Maragold in Sixth Part Two

                                                CHAPTER  6

          The coldness of early November, like a rough, older brother, pushed the October coolness away.  The leaves had already moved beyond their early fall brightness and now lay on lawns like wrinkled ghosts of the past.  The north winds pushed, shoved and kicked the leaves across lawns until people with rakes battered them into piles.

          Mr. Bunnlow had his academic routine working well and his students were responding nicely.  Occasionally, however, they were distracted by thoughts of Thanksgiving vacation, followed by an even longer Christmas vacation.  Who could blame them?  No teacher was so “ting” that they never bored their students and it would be a rare student that found school so “ting” that they would want to go to school instead of having a vacation.

          Mr. B. gave particular academic attention to reading, math, writing and science, but he wanted his students to understand how other people lived.  So he decided to start teaching the unit about Chile and have it done in a couple of weeks.  That way he could teach the unit as one uninterrupted lesson and not have to teach part of it before and part of it after Thanksgiving vacation.

          Dear reader, I’m guessing that you have noticed that I have not been as active in Maragold’s school life as I had been the last two years.  Maragold asked me about that, too, during a library class.  I told her that I was having trouble concentrating because of problems in Ireland.  I also told her that I was having trouble accepting the fact that I had to leave her and Matt, especially since I had originally told her that I would stay with her and be her mentor and protector.  Now that broken promise flashed through my mind like a bright lightening bolt, blocking Mr. B’s voice as he talked about Chile.

          Promises are serious.  They should not be taken lightly and forgotten like jokes.  That’s why breaking my promise to Maragold bothered me so much.  It haunted my thoughts each day.  It was like an irritating ghost in my mind, accusing me of betraying and abandoning my promise and responsibilities to Maragold.  A broken promise is like an injury.  It will heal, but the scar will always be a visible reminder that a promise had been broken.

          She and I were sad a lot for the next couple of weeks.  Maragold tried to lift both our spirits by saying things like: “Smile.  It increases your face value.”  But the good feeling did not last long.

          I was sitting on Maragold’s shoulder as I thought about my friendship with her.  I nearly laughed out loud when I thought, “Maragold is the apple of my eye and I love sitting be-cider (beside her).”

          Maragold silently asked about my giggling.  I explained the joke to her, but the fun wore off quickly and sadness once again engulfed us, like a heavy cloak.  Then I realized that we were both having thoughts about how quickly our two and a half years together have passed.  Tears rained in our eyes and soon our fingers acted like windshield wipers, pushing those tears aside.

          Then Maragold whispered something that I never would have expected from her.  It seemed too profound and visually unattractive, yet funny, all at the same time.  Concerning how fast those two years had gone by, she said, “You know, Bert.  The time you’ve been with me is a lot like a roll of toilet paper because the closer to the end it gets, the faster it goes.”

          We laughed at that thought, then I reminded Maragold that we had better pay attention to Mr. B.

          By the end of the second week of November, Mr. B. had taught his students much about Chile.  They learned that Chile runs the whole length of the southwestern coast of South America; a length of almost three thousand miles.

          Chile lies between the Pacific Ocean to the west and the Andes Mountains to the east.  The Andes Mountains are the world’s longest mountain range and also the source of most of the South American rivers.

          Because of Chile’s length, it has incredible differences in climate and weather.  Northern Chile is the home of the world’s driest dessert, the Atacama Desert.  This desert is approximately one hundred miles wide and six hundred miles long.  But it is not a hot dessert.  It is a cold dessert due to its rise into the Andes Mountains.  There are places in the Atacama Desert where it has not rained for over four hundred years.

          Chile also has active volcanoes, fjords—a long river to the ocean that is bordered by steep walls formed by the erosion of glaciers—deep sea channels, glaciers and icebergs.

          The students learned that the Inca Indians settled Chile in the fifteenth century.  Then in 1536, Spanish explorers came to settle there, especially when gold was discovered and the land was found to be very fertile for farming and cattle raising.

          In 1818 Chile won its independence from Spain.  A man named Bernard O’Higgins—a leader in the fight for independence—became Chile’s first president.

          The capital city of Chile, Santiago, is located approximately in central Chile and is where five million of the countries sixteen million people live.

          Also learned were the facts that Chile is a mostly Spanish speaking country and its religion is ninety percent Catholic and ten percent Protestant.

          Mr. B. reminded his students that the official currency—money—is called the peso.  It takes about five pesos to equal the value of one American penny, and about five hundred pesos to equal one American dollar.  For some reason, the students were fascinated by the currency, and Mr. B. heard a few “tings.”

          The students found it to be “ting” that Chile’s flag was also red, white and blue.  It was even more “ting” to hear that Chile’s flag was patterned after the American flag because the people saw their struggle for independence from Spain to be very similar to America’s struggle for independence from England.

