss was quite often a grumpy guy. He became extra grumpy when he heard about my desire to return to America. Luckily his grumpiness dissolved when I offered to come to the factory to write, demonstrate, and explain, in detail, just how I was able to make such high quality magic wands in the factory laboratory. A week later, after I had visited all my family and friends, and had a chance to rest, I kept my promise by spending an entire week at the factory writing the exact formulas and equations, then showing my magic factory boss, and my replacement, exactly how to prepare, measure, and mix my secret formulas¾I had them all memorized¾of magic powders and liquids, how to apply them to the correct thickness on each wand, how to prepare the gold flakes, and what magical leprechaun words to say in order to complete the process. After I taught them my secret processes, they and the other workers were overflowing with appreciation, especially the boss who had a big party for me and all of his employees. It felt good to see his grumpiness change to gratitude, but my real reward was seeing and feeling the happiness in all my factory friends.

            I didn’t realize just how important my secret formulas were to the

continued survival of the Shamrock Magic Factory until my job was nearly completed. It was my last day at the factory and I had just finished training my replacement. He left for home with all the other workers, but I needed to stay in the laboratory to check every detail of all the formulas and equations. I didn't want anything to go wrong when someone else used them. I also needed to put my personal belongings into a bag so I could take them to America with me. When I was done with those jobs I turned off the lights and started for the laboratory door. I stopped suddenly when I saw a mysterious, pale-green glow hovering on top of the doorknob. The green light started to sparkle and quiver, then expand and contract. Slowly, a leprechaun shape took form. I could see that this leprechaun was wearing the traditional green clothing, which I had recently decided to do myself, instead of wearing my tuxedo outfit. The gold braids on the sleeves indicated that he was the supreme Elder leprechaun. The Elders were the old and wise kings in the leprechaun nation. As I stood there, staring at him. I could see that his hair and beard were a reddish orange color, like a pumpkin, but slightly darker. His beard was the longest that I'd ever seen. It looked like long, fine strands of orange rind peelings that were wrapped around his waist so his beard would not drag on the ground. His cheeks were plump, his nose unusually round and his green eyes shone brightly in the darkness, like the night time headlights of a far-away car. I had only seen this powerful Elder King of all leprechauns once before, and that was only in a picture. He was the primary king of our nation and, in importance, influence and power, he ranked higher than all the other secondary kings. In human terms, he would be equal to the President of the United States of America. I had heard and read that my Elder King preferred to live alone in order to peacefully think about how to advise and guide the leprechaun nation. It is said that his castle is made of the purest, glittering gold, sprinkled with magnificent emeralds, and that he is a great ruler whose magical powers are unequaled in the leprechaun nation.

            I didn't know what to say, or what to do. Why was he here? I was very nervous and somewhat fearful that I had done something terribly wrong. I watched him as he stroked his beard from his chin to his waist. He stared at me, but he did it with kind eyes and a pleasant smile. He was examining me, analyzing me; more mentally than physically. But now I felt warm, comfortable and relaxed, in spite of, or perhaps because of, his examination of me.

            I continued to stare at him, as I was thinking, “Is this really the Elder King of all the leprechauns, or am I just imagining this event?”

            His words surprised me with their gentleness and soft tone, yet they seemed so powerful and commanding as they flowed from his mouth. “Yes, lad. I am Sir Patrick O’Keefe, your Elder King.”

            I still could not take my eyes off him. I wondered how old he was and if his magic was as strong as I had heard and read about, and did he really live in a castle of the purest gold that was trimmed with emeralds? My mind raced with questions that I wanted to ask, but I remained silent due to my respect for him.

            A very broad smile with perfect white teeth spread across his face as he searched my eyes and said, “Well, lad, let’s just say that I have been around for a very long time, indeed. Yes, lad, my magic powers are unequaled and, yes again, I do live in a pure gold castle that's dotted with emeralds. It is shamefully rich, but it is expected of me. I am much more comfortable at my simple silver cabin on the shore of Elderado Lake, the lake of the kings.”

            Suddenly I felt shocked because I realized that I had not said a single word to him since he had appeared. I had only thought those questions. I thought, “He must be able to” . . .

            “Read thoughts?” he said, as he finished my sentence. “Yes, I can read your thoughts, lad. But I didn’t come here to brag about my special powers. You and I both have the same low opinion of bragging. So, why am I here? I came to offer you a gift for your excellent work and generosity.”

            I wasn’t sure what excellent work and generosity he meant, but I felt that this was not a good time to interrupt him. He could read my thoughts, anyway. Would my thoughts interrupt him? I simply did not know what to think.

            “Thank you for not interrupting me,” he said. "I’m talking about your excellent work in America and your generosity at the factory. You are a very bright and brave lad to leave the safety and security of Ireland. But more importantly, to me, is the fact that you have chosen to use your young powers to protect, guide and be a loyal friend to the lass named, Mara. I have seen you do an excellent job, although you never realized that I have been occasionally watching you. I’m proud of your behavior with Mara and her family. I’m even more proud of you for sharing your valuable secret formulas and equations with the magic factory owner, who, by the way, is related to me. We both thought that maybe you would be greedy and ask for something great in exchange for your secrets. I'm aware that in just a few years you discovered and developed them yourself. I know that it took a lot of hard work and thousands of hours of your valuable time. But then, without any greediness, you shared your secrets for the good of your friends and their families. We kings are very proud of you for that. You have our respect and admiration. Had you been greedy, you could have gained much wealth, but you would have lost our admiration and respect.”

            I was speechless, but I thought, “I have no further use for the formulas. The factory boss and workers need them much more than I do. I love being with Maragold in America, and I don’t want the factory workers to suffer in any way because of me.”

            “Yes, I can see that you are not greedy. You have never even mentioned the hours, days, months, and years that it took you to discover and refine those complex chemical formulas and equations that are even difficult for me to understand. It’s easy to see that you care for the welfare of the factory and its workers, and for all these reasons I have come here, tonight, to grant you one wish that will add to your magical power to become invisible. What will it be, lad? What will you wish for? Tell me and I shall grant it.”

            I guess I should have been confused by all the possible choices that I could have wished for, but as I stared into Elder O’Keefe’s eyes I knew that I wanted, in some way, to be like him. I wanted to be able to read the thoughts of other people. At present, I could only read Maragold’s public thoughts and not her private thoughts which she could block from me.

            Elder O’Keefe’s eyes twinkled brightly and his smile spread slowly like thick syrup as he read my thoughts, then said, “Your wish is granted, under these conditions: (1) You will be able to read humans’ thoughts as well as leprechauns’ thoughts only if you can see that person or leprechaun; if they are out of your sight, then their thoughts will also be out of your mind: Out of sight, out of mind. There are only two exceptions to that rule: (a) You will be able to read both the public and private thoughts of Mara Shane even when she is out of your sight, but only if she grants you permission. Humans place an extremely high value on their private thoughts and actions, so you will only be able to read Mara's thoughts, especially her private thoughts, if you discuss this with her and then she gives you her permission. But she will still be able to block her private thoughts from you whenever she wishes to do so. You must not invade her privacy without her permission. (b) You will be granted the power to send and receive mental messages to and from me in spite of the great distances that separate us. This power should only be used if you feel that you have an emergency situation. It isn’t to be used for routine communication. I can read the thoughts of leprechauns that I can’t see, and who may be thousands of miles away¾like mental e-mail using radio waves. You just need to think my name, then think of Ireland, then think the mental message you want to send to me. I will receive it and be in touch with you as soon as possible. (2) You will have the power to turn off your thought reading powers. You only need to make a standard wish¾no magic words are necessary¾to temporarily stop your own power to read someone’s thoughts. You may restore that power by simply saying, or thinking, that you wish to do so. (3) These new powers shall be temporary. You will have to return to Ireland at least once a year to renew the power of thought-reading with me. Do you understand and accept these conditions?”

            “Yes,” I replied, as I stood there feeling stunned. I knew that I had received a great and extremely rare gift from Elder O’Keefe.

            I couldn't help wondering, "Am I really worthy of these grand gifts?" Elder O’Keefe smiled kindly at me after reading my thought, then simply waved his open right hand in a circular motion in front of my eyes. Then, to my amazement and disappointment, he slowly faded from my view.

            When he was gone from my sight I heard his distinctive voice say, “Protect and guide her to the best of your ability and powers, lad. You are my Chosen One, even though you are very young, innocent and know not your own future powers.”

            I just stood there, immobile, and stared at the doorknob as I asked myself if my job in America was really so important that I deserved this kind of special attention from an Elder, or was it that, maybe, Elder O’Keefe made a mistake and sought the wrong person. But he couldn’t have made that kind of mistake, could he? And what did he mean when he said that I was his Chosen One, and that I didn’t know my own future powers? Chosen for what? What powers?

            I felt so shocked and confused that I was light-headed and slightly dizzy; but in my head a message echoed: “It’s no mistake, lad. It’s no mistake, lad. It’s no mistake. . . .” Then the pleasant, but puzzling echo tapered off into peaceful silence.

            Two days later I was prepared to leave Ireland. I promised my family and friends that I would return next summer. Dad shook my hand, and hugged me, then gave me a proud smile. Mom was tearful. She kissed me, then hugged me and wouldn’t let go for a long while. I felt her sadness and her love in that long embrace. When she loosened her grip I kissed her. She grabbed my hands and held them. Her hands were as warm as my feelings for her and Dad. She looked into my eyes and I could see her love and concern for me. Then she released my hands. Mom and dad stood together and smiled at me. Before I walked away, my last glance at them revealed teardrops cascading down their cheeks. They were tears of sadness, but of joy and happiness, too. I knew I was loved tremendously. It was difficult to walk away, but I did. Then I wiped the tears from my own cheeks.

CHAPTER 2:  BACK TO AMERICA

            I returned to America during the third week of August. My trip was much better this time. Since I didn’t have the power to fly great distances, I simply went to the Cork, Ireland airport and got aboard an airplane going to New York City. Being very small and able to make myself invisible to humans are great advantages for me. Now I can travel and be comfortable, too. I certainly wasn’t very comfortable when I first came to America, by mail, in a small box with a magic wand in it. That was a very uncomfortable trip for me.

            At New York City I got onto another plane to Rochester, New York. Maragold’s family lives in the small town of Calford, which is not too far from Rochester. It’s a nice, quiet town where no one would suspect that a wonderfully talented, charming, smart, handsome and invisible leprechaun, like me, would live with such a wonderful family as the Shanes. Yes, I still like to say funny things, even about myself, but don’t forget, dear reader, that funny things can also be true. Gotcha again, didn’t I?

            Speaking of being invisible; did you hear about the invisible man and woman leprechauns who got married? When they had a baby, it certainly was nothing to look at!

            When I arrived at the Shane's home, I walked through Maragold's partially open bedroom door and quietly set my suitcase down, then made myself visible. Her back was toward me as she read a book at her desk. She couldn’t see or hear me yet, especially since she was totally concentrating on her book. She enjoys reading a lot, just like her mom and dad. Do you like adventure, travel and learning, dear reader? If you do, then never stop reading. Books chase away boredom and replace it with excitement. A good book is like a valuable gold coin, and a library is an overflowing treasure chest.

            She was still very focused on her book and had no idea that I was there until I floated up and onto her shoulder like a leaf picked up by a gentle breeze, then softly floating back down. I whispered, “Every day, in every way, I missed you more and more, Maragold.”

            Startled by my voice, she snapped her head to look at me, smiled brightly, then excitedly scooped me into the palm of her hand. She blew me a kiss and giggled as she returned my greeting by saying, “Every day, in every way, I missed you more and more, too, Bert. Welcome back. Oh, I missed you so very much!”

            It was so nice of her to say that. It made me feel special and less worried about leaving my family and friends in Ireland. She made me feel very special. I hope, dear reader, that you have at least one friend like Maragold. Her voice was pleasingly friendly and full of sincerity; the kind of voice a movie star or telephone operator would love to have. It made me very happy to be back.

            There was really no way that we could communicate during the two months that I was away. I didn't have the power to read mental messages from great distances like Elder O’Keefe.

            I asked Maragold what book she was reading, and she told me that she was reading Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell. Maragold said it was a superb book. So, dear reader, if you're interested in a great book, then please go to your school or public library and get it.

            We were so happy to see each other again that we just stared at each other. Through the bedroom window, the sun shone on her light brown hair and made it sparkle. I could see a reddish tint in it. Her long hair fell to the middle of her back. It was very fine, straight and pretty like you see in elegant, shampoo commercials. But the thing that I like most about her hair is the way it always smells so clean and fresh. Even when she hasn’t washed it in a day or two, it still smells wonderful, like a natural perfume. She says that’s the way her mom’s hair is, too, and when her dad hugs her mom, he almost always breathes in the fresh, appealing scent of her hair.

            When she stood up I noticed that she'd grown a little taller in the two months that I was away. Both Mr. and Mrs. Shane are taller than average, so maybe Maragold will be like them. But her grandfathers and grandmothers were short, so it would be difficult to accurately predict what her adult height will be. But, tall, average, or short, she sure is a pretty ten year old girl.

            She told me about working¾although it did not seem like work to her¾with her dad doing summer magic shows; mostly birthday parties. She told me that the magic show she remembered most was a birthday party for a five year old boy. Mr. Shane had just finished a magic trick and had walked to his card table, where he kept all the magic tricks for the show.

            The card table was covered with a strip of black cloth going in one direction and a wide strip of red cloth going in the opposite direction so that they crossed each other. Each strip of cloth was as wide as the card table and each side hung down to the floor.

            While Maragold was doing her magic trick and had the audience distracted, Mr. Shane picked up a very small plastic noise-maker and secretly slipped it into his mouth. When Maragold finished her magic trick with brightly colored ribbons, she came back to the card table and Mr. Shane went forward to play the noise-maker gag on the captivated children. Shortly after he started talking he interrupted himself by making a strange noise. It sounded like a noisy fly. Maragold came toward her dad with a fly-swatter in her hand. The kids were looking all over the room trying to find the fly that was making that noise. Of course they couldn’t see any fly because there wasn’t any. Maragold swatted at her dad’s arm, pretending to follow, then hit the invisible fly. Then suddenly the fly noise stopped. The kids thought that the invisible fly had been killed. They were all excited and wanted to see the dead fly, but then they heard the buzzing sound again. Well, that was enough frustration for the birthday boy. He got up, stomped into the kitchen and grabbed his mom’s fly-swatter. When he returned he started swatting all his friends as he tried to find and kill the invisible fly. His friends all covered their heads with their hands and screamed with laughter. Maragold said that those five and six year old kids were so excited that they started swatting each other with their hands as if their tiny hands were fly-swatters. Then they stood up and chased each other around the room, swatting playfully at each other and laughing with great pleasure.

            During the excitement Maragold and her dad lost track of the birthday boy who had crawled under the card table and disappeared from view. When Maragold, her dad, and the parents finally got all the kids seated and relatively quiet, they noticed that the birthday boy was missing. The cute little five and six year old kids thought that Mr. Shane, or Maragold, had used real magic to make the boy disappear as a punishment for being noisy. They were a little scared by that thought so they sat very quietly on the floor, not knowing whether they should laugh or cry.

            Then a startling, thumping noise was heard, like a ghost trapped in an attic. The noise was repeated again and again until everyone was soon aware that it was coming from under the card table. The birthday boy peeked out from under the red and black cloth with a big, mischievous smile and looked back and forth at his friends, then at his closed left fist. Maragold helped him get out from under the card table. In the boy’s right fist was his fly-swatter. His left hand was closed into a tight fist, as he held it out to show the other kids. Then, with bulging eyes and rubbery facial muscles, he started yelling, “I got it! I got it!”

            Well, by now the whole magic show routine was all messed up and here’s this five year old boy standing up in front of everyone yelling, “I got it! I got it!” Naturally all the kids started laughing again. Even the parents of the kids were staring and laughing at the boy.

            At the sight of the birthday boy’s antics, Maragold and her dad couldn’t help themselves, and they also burst into laughter at the boy’s funny face and body gestures. Maragold, who was trying to quiet the boy, and control her own laughter, said, “What do you have?” The boy stared at his left fist and yelled, “The fry! I got the fry!” He said “fry” instead of “fly” so the parents all started laughing, too. Then when the kids heard the parents laughing, even though many of them didn’t understand the joke, they started laughing louder. Finally the birthday boy opened his left fist and in it was a gross black and red smear on his palm, where he had squeezed and crushed the fly. Proudly, he showed this smear to the other children who started making ugly faces, as if they had just been offered a worm to eat. One girl said, “Yuck! Gross!” Another boy asked, “What does it taste like?” The birthday boy’s mom stopped laughing immediately, jumped up and yelled to her son, “Don’t you dare put that dirty fly in your mouth! Wipe it off, right now!” And, to his mother’s shocked surprise, the boy did just that. He raised his hand to his new white shirt and wiped his palm across his chest to get the fly-smear off his hand. He looked down at the black and red streak on his shirt, pointed to it and yelled, “Guts! Fry guts!” Naturally, the other kids resumed laughing loudly while the birthday boy’s mom just held her head in her hands and shook her head back and forth from frustration. However, she also had a tiny smile stretching her lips. She walked to her son, took the fly-swatter out of his clean hand, and grasped that hand. She led him to the bathroom and helped him wash his hands. Then she quickly brought him to his bedroom, helped him change his shirt, and brought him back for the remainder of the magic show.

            Maragold said that this was one of the funniest magic shows that she and her dad had ever performed. No matter what they did during the remainder of that magic show, after the "fly" incident, the kids cheered loudly and enthusiastically. It was a very funny and very pleasant experience for everyone.

            Maragold told me more about her summer vacation. She mentioned that she and Matt Durkey wrote a couple of letters to each other, but this time only the jokes were in code due to the length of the letters. Matt’s two jokes, when they were decoded, said, “Question: Who was the fastest runner in all of history? Answer: Adam, because he was the first one in the human race. Question: If you wake up and find yourself in the middle of two lions, three elephants, four leopards, five tigers and six wild horses, what should you do? Answer: Stop the merry-go-round and get off.”

            Maragold said that she answered Matt’s letters and enclosed these two coded jokes. “Question: What kind of shoes can be made out of banana peels? Answer: Slippers. Question: When does Monday always come before Sunday? Answer: Any time that you find the word "Monday" in a dictionary.”

            Maragold told me that one of Matt’s letters said that he had a great time camping with his dad, especially when, at night, they sat around the campfire telling jokes and funny stories, or recalling pleasant memories.

