Maragold in Fourth

billsheehan1
Dec 30, 2024
72 min read

P. O. BOX # 51

CALEDONIA, NY 14423

TEL. 585-538-2838

MARAGOLD IN FOURTH

BILL SHEEHAN

CHAPTER 1: MARAGOLD’S LEPRECHAUN

Maragold. That’s what he likes to call her. She is his nine year old daughter. Her real name is Mara, but he says that she’s as pretty as a flower and as precious as gold, so her dad lovingly calls her his Maragold, like the Marigold flower. I agree, so I call her Maragold, too.

Me? My name is Bert. I’m a leprechaun, an invisible leprechaun, with magic powers. My job is to advise and protect Maragold Shane, and I’ve done just that ever since I came to her the summer before she started fourth grade.

I’m not the usual type of leprechaun that you are used to reading about in storybooks. I don’t protect a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I protect something more precious than gold; I protect Maragold.

I don’t dress in the usual green leprechaun’s attire either. After all, no one can look very good dressed in “a tire.” I could not resist that joke. I dress more like a miniature magician by wearing a black magician’s top hat, a white shirt with a black bow-tie, black pants, black socks, and white shoes. I also carry an emerald wand that’s very small; only about the size of a toothpick. Furthermore, I’m only nine inches tall. I’m very thankful that I’m not three inches taller because then I’d be twelve inches tall which would make me a foot. I certainly don’t want to be a foot, especially a smelly one. I love humor; don’t you?

Maragold can see me, but no one else can unless I wave my emerald wand toward their eyes and say my special magic words. The effect is only temporary and I rarely use it because I rarely want to be seen by anyone except Maragold. How did I get to be with Maragold and the Shane family? Sure, I knew you’d be curious so I’ll give you the details. I worked in a magic supply factory in Ireland.

We made tricks and other supplies needed by magicians, but we were especially famous for, and specialized in making excellent, emerald magic wands. However, my secret dream was of adventure, especially in America.

Mr. Shane, besides being a teacher, is also a part-time professional magician. He performs magic shows at night and on weekends. He performs mostly for children’s birthday parties. One day he read about our excellent wands in his I.B.M. (International Brotherhood of Magicians) magic magazine which carries advertisements for magic supplies made in various countries all over the world. He ordered two of our glittering, emerald wands. They were shipped in separate boxes to prevent scratching and the one I hid in provided me with transportation to America and the fulfillment of my dream for adventure. Luckily, for me, Mr. Shane gave the box I was hiding in to Maragold as a gift for helping him with his magic shows. When Maragold opened the box and touched the wand I immediately became visible only to her and I also became her protector, advisor and friend.

But this story does not start there. It starts on the very first day of the new school year, as Mara Grace Shane prepares for her first day in fourth grade.

CHAPTER 2: BEAR-NAKED

The Shane family was getting ready for school. Mrs. Shane, who is also a teacher, had breakfast almost ready and Mr. Shane had the table all set. Mr. Shane went to wake-up Maragold as he does almost every school morning. He enters her bedroom, kisses her gently on the cheek and whispers, “Daddy loves you, Maragold.” Maragold stirs a little, stretches and yawns, but her eyes don’t open yet so her dad kisses her face a few more times.

“There’s a bouquet of kisses to help you wake-up. Your mom has breakfast almost ready for you,” whispered Mr. Shane.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, Maragold. Now go to the bathroom and come to breakfast.”

“OK, I’ll be right there.”

I have to be careful when Mr. Shane goes through his “bouquet of kisses” routine. Once I accidentally got in his way and I got kissed several times. It was like getting sucked up by a large vacuum cleaner. He didn’t mean any harm, I guess, but I’m more careful now.

I flew to the dining room and waited for Maragold to come.

“Good morning Mom,” Mara said as she entered the dining room.

“Good morning to you, darling. How do you feel this morning?”

“I feel fine, Mom.”

Mrs. Shane stopped for a moment to give Maragold a hug and a kiss, then everyone sat down at the table to eat.

“Mom, Dad, do you remember when I was in kindergarten and I wanted to bring my new, white teddy bear to school?”

“Yes, I certainly remember,” said Mrs. Shane as she smiled at the thought.

“Me too. How could we ever forget,” said Mr. Shane, shaking his head and also smiling. “You got permission from your teacher to bring it to school, but it was so new that you didn’t have a name for it. When the teacher had you go to the front of the class for show-and-tell you still didn’t have a name for your teddy bear. Then when the teacher asked you for the bear’s name you made up the name right then and there. You said that since it was a bear and since it had no clothes, just fur, that you had named it Bear Naked.

“The teacher wrote us a note and told us what a surprise you had sprung on everyone, including yourself, because you even seemed surprised by what slipped out of your own mouth. She said it was funny and that the class had a good time listening to you call your teddy bear BEAR NAKED.

“You are lucky to have such a good sense of humor, but you are much

luckier to have a teacher with a good sense of humor,” Mrs. Shane added.

You know, there are many reasons why I like Maragold and one of the most important reasons is that she has a great sense of humor. It makes me happy just to be around her.

After breakfast everyone brushed their teeth. Maragold washed her face and then got dressed. Everybody needs privacy at certain times and getting dressed is one of those times so I left Maragold’s room.

I was surprised when I received her thoughts. She wanted me to come to her room. I tapped on the door and she said, “Come in, Bert and I’ll give you a sock in the mouth.” Well, I have to admit, I thought she was mad at me. She ordered me to come into the room once again and get a sock in the mouth. So I hesitantly entered, flew to her shoulder, asked her what I had done to make her mad enough to want to sock me in the mouth and all of a sudden, as quick as a flash, she pushed part of her sock into my mouth. Then she laughed until her belly hurt.

After I overcame my surprise, I couldn’t help laughing too. I’m glad that it was her clean morning socks that hadn’t been worn yet instead of socks that she had worn all day – yuck. I’ve heard some disgusting stories about something called “toe-jam” that gets on socks that have been worn all day. I guess I’m lucky because if I want clean clothes, or if I want to bathe myself, all I have to do

is use my magic wand and some magic powder and, as quick as a wink, I have clean clothes and a clean body.

CHAPTER 3: A PACT IS MADE

Perhaps I should mention how Maragold and I communicate with each other. I talk to Maragold by using a very high pitched sound wave that only she can hear. It’s kind of like a dog-whistle effect where the dog’s owner blows a whistle and the sound is in the dog’s range of hearing but not in the human range of hearing, thus the dog is the only one to hear the whistle sound.

But first I got Maragold’s consent to put some magic powder on her eardrum so that only she could hear me talking. The change is undetectable and she still has normal human hearing, plus, she has the special power to hear my voice.

Maragold does not have to speak to me, although sometimes she does, because I can read her thoughts. This sure comes in handy when we are near other people and need to talk, but when we are alone she just uses her natural voice to talk to me.

Mr. and Mrs. Shane think that Maragold talks to herself or talks to an imaginary friend. Because they are both teachers they know that young children often have imaginary friends that they talk to, and that they often vocalize their own thoughts, so the Shanes were not worried about the occasional times when Maragold seemed to talk to herself or with an imaginary friend. They knew she would outgrow that behavior. But I could tell that, at first, they were a little

worried and embarrassed about it.

Once Maragold tried to explain that I was actually real and that she was not talking to herself, but that she was talking to me. At first her mom and dad thought that she was living in a fantasy world and decided to have a serious talk with her about the difference between fantasy and reality. Maragold said that she understood the difference, but that I was really real. Her mom looked at her in disbelief, but her dad was calm and just smiled at her. He had an expression on his face that seemed to indicate that he understood, or at least partly understood what she was saying and feeling. But, like I said previously, the Shanes talked about Mara and decided her behavior was normal and that she would outgrow her imaginary friend. But, you know, I’ve seen Mr. Shane look at Maragold in a curious way, as if he had his own feeling or insight into Maragold’s claim of having an imaginary friend. I think he feels my presence, but I’m not sure.

Perhaps it’s because Mr. Shane is also a magician that he sometimes thinks he feels my presence. But he won’t allow himself to take that feeling too seriously. It’s as if he wants to believe that I am real, and yet, because he’s an adult, he feels silly, perhaps immature, when he catches himself wanting to believe that I’m real.

Because of Mr. Shane’s suspicions, Maragold and I decided that my presence should not be talked about any more and that we would be more careful about our verbal communication in the presence of adults. Actually, that suits

me just fine, especially since I can not read anyone else’s thoughts.

Everybody was ready for school now. Mrs. Shane gave Maragold a hug and a kiss. Mr. Shane kneeled and hugged Maragold, whom he loves dearly, and also gave her a kiss. Then he stood up, smiled at her and sent her outside to wait for the school bus. It makes me smile and feel warm inside to see the affection that Mr. and Mrs. Shane have for Maragold.

Then Mr. and Mrs. Shane got their briefcases, and once Maragold was on the bus they also departed for school. They have a three school family because they all go to different schools.

Of course, I went with Maragold to the bus. When she entered the bus and sat down I could feel her nervousness – the first day of school jitters is what I figured from the thoughts she was having. I can’t blame her because I’d be very nervous, too, if I was a fourth grader and was going to a strange room full of many kids that I did not know well, and who knows what sort of strange teacher would inhabit that room, or what demands that teacher may make on the students.

“Bert,” she thought, “You’ll stay with me today, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. I’ll be sitting right on your shoulder all day so you don’t have to worry about anything. You just have the first day of school jitters, that’s all. Before lunch time you’ll feel normal and comfortable again. You’ll see.”

I was shocked by the sudden closeness of a strange hand. Was it reaching for

me? What did it want? A girl was reaching over to tap Maragold on the shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Cheryl Kay,” she said.

“Hello, I’m Mara Shane. May I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m new to this school. I’m going into Mr. Bunnlow’s fourth grade classroom, but I don’t know anybody and I don’t even know where my classroom is. Do you think you could show me, please?”

“Wow! today is your lucky day. I’m in Mr. Bunnlow’s room, too, and all you have to do is follow me, OK?”

“Gee, that’s great!” Cheryl blurted out. “At least I’ll know one person in the classroom.”

Maragold and Cheryl had a nice friendly chat for the rest of the bus ride to Kroy Elementary School. When the bus arrived they went straight to room 102.

Mr. Bunnlow asked all the students to find a comfortable desk and sit down quietly. Maragold and Cheryl sat close together. Mr. Bunnlow didn’t seem to mind if the students talked quietly as he waited for everyone to arrive so that he could take attendance.