          Mr. B.’s class seemed truly interested in learning more about Chile, especially now that the historical similarities were presented to them.  So, for two weeks, they went on to learn much more about the history of Chile, its culture and traditions, as well as its language, religions, politics, geography and even its time zones.

          When the final lesson was given, and Mr. B. asked if there were any questions about Chile, Eric asked about the kinds of snakes that they had.  Everyone, including Mr. B. acted very surprised and puzzled.

          Mr. B. said, “I don’t really know, Eric.  I didn’t research that information because I didn’t intend it to be part of what I wanted to teach about Chile.  But, I’ll tell you what.  If you do the research and write a paper to hand in, I’ll give you extra credit as a reward for your extra effort.  How’s that?”

          “Oh!...Well … No thank you, Mr. B.  I’ve always figured that laziness was it’s own reward.  I was just curious about snake turds.  I’ve seen all kinds of turds, you know, like from cats and dogs, mice, chickens, cows, horses, birds, but I’ve never ever seen any snake turds.  Snakes do poop, don’t they?” Eric said with mischievous curiosity.

          Mr. B. lowered his chin, and looked at Eric through the top of his glasses, a faint smile on his face.  He said, “You know, of course, Eric, that I’ll get even with you for this ‘snake turd stuff,’ right?”  Mr. B.’s smile widened.

          “Oh, yes sir, Mr. B. and I am … ah … we all are looking forward to any trick or joke that you want to play on me because, you know, you are really my hero, and I admire you very much.”  Eric was laying the exaggerated, comical admiration on really thick.  He continued, “Mr. B., I want to be just like you when I grow up.  I want to help kids enjoy learning and help make a better world.  Maybe I can even go into politics and get teachers some decent pay for all their valuable work with children who, after all, are any country’s most precious natural resource.  You are such a special, extraordinary and gifted teacher, Mr. B. and I just wanted you to know that I think—”

          “Whoa!  Whoa there, motor mouth!” Mr. B. interrupted.  “You’ll have to stop right there, even though you speak nothing but the truth.”

          Student laughter brushed his ears and he smiled, then rubbed his upper lip trying to hide the smile.

          “Geez, Mr. B., I could have kept going.  I had a lot more compliments.”

          “Yes, Eric, that’s what I was afraid of.  I don’t want to have to call a custodian to clean up the smelly mess that was starting to spread all over the floor.  I think, by stopping you, I saved the whole class from some ugly sights and smells.”  More laughter.  “You should try applying your cleverness to your school work.  Then, instead of being an ogre-achiever … ah … I mean an over-achiever with humor, you could be a gifted student,” Mr. B. replied, as he rolled his eyes upward and shook his head.

          “What’s an ogre?” Eric said.

          “Look it up; O-G-R-E,” Mr. B. spelled it, then moved on to the next lesson.

          A few days later the air became much colder.  Frost stuck to the windows and also hugged the playground grass, making it look like it had a white blanket.

          The morning seemed to drag on; not that Mr. B. was boring—he was, sometimes—it was just that school subjects can be uninteresting at times.

          However, lunch time turned out to be “ting.”  Charles started laughing before anyone even told a joke.  His thoughts were of his bus ride to school.  Usually he hated it because Dawn, Harvey, Dan and Lee teased him.

          Maragold asked him, “Charlie.  What’s so funny?”

          “The bus ride to school this morning was funny,” he said, happily.

          “Yeah?  Why’s that?” Maragold asked.

          “I don’t know how to explain it, but our bus driver, Mrs. Pound, got hit in the head with a ball of paper.  You know Mrs. Pound, right?  Usually a nice lady; very short and with a big butt that looks like two bowling balls rolling around inside a big sack.  Anyway, she asked a girl who sits close to her to unfold the paper and see if there was a name on it.  Well, holy baloney, when that paper had Harvey’s name on it, all of our eyes stared at Harvey.  He seemed genuinely surprised when he looked at Mrs. Pound, who was really angry.

          “Mrs. Pound looked up into her big bus mirror and glared at Harvey.  She asked if he threw the paper ball at her.  As you might expect, the bus was totally quiet by now … ah … except for the sound of the bus wheels and the engine.

          “Harvey said he didn’t throw it, but Mrs. Pound didn’t believe him.  She ordered him to sit in the front of the bus, near her, until she decided that his manners and behavior had improved and that he could be trusted.

          “Well, you know Harvey.  He keeps his hair so short that his head looks like a giant peach stuck onto his neck.  I guess that would mean that it’s the ‘pits’ inside his head, right?”

          Laughter rippled like a wave up and down the lunch table.

          Charlie continued, “Well, then Harvey’s face and scalp turned so red that I thought his hair would burst into flames.  When all of us saw his embarrassment we laughed loudly.  And, on a bus with metal walls, even low laughter sounds loud.