            Matt also said that his mom was doing very well, except for the fact that she had started dating again, and a couple of summertime dates had really turned out to be nerds, especially Mr. Nelson, who ruined Mrs. Durkey’s steak dinner at a restaurant called Bugaboo Creek¾a strange name, but a great place to eat according to Mrs. Durkey.

            Matt said his mother told him that Mr. Nelson turned out to be a strange man. At the restaurant, he asked the waitress for mustard and relish to put on his expensive steak. Then he added a ton of pepper on top of the mustard and relish. But while he was putting pepper on his steak, he must have breathed some of it into his nose because he kept sneezing for the next twenty minutes. He spent more time blowing his nose, like a horn, than he did eating his dinner. That was a loud, unappetizing sight and sound for Mrs. Durkey. But that wasn’t the worst of it, Matt said. The guy tried to pour a glass of wine for his mom and accidentally knocked over her wine glass when he hit it with the neck of the wine bottle. The wine spilled into her lap and stained her new dress. Matt added that the evening was a disaster for his mom and turned her off to dating for awhile.

            Matt sure was thankful that he wasn’t at that dinner. It could have ended up like Eric’s lunch room mess last year when he choked on his food, then coughed and sprayed the food onto other kids who were sitting across the table from him.

            Mrs. Durkey was polite about the mess, the embarrassment, and the stained dress. She told Matt that Mr. Nelson was probably a very nice man, although he had some strange eating habits and was so nervous that he became embarrassingly clumsy. Matt knew that his mom was trying to be considerate, but Matt figured that she wouldn’t be going out with Mr. Nelson any more and that pleased him.

            Matt figured that his mom was dating with the possibility of getting married again, now that the divorce was official. The thought of his mom getting married again bothered Matt. He said that he only had room for one dad in his life, so he preferred that his mom not get married again. Matt wondered what it would be like living with a step-father. The thought of it immediately gave him a bad feeling. But Matt also thought that he could adjust to having a step-father as long as he was nice, his mom was happy with him, and he didn't try to replace his real dad.

            The best news all summer was the fact that Mara Grace Shane and Matt Allan Durkey, as well as Cheryl and Eric, were going to be together, in the same fifth grade classroom. They had a new, lady teacher named Miss Demener¾her last name has all short-vowel sounds. Neither Matt, nor Mara knew anything about the new teacher, but they knew she couldn’t possibly be as nice, interesting, or as much fun, as Mr. Bunnlow had been.

            School started the first week of September. Mara and Matt were glad to see their friends, Eric and Cheryl. Unfortunately Greg and Sarah had unexpectedly moved away during summer vacation¾Matt, Eric and Mara were very disappointed about that, especially since the beginning of the school year turned out to be so boring, and having Greg and Sarah around would have made school more interesting.

            About the only two things that they thought they had learned that first week of school were how to pronounce the new teacher’s name, and that they were right about her being not nearly as nice, or interesting, or as much fun as Mr. Bunnlow had been.

            Also, unlike Mr. Bunnlow, Miss Demener never smiled. Really, she never smiled at all. She always kept a stern, intimidating look plastered on her face. Maragold and Matt could tell, right away, that it was going to be a very long, frustrating, and boring year in fifth grade.

            For the four friends, October seemed to come like a snail traveling the length of an airport runway. But with October came the chance for a little excitement and a break from the daily boredom of being in Miss Demener’s classroom.

CHAPTER 3:  NEW TEACHER

            Right after the morning announcements and the Pledge of Allegiance, Miss Demener walked to the front of the classroom. She stood there scanning the classroom until everyone was quiet and their attention was focused on her.

            Her eyes looked red and moist as if she hadn’t slept all night, or as if she had been crying. She squinted her eyes as if the lights were too bright. Her lips were pressed together, but didn’t bend into either a smile or a frown. If she had been wearing red lipstick, her lips would have looked like a horizontal cut on her face. Everyone waited for her to speak.

            Miss Demener cleared her throat, then said, "I'm here to teach. You're here to learn. I expect discipline, responsibility, and maturity from all of you. Leave the fooling around to fools, and let's hope there aren't any of those in this class.

            "I expect each and every one of you to do the best that you can. Laziness is foolishness, and I won't have any of that in my classroom.

            "You learn most when you work hard. You work hard when a lot is expected of you, and I expect a lot. I’ll push you to do good work, then better work, then excellent work. So be prepared to work hard to meet my high standards. A diamond is just a hard and dirty chunk of coal that Mother Nature has put under a lot of pressure for a long time. You are the chunks of coal, and I am Mother Nature. I'll do my best to turn you into diamonds by the end of fifth grade. Some of you will remain lumps of coal, but that's up to you.

            "Of course you’ll have homework. And you will do it. And you will hand it in on time or there will be points subtracted from your grade. Do your own work, think for yourself, make your own decisions and be responsible for them, and, for goodness sake, act like fifth graders. I don't want to hear any whining and complaining, so don't act like babies.

            "I want to see your best behavior, not the behavior of kindergarten cry-babies or trouble-makers.

            "School is not a comedy club. It's a place for learning. So be serious about it. I'll have no class clowns in my room. I won't tell you any jokes, and I don't want to hear any jokes. I’m not interested in foolishness.

            "Keep this classroom, yourselves and your belongings organized and neat. A sloppy, careless student usually has a mind and behaviors that are like that, too. Look at yourself in a mirror and ask, 'Do I want to be a person like that?' If you answer 'yes,' then you are on you way to becoming a moron.

            "Forget about special 'free times' and 'game times' this year. We've got too much work to do and too much to learn, and no time to waste. Have your extra free time and games before or after school. Maybe you can fool around in gym class.

            "During lessons, I don’t want anyone to raise their hand to answer my questions. That way everyone is forced to pay attention, since no one will know who I'm going to call to answer a question. It's the 'show-offs' that usually raise their hands, anyway. I guess they're desperate for attention and praise. So, pay attention to my lessons and you'll be prepared to answer my questions. You want good grades? Then earn them. Good grades will not be handed out like undeserved Christmas presents.

            "And don't expect me to be your friend. I'm not, and I won't be. Friends seldom work hard for each other, and they often take advantage of each other. Friends are afraid to tell other friends the truth because 'truth' hurts feelings, and 'hurt feelings' often ruin friendships. So, I'm your teacher, not your friend. I'll tell you if you’re performing or behaving badly. You can count on that.

            "You will treat me with respect and do what I tell you to do. I'm the adult and this is my classroom. I'll help you if you'll help yourself, but don't waste my time. And treat each other with respect. Don't act like mindless morons.

            "Oh, my! I see some eyes staring at me that have that shocked look of disbelief in them. Is that because I expect you to do your work, to learn, to respect others, to act mature, to get good grades, to do your best? Well then, get used to it. The world's a painfully, tough place, and to survive you need to be rocks, not marshmallow sissies. It's fun being a kid, but growing up and being a responsible adult is hard work on a long and rough road.

            "I expect the 'truth' from you. Don't be a liar. There's not many things worse in this world than a liar. Be honest, be truthful. Lying is for babies. Truth and honesty are important parts of growing up; so grow up. I wonder how many of you are honest and truthful? I'll find out soon enough, won't I?

            "And remember this important fact about life. Take my word for it; life is like a mountain: it's steep, cold, rough and often dangerous. Climbing it is hard work with very little joy. Most people get lost, or have accidents before they reach the peak. And those that reach the peak quite often find it hard to breathe up there. An adult's life is all about a struggle to succeed.

            "Any questions?"

            The class, and I, were shocked into silence. There were no raised hands, no questions, just a room full of scared, disbelieving expressions.

            Maragold was thinking that Miss Demener's life must be full of sadness and disappointment. Life can't be much fun for a person like that. Is being an adult really that awful, she thought. Her mom and dad didn't act like life was bad and getting worse. Maragold wondered what it was that gave Miss Demener such an awful view of life.

            Matt and Cheryl were thinking nearly the same thoughts as Maragold.

            But Eric was thinking about Miss Demener's use of the word "moron" to describe a person who is not smart. Then he decided that he should stop those thoughts now and think "more on" that topic later, or "more on" any topic, later. And when it was lunchtime, he thought, he'd ask for "more on" his plate. Then he stopped those silly "more on" thoughts and started thinking of a joke to tell at lunch time. He remembered Miss Demener mentioning a "class clown" and those words reminded him of the joke that he would tell.

            After Miss Demener's pessimistic and depressing speech to the class¾did she really believe it was motivational?¾the morning lessons continued as always until the lunchtime bathroom break. After that the students lined up for lunch and followed Miss Demener to the cafeteria.

            When they were all seated at their lunch table, Maragold said, “I think that the way Miss Demener walks is real funny. If you watch her rear-end, as she's walking, you’ll see that it sort of waddles like a duck’s rear-end . . . if it's rear-end were made of Jell-O.”

            After the laughter, Maragold asked Matt, “So, what do you think of our new teacher?”

            Matt took a drink of milk, swallowed his food and said, “Well, she sure isn’t anything like Mr. Bunnlow, except for having black hair and being skinny. I guess you could say that Mr. Bunnlow is thin instead of skinny, but Miss Demener is more than just thin. She looks like a walking, talking skeleton with clothes hanging off its bones. Her hair looks blacker than Mr. Bunnlow's, too. Her hair is as black as a moonless, starless midnight and reminds me of a witch's hair.”

            Eric pointed his sandwich at Matt, pushed his mouthful of food into one cheek so it bulged out like a chipmunk’s cheek that's full of nuts and said, “Yeah, she’s way too skinny, and she gives me the creeps, too. I keep on thinking that she looks like one of those high school, science room skeletons that has come alive. Maybe she really is one of those skeletons, and she’s going to murder all of us with a dull axe, right after she puts us all to sleep with one of her no smiling, no nonsense, terribly boring speeches, or lessons. Can you picture the thick pools of blood all over the classroom floor and the long tubes of guts stretching across the floor like really long, slimy brown, purple, and blue snakes? . . . Or whatever color guts are.”

            Eric laughed. He was always so proud of his verbal cleverness. Actually, he always seemed to be proud of himself no matter what it was that he said or did.

            Maragold, Matt and Cheryl just looked at each other and grinned as they realized that Eric hadn’t changed much during the summer vacation. They all seemed reluctantly happy about that feeling, perhaps because they were hoping for some positive change, but not really expecting it.

            Matt felt that he should be punching Eric in the arm while Greg messed up his hair. That made Matt think about how much he missed Greg and wondered why he had to move away. Then Matt hoped that Greg’s move was a good thing for him and that he was happy.

            Cheryl said, “You're really a strange kid, Eric. What you need is a shrink.”

            “Oh no, not me!” Eric said loudly. “I’m too short already, so I certainly don’t need to shrink; not even a little bit.” Then he laughed and slapped the table.

            “No, no, you dummy!” said Cheryl, “I’m talking about the kind of shrink that’s a funny name for a psychologist who tries to help people with their mental problems. You know, like the mental problems that you must have, Eric.” Cheryl grinned teasingly.

            Eric just smiled at her. Of course, he really knew what she meant, but he didn’t want Cheryl to know that yet. He said, “Really?” Then he rolled his eyes, made them bulge, stuck his tongue out, stretched his lips back toward his ears and tilted his head so he looked like a crazy person. He growled and grabbed Cheryl, making weird, scary noises and faces. Everyone laughed, of course, including Cheryl, as she pulled Eric’s hands off her shoulders and realized that the joke was on her.

            Matt said, “I wonder if something is wrong with Miss Demener. I’ve never seen anyone quite so skinny, except in a cartoon where a person is so skinny that they look like they were made out of pencils. She’s so skinny that she doesn’t even have to unlock the classroom door to get inside. All she has to do is push her body through the keyhole.” Then Matt smiled, knowing that he had caught everyone off guard with a joke when it appeared that he was going to be serious.

            They all laughed again as they enjoyed each other’s humor.

            "Hey!" Eric yelled, "I almost forgot to tell you the joke about the two cannibals. This is the best place to tell it, too, because we’re eating. Anyway," Eric continued, "these two cannibals were eating the class clown when one cannibal stops chewing, looks strangely at the other cannibal and says, "Does this meal taste funny to you?"

            Eric waited for the laughter and was not disappointed when nearly everyone at the table burst out laughing.

            Maragold laughed, too, but she was also staring off into space as if she were in deep thought, or maybe just daydreaming.

            Suddenly a strange thing happened to me as I sat on Maragold’s shoulder. A word just appeared in my thoughts. The word was misdemeanor. And all of a sudden I realized that I knew exactly what Maragold was thinking. It was clear to me that I had just read Maragold’s thoughts. Then my own thoughts focused on the wish that Elder O’Keefe had granted to me at the magic wand factory. The words Chosen One also appeared when I thought of Elder O’Keefe, but just as suddenly those two words disappeared, leaving only the vague shape of a “question mark.”

            I looked at Matt as he looked at Maragold, and suddenly I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking about Maragold’s hair, like I had thought about it the first day that I had returned from Ireland. He thought her hair looked really nice. It was all swept towards the back of her head to make a pony tail. He liked the light, golden-brown color. The pony tail was held together with a black elastic band that had two bright red, marble-sized plastic balls attached to it. Some strands of hair, that were not long enough to reach the elastic band, hung down by her ears. Matt wondered if her hair ever tickled her ears. He had mentioned this to his mom and she had told him that that way of combing or brushing a girl’s hair was sometimes called “feathering.” Matt had joked with his mom by asking her if she was trying to say that girls who comb their hair that way are “bird brains.” His mom, pretending to be angry at such a suggestion, put her fists on her hips, sternly stared at Matt and said, “Of course not. That was a fowl thing to say.” Matt laughed at his mom’s unexpected joke.

            “Hey guys, listen. I have a great idea,” Maragold blurted out excitedly. “I just thought of the best name for Miss Demener.”

            Now she really had everyone’s attention. She noticed that Matt had been staring at her even before she started speaking. She was curious about what he was thinking¾I decided not to tell her¾when she said, “We can give Miss Demener a funny nickname that sounds a little like her real name, but it will explain what we really think of her as a teacher.” Then Maragold lowered her voice and said, “Instead of calling her Miss Demener, we can secretly call her misdemeanor. A misdemeanor is a minor crime of some sort, and I’m sure that we can all agree that it’s a crime to be stuck with her for our teacher. So, what do you think?”

            The gang thought is was an incredible idea. Everyone’s face lit up with big, bright, mischievous smiles. The smiles looked so wide, as a matter of fact, that I thought a whole banana could have easily fit into each of their mouths, sideways¾I have a sense of humor, too, dear reader.

            Even sarcastic Eric, who usually doesn’t like anybody’s ideas or jokes better than his own said, “Fantastic! Absolutely fantastic! I knew that you could be nasty if you put your heart into it, Mara.”

            So they agreed that, from now on, when they were together, their new teacher, who was as skinny as a broomstick and as boring as most rainy days, would officially be called Misdemeanor.

CHAPTER 4:  THE POEM

            The next day Misdemeanor’s class¾Oops! I mean, Miss Demener’s class¾had a math test right after the morning announcements and the Pledge. Every couple of minutes, as she sat at her desk and watched her students take the test, Miss Demener would push her Coke bottle glasses back up her nose with her pencil-thin, right index finger. She did that quite often. Most of the students got a laugh out of seeing her do it all day. As a matter of fact, one day Eric wanted to take bets on how many times she would push her glasses up by the end of the school day. When no one in the group was interested, Eric pretended to pout to get attention. But when no one paid attention to that either, he really did pout.

            Many students looked up from their test to see if Miss Demener was looking at them. Miss Demener’s eyes looked twice as big as they normally should look because each thick lens of her glasses acted as a magnifying glass. Her eyes looked twice as big as they should and sometimes they appeared to bulge-out like a frog’s eyes. It gave her a “rivet-rivet riveting” appearance.

            After the math test came art class. In art class Mara, Matt, Cheryl and Eric would always try to sit together so they could talk and joke around about whatever topic came up. Usually the topic was Miss Demener.

            During the art class Halloween activity, Eric bent down to retie his loose shoe lace. As he was tying his shoe lace he thought about Miss Demener’s feet and when he straightened up he whispered, “Hey. Have you guys noticed Misdemeanor’s skeleton feet yet? She better not go to the high school, or she’ll be mistaken for the science room demonstration skeleton. Um, maybe I’m wrong about that. The science room skeleton would be much more interesting and couldn't possibly be mistaken for Misdemeanor. Heck, we all know she’s so boring she could make a statue yawn.”

            The group chuckled quietly so that Mrs. Gener, the art teacher, wouldn’t hear them. Then Cheryl whispered, “Yeah, that’s right. Her feet and legs are gross to look at; kind of like toothpick legs with olives stuck on the ends of them for feet.”

            Cheryl's joke received more quiet giggles and fun smiles.

            Then Maragold whispered, “I heard that when they knew they needed to hire another teacher they looked high and low for the best one they could find. But I’d have to say that, after awhile, they must have stopped looking ‘high’ because they had to be looking really ‘low’ to find her.”

            The group laughed quietly while their wide eyes sparkled with mischief. Then the other students sitting at their table couldn’t help laughing at the continuous jokes. Now their own quiet laughter added to the laughter of Maragold, Matt, Cheryl, and Eric. However, Mrs. Gener kept working and didn’t say anything to them . . . yet.

            The other students, who were not sitting at the same table as Maragold and the gang, and could only hear some of the laughter, looked at them with curious envy.

            I could read their thoughts quite well. They were wishing that they were at Mara’s table so that they could be part of the fun. But they weren't sad or mad either because they knew that they would hear all about why Mara and the others were laughing when they were in the cafeteria for lunch. That's when they would enjoy laughing at those repeated jokes.

            Maragold continued the humorous art room conversation by whispering, “Misdemeanor probably offered to work for free in order to get her job, but even ‘free’ is still too high a price to pay for someone whose teaching skills and personality are so low.”

            More muffled laughter was pushing to escape their mouths from behind the hand that each of the friends used to cover their mouth, like a Jack-in-the-box pushing against the lid of its box so it can pop out.

            Then, using a serious tone of voice, Matt whispered, “I’ll bet Misdemeanor had a poor attendance record when she was in school.”

            “Why do you think that?” Mara asked, with a grin.

            “Because,” Matt said, as his serious face changed to a smile, “if she's this skinny now then she must have been a very skinny kid. That means her teacher must have marked her absent half the time because she's so skinny that when she turned sideways her teacher couldn't see her.”

            Louder laughter came from their part of the art room. Miss Gener looked up from what she was doing and asked the class to continue working quietly on their art activity. She said that as she looked at the students sitting at Maragold's table.

            When Mrs. Gener looked away from their table, Maragold placed her right index finger to her lips to quiet her friends.