It looked as if everyone had arrived, so Mr. Bunnlow started calling out names to see if he had everyone who was assigned to his classroom.

Suddenly the giggling began because Cheryl had started to pick her nose and even Mara couldn’t help laughing at this absurd sight.

Matt Durkey laughed the loudest. I guess that’s why Mr. Bunnlow asked

him to please sit quietly.

“I can’t help it, Mr. Bunnlow,” said Matt. “Cheryl was picking her nose and she looked like she needed a crowbar to finish the job.”

Naturally, this only made things worse, including Cheryl’s embarrassment, plus she was horrified by her own gross mistake.

Mr. Bunnlow desperately tried to withhold a smile, but he wasn’t entirely successful. He said, “Class, please be quiet now so I can finish the attendance record.” Then he added, “Cheryl, there are tissues on my desk. I believe that they will work better than a finger, or even a crowbar.” He said this with an amusing smile so we could all tell that he was just kidding and was not mad.

Matt whispered to Cheryl, “The way your finger was buried up your nose you must have been after a deep one, right?” Then he added, with a smile, “And I’ll bet that your favorite restaurant is Booger King, isn’t it?”

Again, the students who heard Matt, burst into muffled belly laughter and giggles, except for Cheryl, Maragold and myself. Now Cheryl glared at Matt for further embarrassing her.

Mr. Bunnlow called the class to order and the rest of the morning continued smoothly and quietly.

At lunch Cheryl had calmed down, got over her embarrassment and was able

to laugh about the booger jokes. Maragold and Cheryl were both laughing about the incident when a twinkle of mischief darted from both their eyes, as if they could read each other’s thoughts. Then Cheryl said, “I wonder if Matt understands the phrase – He who laughs last, laughs best?”

Both girls stared at each other in understanding and excitement. A pact had been made in an instant as Maragold answered Cheryl’s question with, “If he doesn’t, he will very soon.” Then both girls giggled with a gleam of mischief in their eyes.

As they left the cafeteria, their playful laughter caught one other person’s attention. Matt looked up and wondered what Mara and Cheryl were laughing about. However, he didn’t wonder long because his thoughts quickly turned to thinking about what jokes or pranks he could play on Mara and Cheryl. A devilish grin slowly crossed his face, his eyes started to brighten and, as he stood up to leave, he was surprised to find himself looking at the smiling faces of Mara and Cheryl who had stopped at the cafeteria doorway and were grinning back at him.

I sure wish I could read his thoughts to know exactly what Matt was thinking then.

CHAPTER 4: BUNNLOW'S LAW 13

Mr. Bunnlow was giving a lesson about pronouns which are the words that take the place of nouns. He said, “Matt, please give me an example of a pronoun.”

Matt, who had been daydreaming, looked up startled and confused, trying to collect his thoughts and said, “Who? me?”

You could hear the quiet giggles around the classroom and you could tell that Matt was embarrassed. His face turned red and he glanced around the room as if he were looking for a place to hide. He was caught and he knew that he would now be in trouble.

But to everyone’s surprise, Mr. Bunnlow said, “Very good, Matt. Both of your examples are correct. ‘Who’ is a pronoun and ‘me’ is also a pronoun.”

Mr. Bunnlow had a knowing smile on his face, as he looked at Matt. Matt seemed to realize that Mr. Bunnlow had helped him escape his embarrassment. But Matt also realized that it better not happen again, at least not during the same lesson, because Mr. Bunnlow wasn’t always quite so understanding or patient.

Matt thought that, perhaps, Mr. Bunnlow wasn’t such a bad guy, for a teacher. He yelled sometimes and was kind of strict about good behavior, but he also joked around a little, too, and that helped break the usual boredom of school.

And as boring as school was, Matt thought, that was a mighty big help.

At lunch time Matt and his friends, Eric and Greg, began talking about Mr. Bunnlow.

“You know, for a teacher, Mr. Bunnlow really isn’t such a bad egg,” said Matt.

“Are you crazy? You must have a screw loose!” yelled Eric. “You know perfectly well that all teachers are a real pain, and you know where. He’s a man teacher, and they are the worst kind. He towers over every kid and nobody dares give him any lip. That makes him twice as bad as a lady teacher. At least with lady teachers you can usually mouth-off a little bit; you know, you can get away with more stuff with a lady teacher. But who dares to mouth-off to Mr. Highbuns?”

As Eric said the word “Highbuns” he patted his rear end, tilted his hip, and raised one leg in order to raise one of his own buns.

Greg and Matt laughed loudly.

“Highbuns? You better not let him hear you say that,” added Greg.

“I’m not so sure if all he would do is laugh at you, if you said it in a kidding way,” said Matt.

“I know that Mr. Bunnlow is married and has a five year old son and a seven year old daughter. He lives by some of my mom’s and dad’s friends and they told

us,” said Greg.

“Who cares?” said Eric, sarcastically. “What are we talking about Mr. Highbuns for? This is our lunch time. We should be talking about something else, unless you guys are falling in love with that guy, or something.”

Matt looked at Greg and Greg looked back at Matt. Then they both looked at Eric. Matt punched Eric’s shoulder and Greg messed up Eric’s hair.

“Hey, you guys, knock it off!” shouted Eric. “I thought we were friends.”

Matt grinned and said, “We are friends. You’re just too insulting and pessimistic sometimes.”

“OK, OK,” Eric said, as he rubbed his shoulder with one hand and tried to comb his hair with the fingers of the other hand.

“But what about Bunnlow’s Law? Is that corny or what?” asked Eric.

Mr. Bunnlow had started giving homework. Hardly anyone, except for Brian-the-brain, liked it, especially since it was only October. When Mr. Bunnlow overheard a few unhappy groans, he turned around and wrote this on the chalkboard: Bunnlow’s Law = If you like rainbows, then you’ll have to learn to accept the rain.

“Does anyone think that they can explain what this law means?” asked Mr. Bunnlow.

Most of the students just turned and looked at each other. You could almost see the gleam of golden question marks in most of their eyes. In some of the eyes you could clearly read the expression, Who cares!

Sarah raised her hand and said, “I think it means that rain and rainbows go together, doesn’t it?”

I could tell that Matt was thinking that the words Go Together meant

that the rain and the rainbow were going on some sort of romantic date. He was always thinking of some twist on the meaning of words or phrases and reveled in his own bad puns.

Mr. Bunnlow smiled at Sarah and said, “That’s a very good answer, Sarah, but I’m looking for a more complete meaning than that. Perhaps this will help. Think about how rainbows make you feel and then compare that to how rain might make you feel, especially on a day where there is no school.”

Brian-the-brain shot his hand up in the air as if it were a rocket ship blasting off at super speed. Then he started waving it in a circular motion to get Mr. Bunnlow’s attention. He was successful and Mr. Bunnlow asked him to explain.

“Mr. Bunnlow,” Brain said, “rainbows usually make me feel very happy because they are colorful and bright and remind me of an upside-down smile. They are pleasant to look at and that’s a good feeling; therefore, rainbows make me feel

real good. However, rain usually makes me feel sad because I can’t go outside to play with my friends or ride my bike; therefore, rain usually makes me feel bad. Now, if rainbows are associated with a good feeling and rain is associated with a bad feeling, then Bunnlow’s Law must mean that sometimes a person has to learn to accept something bad in order to get something good. Are my perceptions on this matter correct, Mr. Bunnlow?”

Mr. Bunnlow and all the students had gotten used to the way Brian-the-brain talked, but now their reactions were a lot different. The students usually sneered at Brian, or at least quietly mocked him by making the same facial gestures that he had made while he was talking, but Mr. Bunnlow usually just smiled politely and patiently. He seemed well practiced at that.

“That’s a very good way of explaining it, Brian,” said Mr. Bunnlow. “I’m not sure if I could have explained it better myself. Thank you.”

Brian smiled brightly, his nose in the air, so a few of the boys looked as if they would love a chance to knock that bragging smile right off his face.

At lunch Eric shouted to Matt, “You’d think that Highbuns would at least get a little embarrassed that some kid could explain it better than he could. But, no, he pretends he’s super cool and just smiles, while Brian-the-brain makes fools out of all of us.”

“Finish your lunch, Eric,” said Matt. We have to leave soon so Greg and I can see Mr. Bunnlow and tell him what you think of him.

Eric was shocked. He started choking on a mouthful of food. He coughed and suddenly food spurted out of his mouth and sprayed across the table, sticking to the shirts and faces of the kids who were sitting across the table from him. Some of the partially chewed food oozed down Eric’s lips and chin as he gagged on it. He took a drink of milk to clear his throat, but when he swallowed, it got caught in his throat, blocked by food that was still there. So when he coughed, again, the milk came gushing out of his mouth and nose. It dripped from the end of his nose like water from a leaky faucet. It looked really gross.

It was also an awful mess, but Eric looked so funny that even the kids who got sprayed with food and milk couldn’t help laughing uncontrollably.

One girl was busy wiping food off the front of her dress. A boy was trying to get the milk off his glasses, but all he was really doing was smearing it all over the lenses. Next to him was another girl with chunks of food stuck to her beautiful blond hair. Her girlfriend was desperately trying to remove the chunks with a napkin, but she was only making it worse by smearing it down the side of the blond girl’s head. Several other boys and girls, were just looking and laughing at each other, surprised and bewildered by what had just happened to them.

Then some kids at the other tables started to stare at them.

Now Eric bellowed, “You jerks aren’t really going to tell Mr. Bunnlow what I said about him, are you?”

“Oh yeah,” said Greg, “he needs to know that you think he’s pretending to be a super cool guy, but that he’s really a pain. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Our conversation is private business. Besides, everybody calls their teachers names; it’s part of school, it’s expected, you know. But friends don’t tattle on each other. That’s not part of school and it’s not expected. I guess I was wrong to think that we were all such good, loyal friends.”

Matt and Greg smiled sheepishly at each other. They liked to pick on Eric because it was so easy to get him over-excited about stuff. He always seemed to be sticking his foot in his mouth, thus allowing Matt and Greg to tease him a lot.

Matt looked at Eric and said, “Settle down, for crying-out-loud. We were just kidding you. Now wipe the rest of that food and milk off your face.”

CHAPTER 5: TEACHER’S KID

I like Maragold a lot. I’m always going to stay with her, even though, someday, she may stop believing in me the way most kids do about Santa Claus, or the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Rabbit.