          “Of course, we all really enjoyed it.  Harvey has embarrassed almost everyone on the bus, so now we enjoyed his embarrassment.  Some brave person, not me, yelled, ‘See how it feels ape man!’

          “Lee stood up to see who said it.  He couldn’t figure it out, but he’s so dumb that he thinks the baseball team, the Baltimore Orioles, are Oreo cookies made in Baltimore.  There’s not much going on in his attic,” Charlie said.

          Charlie had to stop laughing to catch his breath before he added, “And that’s not the best part.”  He stopped again to inhale deeply.

          Cheryl said, “ Well don’t stop now.  Tell us the rest.”

          “OK, OK.  Look,” Charlie continued, “some strange things were happening.  Actually, I really don’t think Harvey, or anyone with him, did throw the paper ball.  They were all teasing me when it happened.  I was looking at them and I didn’t see any of them throw anything.  Plus, you’d have to be pretty stupid to throw a wad of paper at your bus driver, and have your name on it.

          “Mrs. Pound did ask if anyone saw who threw the paper, but no one saw anything, or they weren’t telling.  Then I heard Dan say to Lee, ‘She must be related to Chubby Fatty because she’s another fat butt waiting to explode.’  But listen to this.  It’s really weird, you know, because Dan and Lee were sitting close to me, just across the aisle.  Dan was whispering to Lee.  I heard him talk really low when he said it.  I could just barely hear him, but all of a sudden Dan’s voice yelled over the bus intercom the exact words that Dan had been whispering to Lee.

          “Holy crapola, we were all stunned to hear it, especially Dan.  His face suddenly looked terrified.  The bus echoed with laughter.  Man!  It was wonderful seeing and hearing all that.  Even Dawn looked shaken up.  Then ... umm …”

          “Keep going.  What happened next?” Matt said, excitedly.

          “Oh, man!  It was so great because now Mrs. Pound ordered Dan and Lee to sit up front, but in separate seats.  They sat across the aisle from Harvey and weren’t even allowed to speak to each other.  They all looked furious.

          “Then Dawn looked across the aisle at me as if she thought I had something to do with all this trouble.  I shrugged my shoulders, twisted my head back and forth, then mouthed the words ‘not me.’  I didn’t know what was going on, but I … was … really … lovin’ it,” Charlie said, while stretching out the words to show that he was thrilled.

          Laughter was like tasty food now.  Everyone wanted to gulp it down and go back for seconds and thirds.  They all wanted more and Charlie gave it to them.

          “But listen to this,” he said. “So now Dawn is sitting there all alone.  She was so mad, and her face turned so red that she looked like a she-devil.  Oh, my God, you won’t believe what happened next.  All of a sudden there was this unmistakable sound of farting coming from where Dawn was sitting, and it was really loud, too.  It sounded like Dawn was farting uncontrollably, like she’d swallowed a hot air balloon and it burst inside of her.  The farting kept coming and coming, and Dawn was not just embarrassed; she was humiliated!  I thought it was just wonderful that they should all get a taste of their own medicine.

          “Well, Mrs. Pound looked up into the mirror, and with a disgusted look on her face, she shouted, ‘Stop that right now, Dawn.  Where’s your manners?  You’re really disgusting.  These three hooligans have been a very bad influence on you.’”

          “But guess what?  The farting didn’t stop.  Now they came in different tones.  God, you just can’t believe how funny it was.  Laughter just exploded in the bus, as the farting noises continued.  Well, I’m telling you, Dawn was so angry that she had tears in her eyes, and that just made us laugh more!

          “Then, as you probably suspect by now, Mrs. Pound ordered Dawn to sit up front in her own separate seat.  That’s when the farting noises finally stopped.  This whole thing with Harvey, Dan, Lee and Dawn was so funny, maybe the funniest thing I’ve ever seen or heard.  But what happened to Dawn was the funniest of all.  Wow!  If farting was an art, then Dawn would be a female Picasso.

          “And guess what?” Charlie stated, but didn’t wait for a reply. “Mrs. Pound told all of them that those seats would be their regular seats from now on, and that she was also reporting them to the principal.

          “And since I get on the bus before any of them, and they get off the bus before me, they won’t be able to tease me any more.  Now that’s really ‘ting!’ Charlie yelled.  “But I swear to you.  I have no idea how it all happened … really.”

          Maragold looked at Matt.  She whispered, “Bert wasn’t with me on the bus this morning.”  They smiled, knowingly, at each other until I said, “Hey!  I’m right here.  Don’t talk as if I’m not around.”

          Maragold thought, “Yeah, but where were you during this morning’s bus ride?”

          “Oh … You know … just helping a nice guy,” I answered with a smile.

          “Was the guy’s name, Charlie?” Matt thought.

          “That might have been his name, yeah.” I giggled, then added the thought, “It’s not whether you win of lose, it’s where you place the blame that counts most.”