            Then, Eric, who saw that Mrs. Gener was busy again, whispered to his friends, “Mrs. Gener, may we please have the pleasure of your absence?”

            Then quickly, before anyone started laughing too loudly, Maragold put her index finger back up to her lips and the group giggled very quietly, but this time with both their hands covering their mouths. But their hands couldn’t cover the bright sparkles of mischief still shining in their eyes.

            A couple of days later, at lunch, Cheryl mentioned to the group that she had joined the Girl Scouts during summer vacation. Cheryl said, “Girl Scouts can be a lot of fun, but I really didn’t want to join at first. I didn’t know anyone and I felt shy. Then a few of the other girls made me feel bad by teasing me and making me feel uncomfortable and unwanted.

            “The really good thing that happened to me in Girl Scouts was the poetry writing class that we had. The nice woman who taught the class said she was a teacher at the college in Geneseo. I forgot her name, though. Wait a second. I remember her first name. It was Rachel, . . . and her last name sounded like ‘Defreeze.' I remember the sound of her last name, although the spelling may be wrong, because I imagined her being my aunt. If she was really my aunt, then I could call her my 'anti-defreeze.' You know, like that greenish-yellow liquid that my dad pours into the car's radiator to protect it in winter." Cheryl giggled and the others smiled. Then Cheryl continued, "She was so good.” Cheryl pronounced the word “so” by stretching it out as if it had a half-dozen “O’s” in it. Then she added, “I really liked her a lot. She made poetry so much fun. I never really liked poetry until then.”

            “You took a poetry writing class?” asked Eric, in a shocked, but silly tone. “Wow! Are you now a poet and don’t know it? Can you make a rhyme any old time? Or at the drop of a dime? Or is that nine cents more than your poems are worth?” he asked, with a sarcastic grin.

            Eric started pointing his right index finger toward Cheryl’s face and laughing at her, when suddenly he felt a jolt that almost knocked him off his chair. Matt had slugged him on the shoulder. Eric’s facial expression melted from laughter to pain as he angrily said to Matt, “That hurt! What did you do that for?”

            Matt stared at him, angrily, and said, “I'll bet it didn't hurt as much as your sarcastic words just hurt and embarrassed Cheryl. You need to think before you talk that way to anyone, especially your friends. If you want someone to be your friend, then treat them like a friend. I’m sorry I hit you so hard, but sometimes your careless sarcasm can be very cruel. We're supposed to be good friends, but we can't keep it that way if we start hurting each other's feelings.”

            Eric looked ashamed as he quietly said, “I’m sorry, Cheryl. You're right, Matt. I'm sorry.” Eric's voice was sincere and Cheryl offered him a small smile.

            Maragold was pleased that Matt had scolded Eric and, also, that Eric had said he was sorry. She smiled at Matt, then at Eric, before she asked Cheryl to tell her more about the poetry class.

            Cheryl grinned at everyone, even Eric, then she continued by saying, “Yeah, it was such fun writing funny poems about those other girls who were teasing me and acting like such snobs. I would write funny poems about them, then put the poems someplace where they could be easily found at our Girl Scout meeting place. I secretly taped my first poem to a wall. I knew that, sooner or later, somebody would find the poem and all the girls would rush over to read it. Then the regular, friendly girls would laugh at the snobbish girls who I made fun of in the poem. I hid the poems in different places each week. I didn’t want to get caught so I would leave a poem on a table or chair, in the girls’ bathroom, and I even dropped one on the floor. Someone always found them. Yep, it was fun while it lasted.”

            “What do you mean?” Maragold asked

            Eric was still trying to rub the pain out of his shoulder. Matt was just listening quietly while supporting his head in his hands and bracing both elbows on the table. All the kids that were able to hear Cheryl had their eyes glued to her because they wanted to hear every detail.

            “Well,” Cheryl continued, “I finally got caught, and I got yelled at for doing it. But I’m still glad I did it, and I’d do it all over again if I could. It was worth getting yelled at just to show those stuck-up snobs what it feels like to be laughed at and teased until you feel like you're worthless and all you want to do is run away and hide to get away from the pain of their teasing.”

            The next day, in the girls' gym locker room, Cheryl told Maragold that she had just written a poem about Miss Demener. Maragold was excited and wanted to see it right away. Cheryl said, “I don’t have it in school, but I could bring it tomorrow morning and show it to you at lunchtime.”

            “I won’t be able to wait until lunchtime,” Mara said, excitedly. “Why don’t you bring it to school tomorrow morning. After you put your things in your locker we can go to the girls' bathroom, and then you can show the poem to me, OK?”

            “It’s a deal,” Cheryl said with a proud smile.

            That night Maragold thought about using the phone to call Cheryl and ask her to read the poem. But Maragold decided no to do that because she thought Cheryl might get in trouble if her parents overheard her reading the poem, and because it would be a lot more fun reading it together in the girls' bathroom where they could share a secret and laugh together.

            The next day Maragold met Cheryl by the lockers that were outside their classroom. Quickly they put their coats inside their lockers, then mischievously smiled at each other. They laughed nervously as they walked to the girls' bathroom which was just a few feet down the hallway.

            I waited for Maragold in the hallway. As I was waiting, I could just barely hear the muffled laughter coming from the bathroom. Cheryl’s poem must be really funny, I thought.

            Since the girls were out of my sight, I couldn’t read Cheryl’s mind, but Elder O’Keefe’s rule did not apply to Maragold. According to that rule I could read her mind at any time, unless she blocked my reception with her mental request for ‘private thoughts.’ But Maragold was not mentally requesting ‘private thoughts’ now, so as she read and thought about the poem, those words also appeared in my mind. Now I also knew what the poem said.

            Realizing that I could read Cheryl’s poem by reading Maragold’s thoughts as she read Cheryl’s poem made me think about my mental power. I thought that I was lucky to be Elder O'Keefe's Chosen One, whatever that meant. Then, suddenly, when I thought about those two words again, I felt uneasy. My mood turned sad, but I didn't know why. There was something mysterious and uncomfortable about those two words and their meaning.

            I forced my thoughts back to Maragold as she continued to read Cheryl’s humorous poem, and I continued to read her thoughts. I also started to laugh, just like I knew Maragold and Cheryl were laughing. I could almost feel their excitement and see the rosy-cheeked joy on their faces. When Maragold finished reading the poem I had it memorized. Cheryl’s poem said:

                                                MISS DEMENER

                                    She’s our teacher, it’s a crime,

                                    Her lessons are so boring,

                                    They take hardly any time,

                                    To start our whole class snoring.

                                    As thin as a dime, she really is,

                                    A breeze could knock her over,

                                    And when she growls and yells at us,

                                    She looks like my bulldog, Rover.

                                    Her legs, arms and neck so skinny,

                                    And frog eyes that bulge too far,

                                    Huge ears, like that elephant, Dumbo,

                                    And witch’s hair as black as tar.

                                    She’s our teacher, what a shame,

                                    Because every day she’s meaner,

                                    Her being a teacher is such a crime,

                                    That now we call her Misdemeanor.

            Luckily the morning passed by quickly because Matt, Eric and many of the other kids who sit at the lunch table were all very curious and anxious to read Cheryl’s funny poem. And when it was lunch time, the laughter around the lunch table was highly contagious.

            The students were laughing loudly and their attention was focused on each other so intently that they didn’t notice Miss Demener as she quickly approached their table. The poem was lying flat on the table where it could have been easily noticed, so I hurriedly whispered a warning to Maragold. Swiftly, like a baby bird grabbing food from its mother’s mouth, Maragold’s hand darted out and grabbed the poem. In a quick motion she folded it in half, then slipped her hands under the table so the paper could not be seen. The other students noticed what Maragold had done, and when Miss Demener suddenly appeared at the table and was standing next to them, they breathed a huge sigh of relief. They were, naturally, very thankful for Mara’s quick thinking.

            I didn’t need to have praise, or credit, or rewards for my action. I was very happy to help all the kids at that table, especially Cheryl, who would have gotten into serious trouble if Miss Demener had read her poem.

            You know, dear reader, doing a good deed shouldn’t always need praise, a slap on the back, or rewards like money, or presents, or special privileges. The best reward should be the good feeling that you get from helping people. If you are a good friend, or just a concerned and caring person, then you can help people, and feel really good about it without expecting any praise, or other kinds of rewards. Doing the “good deed,” not getting a reward, or receiving credit for it, demonstrates what a really great person you are.

            I must tell you, however, that Maragold did thank me for the helpful warning that I gave her concerning the poem. It really wasn’t necessary, but it did show what a very caring, considerate, and polite person she is. There’s certainly nothing wrong with “thanking” a nice person who helps you. It will show your own personal politeness and gratitude, but, even more importantly, it will show your good character. If you're a person with good character, dear reader, then you are the type of person I would be proud to call my friend.

CHAPTER 5:  BIG BULLY

            Halloween was coming soon and Miss Demener had a few decorations hanging from the walls. Naturally, Eric had a few unflattering words to say about them. He seemed to think that the witch picture was an exact replica of Miss Demener, but then he changed his mind and said that the witch picture was actually a beautiful fashion model compared to Miss Demener.

            In the cafeteria, at lunch time, Eric decided to repeat himself and act sophisticated as he said, “Dear acquaintances of mine. Don’t you deem that the superb Halloween witch picture is a remarkable self-portrait of our own beloved Misdemeanor?”

            Eric felt good as the others laughed at his remark, but then got angry when he read Matt’s lips as Matt whispered the words, "He sounds like Brian-the-Brain," to Maragold and Cheryl.

            Eric’s face turned red as he said, “Oh, no! Matt, do I really sound like him? Gee, I wouldn’t want to sound anything like him, ever. He doesn’t even have a sense of humor. Do you remember the day when he tried to tell a joke about the Declaration of Independence?” Without waiting for a reply, Eric continued, “Remember, as part of his joke . . . ”

            Maragold interrupted Eric to whisper, “Not so loud, Eric. Brian’s only a few tables away from us, and there’s no need to embarrass him. Brian’s just different. That’s just the way he is, just like you are the way you are.”

            “OK, OK,” Eric said with a quiet voice. “Anyway, do you remember, as part of his joke, he asked us where the Declaration of Independence was signed? None of us remembered, except for Mara, and she said that she was quite sure that it was signed in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 1776. Mara was correct, but Brian-the-Brain said that she was wrong because the Declaration of Independence was really signed at the “bottom of the paper” that the Declaration was written on. You remember now how really terrible he was with jokes? You know darned well that Brian-the-Brain is a hopeless jerk, so you’re absolutely wrong when you say that I’m like him. Geez,” Eric said in a louder voice, “there can’t be a bigger, humorless jerk than Brian in this whole school.”

            “Oh, yeah?” came a deep, booming voice from the next table. “Brian ‘appens to be my cousin an’ I think ya owe ‘im an apology.”

            Everyone looked at the large boy who was talking. He had a very short, flat-top hair cut that looked like a airport landing runway for flies. His face was round, with a thick forehead. He had a pushed-in nose like a bulldog. His jaw was thick and strong like the jaw of a rottweiler, but his eyes looked like those of an angry pit-bull. His chest, arms and legs looked powerful, too. He was so big that he looked like a refrigerator with a head. His name was Harvey Dembrowski. He was the new kid in sixth grade, and, somehow, he was related to Brian.

            Two mean-looking boys sat next to him, one on each side. Their names were Dan and Lee. They looked like they were allergic to soap and water, and their dirty faces offered the proof. They appeared to think that dirt should be used as a woman uses her make-up.

            Dan had an egg-shaped face, with sunken eyes and a bulb-like nose¾maybe the “brightest” part of him, if you know “watt” I mean. His hair was so red that it looked like his head was on fire, and I wondered: Was he a “hot head”? There was a heavy coating of freckles over his entire face. But, in contrast to Harvey, Dan had a pencil-thin neck with a bulging Adam’s Apple that gave him a comical look as it bobbed up and down like an elevator that’s gone crazy.

            Everything looked “long” about Lee. His head was shaved. He had a long, narrow face, a long, pointed nose and long neck, as well as long arms and long legs. He was restless, too. He had so much extra energy that some part of his body was always in motion. If he stood up straight, put his legs together, with his arms at his sides, he'd look like a rocket ready to blast-off. And if he’d eaten a big bowl of beans, he could have actually blasted off.

            Harvey showed a mean, tight-lipped smile. It actually looked as if he was going to growl at Eric. When his lips did part, there was an empty space in his smile where one of his front teeth had been broken off. It might have been broken in a fight, or in an accident, but it made his face look very mean and intimidating. Harvey had already failed third and sixth grades at a different school. His friends, Dan and Lee, were also repeating sixth grade.

            Harvey was no scholar, and proved it by saying, “I’m Harvey Dembrowski, an’ Brian is my cousin. So if ya makes fun of ‘im one more time ya ain’t gonna have no more teeth lef’ after I get done wid ya. Unnerstand that, ya little wimp?”

            Eric froze, his eyes wide with fear. He couldn’t reply as Harvey stared at him with a tight-lipped sneer. Eric swallowed hard and thought that Harvey must have broken that tooth off while eating nails instead of cereal for breakfast. Eric’s mind was working, but his tongue was frozen, and, for once, he realized that this was no time for jokes. He was only feeling one thing right now and that was fear of the brutish-looking bully named Harvey Dembrowski.

            Maragold, Matt, and Cheryl were caught off-guard, also. It was Maragold who broke the silence by saying, “Eric really didn’t mean anything by that comment. He knows, just like we know, that Brian is very smart. Eric was just joking because he’s jealous of how smart Brian is. He didn’t mean to offend you either. My name is Mara and this is Matt and Cheryl,” Mara said as she pointed to her two friends. She hoped that her calm voice would relax the gorilla and his two bananas.

            But Harvey just scowled at her, glanced at Dan and Lee, then smiled at Mara and said, “Well now, Sara, we is pleased ta meet ya, an yer ugly friends, but if ya don’t want my fists ta meet yer noses then all of ya better talk some sense inta that wimp an make ‘im shut that ugly mouth of ‘is. Got me meaning, Sara?” he said, purposefully using Mara's name incorrectly and demonstrating how easily he could destroy the American language.

            Harvey turned to Dan and Lee, again, and whispered something to them. Then all three of them held up their right fists and shook them at Mara and her group as they barked and growled like starving wolves about to fight over a piece of meat.

            Mara was having difficulty controlling her anger, but in a fairly calm voice she said, “Nobody meant any harm to Brian, and my name is Mara, not Sara.”

            “Well, excuse me, Clara,” Harvey said, teasingly, “but why don’t ya let da wimp fight ‘is own battles. Or maybe that tall wimp sittin' wid ya would like ta get inta the action.” After he said this, he pointed his arm and finger at Matt as if his arm was a rifle and he was taking aim.

            “Look! We said we're sorry,” Mara said, with a slightly raised voice. “Can’t you accept that without making such a big deal over a harmless joke?”

            “Ya keep talkin’, Clara, an’ I’m gonna come over there ta give ya a fat lip, so shut yer big pie hole, or I’ll shut it fer ya.”

            You could almost feel the intense anger building in Maragold as she stared at Harvey, not sure what to say to him. She was thinking: How could someone, who can't even speak correctly, be related to someone as smart as Brian? She also thought: Mother nature gave Brain a bucket of brains, but she gave Harvey a bucket of manure.

            Matt was wondering how any one person could be so incredibly obnoxious as Harvey, to whom well-meaning apologies meant absolutely nothing.

            Cheryl must have been thinking about the same thing as Matt because, like Matt, her expression was one of surprise, mixed with disgust. Poor Eric just sat there, stripped of his false toughness and afraid to say anything.

            Students seated at Harvey’s table, Maragold’s table, and any other students within hearing range were paying close attention to the argument. But with all the other kids, at all the other tables, making so much noise, very few students could hear what was happening. Even the adult cafeteria monitor was unaware of the argument that was going on. Until now the angry discussion had not been very loud.

            Mara suddenly heard someone speak, thankfully saving her from her own hesitation to respond to Harvey.

            Mara recognized Matt’s voice as he said, “Hey Dumb-browski! Mara tried to tell you that we're all sorry for the names that Eric called Brian. You can easily tell by looking at Eric that he's sorry for doing that. He gets carried-away sometimes. But you just can’t let up, can you?. You aren’t even smart enough to recognize and accept a genuine apology, Dumb-browski. Heck, you can’t even remember a simple four-letter word like the name Mara. A person would have to be a real Dumb-browski not to be able to remember a simple four-letter word. And another thing, why is it that you look two or three years older than the rest of us? Is it because you flunked a few grades and now being a bully is something that you can finally be real good at in school?”

            Matt was surprised by his own uncontrolled anger and the insulting words that burst out of his mouth. He thought, too late, that he may have just made the situation worse. He realized that he was criticizing Harvey for his poor behavior, while he was involved in poor behavior of his own. But, as so often happens when you're angry, you do things and say things that you know you shouldn’t do or say. Matt could see that this situation was already out of control. He shook his head, knowing that he couldn’t stop it any more than he could stop an avalanche with a pitch fork.

            Then another voice commanded the attention of the students. “You guys must have brains like this sloppy macaroni and cheese that tastes like puke. Now go pick on someone your own size, like maybe an eighth-grader, and let’s see how tough you are then.”

            Maragold recognized Cheryl’s voice and didn’t have to break eye contact with Harvey to know who was speaking. Maragold felt good knowing that her two best friends were helping her, and that gave her the courage to glare back at Harvey. With a false calmness she said, “Harvey, I’d really like to see you get ahead in life because the head you have now is such a terrible waste and needs to be replaced. I guess we can all call you ‘Harvey D.,’ now, and the ‘D’ stands for ‘dumb.’”

            Loud laughter filled the space between the two tables. The laughter was primarily aimed at Harvey, but it partially splashed, like muddy water, onto Dan and Lee. Harvey was furious. His face turned red and his fists were closed so tightly that, if he hadn’t already chewed them off, his finger nails would have cut deeply into the skin on the palms of his hands.

            Harvey's angry eyes looked down at his plate and saw the gooey, yellowish, macaroni and cheese that he and most of the other kids had barely touched. His right hand opened and he grabbed a handful of the sloppy, cheesy mess. When he looked at Dan and Lee it was a signal for them to do the same thing. Harvey smiled, showing his broken, front-tooth, raised his arm, with Dan and Lee copying his actions, then all three of them threw the macaroni and cheese at Maragold, Matt, Cheryl and Eric.

            What Harvey, Dan, and Lee didn’t see was that, just at that same moment, Miss Demener quickly walked between those boys and Mara’s friends to find out why they were all arguing, and who started it. She held up both hands, one toward each table, like a school-crossing guard showing double stop-signs to traffic.