Isn’t it a shame how most adults want to leave their childhood behind and forget about it in the name of “growing up” or of “being mature?” You can’t fully “grow up” or “be mature” unless you carry your past experiences with you. You learn from them, you change them, you grow because of them, but you certainly shouldn’t forget them. The child doesn’t stop in order to become an adult. They both grow and live together in the same body. If an adult forgets his childhood then the child part of him dies and the adult part remains overly serious and has no fun, or not as much fun. It’s the child in us, no matter how old we are, that allows us to play, to laugh, to be silly, to have fun and to enjoy life more.

Maragold is starting to understand this in many ways, but it’s not easy for her with two teachers as parents who want a lot for her and expect a lot from her.

She said to me one day, “Bert, are you perfect?”

“No, of course I’m not perfect, “ I answered, “Why do you ask?”

“Because sometimes I feel like Mom and Dad want me to be perfect,

especially in school.”

“I don’t think they expect you to be perfect,” I said. “They just want you to do well in school. It means a lot to them.”

“But I’m not lazy. I do my work and usually I try to do the very best job that I can. Isn’t that good enough, Bert?”

“It is for me and it is for you, but your mom and dad, like most parents, don’t really know if you are trying to do your best. That’s why they seem to keep pushing you to do well in school. They love you very much so sometimes they pressure you to do more and to do better.”

“But I can’t give up everything just to devote every minute of the day to school work. I’m not a very serious person. I like to joke around sometimes, like I do with my girlfriends, or like I do, sometimes, with Matt Durkey. As a matter of fact, my friends and I are planning on playing some tricks on Matt and his friends. We’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

Bert looked concerned and said, “Yes, I know what you’ve been thinking about, and it sounds like fun, but you have to remember to balance the fun with the work. Have fun, but don’t forget to give your work your best effort, also.”

Maragold smiled, then said, “Yes, sometimes I know I get carried away, but most of the time I do balance work and play. I think I do that.”

“I agree,” added Bert, “You usually do get your work done and still have

time to play and do other fun things.”

“But I’m certainly not a brain like Brian is. I don’t get grades that are all nineties and hundreds like he does. Mr. Bunnlow says that I’m a solid average to high-average student. I’m just sort of stuck in the middle; not below average and not above average, just somewhere in between.”

“So are most kids and most adults, too. They are mostly in the middle because most people are average. But you can never tell how you will develop in the future. You may be a very successful, above average adult in spite of the fact that you seem to be an average child, especially if you are willing to work hard.”

“I wouldn’t have to work so hard for better grades if you would help me, Bert. You could give me answers that I didn’t know. I could get grades like Brian-the-brain and nobody would ever know. Would it be so awful to do that in order to help me and make my parents less worried?”

Bert hesitated, then frowned. “Yes it would,” he said. “Maragold, you would know that you cheated and I would know that I helped you cheat. I would be ashamed of you for cheating and I would feel guilty that I helped you do something dishonest. Your good grades would be unearned and that’s cheating. The recognition and praise that you received would also be unearned and that’s stealing. We would both be partners in dishonest behavior and I think we would not respect each other as much. I love you just the way you are, Maragold. Even

though you’re average, you have been exceptionally honest and trustworthy. You do work hard, but you still have time for fun things. I prefer that you stay that way. Honesty doesn’t always bring happiness, but it is a lot better than the guilt and disrespect that dishonesty brings. What are you thinking now? I’m having difficulty reading your thoughts. Are you having private thoughts now?”

“I guess I was trying to have private thoughts, Bert. I didn’t want you to know how embarrassed I just felt. I was looking for an easy way to get better grades to please Mom and Dad. I was being lazy even thought a little while ago I said that I wasn’t a lazy kid. There isn’t really any honest way to get good grades, except through hard work, is there?”

In a way I was glad that she felt embarrassed because that meant that she was thinking about the correctness of what she was saying. I said to her, “Only if you are lucky enough to be born very smart like Brian. But most of us aren’t that lucky. We have to work hard to earn good grades because they don’t come to us that easily. In a way that’s better than being born with a lot of brains because you can really enjoy your accomplishments, knowing that nothing was given to you and that you earned, really earned, the good grades with hard work. A lot of self respect and pride is gained from that experience. If you think about it like that, maybe Brian really isn’t so lucky after all. He may lack that sense of accomplishment, that pride and self respect, because it’s just all too easy for him.

And remember this, also, many promising, bright, students who are full of potential and intelligence go on to fail as adults; they fail in college, they fail at their chosen profession, and they fail their families. They just never learned how to handle and solve difficult problems and situations because they’ve never experienced anything that was very difficult for them. They expect everything to be easy because, so far in their lives, everything has been easy; success has come naturally. Then when difficulties with their college courses, or jobs, or their family hit them they are surprised, stressed, panicked and just can’t cope in any other way than to run away from those problems that they never had any experience at handling when they were growing up. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I know what you mean, Bert. I guess I’m really a pretty lucky girl when I think about it. I have you for my very best friend and I have a mom and dad that really love me a lot, even though we get mad at each other once in a while, and I’m also lucky in school this year because for once I even have a decent teacher. I guess I’m really luckier than I thought I was.”

“Yes, you certainly are, Maragold, and I’m glad that you really understand that because if you want to be a fairly happy person you have to try to have a positive, happy, optimistic attitude instead of thinking about how unlucky you are. Then you’ll act unlucky and you will be unlucky. One of the secrets to being happy is to act happy until it becomes a habit. But to act happy you might want to say

some special magic words to yourself, like I frequently do. They aren’t really magic words, but often the results from saying them are like magic.

I say these words to myself in the morning, in the afternoon and at night before I go to sleep. I repeat them silently seven times because seven is my lucky number. You can choose a number for yourself, or use mine. The words are: Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better. These words work for me. I’m sure they will work for you as long as you don’t quit saying them and learn to believe them.”

Maragold looked at me, smiled with her mouth closed and said, “It’s a good thing your lucky number isn’t one million and seven, isn’t it?”

We both laughed heartily after she said that, then she winked at me and gave me a devilish grin. We had been so serious about our conversation until she said that. I could sense that she was trying to say that we had been much too serious and that some fun and jokes were needed. I guess she really did know how to balance work and play.

Maragold said, “You know, it’s kind of neat to try to think of funny names to call teachers. Even my own mom and dad get called names, sometimes. But I’m sure they don’t hear all the names that they are called. Maybe they hear laughter and they wonder who told a joke, but really the group of kids that are laughing are trying out some new, crazy or weird name that they have just thought up for their

teacher. Even Mr. Bunnlow is called Mr. Highbuns because he is so tall and his buns really are high up in the air; compared to us students, anyway.”

Then Maragold giggled at the thought of the teacher’s high buns. She put her hands on her own buns and pretended to be lifting them up high in the air as far as Mr. Bunnlow’s buns would be. She looked like she was trying to carry a couple of melons behind her back. She grinned from ear to ear. She did look funny, but I tried not to laugh because this was a little disrespectful. But I couldn’t keep a straight face as my lips spread into a big smile and the laughter followed.

Maragold was in such a cheerful mood now and she kept on smiling and talking. She said, “You know, Bert, it just came to me why it is so much fun to think up names to call the teachers. I think it’s because the teachers have so much control over everything students do in school. They are always the bosses. But they can’t really control the names that you call them in private. I guess by calling teachers funny names the students feel that they have a little power or control over the teacher. Also, it’s a good way to release some of the anger that gets built up about something the teacher said or did to a student. It’s just fun knowing you have control over something about the teacher.”

Maragold stood still for a minute, placed her right index finger to her lips as if in deep , serious thought and continued by saying, “Bert, I heard from a very reliable source that your mom was very pretty, but that your dad was really ugly

and that explains why you turned out to be pretty ugly!”

Her face shone like a full moon at midnight as she stared at me, not smiling, then suddenly laughed loudly as she pointed her index finger at me. She had a way of keeping a straight face when she was telling a joke. It could really catch me off guard because most of the time I couldn’t see the joke’s punch-line coming until it had already hit me. And, sure enough, she caught me off guard with that joke. We laughed together, then I bit her earlobe lightly to get even. We giggled and danced around having a wonderfully silly time. This gave me some time to think. I said, “Maragold, the quality of your pun can only truly be expressed by saying, very loudly, the first two letters in the word ‘pun.’”

She thought about that for a second, looked up at me, grinned and then the both of us pinched our noses as we yelled, repeatedly, “PU..... PU..... PU..... PU..... PU!”

As we caught our breath she looked at me happily and with sincerity, then quietly said, “With Thanksgiving coming soon, I really have so much to be thankful for.” Then she closed her eyes, as if wishing on a star and repeated these eleven words, seven times: Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better.”

CHAPTER 6: NAME GAMES 28

“Matt Allan Durkey!” Maragold shouted, “What you said was cruel!”

I told Maragold that something was troubling Matt so that he did not have a good balance between work and play. He thought too much about jokes and pranks, as if all the laughter would help him forget something very painful.

“I only called her Snake Face because she said I was MAD, due to the initials of my name. Besides, her two pointy teeth do look like fangs and she’s always sticking her tongue out at me, just like a snake.”

Matt held out a cafeteria fork toward Sarah, but she wouldn’t take it. She didn’t really know why he was trying to give it to her.

“You better take this fork,” Matt said, “because snakes do have ‘forked’

tongues, don’t they?”

Matt grinned at Sarah as if daring her to stick her tongue out at him so he could embarrass her again. Sarah was almost in tears now as Maragold and Cheryl comforted her.

“What’s the matter, Matt, too much turkey over the Thanksgiving vacation? It must have bloated your mind more than your stomach because you certainly do have a ‘fowl’ attitude,” said Maragold as she emphasized the word ‘fowl.’

Eric and Greg were by Matt’s side now, like hungry wolves wanting to get in on the fight. Eric yelled out, “The last time I saw your three ugly faces together you were all in my nightmare!”

Quickly, Greg yelled!, “Congratulations, Mara. I hear that you are quite witty, but we know that’s an exaggeration and only half true. I guess that only makes you a half-wit, and that’s the full truth, not just half of it.”

All three boys looked at each other and their smiles were like those of three confident warriors on the verge of winning an important battle over their common and hated enemy.

Maragold looked at the three of them, as if to size them up. She knew that Matt was the leader, but that Eric had the sharpest tongue. She was a little surprised that Greg was so quick with insults because he usually stayed in the background. Maragold’s thoughts went back to Matt. He was definitely the leader of this pack of wolves. If she could stop the leader, then she could stop the pack.

As Maragold was thinking, Cheryl was saying, “All of you will be rich comedians someday because your ignorance is really funny.”

Sarah, who was very shy, could not really defend herself, so the battle of insults took place with Maragold and Cheryl against the three boys.