          All three of us laughed and our laughter blended in with the laughter of the other students who heard Charlie’s hilarious story.

          After a minute of two, Charlie and the others were still giggling and shaking their heads happily.  They had eaten almost all their food, but Charlie had only eaten half of his and didn’t appear to want the rest of it.  No one thought much about it, but I knew that he had placed himself on a diet.  He no longer bought two ice cream bars and two chocolate milks.  He was eating more fruits and vegetables.  I whispered this to Maragold, and mentioned that I thought it would be best not to talk about Charlie’s changed eating habits until he was ready to discuss it.

          Cheryl said to Mara, “Can you believe lunch time is almost over?  I wish lunch time would always be ‘ting’ time, don’t you.”

          “Sure do,” Maragold answered.  Then Maragold said, “I’ve been practicing a new magic routine for the talent show.”

          Eric, who had been unusually quiet, said, “ Are you and Matt doing the magic at the talent show, like last year?”

          Maragold looked at Matt, who explained, “No.  We aren’t doing the show together.  We talked about it already.  Mara’s performing her magic show alone, and I’m doing a karate demonstration with Robby.  I’m more interested in karate now.”

          “Oh, well,” Eric said, “all good things come to an end.  You two were fabulous at last year’s magic show.”

          “Thanks,” Maragold and Matt said together.

          Then Eric grinned mischievously and said to Mara, “Maybe you could get Cheryl to help you this year.  It could work out perfectly, especially if you say the magic words ‘abracadabra’ a lot.  You know, of course, that that magic word should only be used by female magicians, right?”

          “Why’s that?” Maragold asked.

          “Oh, quite simple,” said Eric.  “It’s definitely a female word, you know.  It’s very easy to tell?”  Eric grinned smartly.

          “Well, how do you figure that?” Maragold asked, curiously.

          “Geez!  You’re brain’s gone on vacation, huh?  It’s simply got to be a female word because it’s got bra in it, twice.  Can’t get any more female than that, can you?” Eric said through his ivory teeth.

          Maragold looked at Cheryl, then they both gave Eric a warning stare that he understood very well.  His grin disappeared and his laughter stopped immediately.  He even had the look of pain on his face as he touched his ear lobes.  Unseen to others, Matt secretly put his hand on Eric’s thigh and squeezed hard, just for a second, then let go.  It caused more pain than Matt had intended.

          Eric felt the pain like an electric shock, and knew that he was being signaled.  But the pain made Eric mad and he wanted to get even with Matt, so he said, “What’s the matter with you, Matt?  You have your prickly wool underwear on today?”

          “Nope,” Matt whispered to Eric.  “I just think that we should keep jokes like that private; you know, just guy talk.”

          Eric didn’t bother to whisper.  He looked at Matt, then the girls and said, “So sorry, girls.  I won’t mention your double-barreled sling-shots again.”

          But Eric didn’t get the shocked reaction that he wanted.  Maragold and Cheryl just looked amused, as if to say that sometimes Eric was a hopelessly rude.

          Matt looked disappointingly at Eric, but didn’t say anything more to him.

          Eric was still angry and trying to rub the pain out of his thigh.  So when he saw the look on Matt’s face he said, “What’s with you?  You think nobody sees that girls their age are starting to wear bras?  You think ‘bra’ is a terrible word?  If I say ‘puberty’ will you punch me?  You want to be like Harvey?  Is that it?  Hurt people?  Show your power?  Be a bully?”

          Eric stared at Matt.  They were both red in the face.  Matt saw Eric still rubbing his leg and realized that he had hurt him much more than he thought he had.  Matt still felt angry, but now a sense of guilt mixed with his anger.  Then his anger increased when he thought about Eric comparing him to Harvey. The words, “Show your power?  Be a bully?” had an awful sound to him and his guilt grew.  The two boys stared at each other, neither one wanting to look away first.

          Maragold interrupted their angry stares, saying, “OK guys.  Come on.  It was all just joking.  Nobody got hurt and—

          Eric interrupted Maragold, “You think nobody got hurt?  You didn’t see everything then!”

          Maragold and Cheryl were puzzled by that statement, but Maragold just wanted to change the subject and have the boys calm down so she told a joke.

          “What words does a magician use to make a corpse vanish?” she said. Lunch time was almost over so she only paused a second, then said, “The magician would say ‘abra-cadaver’ to vanish a corpse.”

          “I don’t get it,” Matt stated.

          “Of course you don’t,” Eric said sarcastically.  A ‘cadaver’ is a medical term for a dead body.”

          “Oh? Cool,” Matt said, but his face was red from embarrassment.  His own guilt led him to believe that maybe he deserved it.  He also knew that he would have to apologize to Eric later.  No, he thought, an apology would be more meaningful and responsible if he did it now.