            Suddenly Miss Demener could feel her face, hair, blouse and skirt being hit with things that felt warm and sticky as they slowly ran down her cheek and hair, then dripped onto the back of her neck and shoulders. One stray, pale-yellow lump of cheesy macaroni was oozing down the side of her face like a large, crawling maggot. Other cheesy lumps stuck like glue to her bare arm as well as to her blouse and skirt.

            She looked with horror at her white blouse, saw the lumps of food sticking to it and realized that she had just been bombarded, with macaroni and cheese, by three sixth grade boys who were sitting at the table across from her own students. She was absolutely furious as she ordered her students to remain seated, then quickly walked to those three boys.

            As macaroni started dripping off her clothes with every step she took, she grabbed Harvey and Lee by their ear lobes, pulled them out of their seats, out of the cafeteria and then down the hallway to the principal’s office. Dan was ordered to follow behind them. After hearing painful noises coming from Harvey and Lee, Dan was grateful to be following behind and not having his ear lobe pulled. But as Dan followed, he almost slipped and fell several times on the slippery macaroni that he kept stepping into as it dripped off Miss Demener’s clothing and onto the floor in front of him.

            As Miss Demener pulled the embarrassed sixth grade bullies out of the cafeteria, Harvey turned his head painfully and caught a glimpse of all the students that were laughing at him. He glared at Mara, Matt, Cheryl and Eric, who were laughing the loudest. Then Mara’s group spotted the hate in Harvey’s eyes and facial expression. He looked like a mad dog that wants to bite anyone in sight. The intense anger deformed his face and left a look of pure hatred. His teeth were grinding against each other and his eyes glared at Mara's group with an unspoken promise of revenge.

            The hatred written on Harvey’s face quickly stopped the loud laughter of Maragold’s group. As they looked at Harvey, his angry face told them that sooner or later he would make them pay for his pain and humiliation. That made the whole group very uncomfortable, especially Eric.

            Eric said, “How could a moron like that be related to someone as smart as Brian? That doesn't make any sense.”

            "I thought the same thing a little while ago," Maragold added.

            “I have no idea. It seems impossible,” responded Cheryl.

            "There has to be a rotten apple in their family tree," said Matt.

            “I wish I hadn’t said those things about Brian,” Eric said. “I was just showing off a little bit, that’s all. I didn’t really mean most of those things.”

            Maragold patted Eric on the back to give him support as Matt and Cheryl looked at Eric with both sympathy and worry.

CHAPTER 6:  INVISIBLE DEFENDER

            A few days went by and the cold fingers of November swept away the refreshingly cool month of October. It was a chilly, but clear and sunny Saturday. If a day could be a hand, then this hand held the promise of some rest and some fun.

            Maragold was also thinking about the tasty feast that she and her family would have at grandma's and grandpa's house during Thanksgiving vacation. Suddenly that happy thought vanished and Maragold turned sad.

            It was the first weekend of November. Maragold and I were talking quietly inside her bedroom. She should have been happy, but she wasn’t. Something was bothering her. I knew what it was, but didn’t think I should mention it unless she wanted to talk to me about it.

            Then Maragold asked me what Harvey was thinking as he was being pulled, by his ear, out of the cafeteria. I told her that Harvey’s thoughts, as well as Dan’s and Lee’s thoughts, were mostly about getting-even with the four of them, especially Matt. I told her that I didn’t know how or when they would try to do it because they simply hadn’t had enough time to think about it and plan anything. I also informed her that I could not read all of their thoughts because as soon as they turned the corner, to go down the hallway, they were out of my sight, and once that happens I have no power to know what they are thinking. I also informed her that I had difficulty understanding the thoughts of more than one person at a time. Their thoughts became mixed up and blended together in my mind, and the result was usually verbal non-sense. It was like listening to three radio programs at the same time; very confusing.

            “Why would Harvey especially want to get-even with Matt?” Maragold asked me, with a puzzled look on her face. “There were four of us who teased him, and he seemed mostly angry at Eric, not Matt.”

            I explained to Maragold what I thought was happening. I said to her, "Harvey isn't very good with words or ideas. He doesn't do well in school subject areas, but he is good with his big, strong body, especially his fists. Harvey is not mentally quick enough to match anyone in your group’s ability to use words and ideas as weapons. But Harvey is almost always successful when the contest between him and someone else involves physical strength, especially fighting and bullying. That means," I continued, "that when he has a problem, he will almost always try to solve it physically, with his strength, and not mentally with words, ideas, or sarcastic remarks. He thinks like a boxer whose goal is to beat-up the other fighter. But to beat-up the other fighter, and win the fight, he has to use his physical strength, and his skill with his fists.

            "Another reason," I added, "why he will mainly try to get even with Matt is that any other action would hurt his reputation. You see, he won’t really try to get into an actual fight with Eric because everyone knows that the biggest part of Eric is his mouth, no disrespect intended, plus Eric is small for his age. So, if big Harvey beats-up small Eric, then Harvey will get teased for beating-up such a small boy who didn't have any chance of winning the fight. Harvey may be mentally slow, but he’s not stupid. I believe that the only way that Harvey would actually fight Eric is if Eric is stupid enough to start a fight with Harvey. And, let’s face it, Eric may be sarcastic, arrogant, and insensitive, sometimes, but we all know that he’s way too smart to do something like that.

            "And," I continued, "Harvey won’t pick a fight with you or Cheryl, either, simply because you are both girls, and he would be laughed right out of school for doing that. Picking a fight with a girl would definitely damage his tough-guy reputation. He’d be laughed at and made-fun-of constantly, although not to his face. He’s an ordinary bully and bullies need to act tough and to have their peers think that they are tough. It makes them feel important, respected and perhaps even admired. Those feelings take the place of the bully’s feeling that he is worthless and unimportant. Harvey’s reputation is valuable to him and he won’t damage it by picking a fight with a girl. Harvey instinctively understands this, so he'll leave you girls alone.

            "So," I told Maragold, "that only leaves Matt. Matt is nearly as tall as Harvey, and even though Matt is slender and not nearly as heavy or as strong as Harvey, at least it looks as if Matt could give Harvey a fair fight. So, by beating-up Matt, Harvey wouldn’t be laughed at, or teased, or lose any of his tough-guy image.

            "And the final reason," I said, "is that Harvey knows that by hurting Matt, he would be hurting your whole group. It would make all of you worried and scared. So, in a way, beating-up Matt is the same as beating up all of you. You see, he’s not exactly as simple-minded as people may think he is."

            We each sat quietly for about five minutes, thinking about what we had just discussed. Then Maragold suddenly turned her head to look at me and she knocked me off her shoulder with her "booger factory," her nose. We both laughed as I floated back onto her left shoulder. Then her face turned serious again. I knew she wanted to say something, but she hesitated, keeping the words locked up in her mouth. But since I knew what she was thinking, I answered her unspoken question.

            “Yes, I can stay with him during school. I can try to help him,” I said.

            Her eyes snapped wide open, and as her smile widened, her teeth looked like a necklace with double rows of bright, white pearls.

            “Would you do that? I didn’t think that you could do that Bert,” she said. “I would really like it if you would stay with him, help him, you know, like an invisible defender.”

            “Yes, I know what you're thinking, and, yes, I can do that. You are my main concern, but I have grown to like Matt very much. I will do the best that I can for him.”

            She was happy that I would be with Matt during school hours, but she had so many thoughts speeding through her mind, like fast cars at a major auto racing event. I had trouble understanding which thought concerned her the most. With a more focused concentration, it wasn’t long before I knew not only how concerned she was for Matt, but also just how smart and mature Maragold was for her age. She might not have understood the mind of a bully, but she did understand the probability of the painful physical and emotional consequences that would come from a foolish physical confrontation with Harvey and his two goons.

            I sensed that she was about to ask another question, but I didn't interrupt her this time.

            “Bert, Harvey will probably try to get revenge before Thanksgiving vacation, won’t he? I mean, he’ll want to get his revenge before we go on vacation so he can get quick satisfaction. And, by getting revenge before vacation, he’ll be hurting us during vacation because we'll have it on our minds all the time. Plus, after our Thanksgiving vacation is over, we'll all be worried about another confrontation with him. So, if he plans to get his revenge before our vacation, and he’s successful, it'll hurt us by destroying the pleasure that the vacation would normally bring us. Our minds would be occupied with what he had done to us, and we'd be wondering what he is planning to do to us once we return to school. That way he can triple the hurt that he causes us by hurting us before, during, and after our vacation. What do you think?”

            “You may be correct, but I don’t think he would plan it that way,” I said. “I do think he will seek his revenge before your vacation, but I don’t really think he’s thinking about the emotional pain he would cause during and after your vacation. I just don’t believe that he thinks that far ahead, nor do I believe that he thinks very much about ‘emotional pain.’ He wants his revenge as quickly as possible, and it will have to involve fighting because that’s how he solves his problems. Now I agree with you that if his revenge came before vacation it would negatively affect your enjoyment of the Thanksgiving vacation, as well as make you and the group worry about what he’s going to do after the vacation, but I don’t think that’s his plan. It’s too complex; too well thought out. His plan for revenge will be simple: scare, then beat-up Matt before vacation. I seriously doubt that he’s thinking of any emotional pain that his revenge will create for your group. He’s too hot tempered, too impatient for revenge, and too quick with his fists to be planning any emotional revenge. Plus, a black-eye is easier for him to see than emotional pain.

            “Maybe this is something that you should talk to your mom and dad about, Maragold,” I said thoughtfully.

            “No, I don’t want to worry them. Also, they’ll make a big deal out of it and call the principal. Then the other students will find out and we’ll all be teased constantly about it. All our worrying may be for nothing, anyway, because Harvey may not do anything at all, right?”

            “You and I just figured out how he thinks, Maragold. He’ll do something soon. I’m quite sure of that."

                                                                               *

            Another weekend finally came, but like most weekends, during the school year, it shot by like a bullet.

            Monday morning, before the school announcements and the Pledge, Eric came over to Mara and Matt¾Cheryl was late to school that day¾and gave them a worried smile before saying, “Guess what I heard about Harvey D.,” he said, with that silly smile still frozen to his face.

            Matt put his arm around Eric’s shoulders and gently pulled him closer, then said, “I give up. What did you hear about him.”

            “I heard that, at Harvey D.’s other school, he was the dog food eating champion. Can you imagine that? I thought it was a joke at first, but it’s actually true. He and the leader of another group of goofy braggarts decided not to have their groups fight each other to see whose gang was better. They decided, instead, to have a contest to see which group was better and would have the bragging-rights for their school. Whichever leader won the contest would be able to say that his gang had the meanest, roughest, toughest guys in their school. So these pea brains had a contest, one Saturday, behind their school. They used canned dog food. Can you believe that? And guess what? Good old 'Mr. Dog Breath,' Harvey D., won the contest. Next thing you know Harvey D. will be doing a dog food commercial with someone scratching him behind the ears and rubbing his rear. He'd probably love having his rump rubbed because that's where his brain is.”

            I was sitting on Matt’s shoulder now, and when he started laughing his whole body shook like a tree during an earthquake. Maragold stared at Eric for a second and then she started laughing hysterically, too.

            Eric continued, “I swear it’s a true story. I got the information from my cousin who goes to Harvey’s old school. Some of the neighborhood kids were watching, and my cousin was one of them.”

            Cheryl came into the classroom just as the bell rang to signal the beginning of school. Everyone rushed to their desks. Cheryl didn’t have time to talk to anyone, but it was easy to see the worried expression that wrinkled and spoiled her pretty face.

            It was a look that meant trouble. Somehow she had found out that Matt was going to get beat-up soon. I didn’t want to upset Maragold so I decided to wait and let Cheryl tell the group during their Monday art class, which would be just before lunch time. It was the same thought that Cheryl was having.

            During art class Cheryl said she was late because she heard a couple of the older boys whispering about a fight that was going to happen. She said she almost hadn’t paid attention because those boys were always bragging about something. But when she heard Matt’s name mentioned, and then the names of Harvey, Dan and Lee, she stayed there and listened very carefully. She didn’t learn any details, just that Harvey and his two goons were planning to beat-up Matt before Thanksgiving vacation.

            When Matt heard this he looked worried, but he tried not to let it show too much, nor did he let his fear cause panic. He knew that he couldn’t win a fight with Harvey, and he wouldn’t stand any chance at all against the three of them. So he remained quiet and started to work on his art project to get his mind off this late-morning, bad news. The whole group became unusually quiet.

            Eric, trying to distract everyone’s sad thoughts, said, “Don’t worry. Harvey D. is so dumb that he has to be friends with two morons just so he can feel superior to two people.” He waited for some laughter, but nothing happened.

            No one was in a laughing mood, nor did anyone say anything else until Maragold broke the silence by saying, to Eric, in a rough, impatient voice, “Harvey won’t be hitting with his brain, Eric. He’ll be hitting with his big, hard fists.”

            Eric felt bad and wished that he hadn’t said anything. He, too, was worried about Matt, but he wasn't sure if his friends knew that he really cared and that he was only trying to distract them from the bad news.

            Matt looked kindly at Eric and gave him a friendly wink, which brought a huge, relieved smile to Eric's worried face. Then Matt turned his attention to Mara. He looked at her a moment and tried to smile, but his lips were stiff and wouldn’t stretch into the smile he had hoped to show.

            Maragold forced a smile to appear, and it suddenly brought a half-smile to Matt’s lips as he seriously said, “I heard that Harvey D. is real good in math. I heard he's a real expert at adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing with zeros. It’s just all the other numbers that give him a lot of trouble.”

            After a short pause to let his jokes sink in, Matt continued, “And did you know that he has received many 100% grades in math? . . . But it always takes two math test grades added together for him to get 100%.”

            Mara, Cheryl and Eric were surprised. They just stared at Matt with disbelieving smiles. Suddenly Matt looked much more relaxed and confident. His smile grew wider, like an ink stain spreading slowly across a sheet of paper.

            He looked at all three of them for a moment before saying, “I don’t know why, but all of a sudden I feel a lot better and not as worried. It’s hard to explain the feeling. I just have a very good felling. It feels greally reen . . . I mean, it feels really green . . . no, I mean I feel good about something green. . . . Sorry, I’m tongue-tied for some reason. What I'm trying to say is that I feel really good, just like I did after I had that ‘green dream’ last year.”

            Eric and Cheryl couldn’t make any sense out of what Matt had just said. But they didn’t say anything about their confusion because they were afraid they would break Matt’s good mood. Maragold understood quite well, but she also remained quiet for the same reason.

            Matt looked at Mara as she smiled, and for a moment he was puzzled because he realized that she wasn’t looking at his face. She was looking at his right shoulder. Matt thought that was strange of Mara to do something like that. Then natural curiosity took control and he, too, looked at his right shoulder. He looked for dirt, or dandruff, or a stain, or a rip in his shirt, but he didn't see anything unusual; nothing that would cause Mara to stare at his shoulder. He gave Maragold another puzzled look, but said nothing.

            Maragold, of course, had been looking at me, as I stood on Matt's shoulder, and she was thinking the words, Thank you, Bert.

            That night, at the dinner table, Maragold’s mom and dad noticed that she was being unusually quiet. She normally had so much to say that Mr. and Mrs. Shane gladly listened much more than they talked. They asked her to tell them what was bothering her and, as she pushed her food around the plate with her fork, she reluctantly told them about the school bully who was out to get Matt. Mr. and Mrs. Shane gave her their typical teacher’s response. They said that Mara should tell her teacher and, if necessary, tell the bully’s teacher and, as a last resort, they should seek help from the principal. It was the answer that Maragold had grown to expect. Sometimes she wished that her parents weren’t teachers, or that at least one of them wasn’t a teacher so she could hear a different, non-teacher opinion. Sometimes she found her parents to be very frustrating, especially when they almost always agreed about what to do to solve a problem. They thought that the solution to almost any problem involved "talking" about the problem to solve it. They were usually correct, of course, but being right most of the time was also sometimes frustrating for Maragold. She knew that her parents had good intentions, but she also knew that Harvey had good fists, and that "talking" wasn't the way he solved his problems.

            Maragold started wondering if I could help and how I could help Matt if Harvey started a fight. Then she wondered if I had any special abilities that would assist Matt in some magical way. Suddenly, she switched to "private thoughts," and I could no longer tell what she was thinking. The silence seemed uncomfortable for both of us, but Maragold needed time to think so I stayed silent.

            That night Maragold made a phone call to Matt. Their conversation caused a great idea to suddenly come to her. She suggested to Matt that they should call as many of their friends as possible, and ask those friends to call their friends, to listen to conversations in school and on the buses. Maybe, Maragold suggested, someone would hear some information that would be useful in helping them know when, where, or how Harvey and his two stooges planned to get their revenge. Matt agreed that it was an excellent idea. It was agreed that Mara would call Cheryl and Matt would call Eric to inform them about the idea. Cheryl and Eric both agreed that it would be an ideal warning system for all of them. Then they all got busy calling their other friends to ask for help. Those friends not only were willing to help, they also agreed to call all their friends and ask them to help, too. Actually it turned out not to be a difficult task because Harvey, Dan and Lee had bullied so many students, and were so disliked by most students, that those students all eagerly agreed to help. They would listen carefully to all conversations that might have information that could help Mara, Matt, Cheryl and Eric prepare for the "revenge of the nerds."

            Maragold made several phone calls to other friends asking for assistance. During those calls, neither Maragold’s mom nor her dad, who were busy correcting school papers, noticed that Maragold had been using the phone for almost an hour. Mr. and Mrs. Shane were so busy concentrating on their school papers that they hadn't even noticed that Maragold was speaking in a hushed voice, with her hand covering her mouth and the mouth-piece of the telephone.

            The next day I suggested to Maragold that perhaps she and Matt should talk to Mr. Bunnlow to see if he could help them. At first they thought this was a good idea, then they had second thoughts, which turned into serious doubts. Those serious doubts caused them to change their minds about getting Mr. Bunnlow involved, so my advice was ignored. No, I wasn't happy about that because I thought that they were making a mistake, but I can only advise, not demand. Then they decided not only to omit Mr. Bunnlow from helping with their problem, but that they would also omit other teachers and the principal. They thought they were grown-up enough to solve the problem themselves, with help from their friends. They were being stubborn and hard-headed, but, like I said, I could only give them my best advice, then they had to choose if they wanted to follow it or not. Sure, I was disappointed that they didn’t take my advice, but life, even for children, involves making many decisions, taking responsibility for those decisions, and being mature enough to handle the consequences of the poor decisions.