“Matt, your parents really hit the jerk pot when you were born,” said Maragold, as she looked at him to see if he would accept the challenge.

Matt never hesitated as he yelled back, “I’d put a curse on you, Mara, but I see that someone has already beat me to it!”

For a moment there was silence, a very uncomfortable silence, while Maragold and Matt stared at each other in anger. Eric and Greg simply stood there and waited for Matt’s next move, while Cheryl and Sarah waited for Maragold to reply to Matt’s insult.

Although Maragold knew that Eric often had the sharpest tongue, Matt was the sharpest thinker of the three boys. Since he was no verbal weakling she would have to be careful trading insults with him.

Neither Maragold nor Matt was willing to back down as they stood glaring at each other like two old west gunfighters facing each other and getting ready to draw their pistols. But, as I sat on Maragold’s shoulder I could feel her steadiness; I knew that she was calm, not nervous.

Excitement filled the air and this delighted almost everyone in the cafeteria who seemed much more hungry for some form of entertainment than they were for their lunch or dessert. Even the cafeteria monitor seemed to be fascinated by what was about to happen.

Then Maragold shattered the silence. “Some day you’ll go too far Turkey Durkey, and I hope you’ll do the whole school a favor and stay there.”

School cafeterias are usually full of very loud, often strange, weird noises

as a large mass of students try to eat and talk to each other. But now the cafeteria noise was somewhat subdued as laughter and giggles stood out from the normal, boisterous conversations.

It could be that Maragold seemed so calm and confident because she knew many insults which she learned from and borrowed from her dad. She and her dad used to practice insults just for the fun of it. Once in a while Mr. Shane would be doing a magic show for teenagers or adults and the only way to keep someone from constantly interrupting the magic show was to insult them in order to get their attention and to embarrass them just enough to make them think twice about interrupting and ruining the entertainment of the magic show. They were the type of people who are attention starved and want to divert attention from the magician to themselves, or they know the secret, or they think they know the secret of a trick and they yell it out, thus ruining the fun for other people. At occasions like this Mr. Shane had certain insults memorized and sometimes he and Maragold would practice by trading insults with each other, although Mr. Shane once told Mara that she should never insult anyone unless they really forced her to do so, and only as a last resort when nothing else would work better than and insult.

“Don’t move, Amazing Grace, I want to forget you just the way you are,” replied Matt.

He quickly followed that insult by saying, “Amazing Grace, how bitter the

sound, that made a witch like you.”

The cafeteria kids looked very puzzled by this remark, but they figured that it must be a good insult because Matt was grinning from ear to ear.

The word “Grace” was a reference to Mara’s middle name, which few people knew. Maragold was proud of it because it was her mom’s last name before she got married to her dad. “Amazing Grace” is also the title of a religious hymn that was a favorite of Maragold and her mom. The first line of the hymn says, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.”

Matt had, of course, changed four words and used it to insult Maragold. But what puzzled me was the fact that he even knew the words to the hymn at all.

Maragold didn’t want to let Matt know that he had caught her off guard with his latest insult, which was a more personal attack since he used Maragold’s middle name. She tried not to show any outward emotion and she didn’t, except to me. I could tell she was upset because I could feel the fire of her anger burning inside her.

I looked at Matt and I could see that he regretted what he had said to her. He knew that instead of defeating her, he had only strengthened her, and she was a very strong enemy already. He didn’t usually lose arguments, but he felt the strength draining out of him as if Maragold’s eyes were sapping him of his energy.

Maragold stood her ground, glared at Matt, and in a clear, loud voice said,

“Why don’t you sit down and rest your brain, Matt? Actually, Matt, I probably

shouldn’t get into a battle of wits with you because it’s not fair to attack an unarmed person. However, I did enjoy talking to you because my mind really did need the rest. Now get lost Turkey Durkey!”

After the last two words, Maragold started imitating turkey noises. “Gobble-gobble-gobble,” she kept repeating without once taking her glaring eyes off Matt’s face.

Matt was motionless and speechless for a few seconds. His face turned quite red, his pride was hurt and he was wounded, but not beaten. Then I thought I saw the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. I don’t know why he would want to smile, especially then. Perhaps it was just a newly found respect for Mara, or maybe he just realized he liked her willingness to fight back; perhaps neither.

The cafeteria monitor came to the table and asked everyone to be quiet. The loud voices did become more quiet, but all you could hear in the cafeteria, now, were loud whispers of the two names: Turkey Durkey and Amazing Grace.

Matt’s friends were smiling and patting him on the back. I guess no one but me noticed the sweat on his forehead and that his breath was coming in short bursts. He didn’t act happy, though he was still smiling. He acted just the opposite, as if he was sad that this whole thing had ever happened.

Maragold’s friends rallied around her but she could hardly keep a smile on

her face. Her lips started twitching – the kind of twitch that an angry person gets

when they try to cover up their anger with a smile. She glanced over at Matt. He didn’t noticed the glance. She thought she saw something good in his eyes, during the heat of the argument, but even deeper there seemed to be something very sad, something that caused the anger – something that had nothing to do with Sarah at all. The reason for Matt’s hidden anger soon became known to all.

Matt’s mom and dad told him, during Thanksgiving vacation, that they were getting a divorce soon. He didn’t know who he would be living with, or where. All he knew was that he was angry and hurt and that poor Sarah had been at the wrong place, at the wrong time, saying the wrong thing, even if she did only say to Matt, “How was your Thanksgiving vacation?” Sarah had thought that he would only say something funny because Matt was always saying funny things. She had not expected to hit a sensitive spot that caused his anger to burst out like hot lava from an erupting volcano.

That night, when Maragold was reading quietly, I told her the cause of Matt’s anger. She understood and felt bad for him. She knew that Matt really wasn’t a mean person. She felt sorry about his parent’s upcoming divorce but she didn’t know what to do to try to help him. She really did want to do something to help, but what?

As strange as it may seem, she started singing the Ninety-Nine Bottles of

Beer on the Wall song. It had always had a soothing affect on her mood and, thus, helped her relax and think clearly. As a tiny baby her dad would rest her head on his shoulder and instead of singing the Rock A Bye Baby song to her, which did not calm her or put her to sleep, he would sing that silly Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall song which almost always calmed her and put her to sleep. Now, years later, as she sang to herself in bed, that silly song had the same effect on her as she drifted off to sleep with eighty-one bottles of beer on the wall.

I turned the light off for her. Mr. and Mrs. Shane would check on her later. They knew that she was tired and bothered by something, but they didn’t know exactly what it was that was troubling her.

I flew to her pillow and whispered seven times in her ear, “Every day, in every way, you are getting better and better.”

CHAPTER 7: THE SECRET

Christmas was approaching and Mr. Bunnlow put up an artificial tree at the back of the classroom. He couldn’t use a real tree or any electric lights due to fire and safety regulations. The kids didn’t seem to mind too much, especially after Mr. Bunnlow sprayed the tree with pine scent and let them decorate the tree with non-electric ornaments that they brought from home.

Eric liked to go back by the tree a lot. He told Greg and Matt that whenever he had to fart he would just go back by the Christmas tree and the pine scent would cover up the smell. Whenever Matt saw Eric walking toward the tree he would ask him, “Do you have a moose in your caboose?” Then Matt and Greg would laugh uncontrollably. When Eric returned to his desk he’d have a big smile on his face as he whispered, “Yeah, and that moose really has bad breath.”

Maragold knew what Eric was doing. She figured that he must think that he’s a pretty-fart-smeller, or a pretty-smart-feller, whichever way you wanted to pronounce it. She got a kick out of rearranging the letters in those words and she giggled at her own cleverness and humor.

The class mood was generally happy due to the holiday season, but mostly due to the happiness of knowing that Christmas meant getting presents and not having to come to school for almost two weeks during vacation time.

Matt’s clique and Maragold’s clique stayed away from each other. A clique is a small group of friends that are very close to each other and have a very strong bond of friendship and loyalty. Clique is pronounce like “click.”

Mr. Bunnlow heard about the cafeteria argument and all the insults. He tried to talk to both groups, but it didn’t seem to help. Things quieted down, but underneath the quiet surface he could still sense the anger of Matt’s feelings. By now everyone had heard about Matt’s mom’s and dad’s divorce. This made it even harder for him to deal with it. Nobody seemed to know how to help him. Sometimes his own friends just stared at the floor, not knowing what to say to him. It was an awfully uncomfortable feeling for them, but that was nothing compared to the guilt, sadness, rejection, and anger that Matt was feeling. He felt unloved, unwanted and even considered himself to be the probable cause of his mom’s and dad’s upcoming divorce. His dad had just moved out of the house to live in an apartment and it was almost Christmas. “Christmas will be ruined this year,” he thought. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, but he knew that it did. He tried to put it out of his mind, but it kept coming back to haunt him.

“Please, Bert,” said Maragold, “please do it. You said that you can do it in emergencies and this is certainly a genuine emergency.”

She stressed the word “emergency” loudly and clearly and the sound rang like a bell in my ears. She was being logical, she made sense, it was truly an emergency for Matt – an emergency of the heart. To be more specific, it was an emergency to help prevent a broken heart. But to take action would put me in danger. It would be an awful risk for me. Maragold wanted me to make myself visible to Matt and talk to him about his angry feelings. “I shouldn’t do it,” I said.

“It will be the best Christmas gift of all,” Maragold said. “Please, Bert. Please do it for Matt.”

“It will be very dangerous for me to show myself, Maragold. Once I make myself visible, people will try anything to capture me. It’s human nature to want to capture and collect odd or rare things and to put them in boxes or cages for fun and profit. It would be very scary for me. I don’t want to end up being a live freak at a puppet show, or in a glass box at a carnival, or in a miniature cage at the zoo. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“No, I don’t understand, Bert. You have magic powers. You can do many things that humans can’t do. How could you ever end up in a cage or a box? No one can really capture you, can they? I haven’t captured you, have I? Aren’t you

free to leave here right now if you want to leave?”

“Maragold, we leprechauns have a secret that we almost never tell any other living creature because it is a matter of life and death for us. You see, each leprechaun has a certain weakness when we make ourselves visible. I have my own secret weakness, Maragold. If this weakness were ever discovered, even accidentally, I would be in serious danger. I can not tell you my secret weakness, Maragold, not because I don’t trust you, but only because the strangest sorts of accidents or slips-of-the-tongue may cause my weakness to be exposed, thus putting me in grave danger. And the word ‘grave’ is a very appropriate choice of a word to describe the situation I could be in if my secret were known.”