          “Eric,” he said, “I’m sorry I hurt you.  I didn’t mean to squeeze that hard.  I was wrong and you are right about not hurting people, especially when they’re friends.”  Matt waited for Eric’s reply while Maragold and Cheryl looked confused since they hadn’t seen Matt do anything to Eric.

          “Apology accepted, buddy,” Eric said as he put his hand out to shake with Matt.  They both had relieved smiles on their faces.  They both thought, we’ve been friends too long to let it end now.

          Then Matt said, “Oh!  Here’s something funny that my dad said.  My mom likes to talk about staying healthy, exercising, eating right, and stuff like that.  She says you’ll live longer if you treat your body right.  But when my dad has heard enough about the ‘healthy lifestyle’ stuff, he says, ‘Yes, dear.  But did you know that good health is simply the slowest possible way to die?’  Weird, but funny, huh?  Well, my mom didn’t think it was so funny, but I did.”

          Cheryl thought she’d tease Eric a little so she said, “Hey, Eric.  A little while ago you were pretty grumpy.  What gives?”

          Eric stared at Cheryl as if he was still angry. then with a serious voice said, “Yeah!  Well, sometimes I wake up Grumpy, and sometimes I just let him sleep.”

          When the laughter started, Eric smiled like Tom Cruise.  Then more laughter came as more kids realized that Eric was talking about Grumpy from the Seven Dwarfs.

          Unable to tease Eric successfully, Cheryl said, “Hey!  If FED-EX and UPS merged into one big company, would their new name be FED-UP?”

          “I just remembered something,” Matt said, hurriedly.  Before my mom and dad got back together, they were bringing me to my new martial arts school.  We parked out front and my mom and dad looked at each other very confused and surprised.  Then they both looked at me, like I had done something sneaky.  Well, to make a longer story short, they saw the sign on the big window that said: MARTIAL ARTS SCHOOL, but they thought it said: MARITAL ARTS SCHOOL.  It was as if they thought I was bringing them to a marriage counselor.  When they both realized their mistake, they laughed their butts off.”

          Cheryl’s and Matt’s jokes caused joyful laughter, but the laughter died when no one could understand Eric when he said, “Your mom and dad must look really funny with no butts.  They must have to wear that new kind of pants made from a brand new material called noacetol.’”

          The students were still quiet when they saw that Mr. B. coming to get them.

          Eric did not intend to explain his joke.  His grandfather said the joke was older than he was.

          When Mr. B. approached the tables, he noticed that the students were unusually quiet; not sad-quiet, but confused-quiet.  He thought that was very strange and hoped that the afternoon lessons would not be affected by it.

          When the class had their bathroom break and fifteen minutes of in-classroom, free time, Mr. B. brought his students to their weekly music class.  It turned out to be a fun class for the students, but not so funny for Mrs. Sicum, the music teacher.

          Mrs. Sicum asked Eric to bring the tambourine to the front of the class, but Eric politely refused to do it.  The teacher was puzzled by his reaction and asked him why he would not do it.  Eric, straight-faced, said, “The tambourine is dirty.”  The music teacher said that the tambourine gets a little dirty because it’s constantly being hit with the fingers and palms of students’ hands, but it’s nothing to worry about.

          Eric said, “No.  Not that kind of dirty.  The tambourine has pee in it.”

          “What!”  The teacher shouted.  “Of course it doesn’t have pee in it!  What on earth would make you say something like that, Eric?”

          “If you’ll write the word tambourine on the chalkboard, I’ll prove it to you,” Eric said calmly and self-assured.

          The teacher wrote: TAMBOURINE on the chalk board, then stared at Eric and said, “Well?”

          Eric looked at her sincerely and confidently replied, “Please underline the last five letters of that word.”

          The teacher looked irritated, but she underlined URINE.  Then she looked back at Eric, but before she could say anything, Eric said, “See?  I told you that the tambourine had pee in it.  And please don’t ask me to play the drum because it’s got ‘rum’ in it, and I promised my mom and dad that I wouldn’t have any booze until I’m legally old enough.  Also, don’t mention any percussion musical instrument because I can’t cuss in school.  And I definitely can’t play the bass drum.  I mean, think about it.  There’s two nasty things inside that instrument.  No, Ma’am!  Those instruments are all real bad news.”

          Everyone was laughing as the teacher stared at Eric and said, “I should have known that you had some trick up your sleeve.  Is it all out of your system now?”

          “No ma’am.  Actually, I was thinking about taking music lessons.  I can play the ‘butt horn’ really well.  Just ask anybody,” Eric teased.

          “Are you done now, young man?”

          “Well, just one more thing, Mrs. Sicum.  I would like to warn everyone about hospitals,” Eric stated.

          “Hospitals?  What do hospitals have to do with music class?” the teacher asked, in an irritated and impatient tone.

          “Well, nothing, actually, but you should not go into a hospital if you can help it.  Not very many people know how very unclean they are.”