            A week went by but no one reported hearing anything about Harvey, Dan and Lee planning anything that would allow them to get their revenge on Matt. Maragold and her group started thinking that they were wrong, and that Harvey and his two stooges had decided to be smart and forget about seeking revenge for fear of getting into serious trouble. So Maragold and her group gave a sigh of relief and relaxed. I had a very strong feeling that they definitely should not relax because trouble was coming soon.

CHAPTER 7:  FLY BOY

            Since it was November, most students were already filled with thoughts of their short Thanksgiving vacation. The students were enjoying the colder, more comfortable weather. Many of the students were also thinking pleasant thoughts about snow storms that would close the school, plus Christmas trees, gifts, and a long Christmas vacation. But Eric was only thinking of the cold weather as he looked at the large classroom windows.

            One morning Eric hurried from his hallway locker to the classroom. He was in one of his very happy, very silly moods. He looked at the classroom clock and saw that he had fifteen minutes before the school announcements and the Pledge of Allegiance would begin. Something was on his mind and he ignored his friends.

            He had brought some clear-plastic tape to school. At his desk he cut off a piece of tape about six inches long and set it on his desk. Then he got up from his desk and quickly walked¾he knew that he did not have a lot of time to complete his task¾directly to the cold classroom windows which occupied half the length of the wall. He was so focused that he silently walked by his close friends as they watched him with curious expressions. The only thing Eric had on his mind was the dead flies lying on the long counter-top that was under the classroom windows.

            Maragold noticed how intensely focused Eric was on those flies and humorously thought that he must be related to that five year old, "fly-catching" boy from that fun and funny, summer birthday party. A picture formed in her head of that boy saying "fry" instead of "fly," and a huge smile took control of her face.

            Suddenly Eric turned, looked at Mara, Matt and Cheryl then said, "“Hey guys! Someone bring me the tape that's on my desk. Hurry!” Then he glanced toward Miss Demener to see if she had heard him. He was relieved to see that she was busy and not paying attention to him. He showed his best mischievous smile.

            Eric began gathering the dead flies that were lying on the counter-top. His friends moved closer to him now, talking to each other, but still watching him and smiling at his weird actions.

            Cheryl said, “If this were Mr. Bunnlow’s classroom, there would be a lot of different plants, flowers and hanging vines all along those windows. This room always looks so empty and ugly with just that dusty, bare counter-top.”

            “Yeah, that’s right,” Maragold added. “Those plants made Mr. Bunnlow's room look really nice. Heck, all those plants even made the room smell better. Remember the pole beans he helped us grow? They grew all the way to the ceiling along strings that Mr. Bunnlow attached to the ceiling tiles, then tied the other end of the string to the plant pots that were on the counter-top. When the vines grew all the way to the ceiling, the leaves sprouted and the beans started growing. It was such a pretty sight with that whole window area looking like a green jungle curtain. And when the sun passed through that emerald curtain, the edges of many of those leaves seemed to glow as if they had golden halos around them. It sure was a very beautiful sight.”

            “Yeah! yeah! It was magnificent, super, terrific. Now someone please get me the tape off my desk,” Eric said sarcastically, after he had collected about a dozen dead flies.

            Matt shook his head and smiled. Then he looked at Maragold and Cheryl, and said, “I'll get it.” He turned and walked to Eric's desk.

            “Eric, why on Earth are you collecting dead flies, and what is so important about that tape? Don’t you know how dirty flies are? They have those little, sticky hairs on their feet which allows them to stick to any surface that they land on. But that also means that whatever dirt there is on that surface will stick to their feet. Then they fly somewhere else and deposit that dirt on whatever new surface they happen to land on. That's why it's so gross when they land on food. They're really very dirty creatures,” Mara explained.

            “Mara, I didn’t ask you for any health tips. All I want is some tape before everyone sees what I’m doing and gets in my way,” Eric rudely responded.

            Matt returned and said, “Eric, here’s your roll of tape and the strip of tape, too. Did you want both?”

            Eric said, “Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Matt. Put the roll of tape on the counter top.”

            Eric opened his left hand and with his right index finger he was spreading the cluster of flies apart, separating them so he could pick them up easily, one at a time. That's when Matt guessed what Eric was tying to do. Matt said, “Are you going to stick those dead flies to that tape?”

            “No! I’m a world famous fly collector, and I’m going to stick them inside my fly-album and then have a fly-album-show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art,” Eric said, sarcastically. “Come on. Help me," he said to Matt. "Put that strip of tape on the counter, sticky side up, OK?”

            “Sure. No problem, Mr. World Famous Fly-Collector, but I don't think dead flies on tape will be considered a work of art,” said Matt with a teasing grin. Then he placed the tape on the counter as Eric requested.

            With his right index finger and thumb, Eric carefully picked up each fly, one by one. He turned each fly on its back and stuck each wing to the sticky side of the tape until he had about a dozen flies equally spaced along the clear strip of tape. All the dead flies had their feet sticking up in the air. The slightest movement of air made the fly’s feet move and that movement made the flies look like they were alive. When Eric finished he showed a proud smile.

            Then, without saying a word to Matt, he bent the tape into a circle and connected the ends with the sticky side and the attached flies facing outward. Now the tape looked like a fly-bracelet. He hid the circle of tape behind his back, then casually strolled over to Emily’s¾she's the teacher’s pet¾desk and set the fly bracelet on the center of her desk.

            Sticking dead flies onto tape may seem cruel to you and me, dear reader, but as Eric said, “Hey, things that gather together by the thousands for a summertime picnic on really smelly, but fresh and juicy cow manure, certainly don’t deserve to be treated, or thought of, in the same way as people or pets. And, tell me," he added, "how many times has anyone seen somebody walk down the sidewalk, step on and kill ants, worms or bugs, then start crying about being a murderer, or getting upset because they were very cruel to those ants, worms, or bugs?” Well, that’s how he convinced his friends, that he wasn’t being cruel, and it worked. Anyway, all such thoughts of possible cruelty were forgotten, or forgiven, as soon as he felt the laughter and excitement of his classmates, who were now gathering all around him like a warm, comfortable blanket.

            You need to know, dear reader, that Emily is probably the world's most squeamish fifth grade girl¾Eric certainly knew. So when she came back to her desk and saw all those flies stuck to that tape-bracelet, she was horrified, then she felt sick and nearly threw-up her breakfast all over the desk top. The image of that fly-bracelet made the blood drain from her face and made her look nearly as white as a ghost. Suddenly she started gagging. Quickly she covered her mouth with one hand as she ran out of the classroom and hurried toward the girls’ bathroom.

            Eric hadn’t even gotten his loudest, proudest laugh out yet when he felt a sudden, painful, squeezing pressure on his shoulder. He turned around, expecting to see Matt, but it was Miss Demener’s angry face that he was looking into.

            His smile vanished immediately when he saw, then felt, the hot anger radiating from Miss Demener’s eyes as she leaned over and pushed her face closer to his. She stared angrily at Eric who seemed to freeze instantly, like an icicle.

            Miss Demener bellowed, and Eric flinched, “You can hardly go a few minutes without getting into some kind of trouble, can you? The school day hasn’t even started yet and you’re fooling around already!

            “Since when is it funny to be so gross that you make somebody sick to their stomach?” she continued to shout, with her eyes boring into him like drill-bits.

            The pressure of Miss Demener’s grip on Eric’s shoulder grew and he started to feel more pain. He wished that he could crawl under his desk and hide from her angry eyes. He saw her face twisted-up in such intense anger that it reminded him of the evil, bug-eyed woman that he had seen in a science fiction, horror movie not too long ago. Miss Demener continued to glare at him from behind the thick lenses of her black framed glasses. Her eyes were magnified so large that Eric had the feeling they were bulging out so far that they would surely pop out of her head, just as the woman’s terrified eyes had done in that gory horror movie. He was much more scared now than he had been during that awful movie. His face felt very hot, and his mouth was as dry as cotton. He couldn’t swallow, and he couldn't talk. Fear had him in a tight grip. He silently begged and prayed that Miss Demener would get away from him, stop yelling at him, stop looking at him, and immediately vanish from his life.

            But Miss Demener continued yelling. “I have had it with your wise-guy attitude! You may have made that poor girl sick with your cruel, gross joke! Now, young man, you get yourself to the principal’s office, immediately! I’m calling the office to let them know you're coming and exactly why I’m sending you there! Let Mr. Maldon take care of that foul brain of yours! Go! Get out!” she screamed.

            Then Miss Demener asked another girl to check on Emily and to bring her to the nurse’s office as soon as possible. Next she called Connie, the office secretary, and Lynda, the school nurse, to inform them about what had happened.

            Eric trembled as he hurried out of the room. We were all worried about him so I decided to go with him, but he wasn’t aware of that fact.

            Eric walked down the hallway thinking that facing the principal would be like petting a soft, cute kitten compared with facing the "beast" in Miss Demener. He found himself walking as quickly as possible toward the office. He was very anxious to get as far away, as fast as possible, from Miss Demener.

            When Eric arrived at the office, the secretary told him to sit at the table in the principal’s room until he returned from his meeting. Eric entered the principal’s office and was surprised to see that another boy was already seated at the table and was also waiting for Mr. Maldon’s return.

            Eric quietly pulled out a chair and sat down. He took a deep breath and relaxed. He felt a lot better and safer now. He looked curiously at the other boy.

            The other boy looked older than Eric and seemed very nervous. Eric couldn't just sit quietly. He decided to show-off for the boy. Eric said, “I’m here because my mean, ugly teacher isn't fair. What’s your name and why are you here?”

            “I’m Chris. My teacher sent me here because I swore at a kid and punched him. And what are you talking about? Did you say you're here because your teacher wasn't fair to you?”

            “That's exactly correct,” Eric responded. Then he made-up a story to tell Chris. Eric said, “I asked my teacher if she would get mad at me, or punish me for something that I honestly didn't do. So she says to me, ‘Of course I wouldn't get mad, or punish you for something that you honestly didn’t do. That wouldn't be very fair of me.’ So then I told her that I was being very 'honest' with her about not doing yesterday’s math homework assignment. Wow! When I said that, she got really mad and sent me here, even though she had just told me that it wouldn’t be fair of her to get mad at me, or punish me, for something that I honestly didn't do. You see what I mean when I said that my teacher isn't fair?” Eric demonstrated his big, show-off smile.

            Both boys laughed quietly so the secretary wouldn’t hear them. After the laughter, Chris relaxed and became more friendly as he started talking to Eric. Then they had an enjoyable and unexpectedly informative discussion.

            In about twenty minutes Mr. Maldon returned to his office and sat in the cushioned chair behind his desk, facing the boys and me¾I was standing on the table. He looked at the two boys and sighed. He looked very tired.

            Just as he was getting ready to speak to the two boys, his phone rang. He picked up the phone and tried to keep his voice quiet so the boys wouldn't hear him, but Eric had elephant ears. He often bragged that his ears were so good that he could clearly hear a fly fart from a mile away. Dear reader, do you get the feeling that Eric has a “thing” about flies? I half expected him to pretend that he was Spider Man and, with sticky, super powers, try to rid the world of flies. The image of him dressed in a comical Spider Man costume, trying to rid the world of flies, made me silently chuckle.

            Before Mr. Maldon arrived in his office, Eric had told Chris the real story about the dead-fly bracelet that he made and had placed on Emily's desk. Chris got a big laugh out of Eric's exaggerated and colorful description of Emily as she gagged and almost threw-up in the classroom.

            Eric heard almost all of Mr. Maldon’s quiet conversation, even though Mr. Maldon had turned his chair around so that his back was now facing the boys. That’s when Mr. Maldon’s bald head attracted Eric’s attention¾it must have been the glare of the ceiling lights off Mr. Maldon's shiny, oily skin. Well, I knew right away what Eric was thinking. He’d just renamed the principal "Mr. Baldon" because the principal was certainly “bald on” his head.

            Eric heard enough of Mr. Maldon’s conversation to know that he was having wife problems. Eric heard the words “Ruth,” “divorce,” and “lawyer” mentioned a few times, too. Mr. Maldon finally told his wife, Ruth, that he had students in his office so he couldn't talk to her any longer, but that he would call her back later.

            Eric’s mind was forming a weird idea. His mental gears were turning fast and he was coming up with an idea which, as usual, had a good chance of getting him into more trouble¾which he ignored, of course. He was thinking about having heard that the principal’s wife’s name was Ruth, and it sounded like they were talking about getting a divorce. To Eric there was only one possible conclusion to make, and that conclusion was this: After Mr. Maldon and his wife got a divorce, Mr. Maldon would be without his wife, Ruth, and that definitely meant¾according to Eric’s twisted logic¾that Mr. Maldon would soon become a “ruthless” principal.

            Eric grinned broadly at his cleverness and could not wait to get back to the classroom to tell Maragold and Matt his new joke, and about some very important information that he'd gotten from Chris.

            Mr. Maldon was upset by his wife’s phone call and wanted to get the boys out of his office as fast as possible. He quickly gave each of them a half-hearted reprimand and sent them back to their rooms with orders to apologize to their teachers and classmates. Eric was now over his fear of Miss Demener. He had very important information to give to Mara and Matt and wanted to return to his classroom quickly, even if he did have to apologize to Misdemeanor. He figured that Miss Demener would make him apologize to Emily, too. He knew that he would have to ignore his pride, apologize quickly and sound sincere about it. Then he had to quickly pass his important information to Mara, Matt and Cheryl.

CHAPTER 8:  REVENGE OF THE NERDS

            When Eric arrived at the classroom he walked to Miss Demener and apologized to her for his poor behavior and, as expected, she sent him to apologize to Emily, which he did. But he apologized to Emily with an exaggerated smile stretching across his face that Miss Demener couldn’t see since Eric’s back was toward her as he made the apology.

            Then, while Miss Demener was teaching the spelling lesson, and when she turned her back to the class, Eric secretly wrote a note which he passed to Mara. I had already told Maragold that Eric had a very important note for her. I felt that it was best to let Eric explain it in his own words. But, I hoped he wouldn’t get caught passing the note. That would double Miss Demener’s anger at him, especially since she was now troubled by something different than Eric’s prank. It was something personal. I could feel the sadness in her thoughts.

            When Maragold received the note she read it very quickly while Miss Demener was still writing spelling words and sentences on the chalkboard.

            Cheryl saw what was happening, but she didn’t get to read the note.

            The note explained to Mara that Chris, a sixth grade boy that Eric met in the principal’s office, was in the same classroom as Harvey, Dan and Lee. Chris had informed Eric that he had overheard Harvey talking about a secret plan to get-even with a fifth grade boy that had angered him in the cafeteria a few days ago. Apparently, from what Chris overheard, Harvey and his two friends planned to surprise Matt, in the boys’ bathroom, today. They said they were going to push Matt around, scare him and see if they could make him cry. They thought that would show him, and the other students who laughed at him, that Matt wasn't as brave, or as funny as he thought he was. What Chris didn't know, and Eric didn't mention, was that Eric was the close friend of that fifth grade boy.

            Maragold wrote a quick, short note and carefully passed it to Matt. Then she passed Eric's original note to Cheryl. Thankfully, Miss Demener was still too busy to notice the notes that were being passed around.

            Matt read Maragold’s note which said: “Don’t go to the bathroom during our regular bathroom break time. Harvey and his goons are waiting for you.”

            Matt’s return note said: “I have to go. I'm not going to run away from them. I’m afraid, but if I let them push me around now, they'll do it all year, and it’ll just get worse every day.”

            After reading Matt’s note, Maragold’s worried eyes looked at Matt. She showed some relief when she noticed that I was invisibly standing on Matt’s shoulder. I smiled at her and she smiled back, but suddenly that worried look appeared on her face again.

            Matt thought that Maragold was smiling at him. He didn’t know that she was really smiling at me. To Matt it seemed like the wrong time for smiling, and he was confused by it.

            Spelling class ended and, as usual, it was about fifteen minutes before lunchtime. This was the time when Miss Demener allowed the whole class, a few students at a time, to use the bathrooms. Miss Demener was strictly punctual concerning the time that she let the students use the bathroom. She followed the same routine almost every day, as if it were a personal and unchangeable rule.

            Because of Miss Demener's rigid routine it was easy for Harvey to learn about her before-lunch bathroom breaks, especially since her strict punctuality was often the topic of jokes among many of the other fifth grade students.

            Matt raised his hand and was one of the students chosen to be in the first group of students to use the bathrooms. Matt got up from his desk and slowly walked out of the room with two boys and three girls. He didn't look back, so no one saw the fear that distorted his face and increased his breathing rate. His stride seemed steady for those whose eyes followed him to the classroom door, but there was a brief hesitation as he reached the door, then he walked down the hallway toward the boys' bathroom.

            Maragold was the only one to notice that, just as Matt reached the classroom doorway, a faint, green glow appeared around the contour of his body, and I was perched on his right shoulder. I could sense Maragold's happiness at this sight and could feel the decreased weight of her worrying. A gentle and satisfied smile settled on her face, like a beautiful butterfly landing on a pretty flower. She felt much more at ease knowing that I was with Matt. I was happy to help her . . . and Matt.

            Matt took a deep breath, then walked into the boys’bathroom with his two classmates. Harvey stood there with his big arms crossed over his broad chest and a mean scowl on his face.

            Matt's and Harvey's eyes locked on each other for a couple of seconds. Matt wasn't aware that Dan and Lee were also in the bathroom because those two boys were standing on top of the toilet seats in the two stalls. The toilet stalls had walls that could easily be looked under. However, if someone stood on a toilet seat, their feet couldn't be seen and the stalls would look empty. That’s why both stalls appeared to be empty, and Matt assumed that Harvey had come alone.

            Matt's two nervous classmates were now washing their hands and anxious to leave. They could easily see that very soon there was going to be trouble. As they nervously walked toward the door, Matt said to them, “Don’t say anything to Miss Demener, and tell the next group of boys to wait outside the bathroom until I come out.” The two boys nervously said, “OK,” as they hurried to leave the bathroom.

            “Ya seem awful brave, all of a sudden. Too bad it won’t help ya. I been waitin' awhile ta ‘ave a chance ta git even with ya, Mr. Bean Pole! So now I’m gonna kick yer butt fer gittin’ me in trouble in the caf’teria a few days ago,” Harvey said in shattered English.

            Matt bluffed with a fake smile, but said nothing. Harvey didn't like that because Matt was supposed to act afraid. Kids were supposed to be afraid of Harvey. He grew to expect that. He wanted it, needed it, and liked it. It made him feel important and respected, instead of worthless and neglected. So, naturally, he was angry when Matt didn’t act afraid of him.