Despite the seriousness of this matter Maragold and I smiled at each other. Now she understood the seriousness of making myself visible, especially now that she knew that I had a secret weakness. She never asked me what my weakness was, although she wanted to know, and I never told her what it was. She instinctively knew it was a question she should not ask. I just said, “Well, Maragold, if we are going to do this then we need to work-out a very careful plan before I make myself visible to Matt. However, the plan will have to be nearly perfect before I will attempt it. Merry Christmas, Maragold. This is my Christmas gift to you.”

Maragold just stared at me. Her big brown eyes appeared warm and full of love. Her mouth was slightly opened, her face was flushed (and that certainly has nothing to do with a toilet), and clear pearls of moisture were running down both of her cheeks. She seemed to have a lump in her throat as her eyes met mine. She swallowed hard and said, “Thank you, Bert. Thank you so very, very much.”

We worked on our plan, to help Matt, every night before Maragold went to bed. We worked on what I would do and say until I felt that I was ready. Maragold worked extra hard on every detail. She questioned every action and every word of the plan just to make sure it was as nearly perfect as possible. It was a very good plan. I would feel safe trying it, just as I felt safe when I was with Maragold.

Her dad was right about the nickname he gave her. The nickname “Maragold” expressed exactly how precious she really was.

CHAPTER 8: OTSERP-CIGAM-EES-EM-EES-EM 41

The plan was finally ready. Maragold and I had gone over every detail. I was all dressed in my black and white magician’s suit, with my special emerald wand in the suit coat pocket. I was ready for my nighttime visit to see Matt.

I was confident about the success of the plan, but Maragold was nervous. She walked back and forth as she rubbed her hands together. Then she stopped walking and looked at me strangely. The happiness that she had previously displayed was now gone from her face. Now she looked very worried.

She said, “Bert, maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. You may get caught, especially if your secret weakness is exposed. So maybe we shouldn’t really be doing this. Let’s wait and think about it some more, OK?”

“Maragold, this is a very good plan that looks safe and this is also the right time to put it into action. Tomorrow is the last day of school before Christmas vacation. We agreed that we should try to help Matt before vacation starts so that he isn’t depressed or angry during his vacation.”

“We both know that this plan is a good one. It has the most advantages of all the plans that we have thought of. I will visit Matt at night and this will allow me

to hide in the darkness, if I need to hide. And Matt will be alone in his bedroom. I won’t have to worry about being seen by his friends or his mom. And remember what we overheard him say when he and Eric and Greg were comparing their houses. He said that his bedroom was nice because it was at the opposite end of the house from the living room, so the television noise and the telephone conversations could not be heard. So no one will hear me talking, especially if the TV is on. Also, Matt is always bragging about how he is just like his dad who sleeps like a log, so even if I do make a little noise entering his bedroom, he won’t wake up and, finally, your idea of using hypnosis was excellent because I can talk to him in his sleep, just as if he were awake, then when I’m done I can suggest that he will not remember me when he wakes up, although he will remember our conversation. It’s a beautiful plan; it’s almost perfect because even if he should recall what I look like, he will only think that I was a strange-looking leprechaun that was in his dream. He won’t think I’m real because kids know that dreams are weird and seeing a leprechaun in a weird dream is no big deal.

“The chances of anything going wrong with such a well thought out plan, Maragold, are about a million-to-one, or greater.”

“I do hope you are right,” said Mara, looking a little more relieved and relaxed than before. “Good luck, Bert, and thank you for doing this to help Matt,”

she said, but still with a somewhat worried expression on her face.

I gave Maragold my most impish grin and told her that the hardest part of this whole plan may be getting through Matt’s bedroom window because the glass could be a real “pane” in the butt. The serious look on Maragold’s face vanished and was replaced by a broad smile when she realized that I was joking with the meaning of the words “pane” and “pain.”

I smiled at her and quickly vanished as I flew into the dark night. I knew, without turning to look, that Maragold was at her window waving, even though she could no longer see me in the night sky.

I sent an emerald flash of light across the sky, like a shooting star. Maragold smiled, knowing it was my signal and as a person does when they see the first star at night, she made a wish for the success of the plan and for my safe return to her.

Actually, Matt’s bedroom window presented no problems for me. I used my emerald wand to create a circular opening and I entered his room successfully. I flew to the top of his tall dresser, which was at the foot of his bed. This position gave me a perfect view of his restless, and sad, sleeping face.

I knew that I could not waste time so I started immediately by aiming my emerald wand at Matt’s face and sending a harmless emerald ray of light, like a laser beam, to his forehead. He was now magically hypnotized.

Quickly, I bent over, placed the wand, which was in my right hand, on my left ankle and said, “Otserp-cigam,” as I slowly and carefully raised the wand up from my left ankle to my knee, my hip, my left shoulder and up my neck to the top of my head. Then from the top of my head I went down to my right ankle in the opposite order as before. Everywhere that the wand passed over the contour of my body a green glow appeared. In a way I looked a little like a shamrock that was lit-up around the edges. My emerald wand glowed a little more brightly than my contour and it made me look like a little shamrock warrior holding a glowing green sword.

My lucky number is seven, so seven times I repeated the magic words “otserp-cigam-ees-em-ees-em” as I now directed the emerald ray from my wand toward Matt’s closed eyes.

The magic words are these words, written and pronounced backwards: “presto-magic-see-me-see-me.”

Slowly Matt’s eyes opened. He was not afraid. He was very relaxed as he sat up and looked toward me. He rubbed his eyes as if to clear his vision. He looked towards me again and now I was visible to him. I was also vulnerable because if anyone except Maragold touches me while I am visible I will lose all my magic powers, including my power to remain invisible. As long as people can not see me,

they will believe that I am simply part of all the fairy-tales that are written about in books, or seen on TV, and at the movies. My life, and the lives of all leprechauns, depends on people believing that I am simply the product of a story teller’s over-active imagination. But if they can see me, they will know that I am real. Then they would try to capture me and put me in a cage to study. And that may not be so difficult a task because a leprechaun without his magic powers is like a cat without its claws and teeth; almost helpless, having to rely only on its speed and I, too, could only run away, but sooner or later I would be captured if I did not have my magical powers. I could not allow myself to have these thoughts any more. I must concentrate on the task at hand; get busy and get out.

I said, “Matt, can you hear me? My name is Bert. I’ve come to help you.”

Matt ran his tongue over his lips as if they had gotten dried out during sleep, and then he slowly said, “Yes, I hear you, Bert. You look so small and there is a green glow all around you, unless my vision is faulty. Who are you?”

“Your vision is fine. This is the way I’ll look to you. I am a magic leprechaun. I am very small and the green glow is a magic spell that allows you to see me. But I am usually invisible to people.”

“Did you say that you came to help me? Help me with what?”

Matt looked puzzled, and confused, but curious.

I replied, “I want to help you to understand your mom’s and dad’s divorce better because your incorrect ideas about the divorce are causing you to be angry with yourself and at your friends. This anger will only grow larger and hurt you more and more.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember now,” said Matt. “I think that’s the thing that I enjoy most about sleeping. It allows me to forget about their divorce, as well as the fear and the pain that I feel. I wish that you hadn’t reminded me of those things.”

“Matt, do you still feel that the divorce is your fault and that your parents don’t love you any more? Have you lost your self-respect and are your feelings about yourself, your parents and your friends getting worse every day? Is this how you feel, most of the time, about the divorce?”

Although I needed to ask these questions, I almost wished that I had not asked them because Matt’s eyes grew large as he stared at me, then they flooded with tears. His lips pressed tightly together, as if to stop himself from screaming, and the tears streamed down his cheeks. His lips trembled as he said, “Yes, Bert, that’s exactly how I feel. I must have done something terribly wrong that has caused my mom and dad not to love each other any more and makes them want to get a divorce and get away from me. I must be an awful person, but I don’t know what it was that I did and I don’t know how to fix it. What did I do? Can you tell

me? What did I do that was so bad?”

His hands were sweeping across his face like windshield wipers wiping away the tears. His eyes were red and he was sniffling as he grabbed a tissue from the box beside his bed.

“Matt,” I said, “You must stop blaming yourself. The divorce is simply not your fault. Your mom and dad just grew in different directions after many years of marriage. They no longer have the loving feelings that are needed for a good marriage, but they both still love you very much. Have you ever had two friends who got into an argument and they ended up not liking each other, but they were both still good friends with you?”

“Yes, I guess so,” Matt said, as he reached for another tissue then blew his nose.

“Then you can understand that just because your mom and dad are mad at each other, that does not mean that you caused it, nor does it mean that they do not both love you very much even though they have lost their love for each other. Do you understand, Matt?”

“A little,” he replied, “but I’m a failure because I should have thought of a way to keep them together. I feel so empty, so bad. I feel like such a useless failure, Bert! I couldn’t even help my own mom and dad!”

There was a sparkle in the corner of Matt’s eyes like the morning sun reflecting off the dew on the grass. It was my green glow reflecting off the tears in his eyes. I wiped the moisture from my own eyes and said, “No, that’s not true, Matt. You are not a failure. Failure is a ‘job’ that you did not accomplish, perhaps, but failure is certainly not ‘you.’ You are not a failure because you could not keep your mom and dad together. You tried your best, but you had no control or responsibility over their bad feelings for each other. They chose to separate themselves from each other, but this doesn’t mean that they want to separate themselves from you. They both still love you very much.

“You know, Matt, you can seldom control what other people do or say to you, but you very often do have control over how you choose to react to the things that people say or do to you. Given time and effort you can learn to react positively to most events. You can change your moods and attitudes so they are more optimistic, which will allow you to see more of the good side of things and will allow you to adjust better to some of the problems which will always exist.

“Each morning as you get up and each evening before you fall asleep, or any time in between, try saying these words silently to yourself: Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better. Say these words now, please.”

Matt felt as if he were floating. He was drowsy, but very comfortable in his hypnotic state. It was such a pleasant feeling for him. He said, “Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better.”

I was thinking that humor is often the best medicine, so I asked Matt, “What kind of job would a lady have who only goes out on dates with men named Bill?”

“Are you trying to tell me a joke at a time like this, Bert?”

“Yes, I am doing exactly that, Matt. You need to laugh again. Laughter keeps you healthy; it makes you happy. Can you answer that question?”

“I have no idea what the answer is.”

“Then I’ll just have to tell you. A lady who only goes out on dates with guys named Bill has a job as a bill collector!”

Matt’s eyes were dry now, he looked at me calmly as a grin started to reshape his lips. Then a wonderfully big smile appeared and, at last, he laughed loudly at a joke that wasn’t really all that good, but it was the best medicine for him as he laughed for a few moments.