          Now Eric had the teacher flustered, but curious and interested enough to let him continue.  She said, “How could that be?  Hospitals are usually very clean.”

          “No ma’am.  All hospitals have spit in them and that’s very unclean,” Eric said with eager eyes.

          “OK.  Tell me why you think all hospitals have spit in them.”

          “It’s because the word spit is in the word ‘hospital.’  It seems pretty clear to me.  Would you want to come to school every day if their was spit in the middle of it?”

           Above the laughter, the teacher said, “OK class.  Enough wasted time.  Let’s get back to music,” the teacher said.

          Needless to say, the teacher was glad the class ended and Eric left her room.  She didn’t like Eric’s distracting behavior and didn’t think he was funny.

          During the remainder of music class my thoughts drifted off slowly like a row boat drifting loose from its dock.  Slowly I felt I was being pulled away by the waves.  My mind kept drifting.  I began to think of how fast Maragold was growing up.  She was attracted to boys, Matt in particular.  She was pursuing hobbies (magic), and maturing physically as young girls do at her age.  These were natural events, of course, and good things, but she was no longer a little girl with an invisible, but real, friend to confide in.  She had more and more “private thoughts,” and needed me less and less.  Her life was becoming very different from when I first came to her, and especially different from my leprechaun community where we needed each other more and more as we grew older.  I was learning, especially this year, that Maragold could get along without me.  We were best friends, but I felt that we were drifting apart; slipping away from each other very slowly.  I realized that she wasn’t slipping away because she did not like me any more, or even liked me less, or that she did not believe in me.  She was just slipping away the way a maturing girl slowly loses interest in her dolls that used to seem so real and alive to her when she was younger.  But those dolls now sit in the corner of her bedroom, untouched most of the time, still giving wonderful memories of childhood, but not an important part of her quickly approaching womanhood.

          I love Maragold, not romantically, of course, but like her father loved her; with deep feelings of concern, attachment, caring and responsibility.  She was sweet, kind, gentle, and thoughtful.  She came from a home where she was loved tremendously, and it showed in her character.

          Then I thought about her father, Mr. Shane.  She would be slipping away from him very soon, too, and for the same reasons that she was slipping away from me.  Independence was just a natural part of the growing up process for humans.  I sympathized with Mr. Shane, though, because I knew that he, too, would feel the pain of Maragold’s need to be separate and independent from him.  But I also knew that we would both understand the need for it.  Losing a part of something we love will bring pain to both me and Mr. Shane.  Also, Maragold will have much more in common with her female friends and her mom just because they are female, with similar interests.  This will also cause a natural drifting away from me and her dad, especially, in the future, when boy friends become a serious issue.

          Maragold will have boy friends and girl friends, graduate from high school, go to college, and probably get married and have children.  Hopefully her life, and the life of her family will be healthy and happy.

          I wiped away a tear formed by both sadness and happiness.  My mind wondered, then soared with the clouds, as if I was in a floating and flying hypnotic state.  My thoughts and my vision were like an eagle gliding past slow moving clouds.  I could see from horizon to horizon in all directions, and still see the slightest details in a farmer’s field.  I saw the flick of a mouse’s tail, a grasshopper’s eyes, a bee flying into a flower.  I glided in a slow, lazy spiral and relaxed, then landed on a beach.  When I looked upward, the clouds above me seemed like years passing by me.  It seemed as if, suddenly, my thoughts were in the future.  At first I thought it was a delightful, “ting,” dream.  It shocked me when I realized that it was not a dream at all; it was a vision of Maragold’s future.  My heartbeat raced as the vision continued.

          Maragold was dressed in a pure white, exquisitely beautiful wedding gown.  She was standing on a sunny beach next to a tall and handsome man.  He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo.  Both people were bare footed with the warm sand caressing their feet.  The event was their marriage ceremony.

          I saw a small group of family and friends standing all around the loving couple.  I could see the orange sun setting over the Pacific Ocean, waves gently lapping the sandy shoreline as if the ocean were alive and offering it’s blessing and love.

          My vision drifted to a sign stuck into the sand.  The words on the sign said MAKENA BEACH, MAUI, HAWAII.

          I hardly had time to be amazed, when the eagle disappeared, replaced by a dove.  Now I was riding on its back as if it were a white horse.  I pressed a knee gently to the dove’s side and it glided in a circular pattern over the beach.  Then, without warning, it dove for the beach.  I had to put my wand into my vest pocket and hold onto my hat.  We landed on a tree branch very near the ceremony and observed this wonderful, joyous marriage celebration.

          When the ceremony ended, the dove swiftly darted into the sky and as we passed the clouds, three years also passed by.  The dove and I landed on a tree in the front yard of a house in Florida.  From the air, as we approached, I could see a beautiful swimming pool with clean, refreshingly clear, cool water.