            As I stood on Matt’s shoulder I raised my wand and aimed it at one toilet stall and then the other, making both toilet seats very slippery, as if someone had applied a thick layer of grease to them. Suddenly Dan’s and Lee’s feet slipped off the toilet seats and plunged down into the toilet bowls. They both let out a loud, surprised gasp. The sound of water could be heard as it splashed upward and wet the front of their pants from their belts to their knees. Their shoes, socks and the bottoms of each pant leg were also soaked from standing in the toilet water. They both stepped out of the toilet bowls and walked out of the toilet stalls. They looked at the front of their pants with horrified expressions of extreme embarrassment. They stood silently as puddles of water grew around their shoes.

            “What's the matter? You didn't think you could knock me on my butt all by yourself?” Matt asked Harvey. Then, in a last second effort to avoid a fight Matt said, "Look, Harvey, this is silly. Why don’t we just forget this whole thing? We can just not bother each other and stay out of each other’s way. And if it will stop any more trouble, then I sincerely apologize for embarrassing you in the cafeteria.”

            “Oh, no ya don’t, ya skinny liddle runt. Ya can’t talk yer way outta this.”

            Harvey ignored Dan's and Lee's extreme embarrassment as he held up his big right fist. His knuckles were very bony and made his fist look like a grapefruit with a row of four walnuts on it. There were scars on his knuckles; evidence of his willingness to solve his problems with his fists. "Might is right" was the simple way that he thought.

            “Well then, if you don’t want to forget about the whole silly thing, let’s get it over with and quit wasting time talking about it,” said Matt. It appeared to Matt that it was useless to talk nicely to Harvey, or to use logic, or even to apologize to him. Perhaps Mara was right, he thought, when she joked that Harvey must have fallen out of his high-chair as an infant, tried to break his fall with his head, and was very successful at doing it. The fall didn't knock any sense into him; it knocked the sense out of him.

            Suddenly Harvey’s right fist flew like a rocket straight toward Matt’s nose. It was moving at great speed; too great a speed to move out of the way, Matt thought. But just as suddenly, Matt’s head jerked to the right as Harvey's huge fist missed Matt's face and passed over his left shoulder. The breeze created by Harvey’s flashing fist felt cool on Matt’s ear and cheek.

            Matt was surprised when he realized that his arms were still at his sides. He raised both fists, then moved his left fist forward, about level with his nose. He kept his right fist a little lower and held it close to his right jawbone. He positioned his legs in a classic boxer’s stance, with his left foot forward and both legs slightly bent and spread shoulder's width apart, for good balance. Matt felt his left fist clench tightly just before it flashed out like a missile. Matt barely felt the contact when his knuckles crashed into Harvey’s nose.

            Harvey was stunned and angry that he had been hit by such a skinny wimp. But instead of grabbing his hurt nose, as Matt had expected, Harvey lunged forward to grab Matt. Matt was already back in his boxer’s stance. A strange feeling came over him. He felt that his left jab contained a lot more power and speed than he ever thought he had. Then he thought of how much trouble he’d be in for fighting in school. But then another thought told him that sometimes a bully just won’t give a person any other choice. Right away he knew that his last thought wasn't true. He didn't have to come to the bathroom, he chose to come.

             Harvey had only taken one step forward when Matt’s right fist slammed into Harvey’s left jaw and lip area. He immediately stopped his forward movement. Then he stepped away from Matt and put both hands to his face, covering his hurt mouth and nose. He felt the swelling already taking place and with tear-filled eyes, he shocked everyone by crying. Seeing Harvey crying stunned Dan and Lee, and made them unable to move. It was as if the puddles of water that each boy was standing in had turned to ice, and their feet were frozen in them. Their mouths dropped open and their eyes stared at Harvey. They were both thinking that their “mountain-of-muscle” leader had just turned into a “mountain-of-mush.”

            The bathroom door suddenly banged open, startling everyone, and in walked an angry-faced Mr. Bunnlow. When Matt hadn't returned to the classroom with the boys from the first group, Maragold’s worry had grown too great, so when she was chosen to use the girls' bathroom, she had quickly gone to Mr. Bunnlow’s room to seek his help.

            Mr. Bunnlow stared at the sixth grade boys with angry eyes, but when he looked at Matt, his eyes not only showed anger, but extreme disappointment as well. He ordered Harvey, Dan and Lee to wait in the hallway while he questioned Matt. The sixth grade boys saw, in Mr. Bunnlow’s eyes, the part of him that was not so easy-going, or calm, or friendly. That's why they did exactly as he ordered them to do. And that decision was made even easier for them when they remembered that it was common knowledge, in the elementary school, that Mr. Bunnlow was a certified, first degree black belt in Japanese karate.

            There was nothing I could do to help Matt now. He knew that there would be consequences for fighting in school. I knew it was very wrong, too, but I told Maragold I would try to keep him safe from Harvey. Now my part was over and it was time for Matt to be responsible for breaking the school rule concerning fighting and to accept the consequences.

            “Who started the fight, Matt?” asked Mr. Bunnlow with an angry, impatient voice.

            “Harvey did, Mr. Bunnlow. He was waiting in here for me, along with his two friends, and he was the one who threw the first punch. I tried to call a truce to avoid a fight. I even apologized to him, but he was determined to fight. I only hit back in self-defense. That’s the honest truth, Mr. Bunnlow,” Matt said with a very worried expression. He could feel his hands trembling.

            “I’ve never heard of you being in a fight before, Matt. You’ve never been a trouble-maker, as far as I know. What on Earth were you thinking? You know very well that what you did was wrong, even if Harvey did start the fight. There are other ways to handle a bully like Harvey. I’ve been hearing stories about his bullying behavior for months. You could have come to me for help. We could have talked to the principal. You were very foolish, and I don’t mind telling you that I'm extremely disappointed in you.” Mr. Bunnlow paused but kept looking at Matt.

            “Mr. Bunnlow, I admit that I’ve been in a couple fights before, but not in school. I don’t like fighting; I really don’t. I try to stay out of fights the best I can, but this time I just had to fight back, or his bullying would only get worse every day. Harvey, Dan and Lee have been bullying Mara, Cheryl, Eric and me, both verbally and now physically. And, from what I've been hearing, they've also bullied a lot of other kids, too. When Harvey swung at me I just protected myself and fought back. It all happened so fast I can hardly believe it myself. I know it’s against school rules to fight, but he was trying to knock my head off. When his fist missed my face by an inch, I had to defend myself.”

            “Yes, you did have a choice, Matt. Mara said that you knew Harvey was in here waiting for you. You could have stayed out of the bathroom, and avoided him and his friends. You should have done that. So why didn't you, Matt?”

            “Because Harvey would just have found another time and place, Mr. Bunnlow, and the time and place would probably be a complete surprise, which would be a big disadvantage for me . . . us, I mean . . . Mara, Cheryl and Eric, too. I found out that Harvey was going to be in here waiting for me, so I thought it would be better to face him now than wait for him to surprise me some other place and some other time when I wouldn't be as prepared for him. But I know that fighting in school is wrong, and I’m willing to take my punishment for it.”

            Mr. Bunnlow shook his head and continued to stare at Matt with serious disappointment showing in his eyes and written in the wrinkles on his forehead. Matt was scared that Mr. Bunnlow, who had been such a good teacher, and whom Matt liked so much, would now turn against him and consider him a trouble-maker. But Mr. Bunnlow’s disappointment softened as he said, “From now on, please try your very best not to let this kind of thing happen again, OK?” Then he patted Matt on the shoulder, told him to return to his classroom, and tell Miss Demener what had happened. Mr. Bunnlow also told Matt to tell Miss Demener that he would take care of the problem by taking Harvey, Dan and Lee to his room. He said he'd also call the principal, and explain the circumstances to him. Mr. Bunnlow was glad he had a student-teacher to stay with his class while he took the sixth grade boys to the principal’s office.

            As Mr. Bunnlow and Matt walked out of the boys’ bathroom they heard laughter in the hallway. The fourth and fifth graders, who were getting in line for lunch, were laughing at Harvey and his two friends. Harvey's tears had vanished. The heat from his barely controlled anger and embarrassment must have dried them up quickly. Dan's and Lee's pants legs were still wet, though, and that wetness made it look as if they had peed their pants. All three of the boys' faces were red from their acute embarrassment—but there was nothing “cute” about any of them.

            Mr. Bunnlow stared at the gigglers and with a stern, impatient tone of voice he said, “There’s nothing funny about any of this, so I suggest that all of you mind your own business and be quiet.” The hallway suddenly became very quiet as the students looked away from Mr. Bunnlow, not wanting to look him in the eyes. They were very surprised by his rough, angry voice. None of them had ever heard him talk like that before.

            Then, with a hand motion, Mr. Bunnlow showed Harvey, Dan and Lee that he wanted them to follow him to his classroom where he would call their teacher and then the principal. The three boys followed him like rats following the Pied Piper; their heads looking down with total embarrassment, and their feet dragging as if heavy lead weights were attached to them.

            When Mr. Bunnlow and the three sixth grade boys were out of sight, a quiet, anonymous voice said, “The fight must have been so exciting, or scary, that Dan and Lee peed their pants like babies!”

            “Should we get them some ‘Depend’ adult diapers for Christmas?” another voice whispered between sounds of laughter.

            “Yeah. That’s a good idea,” said another hushed, anonymous voice.

            “Did you see Harvey’s face,” another quiet voice said. “His face was so red and swollen that it looked like he walked, face-first, right into a bee’s nest. He finally got a taste of his own medicine, and it sure didn't look like he cared for the taste of it very much.”

CHAPTER 9:  CHRISTMAS VACATION

            Shortly before Christmas vacation Maragold and I discussed whether or not it would be wise to tell Matt about me. We reluctantly decided that we shouldn’t do it, even though Matt was suspicious about his “green dream,” as well as his mysterious feelings of increased skill during his fight with Harvey. Recently, he had also said that he had strange feelings about not being alone, even when his eyes told him that there was no one around him.

            I thought of contacting Elder O'Keefe for his advice, but two things stopped me from doing that: First, this was not an "emergency." Elder O'Keefe stressed the fact that I was only to contact him if I had an emergency. The second reason is that I had a very strong feeling that I also needed to make my own mature, responsible decisions and be able to handle the consequences of those decisions.

            After having those thoughts I had a very powerful feeling that Maragold and I should tell Matt about me, that he could be trusted, and that he was a true, loyal friend who was mature enough to keep a secret. I told Maragold about my changed feelings and she was so happy that she hugged me¾a hug from Maragold is equal to being very gently squeezed between her thumb and index finger. Then she kissed the tip of her right index finger and lightly pressed that finger to my left cheek as I was perched on her left shoulder. I blushed so brightly that, if I were visible, I would have lit up a dark room.

            I blushed because I was slightly embarrassed, but I have to admit, dear reader, that I liked it a lot. My eyes sparkled with happiness, as a green, shimmering halo appeared around my whole body. That’s what happens to me when I'm incredibly happy. It’s like the feeling that most kids have when they wake up on Christmas morning, and they know that there’s a lot of presents waiting for them under the Christmas tree.

            We decided that the best time to tell Matt about me would be during the Christmas vacation. Telling Matt then would give us time to carefully plan how to do it. We hoped that it would all go well and that Matt wouldn’t think we were crazy, or that he wouldn't think that he was crazy to believe in the existence of a small, invisible leprechaun. Of course, I would know what he was thinking, so he couldn’t really hide his thoughts and feelings from me, at least not until I explained how to make his thoughts private. But before I could teach him how to have those “private thoughts,” Maragold and I had to convince him that I was real and that I had some genuine magical powers.

            Mara phoned Matt one night. They talked about a lot of things, but mostly about what they wanted for Christmas. They both wanted a new bike. Matt also wanted a remote control racing car, but most of all he wanted to see his dad. Actually, his dad, who now had his own apartment, had called his mom and invited them both to go out for Christmas dinner. Mrs. Durkey, however, said that it would feel more like a family if he came to their house late Christmas morning, and stayed for an early afternoon dinner.

            Matt was so happy that his mom and dad could still be friends, after their divorce, that when he thought about it his eyes gleamed with tears of joy. Actually their continued friendship meant more to him than any present that either one of them could buy for him. But he was still excited about getting some Christmas presents.

            In addition to the bike, Maragold wanted a pet cat. But her mom and dad discouraged her from getting one because of all the care she would have to give it, because of all the cat hair that would cling to things all over the house, and because of the litter box smell. Maragold could tell that her parents didn't really want a cat in the house by the tone of their voices, their whispered discussions, and the negative expressions on their faces when the topic of "cats" was discussed. That’s why she figured that she might as well forget about having a cat. She decided that she wasn’t going to beg for one or get angry. She knew, by now, that disappointment was as much a part of life as happiness, plus, her mom and dad had already taught her that it’s easy to show good character and maturity when you're happy, but the real test of good character and genuine maturity is shown by how well a person behaves and deals with life’s disappointments. Sure, she felt sad and disappointed, but she knew that she could deal with it. And there were plenty of other things to be happy about.

            The next day of vacation, a Thursday, Maragold called Matt and asked if he would like to go to a movie Saturday afternoon while her mom and dad went to the Market Place Mall, in Henrietta¾a suburb of Rochester, NY¾to finish their Christmas shopping.

            Matt was quite surprised by her invitation. It was the first time that she had ever invited him to go anywhere. He had thought of inviting her to go some place once, but he felt insecure, then confused about it, so he didn't ask her.

            Nervousness caused the words for his response to her invitation to roll around in his mouth like marbles in a bowl, and he couldn’t spit them out no matter how hard he tried. Then suddenly his words slid out in a rush, like an avalanche, as he quickly said, “Yes, I would like to do that very much.”

            So a surprised and smiling Mrs. Shane took the phone to talk to a surprised and smiling Mrs. Durkey, and the arrangements were made for an afternoon trip to the Regal movie theater, which was close to the Mall. That was the first step in our plan to tell Matt about me. It went quite smoothly, except for Matt’s marble mouth.

            Early friendships between boys and girls often tend to make boys uncomfortable, speechless, or to cause them to stammer embarrassingly. It can be a humorous situation, unless you're that boy. Maragold was wise not to joke about Matt’s nervous response.

            While on the topic of nervousness, Maragold thought that Saturday would never arrive, as if it were riding on the back of a crippled snail. She started getting very nervous because she kept thinking, “Is this my first date? Are we just two friends going to a movie together? I wonder how Matt feels? Was I wrong to be that bold with a movie invitation? What will he think of me? Will he still like me? Will this ruin our friendship? Oh my goodness! What should I do if he puts his arm around me in the movie theater? Oh darn it! This may be the biggest mistake of my life. Should I call him and cancel the movie trip?”

            Maragold's mind was engaged in this frenzy of frustrating questions when she suddenly realized that I was able to read her embarrassing thoughts. She had been so nervous that she didn't make her thoughts private. Then, just as suddenly, I was prevented from reading any more of her thoughts because she thought the words “private and personal.” I felt somewhat embarrassed because I had the power to turn off my thought-reading ability, but I didn’t. This power of mine sometimes has its embarrassing disadvantages, for both of us.

            I didn't purposely try to read her private thoughts. Maragold just didn't think about the thought command that she should have given in order to prevent me from reading them and, I admit, I was having too much fun reading her thoughts to think about stopping. I decided not to say anything about it unless she asked me. I realized that this was a very anxious and embarrassing situation for her, and that she was worrying a lot about it. She wasn’t nervous when she called to invite Matt to a movie, but each hour after that brought increased uncertainty and growing doubts that added up to a lot of tension.

            Matt was probably going through a very similar anxiety attack.

            I know it is extremely difficult being so young and not knowing how to deal with the beginning of those mysterious, romantic feelings. They are a lot more emotionally difficult to handle than the problems that Maragold and Matt had with Harvey, Dan and Lee¾who had been warned that any further problems from them would lead to a suspension from school. They never tried to cause trouble for the group again, except for the hateful looks and the growls that they gave Mara, Matt, Cheryl and Eric whenever they saw them in school.

            Saturday finally arrived. When Mr. and Mrs. Shane arrived at Matt’s house, Matt had been nervously waiting by the window with his coat on. He came out the door and down the steps quickly, but then walked slowly, and somewhat hesitantly, toward the car. Mrs. Durkey, who stood in the doorway, had an apron on, so she was probably baking holiday cookies. Matt got into the back seat with Mara, closed the door and said “Hello” to everyone. He looked at Mara, who was smiling at him, and returned the smile. Both their faces turned a pinkish color as they both looked at their laps to avoid further eye contact.

            Mara and Matt were unusually quiet, not knowing what to say to each other, so they talked about school. It had always been easy for them to talk to each other about many topics. Now, with the both of them in the grip of nervousness, they desperately clung to the topic of school. They were both wishing that they had invited Cheryl and Eric so that this trip would be less embarrassing and they could feel less nervous. Unfortunately, Maragold couldn't invite Cheryl and Eric because only Matt would be learning about me.

            We arrived at the theater about a half-hour early for our movie, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. Maragold and I were grateful for the extra time because we could tell Matt about me in the quiet, darkened movie theater, and we wouldn't have to be in a hurry to complete our task before the movie started.

            Maragold and Matt bought their tickets and entered the movie theater. It was dark, empty, and silent. They took off their coats and sat about ten rows from the front of the theater. If anyone did enter the theater, there was a good chance that they wouldn’t sit in seats that were as close to the screen as their’s, thus insuring a continued private conversation.

            Maragold smiled at Matt and said, “We don’t have much time before people start coming into the theater, and I want to tell you something.”

            Matt was very glad that the theater was dark because his face felt hot from blushing. He felt a sudden rush of embarrassment as he wondered what it was that Mara intend to tell him. Despite his emotional discomfort, he twisted sideways in his seat, put his elbow on the back-rest so he could face Mara more comfortably, then hesitantly said, “Sure. . . .What is it?”

            “Matt,” Mara said, “even though what I’m going to say will sound strange, please try to listen to me without saying anything until I’m done, OK?”

            Matt just nodded his head to indicate that he understood her, then listened to Mara as she began talking. He was still very nervous due to the seriousness of her voice, as well as being uncertain and insecure about what she might say to him. However, he continued to look at her with a half smile which he was using to cover up his growing anxiety.