It was time for me to leave now. I hoped that Maragold and I had helped Matt. I waved my wand at Matt’s face, gently spreading the magical emerald rays over his eyes. He could not see me any more. His eyes were now closed as he lay back on his pillow in a deep sleep. I heard him mutter the words: “Every day, in

every way, I am getting better and better.”

I hoped this repeated phrase would help Matt to have a more positive and happy outlook about life and help him accept his mom’s and dad’s decision to get a divorce.

CHAPTER 9: CLOSE CALL 51

I was concentrating so hard on what I was doing that I didn’t hear the footsteps coming down the hall. Suddenly I heard the doorknob turn and the door hinges squeak like a haunted house door as it opened very slowly.

I remember telling Maragold that it was only a one-in-a-million chance of me being seen or caught. I didn’t expect the “one” out of a million to actually happen. I was caught totally off guard. I knew I had to act fast.

I had not had time to magically remove the emerald glow that surrounded me. It made me visible to anyone. It was part of my secret weakness and the glow couldn’t be removed quickly enough, so I dove down into a partially open dresser drawer and hid myself under some of Matt’s clothes. The thickness of the clothes hid the green glow that Matt’s mom would have seen in another second.

Mrs. Durkey carefully peeked into the room and looked at Matt. She must have only opened the door wide enough to let her head through the opening because the room seemed to stay quite dark even though the hallway light had shone brightly under the door when I arrived.

Mrs. Durkey must have heard Matt talking to me and thought that he was

calling for her. She saw that he was asleep so she figured that he must have been talking loudly in his sleep, although she knew that Matt seldom ever did that. She thought that, perhaps, the divorce was bothering him more now and maybe that was why he was talking in his sleep. But she was puzzled because some of the loud noises almost sounded like laughter to her. She slowly walked into the room, quickly closing the door to keep the hallway light out as much as possible, then walked quietly to Matt’s bed, bent over and kissed him on the forehead. Then she left the room and must have closed the door very quietly because I hardly heard any noise at all, except for the sound of her feet walking down the hallway.

I wiped the sweat from my face. This unexpected event really scared me. Thank goodness Matt was a messy boy who left things lying around his room and who didn’t always close his dresser drawers.

I climbed out from under Matt’s clothes and stood there for a moment trying to catch my breath. The green glow lit-up the inside of the drawer and I found myself standing on top of Matt’s underwear. I covered my mouth and giggled quietly as I thought how Maragold would laugh when I told her what it was that I was hiding under in Matt’s dresser drawer.

Quickly, I flew to the top of the dresser, but before I removed the hypnotic spell from Matt, I told him that when he woke up, in the morning, he would not

remember me, but he would remember and believe everything good that we had talked about. Then I removed the hypnotic spell from him. Finally, I magically removed the green glow from myself and quickly left the same way that I had entered Matt’s bedroom.

When I returned to Maragold, she was still awake. She said it was impossible for her to sleep. She wanted to know everything, so I told her the whole story. When I got to the part about hiding under the underwear she just put her right hand over her mouth and giggled, then said, “You were hiding Under Where?..... Under Where? Under Where?.....” She was having a good time teasing me by saying “Under Where?” every time I would mention Matt’s “Underwear.” But it was funny, the way things happened, even if it was a very close call, so we laughed joyfully together.

The next day at school Matt seemed happier than he had been in the last few weeks. He told all his friends that he had a ‘green dream.’ He said it was a really weird sort of dream, but it made him happy. He didn’t explain anything else about the dream because he felt it was a very private experience. But he did say he seemed to remember a little green glow that was on his dresser, at the foot of his bed, kind of like a glowing shamrock and that’s why he called it his ‘green dream.’ He laughed about it and yet he seemed very serious, too, about being happy and

not being as moody and angry as he had been.

Eric thought it was a stupid dream and couldn’t figure out why Matt would be silly enough to even talk about it. Eric thought it sounded too silly and childish for a fourth grader to even mention around his friends. But Eric didn’t say anything to Matt about that because his shoulder was still sore from the last time that Matt had playfully punched him.

Maragold and I could see that Matt’s ‘green dream’ was helping him. We saw his happy face and we were happy for him. I even saw him look over at Maragold once and smile, but she didn’t notice it and she didn’t believe me when I told her about it. She just thought that I was teasing her.

The Christmas party was in the afternoon. All the students received a gift from one other student. But when all the students had received a gift, there remained one extra gift with Matt’s name on it. Mr. Bunnlow picked it up, looked at the name tag and handed it to Matt. The puzzled look on Matt’s face matched the puzzled looks on all the other faces, except for Maragold. She had a knowing smile on her face. The gift was part of her second plan to help Matt.

Matt ripped the wrapping paper off and inside was a three inch cube of solid, clear plastic and inside the cube was a shamrock, an emerald green shamrock that

reflected the sun’s light and, thus, appeared to glow. Matt stared at it and thought about his green dream. Then he noticed that underneath the shamrock, written in green letters were the words Good Luck.

In the card, that came with the gift, was some sort of coded message. No one seemed to know how to decode it. Matt grew very curious. He thought that if it meant anything, and wasn’t just some prank, then he would figure out what it said and who wrote it. The coded message said:

GMPEH, RNRFY, QCMHA, RGIOS, FTRMI, APSHE, CVKEB, RJYQD,

EAEYJ, IRNEE, DVSEK, RIYSW, PAQYE, WREXA, ARWEB, GSEFT,

HTWIG, NMGOB, DESTU, TBEZR, JAPNG, DVBME, ITKTL, EVRHY,

COQUL, RKFTR, BIHET, NGDKA, IMLAO, ZHIJN, SGPGA, RTABC,

MEMGS.

Matt said, “Mr. Bunnlow, may I go to the library to get some books to read during our Christmas vacation?”

Matt wasn’t exactly a ‘book worm.’ Usually he only read when an assignment forced him to read. Mr. Bunnlow was pleasantly surprised by Matt’s request and said, “Why yes, of course. Why don’t you go right now to get the books, then you can finish the party with us and get ready for home without having to be in a rush.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bunnlow,” said Matt, as he left the classroom with both the cube and the coded message in his hands and a big smile stretching across his lips.

Mr. Bunnlow noticed a change in Matt’s voice and attitude. He seemed happier than he had been for the last few weeks and even a little excited. He felt good about that and hoped it would continue.

Matt returned from the library in about twenty minutes, joined the on-going party until it was over and helped the other students to clean up the room (even Eric was amazed that Matt so cheerfully helped to clean up the room but he took it as a very bad omen) and got ready to go home on the bus.

Matt would not allow anyone to get a close look at the cube or the message. They had become his private treasures and no one was allowed to examine them any more.

“Christmas vacation may not be so bad after all, “ Matt thought, as he quickly placed the library Secret Codes books in his backpack so that the other students would not notice what the books were about and, hopefully, not pester him with questions about the coded message that he had received.

CHAPTER 10: AMAZING MESSAGES 57

Matt was happy during the bus ride home. He chatted and joked with his friends, but he was in a hurry to arrive home. His mom wasn’t home from work yet so he went straight to his room, threw his coat on the bed, went to his desk and opened a secret code book. The shamrock cube sat next to him and the coded message was propped up against the back of the desk for easy reading.

As luck would have it, Matt discovered the key to the coded message in the first part of the second book that he looked in. He looked at the cube, read the words “Good Luck,” again, and smiled. He was challenged, excited and he liked that feeling.

The key for decoding the message was on page eighteen, under the title: FIVE-LETTER GROUP CODES. To decode the secret message he had to pick out every other letter in the message, starting with the second letter in the first five-letter group. The book even gave examples of how to do it, which made it real easy and fun for Matt.

Matt excitedly grabbed the coded message, a piece of clean paper, a pencil and started writing every other letter starting with the second letter of the first five-

letter group which was the letter “M.” When he was finished, this is the message that he was smiling about and staring at:

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY IN EVERY WAY WE ARE

GETTING BETTER AND BETTER YOUR FRIEND AMAZING

GRACE

Matt’s smile broadened at the way Mara had written her name. He had called her Amazing Grace as an insult; out of anger. He had thought that she would never forgive him for it, but now she was using the name as a sign of forgiveness, caring and friendship.

His thoughts drifted to a talk that he had once had with his dad not too long ago. At the time he thought his dad was totally wrong, but seeing this message from Mara, he realized that his wise dad was right when he told Matt that some day he would start liking girls. Matt found himself liking this particular girl already.

Matt wondered why Mara had sent the message in code. As he thought about it, he figured that she may have had several reasons for doing it. Perhaps she realized that he would really have been teased a lot if it was in plain English for everyone to see and read. Of course, she would have been teased, too, so she could

also be protecting herself by writing the message in coded form. Perhaps, it was simply an interesting and clever way of making him feel good just before Christmas vacation. “No matter what the real reason was,” Matt thought, “she was pretty clever to have done it this way, and very thoughtful, also.”

He looked at the coded message again and realized that the last three letters, which were just fill-in letters and not really a part of the message, were her initials....MGS.

He decided to send a coded message to her and place it inside a Christmas card to be sent to her house. He wanted to thank her, but he would have to think about what to say. He started thinking about what he could say to her, but his concentration was broken when his mom knocked on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” he said.

His mom walked in and immediately noticed the bright smile on his face. She said, “Glad to see you smiling. I have some good news for you. I talked to your dad last night and we thought you would like to spend part of Christmas with each of us, so we agreed that you would spend Christmas morning with me and Christmas afternoon with him. Is that all right with you?”

“That sounds OK, Mom, but couldn’t Dad come over here to have Christmas with us?”

Mrs. Durkey’s eyes saddened as she looked down and said, “No, I’m afraid not, Matt. We both agreed, last night, that we would feel uncomfortable if we tried to do it that way. We also decided that although we are getting divorced, we don’t want to dislike each other. We want to do it peacefully, if possible, and we want to both spend as much time with you as possible. You will spend some holidays with me and some with your father. We will have weekend arrangements so you can visit your dad. Also, you can spend part of your summer vacation with each of us. I think, if your father and I work real hard at it, we can be fair to each other and to you at the same time. I hope you understand, Matt, and that you will try to help us because we both love you very much. We don’t want our divorce to hurt you any more than it has already.”

Matt got up and hugged his mom, then kissed her on the cheek. That really surprised and pleased her. He said, “I’ll help as much as I can, Mom, because I love you and Dad a lot, too. I wish you weren’t getting divorced, but I can’t help that. I can only control how I react to the divorce. Perhaps it won’t be as bad as it seems, especially if you and Dad can still be friends and I can spend time with both of you. I really do miss Dad a lot, Mom.”