          As I observed from the front yard tree, the front door opened.  Maragold, carrying a baby boy (Slone), her husband, Todd, and their fifteen month old daughter (Lily) stepped out into the sunshine.  They stopped and stood still as if they were posing for pictures.  The love they felt for each other radiated invisible sparks and heat waves—which I could easily see—each time they looked at each other.  They were deeply in love, very happy and proud of the family they had started.

          My eyes were like a camera now, flashing picture after picture of this happy family that I would never meet in real time.  I would keep all these pictures in my mind like a treasured mental album.

          It was easy to tell that both Maragold, Lily and Slone were loved deeply by the way Todd gently caressed Maragold with his arm around her waist, and the way he looked at Lily and Slone, as if the three of them were the only stars in his universe.  His thoughts of Maragold, Lily and Slone were full of love and praise, and ripe with pride.  I could tell from his thoughts that Todd loved the three of them intensely, would protect them fiercely, and valued them above anything else on Earth.  I felt very relieved, then extremely happy as I realized that Maragold, Lily and Slone would be in excellent, loving, strong hands.

          Maragold flashed a brilliant smile that meant more to me than leprechaun’s gold.  Seeing how happy she was gave me the ultimate feeling of joy.  She had a great husband and a wonderful daughter and son.  I was so proud of her and knew, also, that her mom and dad were proud of her.  They always wished the very best for her and hoped that she would always be cared for and loved the way they cared for and loved her.  I also noticed that Maragold was even more beautiful in the future—must be due to maturity—than she is in sixth grade.

          I promised myself, that every St. Patrick’s Day, I would send Maragold a bouquet of marigold flowers with shamrocks to represent our very close friendship.  Also, on St. Patrick’s Day, we would both dream of the majestic memories that we shared for three years.

          Lily’s smile was breath-taking; such a splendid child, with the kind of parents that would help her grow up feeling proud and sure of herself.

          As can happen only in dreams and visions, I saw Little Lily-Bee smiling at a friendly bee that was sitting on her nose.  The bee smiled back at her, then flew to a lily flower to sip the nectar.  When the bee looked back at Lily, it had a big smile with nectar, like honey, running down its mouth.

          When the bee flew to Lily, she was entranced by the buzzing sound of the friendly bee.  She really enjoyed the buzz, buzz, buzzing sounds.

          Slone was all wrapped up in a blanket.  He was so small that he must have been born recently.  He showed his cherub face with puckered lips, then looked up and winked at me.  It was very comical, but it was a vision where strange things happened.

          I smiled at all of them, knowing it was time for this vision to end.  My dove knew too.  It fluttered its wings slightly to let me know it was time to go.

          I found it almost impossible to leave them even though I knew it was a dream about the future.  I sat and admired all four of them, and wished for good health and happiness for all of them.

          Then, to my surprise, Maragold and Todd looked up into the tree that I was in.  They could see me perched on my white dove, like a green knight on a white horse.  They also sensed that I had to go.  They both smiled and waved good-bye to me.

          As Todd waved, I could see gently curving, blue tattoo lines along the length of his left arm.  I did not know what they represented to Todd, but I guessed that it was important to him, since the tattoo was neither small, nor hidden.  I thought they looked nice, especially since I thought they gave him the look of a Hawaiian warrior of the past.  I liked the idea even more when I thought that a warrior is the best protector a family could have to keep them safe.

          Then I put light knee pressure on the dove to let it know I was ready to go.  But when it took off from its perch, I banged my shoulder on a branch.

          But it really wasn’t a branch that hit me.  Now that I was awake I realized that it was Maragold tapping on my shoulder so we could get ready to go home.

          Maragold said, “Where were you when I went to gym class?  You usually wait outside the locker room for me.  I didn’t notice that you were gone until we began playing volley ball.”

          “Yes, I know.  I stayed in the classroom, on your desk.  I was lost in thought.”

          “You sure must have been, because we finished the science lesson, had a study time to start our homework, then went to gym class and you weren’t aware of all the time that had passed.  I’m going to my locker to get ready for home.”

          “OK,” I responded groggily.  That was some incredible dream or vision.  I shook my head to clear it, then wondered if that vision was really a clear, accurate account of Maragold’s future.  I did not want to know the future.  Such a power seemed like a curse to me, but an every-now-and-then, true and happy vision would be fine.

          On the bus, Maragold told me that, for awhile, she hadn’t notice that I was gone, especially during the volley ball games in gym class.  That had never happened before.  I saw it as another indication that we were growing apart.  It’s only natural, I told myself, but sadness still wrapped around me like a cold blanket.  It made me realize how her father would feel in a few years.

          And why did the mention of volley ball set off sparks in my brain?  Was it something important in Maragold’s future?  Perhaps it was something important to Todd, or Lily, or even to Slone.

          Then I thought of Todd being tall, lean, muscular and athletic; all traits that would be ideal for a volley ball player.  My guess was that volley ball would be Todd’s chosen sport, and that he would be very good at it.