            In a quick burst, Maragold said, “Matt, I have an invisible, leprechaun friend. His name is Bert. He’s quite small - only ten inches tall.” As Mara paused to think of what to say next, I was thinking about how happy I am about having grown one-inch since coming to be with Maragold. I hope I grow even taller because I’m small even for a leprechaun. Then Maragold continued talking to Matt by saying, “Bert used to dress like a formal magician wearing a tuxedo, but now he usually wears the green clothes that you see in typical pictures of leprechauns. He has some genuine magic powers and uses an emerald magic wand. His most important power is ‘thought reading.’ He can read people’s thoughts unless they mentally declare that their thoughts are private. He came to me a year and a half ago when my dad ordered two very expensive, deluxe magic wands from a world famous magic-wand factory in Ireland. When the two wands arrived, Bert was in the box that contained my wand. I’m the only one that can see him. He’s invisible to everyone else, although he does have the power to show himself to someone if he chooses to do that.”

            Maragold told Matt all this information in a rapid-fire way, just blurting out each sentence as quickly as possible before any interruptions occurred. She could see from Matt’s facial expressions that he was about to say something, so quickly, but patiently she said, “No questions yet, please. Just let me finish what I need to tell you, OK?” Then she continued, as before, with rapid, clear sentences. “When your mom an dad were getting divorced last year, and you were having a lot of trouble dealing with that situation, Bert flew to your bedroom at night. He hypnotized you and talked to you. He helped you to understand your mom’s and dad’s reasons and feelings for getting a divorce. He told you that they both still loved you and that the divorce was not your fault. He informed you that your parent’s divorce had nothing to do with what you did or didn't do to them. He explained all that to you because you were blaming yourself for your parents’ divorce, and you were having a lot of angry feelings about yourself.

            “Bert was also with you that day, in the boys’ bathroom, when Harvey started a fight with you. Matt, Bert is with me right now. He really is Matt. I’m not making this up. It’s true, but not even my mom or dad know about it. It has been my secret for a long time. You are the only person that I’ve told about Bert. Actually, it was Bert’s idea to tell you and to trust you with this secret. But, please, absolutely no one else can be told about this secret without Bert’s permission, OK? Do you understand that? It’s extremely important for Bert’s continued safety.” Matt nodded his head to indicate a confused “yes,” but his expression was one of shocked disbelief.

            “OK,” Mara said, “now it’s your turn. Ask me your questions.”

            Maragold nervously looked at Matt who was still in a state of speechless, disbelieving shock. Matt stared at Maragold for a few more seconds. He wasn’t sure what to say to her until his scientific, logical mind started working again. Then most of his shock wore off. He grinned and said, “If anyone but you had told me that story I’d think that they should be locked up in a mental hospital. But I can see, by the sincere expression on your face and your serious tone of voice, that you’re totally serious, and that you actually believe what you just said.”

            “Yes, I am totally serious. No jokes. No tricks. What I told you is the truth. I know that it’s very hard for you to believe. Actually, I can see, by your smile, that you don’t believe me. I know it's difficult to believe, but it's true, Matt.”

            “Mara,” said Matt, patiently, “before I can believe in this magic leprechaun named Bert, I’m going to need proof. I need . . . ”

            But before Matt could finish his sentence Maragold interrupted him. “For proof, you want him to show himself to you, and you want him to sit on the palm of your right hand and speak to you?” she asked, with disappointment in her voice.

            Maragold felt sad and disappointed. Her disappointment made her feel that telling Matt about Bert was a big mistake.

            I could feel the effect of her sadness and disappointment when her shoulders sagged. She was frustrated because she couldn’t convince Matt to believe her. Actually, I thought, how could anyone blame Matt for being skeptical? My existence would seem incredible to just about every human, and it certainly went against logic and common sense. It was after these thoughts that I knew that I could no longer just sit on Maragold’s shoulder and let her struggle to prove something that she couldn't do without my help. So now I knew that I had to get actively involved with the "proof" that Matt needed.

            “Those were really accurate guesses that you just made, Mara. Before I even had a chance to say them, you knew that I needed three things to prove to me that your leprechaun really exists. You knew that I wanted Bert to show himself to me; that I wanted Bert to sit in the palm of my right hand, and that I wanted him to speak to me,” said Matt. “Well, I probably shouldn’t be so surprised because we know each other very well and we have often known what the other person is thinking. Please believe me; I did not mean to hurt your feelings, but if you want me to believe you, then I need proof that will convince me that Bert really exists. That proof has to be something that you couldn’t know about before this conversation started. That way I will know that no trickery is involved, especially since you are a magician who knows how to fool people.”

            “Those weren't three lucky guesses that I made about what I thought you needed as proof in order to be convinced that I’m telling you the truth. It was Bert who told me what you were thinking. He read your thoughts and told me those three things. He’s sitting on my left shoulder right now.”

            “I want to believe you, Mara. I really do, but do you remember what Mr. Bunnlow taught us about scientific proof, and how we learn things by using our senses of sight, smell, touch, hearing, feeling, tasting and thinking? I’ll be convinced of the truth of what you say if Bert will make himself visible as he stands on my right palm so I can see him and feel his weight. Then, as the final proof that he is real, and that I’m not crazy, I want Bert to tell me what I’m thinking about at the very moment that he is visibly standing in my hand. That’s the kind of proof that will convince me that Bert exists. So here’s my open, palm-up, right hand.”

            Matt stuck his hand out and just stood there like that, waiting for something to happen as Maragold stared at him and wondered if he thought she was lying. But when she thought about it further, she had to admit that she understood his need for proof. After all, if she were in his position, wouldn’t she want very convincing proof, too?

            Although Matt felt bad about expressing his doubt about what Mara said, and hurting her feelings, he knew that he would only be convinced if he made the rules for the proof. So while he looked back at her, he kept his right hand outstretched with his palm up and open.

            Then Matt’s greatest fear surfaced. He hoped that his doubts about what Mara was saying would not lead to the end of their friendship. He was too shy to tell her, but he thought she was the best, the smartest, the truest friend that he had ever had. Perhaps, he thought, she was the best friend that he would ever have.

            They both felt uncomfortable and I could feel Maragold’s increased sadness and uncertainty. She felt both uncomfortable and uncertain about what to do next because she never had to offer proof to Matt before; he had always believed her and trusted her.

            Matt felt uncomfortable doubting Mara, but this was just something he could not accept without proof. He had a very scientific mind, so how could he believe in something that he couldn’t see, touch, smell, hear, feel, or even have logical thoughts about? Some things a person just had to "see," “feel” and “hear,” or have other proof in order to believe.

            He had never asked Mara to prove what she said before. She was always so reliable, sensible and logical. But now she was telling a fantastic story that just seemed too unreasonable to accept without some very convincing proof. This girl in front of him didn’t even sound like the same girl that he had known and liked for a year and a half.

            Matt continued to hold out his right hand. He stared at Mara as she looked at his open right palm. His hand was not nearly as steady, or as dry, as it was when he first held it out. He felt guilty about requesting proof and was becoming more nervous as his hand remained empty.

            Maragold didn’t know what to do or say, so I made my decision quickly. I flew off Maragold’s shoulder and landed on Matt’s open right palm. I jumped up and down so he could feel my weight, then I kicked his palm just to make sure he could feel it¾maybe that kick will teach him not to doubt my Maragold again. With a surprised look on his face, he told Mara that he just felt something and that it felt like someone had pricked his right palm with a needle¾it was really my pointy shoes. Then when Matt's thoughts said to make myself visible, I did. When he saw me I thought he was going to faint, but thankfully he didn't. As he was trying to make sense of what was happening right in front of him, he started thinking that he wanted me to jump to his right thumb. When I did just that, his jaw dropped like a heavy stone off a cliff. His next thought was a request for me to speak to him¾I should have cracked him over the head with my wand, but I liked him too much to do that, even though he was acting a bit hard-headed. I obeyed his request and said to him, “Merry Christmas, Turkey Durkey.” Then I handed him the half of the movie ticket that the attendant had given back to him at the theater entrance. He had placed that ticket in his shirt pocket after the attendant gave it to him. He reached up to feel inside his shirt pocket, but all he could feel was emptiness.

            Some of the things I did were mental instructions from Matt and some were things that I thought would be absolutely convincing and leave no doubts in Matt's mind about my existence, like taking his movie ticket out of his pocket without him knowing anything about it. I made sure that I accurately performed all the actions that he required for proof of my existence. While I was visible to him, I even used my magic wand to put a green halo around the contour of my body, just like I had done last year in his bedroom. I had given him his proof and I added extra proof of my own. Now it was up to Matt to decide if he was going to believe Maragold, me and his own senses, especially his eyes.

            Maragold and I watched Matt closely, waiting for his reaction. He stared at the green halo around my body. His palm grew more sweaty, and I was glad not to be standing there, even though it wasn’t easy standing on his thumb while his hand trembled.

            I read his thoughts, then in a voice that he could clearly hear, I said, “No, Matt, I only protected you from getting hit in the face by Harvey. The punches you hit him with were your own instinctive reactions. And, in case you’re wondering, I caused those embarrassing things that happened to Dan and Lee because I wanted to distract them and keep them out of the fight.

            “I hope you won’t ever have to fight in school again, Matt. Fighting is a terrible way to try to solve problems and should not be used unless it’s unavoidable and in self-defense. I know that's how it was with you and Harvey, but next time you may not be as lucky to come out of the fight unhurt. You could also get in serious trouble for breaking the school rules against fighting. You could get put in detention or get suspended from school. Your mom and dad certainly wouldn't be very happy about that. So please avoid fighting in school, just like Mr. Bunnlow advised you. If you don’t think you'll be able to avoid a fight, and if there's time, quickly seek the help of any teacher, or the principal. Remember, you don’t want to end up like Harvey who solves his problems with his fists. Sooner or later, that approach to solving problems will only get him, or you, into very serious trouble; the kind of trouble that might be serious enough to involve the police. You’ll want to avoid that kind of trouble, so please be very thoughtful and careful.”

            A huge, relieved smile appeared on Matt’s face. Now there was no doubt that he had accepted the proof of my existence¾I think that when he asked me to speak to him as one of the conditions of proof, he wasn’t expecting a long speech, but the topic was worth emphasizing because of its great importance.

            Matt was amazed at what had just happened to him, but he was no longer shocked because now he understood what had happened. He tried to hand me to Maragold, but Maragold just mentally asked me to fly to her shoulder, and I immediately did. As I leaped off Matt’s thumb, I made the green halo, and myself, vanish so I would be invisible again. Matt was delighted with my vanishing act.

            A few minutes later, and after a series of questions from Matt, people started coming into the movie theater. When the movie started, Matt didn't seem to pay attention to it at first. He could only think of me and kept looking over at Maragold to see if he could see me again. He couldn’t, so when his amazement and curiosity faded, he got interested in the movie.

            I enjoyed the movie so much that I promised myself that I would see the first two Lord of the Rings movies. But right now I was wondering why there were no giant, three feet tall, leprechaun warrior heroes in the movie. Heck, a giant, magic, leprechaun hero could have turned the bad guy's boogers into boulders so they’d be sneezing dirty pebbles for the rest of their lives. Yes, there definitely should’ve been some leprechaun super-heroes in that movie.

            It turned out that Maragold didn’t have to worry about all those “rapid-fire” questions that she had asked herself, and worried about, before picking up Matt at his house. As a matter of fact she felt as if she and Matt would have an even better friendship now than before. She was quite satisfied with herself and with how everything had worked out.

            After the movie Matt was still amazed, curious and full of questions, but he was also very happy to be thought of as mature enough, responsible enough, and trustworthy enough to be told about me, and then have my existence boldly demonstrated to him in such an unforgettable and amazing way. He also thought about how nice things had been since he had become friends with Mara, as well as with Cheryl and Eric. Matt thought that his life seemed so much better now.

            Then, suddenly, I could not longer read Matt’s thoughts because he had mentally switched to “private thoughts,” which Maragold and I had explained to him before the movie started. I smiled because now it was I who was the curious one; curious about his thoughts about my pretty and precious Maragold.

            A few days after Christmas Matt used the phone to call Maragold. She had spent Christmas at her much loved, maternal grandma’s and grandpa’s house¾sadly, Mr. Shane’s mom and dad had died before Maragold was born, and she never got to meet them and know them.

            Maragold told Matt that she received an adult-sized, new bike, a lot of new clothes, some books, a portable CD music player and, most importantly to her, two beautiful cats. The cats were the biggest and best Christmas surprise for her.

            Maragold told Matt that she would have been thrilled with getting just one cat, but getting two cats was absolutely amazing, considering the fact that she thought her parents really didn't want a cat in the house. She informed Matt that her parents had a change of heart and decided that having a pet would be a good lesson in "responsibility" for her. Her parents had intended to get only one cat, she told Matt. They saw an advertisement in the local PennySaver for free cats so they went to look at them the following weekend. But by then there were only two cats remaining from the litter: one male and one female. Those two brother and sister cats were playing so happily together, and were so cuddly and cute that her mom and dad decided to give both of them to her. They figured that two cats can’t be much more trouble than one cat.

            Maragold, with a very excited voice, continued by telling Matt that the female cat was completely black, so she named her Licorice. Then she told Matt that the male cat was mostly a pale-orange color, with a little bit of white, and since the orange color looked like the color of a dried apricot, she named him Apricot. I could tell from her excited, caring voice that she loved those cats very much and would take very good care of them.

            The cats were completely unaware of me. That was lucky for me since they would probably think that I was a rat and chase me all over the house. But then I’d have to turn them into dog biscuits with my magic wand. Next, I’d turn myself into a big dog, then lick my lips with my long, wet tongue before I ate them¾don’t worry, dear reader, I’m just joking.

            Matt told Maragold that his mom and dad went half-and-half on all his Christmas gifts¾you know, that means that they each paid half the price for all his gifts. That way each gift was from both of them, and no one had to worry about who spent more money on Matt’s gifts.

            Life seemed to be much better, more meaningful, a lot of fun and happier for both Maragold and Matt. They knew that this would be one Christmas that they would always remember as being extra special and never to be forgotten, even if, one day, they drifted away from one another as they grew up and went their separate ways, which is what usually happens to close school friends. I know this because that’s exactly what happened to my school friends and me.

            I was certainly very happy for Maragold and Matt. Even their parents noticed the increased excitement and joy in their attitudes, speech and actions. Maragold’s and Matt’s parents felt that this was an extra special Christmas for them, too. It was a precious time to be locked in a memory vault, then in future years that vault could be opened and the joy of this Christmas could be felt and shared all over again.

            It was such an extra special, wonderful, and memorable Christmas holiday for everyone in both Maragold’s and Matt’s families. That’s the way Christmas is meant to be, isn’t it, dear reader?

            Maragold and Matt each called Cheryl and Eric, and to their delight they heard that Cheryl and Eric also had a wonderful Christmas, got plenty of nice gifts, visited relatives, and were enjoying their vacation very much.

CHAPTER 10:  THE TALENT SHOW

            Christmas vacation raced by on sprinter’s legs. January arrived and most students reluctantly returned to school.

            However, Maragold, Matt, Cheryl and Eric were all glad to get together again, even if it did mean being back in school. They wondered how they had survived the first four months in Miss Demener’s class, but when they thought more seriously about it, they realized that they had some good times and good laughs despite Miss Demener’s stern methods and humorless nature.

            Cheryl was anxious to get back into the group's jokes routine so she grinned excitedly and said, “Hey guys, What does the word December have that none of the other eleven months have in them? And I didn’t say the month of December, so don’t say the answer is Christmas or New Year’s Eve.”

            Maragold, Matt and Eric looked at each other curiously, but none of them came up with an answer. They knew that a puzzling joke or bit of information was coming, and they were interested in knowing the mysterious answer.

            As Cheryl continued to smile sheepishly, giving the group extra time to think of an answer, Maragold scratched her head, Matt rubbed his chin, and Eric picked his nose as he pretended to be in deep thought. But a few seconds later, when no one responded to her question, Cheryl impatiently blurted out the answer by saying, “It’s the letter ‘D.’ No other month has the letter ‘D’ in it!”

            Maragold stopped scratching her head, Matt stopped rubbing his chin, but Eric’s busy index finger simply moved from one nostril to the other, making it more difficult to see his hesitant smile than it was to see the friendly smiles of Maragold and Matt. Cheryl took their smiles as a sign of approval, and that caused her own pretty smile to stretch farther.

            Cheryl noticed that Eric was still  picking his nose and told him that he looked ridiculous and gross all at the same time. She started to slap Eric’s hand, but decided that she shouldn’t hit a friend, even if he is a gross "booger boy."

            Eric stopped digging for boogers long enough to reply, “Yeah, Cheryl, you ought to know all about it after you got caught digging for ‘nostril nuggets’ last year and really embarrassed yourself. Heck, I can just say that I learned this nose-picking technique from you, and now I’m perfecting it with a lot more skill than you showed.

“And there’s something else you should know. Sometimes your jokes aren’t very funny, although they do have a funny odor to them, you know?” Eric laughed and said, “Just kidding, kiddo.”

            Cheryl took the teasing good-naturedly, but then showed her cleverness by saying, “Yeah, right! And I suppose that you’re the genius of jokes, right? Many of your jokes stink, too. Your bad jokes are just brain farts, kiddo.” She slowed her speech and raised her voice with the last word. She stretched the letter sounds so the word ‘kiddo’ sounded like "K-I-D-D-O-E."

            Eric stared at her with amazement. He blinked a couple of times as if it would help clear his thinking, as well as his vision, then said, “Brain farts? Wow! Now that’s really funny! I like it! It’s amazing! You should try to think of more funny things like that to say. Maybe you do have some talent, Cutie Pie.”

            Suddenly they all sounded like a laughing chorus as they showed their appreciation for each other's humorous talents. Eric even gave Cheryl a friendly pat on the back; something his ego usually prevented him from doing to a competitor.

            Cheryl’s joke and Eric’s humorous comments put everyone in a happy mood as they stood by the bulletin board in the back of the classroom.

            All around them was the hum of other conversations, the buzz of laughter, and the scraping sounds of sliding desks and chairs. There was also the swishing sounds of new clothes, and the shuffle and squeak of new shoes on the hardwood floor. I heard those sounds and found them to be delightful. I guessed that those sounds would be too routine, too common for Maragold's group to even notice. My thoughts drifted, and for a moment I stopped listening to the group. I wondered if any teachers ever found simple delight and happiness in those sounds, and in the children who were making them. It was as if the students themselves were pleasing musical instruments that made beautiful music with their natural movements, but that music went unnoticed and unappreciated. I'll bet, however, that many retired teachers remember that delightful music and miss the sound of it. They might remember their students as an orchestra, each a different musical instrument, each producing unique and pleasing musical notes that blend together to produce a daily, joyful, classroom symphony.