Mrs. Durkey noticed how mature Matt sounded. “I know, Matt. I know you miss your dad very much.” She hugged him and he didn’t seem to mind when she

kissed him. Usually he pulled away from her and said, “Hey, Mom! No mushy stuff, please.”

After she left his room, Matt still could not think of what to say to Mara in the Christmas card. He wanted it to be perfect, but he just couldn’t think of anything that sounded right. It wasn’t easy talking, or writing, to girls, he thought. As a result of this mental block, and because the Christmas holiday got very busy, he wasn’t able to send Maragold a Christmas card with a coded message, but just before New Year’s Eve Maragold did get a letter in the mail. It had no return address on it. The letter was all in five-letter code, just as she had used on the card that she gave to Matt during the school Christmas party.

There was no signature, but, of course, she knew who it was from. She knew her mom and dad were curious, too, but even though they were nosey, she did not tell them who the letter was from. The coded message looked like this:

AHNAO, PRPSY, TNQEU, WVYSE, WASRY, EZVTE, TRUYV,

DWAHY, KIPNB, EOVZE, YRKYS, WMALY, EIFLG, IHKIE,

JYKOP, UDMCO, BRAEZ, AYNXD, PMQOR, RSETD, UOVYW,

OOUNH, MALVK, EJGIR, AEBEC, NDDER, FEGAH, MZSYT,

XOWOV, YUOTU, LRMFN, ROIPE, QNRDS, TKUJR, IKHEG,

YFDEU, DRCKB, EAYMD

The decoded message said:

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERY DAY IN EVERY WAY I LIKE YOU

MORE AND MORE DO YOU HAVE GREEN DREAMS TOO YOUR

FRIEND TURKEY DURKEY

Maragold smiled broadly and thought to herself, “He’s a very quick learner.” Then she smiled, again, as she noticed that the last two letters of the coded message were Matt’s initials....MD.”

CHAPTER 11: M & M’s ARE SWEET

When school started again, in January, Maragold and Matt ate lunch together for a few days. They chatted about their coded messages and about how much fun they were. Their friends did not sit with them, but they did stare at them. They didn’t like what they saw.

“Did you have a ‘green dream’ like the one I had?” Matt asked.

“No, not exactly,” Mara replied, “but a good friend once told me to believe in myself, have a good attitude, try to make my reactions positive and to repeat, each day, the words, ‘Every day, in every was, I am getting better and better.’ ”

“Who is the friend that told you that? Do I know him?”

“No, you don’t know him, Matt. He is not a student in this school. He isn’t a student in any school.”

I was poking Maragold’s earlobe and whispering to her that she shouldn’t be talking about me and, thankfully, she wasn’t giving Matt any clear answers to his questions. Matt just figured that her friend must be a smart adult relative, or something, especially if he was out of school. Matt assumed that if the friend was not a student, then he or she must have finished school already and had to be

an adult friend or relative of Mara’s. Matt assumed wrong, of course, but I sure was glad when the topic was changed to something else.

The next day at lunch Cheryl said, “Do you think Matt is cute, Mara?” Cheryl asked this question hesitantly, not wanting to upset Mara, especially now that she was eating with her girlfriends again.

“Sure, I think he’s cute and I think he’s nice, too. He’s basically a kind boy with a few problems, like most of us. Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered if you liked him more than us,” said Cheryl.

Sarah sat close, looking very interested, like most of the other girls at the table. They were all wondering what the odd attraction was between Mara and Matt because, not too long ago, boys were thought of as things to be avoided, like worms.”

“I like him a lot,” said Mara, “but I don’t think I really know what love is, or how it feels, not romantic love anyway, so it’s hard to answer that question. I know I love my mom and dad, but that’s not the same thing, is it?. I think that Matt is special, just like you are my special friends.” As Maragold said this, she pointed her finger and smiled at all the girls that were sitting and listening to her.

Cheryl and Sarah were amazed at Mara’s answer. How did Mara know that what they really wanted to know was if she loved Matt? Mara had answered their thoughts instead of answering their verbal question. But she had a talent for doing

that, they all thought. And they were right, too, because I’ve noticed the same thing. Maragold was a very smart girl, without any help from me.

Eric’s shoulder was sore again. Matt playfully, but solidly, punched him after he said, “Matt loves Mara!” in a teasing voice at lunchtime. Greg knew what was going to happen, so he quickly moved out of the way just as Matt’s fist flashed by and struck the top of Eric’s arm at half speed. Eric rubbed his sore shoulder vigorously as he has been doing quite often this year.

Matt said, “I like Mara. She’s real nice, but she’s just a good friend, like you guys are. If somebody attacked or teased you, I’d be on your side and I’d also do the same for Mara because when someone is kind to you, when someone cares about you enough to try to help you to be happy, then they are a true friend, even if they happen to be a girl. Do you understand that that’s all there is to it, Eric?”

Eric saw Matt smiling as he looked at the fist that Matt made and was waving in the air in front of his face. Matt was kidding with the fist, but serious with his words, and even Eric could understand that.

Greg said, “Matt, a lot of kids are saying that ‘M and M’s are sweet,’ which means.......”

“I know what it means,” interrupted Matt, “and thanks for trying to help,” he said, somewhat impatiently.

Both Maragold’s and Matt’s names start with the letter ‘M’ so it was supposed to be a clever way of comparing candy with a possible sweet and early romance between Matt and Maragold; what is sometimes referred to as ‘puppy love.’

“I didn’t know if you knew what some of the kids were saying and I thought that a friend should be the one to tell you,” said Greg.

“Maybe a good punch in the mouth would be the best thing for them,” Eric said in his usual sarcastic voice. Secretly he was hoping that his suggestion would be rejected because he knew he was small, slender and frail; he certainly was not a fighter. The toughest thing about Eric is his mouth.

“Thanks for trying to be helpful. I’ve heard some of the kids in the hallway laughing as I walk by them. Sometimes they point their finger at me when they think I can’t see or hear them; but I can’t go around punching everybody, and, even if I could, it wouldn’t help. Sometimes rumors and teasing like this only gets worse if you fight to try to stop them. It’s like trying to stop a small fire by pouring gas on it. It only makes the situation worse, not better. Besides, I can’t figure out what the big deal is. You’d think that we were like those mushy high school kids who got caught kissing in the hallway. Just forget about it, OK? The teasing will end soon and be forgotten, I hope.”

February came quickly, the teasing did end and friendships grew stronger. Even the exchange of Valentine’s cards didn’t revive the ‘M and M’s Are Sweet’ teasing, especially since Mara and Matt only acted like friends and nothing else.

One day Mr. Bunnlow was doing a vocabulary lesson and one of the words was “prestidigitator.” He called these kinds of words his “spelling challenge words” because they were more difficult than the ordinary spelling or vocabulary words that his students usually had. He gave extra credit, on spelling tests, for knowing how to spell these kinds of words correctly.

You could tell that he was having a bad day because he was having trouble talking, which the students thought was very rare for any teacher. They can talk all day, with no problems, and that’s exactly what most teachers do with ease, was the common belief of most of the students.

Anyway, Mr. Bunnlow said, “OK people, who can pronounce this word and tell me its meaning, or do we need to use the dictionary?”

The five “challenge words” were written on the blackboard. Mr. Bunnlow was pointing to the word “prestidigitator” as he tried to give the students a hint about how to pronounce the word correctly by telling the students what the vowel sounds were. Unfortunately he messed up badly when he said, “The letter ‘a’ is the only letter that has a long bowel sound.....oops! I mean it has a long vowel sound.”

He heavily stressed the initial ‘V’ sound as he quickly tried to correct his mistake.

But Mr. Bunnlow’s face looked like the color of a ripe strawberry. The class never saw a teacher get so embarrassed before and they nearly died laughing at the sight of it. Mr. Bunnlow had a strained, closed-mouth smile as he shook his head back and forth while staring at the floor and not saying a single word.

Brian-the-brain shocked everyone by breaking his code of academic seriousness by blurting out, “My mom says that my long bowel sounds are way too long, and she says she doesn’t much care for my short bowel sounds either!”

Well, as you can guess, the classroom was just roaring with laughter. Mr. Bunnlow just stood at the front of the class still shaking his head, but grinning and looking at the floor as most of the class continued to howl with laughter. After a short time he looked up at the class, then held his right index finger to his pursed lips to show the class that he wanted them to be quiet.

Both Matt and Maragold were thinking the same thing; that Mr. Bunnlow could have stopped the laughter by being strict or mean, like many teachers, but he didn’t. The laugh was on him, this time, and he allowed the students to enjoy it for a little while.

The class was quiet now, except for just a couple of giggles. Maragold raised her hand and Mr. Bunnlow quickly called on her to give the meaning of the word

“prestidigitator.” I guess he didn’t want to risk discussing how to pronounce the word, and I certainly could not blame him for that.

Mara said, “Mr. Bunnlow, most tricks in magic involve making objects seem to appear from nowhere or making them seem to disappear. Tricks like these, where objects are hand-held, belong to the category of magic called ‘sleight-of-hand,’ and the magician who performs these kinds of tricks is sometimes called a prestidigitator. The word ‘prestidigitator’ comes from the combination of the French word ‘presto,’ which means ‘quick,’ and the Latin word ‘digitus,’ which means ‘finger.’ Therefore, a prestidigitator is a magician with ‘quick fingers’ and quite often this meaning is expressed in the commonly used phrase that says that ‘the hand is quicker than the eye.’”

Suddenly the room was as quiet as a cemetery at midnight, with the students giving each other strange looks concerning Maragold’s answer. Even Brian-the-brain seemed amazed by Maragold’s detailed and knowledgeable response, and it took quite a bit to impress Brian about anything that someone else knew.

Matt whispered, “Amazing Grace,” to himself and Mr. Bunnlow broke the classroom silence by asking, “How did you know the answer in such great detail, Mara?”

“Well,” she replied, “my dad is not only a teacher, Mr. Bunnlow, he’s also a

part-time professional magician. He specializes in sleight-of-hand magic, so I guess it was natural for him to explain the meaning of that word to me and how the word was made.”

Most of the class thought how lucky Mara was to have a dad who was a magician. Matt did too, but you could, if you looked closely, see his lips move as he whispered the words ‘Amazing Grace’ again, to himself, then smiled broadly.