My attention snapped back to the group as they were thinking of more jokes to tell. They were in a hurry to tell more jokes before Miss Demener ordered everyone to their seats to listen to the principal’s morning announcements, then the Pledge of Allegiance.

            Eric was the first to speak. The serious tone of his voice, along with his unsmiling face led the others to believe that what he was about to say wasn’t a joke. They listened carefully as Eric said, “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about our report card grades going down, now that Christmas is over.”

            The other three members of the group gave each other puzzled looks because it was very unusual for Eric to sound so serious, and his statement gave no clue of any humorous intent.

            I probably wouldn’t have been able to guess what he was talking about if I didn't have the ability to read his cluttered, and weird thoughts.

            Impatient, as always, and wanting to demonstrate his clever trickery, Eric gave the group very little time for thought before he said, “Yeah, you know how the prices of things in stores get ‘marked-down’ after Christmas is over.”

            Eric’s grin spread into a radiant smile and his white teeth made that smile shine when he laughed. Unfortunately, everyone else shook their head and wondered what he was talking about. Eric noticed, with surprise and disappointment, that no one understood his joke and suddenly his laughter stopped and his smile turned into a frown. “Hey! Don’t you get it?” he said. “You know, after Christmas almost all the stores ‘mark-down’ their prices on Christmas stuff because they want to sell them fast to get them out of the way. I was just comparing 'marking-down' the prices with the 'lowering' of grades on our report cards. Gee! Don’t you guys understand anything?”

            Matt shook his head, stepped closer to Eric and, as he rested his hand on Eric’s shoulder, he said, “My poor, poor friend. Every day you sound more and more like Brian-the-Brain. It’s such a shame, Eric, because you may end up in a mental hospital if you keep demonstrating terrible jokes like that one. Remember those scary men in the white coats who carry straight-jackets with them are always looking for people with your brand of strange behavior.”

            Eric tried to pull away from Matt, but couldn’t. He gave a disgusted look to everyone in the group as they were laughing at him.

            When the laughter quieted, he said, “That’s the second time I’ve been told that I was becoming like Brian-the-Brain and, you know what? I don’t like it. I wish you guys wouldn’t say that to me any more.”

            Eric turned his head down as if he were examining some dirt on the floor, then noticed something on his pants and started trying to rub it off. It was dry and brittle like a scab, and when he scraped it with a fingernail, it flaked off. That’s when he remembered that after picking his nose awhile ago, he had rubbed his finger on his pants. He looked around to see if anyone else noticed the dry, crispy booger. Luckily, for him—because he’d be teased—no one had noticed but me. I silently hoped that he would never develop a fingernail-biting habit. What a disgusting thought. Normally a flaking “nose emerald” would have been very funny to him, and he would have made jokes about it, but now he was pouting. He thought he had just been seriously insulted.

Then Matt said, “Come on, Eric. You don’t have to be so sensitive. You should know by now that we are just picking on you. We all like you a lot. You’re an important part of our group. And besides that, all of us know darned well that you aren’t, and never will be, even close to being as smart as Brian-the-Brain.”

            After Matt said that, the quiet laughter started all over again. Matt gently punched Eric’s shoulder as a sign of friendship and to show Eric, once again, that he was teasing him. Maragold and Cheryl stepped closer to Eric and patted him on the back in a friendly gesture as Maragold said, "Please increase the quality of your jokes. That last one was awful." Then she smiled at him.

            Now that Eric had all of their friendly attention, he was happy again and showed it by replacing his frown with a lip-stretching smile. “Gee! Do you guys really think I’m important?” he said.

            “Of course we do,” answered his three friends, nearly at the same time.

            Eric’s chest puffed up with pride, and a twinkle of joy appeared in his eyes. He needed praise and reassurance almost as much as he needed food.

            Just then a loud, husky voice shattered their joke session like a boulder falling through glass. The booming voice ordered everyone to their seats. It was Miss Demener’s speaking. Her voice was so loud and deep that most of the students thought that a man had just spoken. Everyone scurried to their seats as if they were mice with a hungry cat chasing them. Further attempts at humor would have to wait until lunch time.

            After the morning announcements and the Pledge of Allegiance, Miss Demener walked to the front of the room. She looked unusually rested and had an almost pleasant smile on her face. Everyone waited for her to start talking. She looked at the class and said, in a serious tone, “You’ll all be pleased to hear that you only have a half day of school this morning.”

            Everyone was shocked by the wonderful news. The whole class smiled and laughed while looking excitedly at each other. But that excitement soon burst, like a watermelon that’s been dropped from a high building, when she added, “And you’ll have the other half of school this afternoon.”

            Miss Demener was so proud of herself that she continued to giggle and smile at the class as everyone stared at her with extreme disappointment and dislike. Later on, I told Maragold that I had read Miss Demener’s thoughts. I told Maragold that, believe it or not, she wasn’t really trying to be mean. She actually thought she was being friendly by joking with the class. However, her joke was not considered to be the least bit funny, nor was it appreciated. Furthermore, it ruined the day for some of the students. It caused bad attitudes and dark moods that floated in the classroom all day, like storm clouds.

Maragold couldn’t help thinking that Miss Demener had a very poor sense of humor and shouldn’t try to tell jokes. Maragold also thought that Miss Demener could no more become a good joke teller than a toothpick could become an arrow.

            To most of the students it seemed as if lunch time would never arrive. It was their first day back from Christmas vacation. The first day back from any school vacation was almost always a tough day, since time seemed to pass as if it was being measured with a broken clock.

            When lunch time finally arrived and the class stood in the cafeteria line waiting to be served, a kid at the front of the line said that the food looked awful. A cafeteria lady told him that the food was perfectly good, and the same kid replied that the food was perfectly good only if we were starving pigs who didn't mind eating last week's left-over slop. He said that last part very quietly.

            That kid’s comment caused Maragold to look at Matt and say, “That kid’s right, you know. The food’s so bad that flies come here to commit suicide.”

            They took their plates of food and set them on their trays, then started for their assigned table. Matt felt an uncontrollable urge to look over at the sixth grade tables. When he did look, he saw Harvey looking down at his tray. Lee and Dan were looking at Harvey, wondering what was the matter with him. Matt felt sorry for Harvey, but not sorry enough to wish that he hadn’t punched him in self-defense. Then Matt remembered Mr. Bunnlow's anger and that made Matt feel even more uncomfortable.

            Recently Matt had been feeling a new strength inside himself. He felt strong just knowing that he wasn’t afraid of Harvey, Lee, or Dan. He felt a new confidence, too, and felt no need to brag about the fight. Matt remembered Mr. Bunnlow’s demand that he not fight in school unless he absolutely couldn’t avoid it. Matt found himself agreeing with Mr. Bunnlow's thought that there was something sad about having to use fists to hurt another person. Then Matt thought that, sometimes, it just couldn’t be avoided. He also thought, Isn't that why Mr. Bunnlow is a black belt in karate? Isn’t karate a skill that Mr. Bunnlow can use for self-defense? Sometimes a person has to fight back, or get beat-up, and those were usually the only choices that a bully gave someone. Matt looked over at Harvey again, but all he saw was his crew-cut hair as Harvey’s head still hung down as if he was carefully inspecting the food on his tray.

            Matt didn’t notice Dawn smiling at him, but Maragold did. It was the kind of smile that a girl gives a boy when she likes him and wants to meet him. Maragold felt her face redden with jealousy. Dawn was in sixth grade. She was kind of pretty, but her fake smile subtracted from her good looks like a flower with half of its bright petals torn off. However, she gathered a lot of attention anyway because she was developing physically into a young woman and, naturally, all the boys noticed. She was supposed to be a very talented singer. She was also supposed to have a mean personality, but Maragold didn't know that yet. It was also said that Dawn got what she wanted most of the time and didn’t let things like honesty, friendship or feelings get in her way. Personally, I did not like her eyes. To me they looked like spider webs, patiently waiting for the next victim. I couldn’t help wondering, if what was said about her was true, what kind of life had she had that made her personality so mean in only ten years.

            After lunch Mr. Maldon, the principal, made a special announcement about something new that some fourth, fifth and sixth graders would be doing this year. In February there would be a talent show. Any fourth, fifth and sixth grade student could enter the show and just about any talent could be performed. Apparently the organizers wanted the usual dancers, singers, jugglers, comedians, magicians, musicians, gymnasts and other talents. There would be a winner, or winners if there were any teams, in each grade level and there would also be an overall winner for the entire talent show. The talent show would be seen at a school assembly to be held some time in late February and the winners would be selected by the students themselves, through the use of secret ballots, in all the fourth, fifth and sixth grade classrooms. The winner, or winners, at each grade level would receive a small trophy, but the overall talent show winner, or winners, which would be one of the three grade level winners, would receive a large trophy, plus twenty-five dollars. They would also have their name, or names, engraved on a special plaque which would be placed inside the glass case that was on the wall outside the elementary school office. The prizes would be provided by the school Parent-Teacher Organization.

            Maragold immediately thought that this was an excellent idea. Naturally she wanted to enter the talent show as a magician. She knew her dad would help her organize the show, but she wanted to have an assistant. She felt the same way as her dad about having an assistant. They both felt that a magic show, where the magician has an assistant, was better than a magician working alone because the show went smoother. The magic show went much smoother with an assistant because then the magician didn’t have to turn his/her back to the audience, walk to a table to put the just-performed trick down, pick up the next trick from the table, walk back to his spot on the stage, and then try to get the audience's attention again. All that wasted time is eliminated with an assistant who can take things from the magician and bring things to the magician. That made the show progress very smoothly. It gave the magic show a more elegant appearance, allowed the magician to keep constant eye-contact with the audience, and helped the magician to concentrate fully on entertaining the audience.

            Maragold knew immediately that she wanted Matt to be her assistant, but she didn’t know how he would react to that request since boys are usually the magicians and girls are usually their assistants. She thought, "Should I ask him, or shouldn’t I? Would he even be interested?" These and other related magic show thoughts were on her mind for the rest of the day.

            At times, however, she was distracted by the unwelcome memory of the look in Dawn’s eyes when she was staring at and smiling at Matt during lunch. That memory still made her both jealous and angry.

            While riding home on the bus I tried to cheer Maragold. I told her to think about how much fun it would be to do a magic show, and that it would be twice as much fun if Matt agreed to be her assistant. I also told her not to worry about Dawn’s intentions because she, Matt, Cheryl and Eric were such good friends, got along so well together, and were so loyal to each other that Dawn wouldn’t be able to break up their close friendships, especially the special friendship that existed between her and Matt. She thought about that, then forced a small smile, but I noticed that her eyes were not smiling as she mentally switched to “private thoughts.”

            Mr. Shane was delighted to help Maragold prepare a magic show routine. They entered the magic room¾the spare room in their house where all the magic tricks, props, books, pictures, posters and supplies were kept neatly on shelves. Also, on one wall, I saw the largest mirror that I’d ever seen. Maragold informed me, later, that it was the "practice mirror." Mr. Shane and she would always practice magic tricks in front of the mirror so they could see how the audience viewed them, and to see if the angles for performing the tricks were correct. If those angles were not correct, the mirror would allow them to see the mistakes caused by those bad angles. Then they would correct the bad angles so the audience would not discover the secrets of their magic tricks. Mr. Shane mentioned that it was also very important for the practicing magician to look in the mirror at the reflection of his hands and not look down at his real hands. This was so important, he emphasized, because the magician not only needed to see how the audience viewed his hand movements, he also needed to see if his hand movements and finger manipulations—“sleight of hand”¾of objects was smooth and natural-looking so they would not make the audience suspicious.

            Mr. Shane also explained that the human eyes are attracted to "motion," but the human mind is attracted to the "unnatural". If everything else is stationary¾not moving¾and then one object moves, the human eye will immediately follow that object. If the magician makes a movement, or causes something to move that has nothing to do with the trick, then while the audience is distracted by that movement, the magician can perform his secret action. This is exactly how the magician gets the audience to look away from where the secret of a trick is really being done. Knowing this "rule of motion" and how it affects people is a great "advantage" to a skillful magician.

            It's a little different when dealing with the "unnatural," Mr. Shane explained. When any movement, or action appears "unnatural" to the audience they will automatically look at it, then become suspicious of it. The skilled magician always tries to make his movements and actions look as natural as possible, especially when he is doing something sneaky and doesn’t want to attract the attention of the audience. So unnatural movements or actions are a big "disadvantage" to a magician. That’s why Mr. Shane said there are only three rules for performing a good magic show: practice, practice, practice, so that all movements look natural.

            It was fascinating for me to look at all the colorful scarves; boxes and bags for vanishing items; multi-colored ropes; silver metal rings; playing cards of varying sizes and colors; coins; coin holders; balls of different sizes, colors and materials like plastic, hard rubber and sponge; thimbles, an emerald wand, and much more. I felt like a child, with a sweet-tooth, who is brought into a candy store and wants to grab a handful of everything he sees. Perhaps just as impressive was Mr. Shane’s collection of about fifty hard cover magic books, especially a series of seven books with the title Tarbell Course in Magic. A few more books that caught my attention were the Mark Wilson Course in Magic, The Royal Road to Card Magic, and The New Modern Coin Magic. It was a fantastic sight to see all those books and know that there were thousands of magic tricks with their secrets hidden inside. My magic ability and secrets seemed small compared to the wonders that filled Mr. Shane’s magic room. When Maragold needed to be alone, this is the room I liked to come to.

            I found myself floating in front of the magic books and I didn’t even realize that I had left Maragold’s shoulder. I guess that is proof of the strong attraction that those books created in me. When I looked around the room I saw Maragold and Mr. Shane busily working together at organizing the magic show. They were deciding which tricks Maragold would perform, about how long it would take to perform them, and in what order she would perform them¾it’s called “the routine.” Then they would decide what “patter” to use¾that’s the story the magician tells the audience as he does the trick. Patter gives the audience information that they need to understand what the magician is trying to do, plus it helps to build a friendly connection between the magician and his audience, as well as to entertain and distract them. The final task for them would be to choose which “gags” to use to make the show even more humorous¾the “gags” are the quick, funny, physical actions and/or short humorous verbal comments, as well as the outrageous objects, that the magician uses to make the audience laugh. Gags can be used at any point: before, during, or at the end of the show, but careful, thoughtful placement of them will create maximum, humorous entertainment value.

            Preparing for an entertaining magic show involved careful, detailed planning like this, and took Maragold and her dad nearly two hours to complete. When they finished with their plans, they reviewed them, making minor changes and adjustments. Now they were both satisfied that they had done their best and all that remained was for Mara and Matt to practice until they had the routine, patter, and gags mastered. That would take many hours to accomplish.

            During that nearly two hour time period I left Maragold to do an important job. I was only gone for about an hour. When I returned I saw that Maragold and her dad were still busy, so I flew to Maragold’s room and read one of her books. Since her books were people size I had to use my magic wand to open the covers and turn the pages. The book I started reading, one of Maragold’s favorites, was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. It’s a wonderfully written story of fantasy and magic. The first two chapters were excellent, and I’m sure the remainder of the book will be even better, so I highly recommend it to you, dear reader.

            I heard the telephone ring. I could also hear Mrs. Shane’s footsteps as she went to answer the phone. It was Matt calling for Mara, so Mrs. Shane walked to the magic room to tell her.

            Maragold came to her bedroom¾for privacy¾to use the phone that was there. As she entered the bedroom I flew to her shoulder. She was so used to this by now that she didn’t even feel my weight. Her thoughts were focused on the magic show.

            “Hi Mara. It’s Matt. I was just thinking about the talent show that Mr. Maldon was talking about in school today. What do you think about me being your assistant in your magic show? Maybe I could even learn and perform a magic trick in your magic show. I really think that we could do a great job together. I’ve always been so fascinated and curious about magic tricks. So what do you think?”

            Maragold couldn’t believe her ears. She had been thinking that tomorrow she would ask Matt if he would be interested in being her assistant in the magic show. Then when she thought about it again she decided that she wouldn’t ask him because she didn’t think he’d be interested. Every time she thought about asking him, she would think of a few reasons why he might want to do it, then she’d think of a more reasons why he wouldn’t want to do it. She went back and forth like that a few times, and ended up just confusing herself and not knowing what to do. Now here he was, calling her and asking if she would let him be her assistant. She was so relieved and happily surprised by his phone call, and with his interest in being her assistant, that she found herself unable to speak for a few seconds. She swallowed, then with a cheerful voice she said, “Can you come to my house to start practicing tomorrow, after school? If we want to do a fair job we’ll need to practice for at least a half hour each day. We’ll probably have to do that for two or three weeks. But if we're going to be serious about winning, then we’ll need to practice for about an hour each day, after school, until the day before the talent show.” Mara remained silent while nervously waiting for Matt’s reply.

            “Well, then,” Matt eagerly responded, “we’d better practice for an hour until the day before the talent show. It’s like Mr. Bunnlow always told us: If you’re going to do a job, then do the best job that you can. I think there’s no use entering the contest unless we try to do a good enough job to have a chance at winning. I'll need the extra time, too, because being a magician's assistant is all very new to me, and I've got a lot to learn. I’m sure that you can teach me everything that I need to know, and by the time the talent show arrives the three of us will be prepared to do our very best. So I’ll see you tomorrow, in school, and we can sign up as a team for the talent show, OK?”

            “That sounds great to me, Matt. See you tomorrow,” replied Mara, joyfully.

            “OK. Bye.” Matt responded before hanging up the phone with a satisfied grin on his face and some extra color in his cheeks.

            As soon as Maragold hung up her phone she was immediately puzzled about why Matt had said the three of us instead of the two of us. She thought, Was it just a slip of the tongue? He doesn’t think that Bert will be helping with the magic show, does he? She started to phone Matt, but then changed her mind. She figured that she could ask him about it tomorrow.

            However, what she didn't know, and I didn't tell her, was that when she and her dad were busy in the magic room, the important job that I had to do, and caused me to leave Maragold for an hour, was to fly to Matt’s house. I didn’t really have to talk him into being Mara’s assistant because when I explained things to him, I quickly found that the idea excited him and he wanted to do it very much.

            Matt acted so mature, sincere, and enthusiastic that I surprise myself and decided, right then and there, with his permission of course, to put a spell on him so that he would be the second person who could touch me without making me lose my magic powers and my power of invisibility.

            When I explained this to Matt, he eagerly gave me his permission. Then I cloaked him with a potent magic spell, and with a grand wave of my magic wand the spell was both completed and activated.

            Maragold was so delighted when I informed her of my actions that she nearly crushed me with a finger-hug and nearly showered me with a kiss. But luckily I survived it¾just kidding. Actually, I enjoyed the attention, though I was shy and only pretended not to like it.