I think it was the good times and the frequent laughter that made the students feel lucky to be in Mr. Bunnlow’s room. The good times and laughter sure made the days go by much more quickly and his students liked that a lot.

When March came, the class did some Saint Patrick’s Day activities. I thought my hypnotic suggestions may be broken when Matt stared at one of Mr. Bunnlow’s pictures of a leprechaun dressed in emerald green. It was a very ugly leprechaun. I’ve never seen any real leprechauns that were quite that ugly and I wondered why they were so often made to look like that. But Matt just looked at the picture, scratched his head for a moment and then went back to doing his work while only glancing back once more at the picture of the leprechaun, as if there was a lost memory somewhere in the far reaches of his brain that he just could not remember.

Maragold was fascinated by the same picture and the word shamrock. I was starting to really admire her sense of humor because I could tell what she was thinking and what she was planning to do when she was thinking freely and not having her private thoughts, which she could block from me.

When Saint Patrick’s Day came, Matt found a package on his desk when he arrived in the morning. It was a box wrapped in emerald green paper. He looked at Mara immediately, so did the rest of the class, including Mr. Bunnlow, who was pretending not to notice, but was very curious, like the rest of the class. Matt opened the box and inside he found a gray sponge shaped like a rock. The note in the box said, “Although this rock is a ‘sham,’ which means false, it will still bring you good luck because it’s a shamrock.”

Matt looked kindly at Maragold and showed his quick wit by saying, “And I suppose that the shampoo that you use to wash your hair is really ‘false poo.’

The students that heard what Mara and Matt said to each other were puzzled by what they said and did not understand either joke, but neither Mara, nor Matt, made any attempt to explain them.

They both smiled at each other as the whole class got ready to do the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag, before the morning lessons began.

CHAPTER 12: THE HANDSHAKE

When April Fool’s Day came, Matt gave Maragold a cardboard cut-out of the letter ‘U’ that he had painted green. When he was making this joke, he realized that green had become his favorite color, probably due to his mysterious ‘green dream.’ He attached a long white piece of string to the letter and wrote a note that said, “I hope you can tell that I like to STRING U along. Your friend, Matt.”

The class got a laugh out of it, too. They had gotten used to these little gags and looked forward to them. Even Mr. Bunnlow told Mara and Matt how much he enjoyed their keen sense of humor because it cheered-up the class. He also informed them, that the reason these types of jokes are called ‘gags’ is that they are so bad that they make people gag, or choke. Then he smiled at them to let them know that he was teasing them.

I guess that’s one of the reasons that Maragold and Matt got together at lunch, with all their friends sitting around them this time, and thought of a ‘gag’ to play on Mr. Bunnlow.

A couple of days later, after returning from lunch, Mr. Bunnlow found a little box on his desk. He looked around the room, which was unusually quiet and saw smiling faces staring at him. He knew it was some sort of joke, especially

when he saw the comical looks on Mara’s and Matt’s faces.

“OK,” he said with a smile, “what’s this on my desk?”

“Please open it, Mr. Bunnlow,” said Mara calmly. “The class got together to make you something.”

“Well now, how do I know that there aren’t snakes or spiders hidden in there just waiting to leap out and grab me by the nose?” joked Mr. Bunnlow, teasingly. “Maybe I should just take it home and open it up in private,” he continued, as the kids started getting excitedly impatient.

“Come on, Mr. Bunnlow,” begged Matt. “There’s an important message about this afternoon’s work in the box. So you have to open it now, please.” By now the students were almost ready to burst out in laughter and excitement.

Mr. Bunnlow reached for the box, opened it slowly, as if he was really expecting snakes or spiders to jump out of it, and pulled out the enclosed note. Then he read the note out loud. The note said, “Due to a newly discovered disease of the fingers, represented by the enclosed object, your students feel that this afternoon’s writing work should be cancelled.”

Mr. Bunnlow reached into the box, again, and pulled out a piece of rope that was tied in a hangman’s knot. At the bottom of the rope loop there was a large nail attached.

“Well, I’ll be darned,” said Mr. Bunnlow, while staring at the miniature hangman’s rope and attached nail. “I’ll bet these objects are supposed to represent a HANGNAIL, right?” He smiled and then laughed out loud as he said, “This is great! It’s just super! I’m really very impressed and I truly appreciate this funny gag. Thanks very much to all of you. You are all such wonderful students.”

The whole class excitedly laughed and clapped their hands, except for Eric, who seemed to be a naturally and constantly grumpy person with a much more warped sense of humor. He wanted to give Mr. Bunnlow a “woopi-cushion, but most students objected.” The students really seemed to appreciate a teacher who could take a joke, too, and they wished there were more teachers like him.

“But flattery and very clever gags will get you nowhere today,” said Mr. Bunnlow with a big smile, “so let’s get started with our writing lesson.”

A few groans could be heard, but mostly everyone got ready for the creative writing lesson, especially those who had learned to enjoy the treasures found in books and liked to create their own stories. Mr. Bunnlow was frequently reminding his students that reading helps them become better writers and writing helps them become better readers.

While his students were taking out their pencils and composition workbooks, Mr. Bunnlow hung the HANGNAIL on an empty space on the bulletin board, near

his desk, then he tacked the note underneath the HANGNAIL. It would remain there for the remainder of the school year, which, by the way, was almost over.

With Matt’s new outlook on life he had no trouble with Mother’s Day in May and Father’s Day in June. He was very happy when he was with each of his parents. They kept their word about not fighting around him. As a matter of fact, he really did not think they fought at all. He was thankful for that, although he knew that it must be something that was very unusual. His mom and dad acted friendly and sometimes they even laughed together, but most importantly, they wanted Matt to be happy. So by thinking about Matt’s happiness and doing what was best for Matt, they acquired more happiness for themselves. Matt would often smile as he thought, “It’s so unexpected how something good can grow out of something that, at first, seems to be so awfully terrible, like a divorce.” He knew, of course, that a divorce is almost always a bad experience and it could have turned out very badly for all of them if his mom and dad had not worked so hard to prevent it. Matt was happy with the thought that they still loved him even if they no longer loved each other. He was satisfied that at least they liked each other and even more satisfied that his mom and dad knew that he loved them both very much.

He also knew that his mysterious green dream had something to do with his happiness. He knew he had grown up a lot this year and he felt more mature.

He also realized that that was another reason why he liked Mara; she was a lot of fun, but she was also very mature for her age. Perhaps having two teachers for parents or having parents get divorced had something to do with accelerating both of their maturity levels.

Perhaps for the first, and maybe for the only time in their school years, Mr. Bunnlow’s class, except for grumpy Eric, felt somewhat sad about the end of school; not terribly sad, of course, just somewhat sad. But everyone was certainly excited about summer vacation. On the way to the buses, while everyone else was shouting and cheering with excitement, Mara and Matt stopped by the parked buses to talk.

“It was a fun year,” said Mara, as she looked up at Matt. She noticed that the sun had already begun to bleach his hair a lighter shade of brown and that he was letting it grow longer.

“Yes, it was and I’d like to thank you for all your helpful humor and friendship during the year,” said Matt.

“What will you be doing this summer, Matt? Will you get to see your dad?”

“Oh, yes, this summer is going to be just great. I’m going on a two week camping trip with my dad. We are going to hike and fish and even cook our own food over a campfire. We’ll be together for two whole weeks and I can’t wait.

Then my mom and I are going on vacation. We are going to visit some relatives that we haven’t seen for about a year. That will be fun, too, because then I get to see my most favorite cousins, Mark, Tony, Mike and Lori. I think we’ll have a fantastic time just like we always do when we get together. And my Aunt Fran and Uncle Larry are wonderful, too. This should really be a super summer for me. It’ll be a summer vacation that is full of two real vacations and not just a few weeks with no school. So what are you planning to do this summer?”

“Well, you know that my dad is a part-time professional magician. However, in the summertime, because he’s a teacher and has no work during the summer vacation, he becomes a full-time magician, and I’m his assistant. It’s really a lot of fun for me and him. It gives us special times to be together. He mostly performs for kids’ birthday parties, which are really a lot of fun. But we also do magic shows for the Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, Mother and daughter, plus father and son banquets, churches, summer school programs and stuff like that. And I actually get paid for my role as the magician’s assistant so you can see another reason why I like it so much. I put half the money in the bank and I get to spend the other half on anything I want to buy, like clothes and jewelry. My dad says that I’m just like my mom when it comes to buying things like that. We will also take some time to go visit my grandmother and grandfather, on my mother’s side of the family. I really

love them a lot, too, and enjoy visiting them. They are such special and loving people. We are all really quite close to them. So you see, my mom and dad are really wonderful people, too, and they aren’t even divorced like your parents.”

They both smiled slightly at Mara’s last comment. Behind his smile Matt was still silently wishing that his mom and dad had not divorced, but he also thought he was very lucky that the divorce turned out not to be tragic and bitter.

Going through Mara’s thoughts were wishes that she’d never have to experience a divorce in her family even if it turned out as well as Matt’s parent’s divorce did.

They both seemed deaf to all the noise going on around them as students laughed, talked loudly and got joyously on their buses.

They knew that they only had a couple of minutes before the buses would leave so Matt said, “See you in the fifth grade in September, Gorgeous.” Then he winked at her and held out his hand for a handshake. Mara, somewhat embarrassed by his comment, smiled at him and shook his hand. Neither of them saw Mr. Bunnlow watching them with a happy smile stretching his lips. Instead they felt the warmth, moisture and gentleness in each other’s hand. It was a good, and friendly, but strange feeling for both of them; and it was a new feeling that confused them, yet neither of them wanted it to end.

A loud yell from a bus driver startled them and their hands jerked apart. The bus driver was yelling for them to get on their buses. It was time to go home.

They walked in opposite directions to their buses. Mara stopped, turned and yelled, “Matt, write and let me know how your vacation is going, OK?”

Matt, with one foot inside the bus and his hand on the door yelled back, “Do you want it in code?”

Mara could see the broad smile on his face as she replied, “Yes, of course, send it in code!”

They both smiled, waved to each other one more time, got on their buses and sat down. They didn’t talk or look around for their friends. All they remembered and thought about was the feeling of that handshake and, as if by magic, they both whispered to themselves, “Every day, in every way, I like you more and more.”

Perhaps you are wondering what I will be doing during the summer vacation. I’ll be going back to Ireland, but just for a short time, to visit my leprechaun relatives and to tell them what a wonderful place America is and what a truly wonderful family I live with. But most of all, I’ll tell them about my pot of gold and, like Maragold’s father frequently does, I’ll brag about my precious Maragold.

Maragold in Fourth

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