          Suddenly I felt myself rising as Maragold lifted me and put me on her shoulder, then stood up and got in line to go to the buses.

          Mr. B. made an announcement about a sixth to eighth grade dance; a Sadie Hawkins dance.

          “What’s that?” someone shouted.

          “We don’t have time now.  I’ll explain it tomorrow,” Mr. B. said hurriedly.

          Then we all quickly followed Mr. B. down the hall, down the stairs and outside to the waiting circle of buses.

          The next morning Mr. B. told his students,  “A Sadie Hawkins dance is a special dance where a girl gets to invite a boy of her choice.  Traditionally, boys ask the girls, but a Sadie Hawkins dance reverses that procedure.”

          All the boys frowned and acted embarrassed, but the girls smiled in a teasing fashion, thoroughly enjoying the boys’ discomfort.

          Eric raised his hand quickly.

          Mr. B. saw Eric’s hand and thought, I hope I’m not going to regret letting him speak, then said, “What is it, Eric?”

          “Do we have to go to the dance, Mr. B.?” asked Eric.

          “Of course not, Eric.  No one will be forced to attend the dance.  It’s your choice.”

          “Mr. B.,” Cheryl said, “Can a sixth grader ask a fifth grader to the dance?”

          “Yes.  It’s possible to do that, but everyone is encouraged to ask someone from their own grade level.  That’s what Mrs. Plum told me,” Mr. B. explained.

          Cheryl smiled and their was a sudden brightness to her eyes and cheeks, as if she was thinking of something daring and “ting.”

          Matt said, “Mr. B., you didn’t say when the dance was.

          “Oh, yeah.  That would help, wouldn’t it?  OK, listen, please.”  The room got quiet.  Then Mr. B. continued, “The dance is the third Friday of this month, between Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving.  I’ll put the date and time on the chalk board for you.  That’s about two weeks away, so you girls will want to think about it carefully, then, if you want to, you can ask a boy to the dance before someone else asks him … and remember, you don’t have to ask a boy from your own class.  It can be a boy from one of the other sixth grade classrooms too.  To ask a boy from another grade level, you have to get permission from Mrs. Plum.”

          The remainder of the day passed quickly.  One thing dominated the minds of most students: the Sadie Hawkins dance.  Even the normal joke session at lunch time was forgotten and replaced with talk of the dance.

          However, just before everyone was done eating the school chili, Eric yelled, “Fire in the hole,” as if he were a soldier throwing a grenade down a hole in the ground that leads to an enemy’s tunnel.

          Matt asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

          Eric showed Matt a surprised look and said, “It’s meant to warn everyone of the side effect of eating this hot, rotten chili.”  Eric laughed in a nasty tone of voice as he stared at Matt.

          Most of the girls didn’t pay much attention to Eric’s humor; too rude and too crude, usually.  But one girl, named Grace, who was new to Kroy School, shyly looked at Eric, then turned her head away quickly.  Then she looked out the corner of her eyes to see Eric again.  Grace thought that she wanted to ask Eric to the Sadie Hawkins dance, but hesitated after hearing his chili fart joke.  He was sometimes rude and rather crude, but he was also handsome.  Plus, he was short, just like she was.

          Eric had seen her trying to hide the fact that she was looking at him.  She was frowning at him, then looking down at the table.  Then, suddenly, Grace looked directly into Eric’s eyes, and that look melted part of his heart.

          “Man,” he thought, “I hope she isn’t going to ask me to that silly dance.  That’s why I told the chili fart joke.  I said it loud enough to discourage any girls who may be thinking of asking me to that stupid dance.  Geez.  Didn’t she get the message?”

          He secretly looked at Grace again, but she wasn’t looking at him now.  He was thankful for that.  He noticed that she was pretty, and best of all, she was short, about the same height as he was.  Then he thought, “The heck with that!  I still don’t want to be asked to that silly dance.”

          But that night, when he received a phone call from Grace Lee, inviting him to the dance, he accepted so quickly that Grace hardly had a chance to finish her sentence.  It surprised both of them.  They talked for awhile, with some uncomfortable silences when they did not know what to say, but when they hung up the phone, they felt giddy with a new-found happiness.

          After the phone call, Eric went to his bedroom with such a big smile that his mom and dad wondered what the telephone call had been about.

          In his bedroom, Eric sat at his desk and talked to himself.  “Wow!  Grace asked me to the dance.  Neat, cool, grand … ting.”  He stood up and looked into his mirror.  “She sure surprised me,” he said to his own reflection.  “I guess I’m not so bad looking … short, but smart … and a funny, wise-arse too.”  Eric laughed at his reflection.  “Grace Lee,” he whispered.  “Nice name, pretty girl … good figure, too.  Oo-la-la!  Yippee!” he whispered a little louder and threw his arms into the air as if he’d just won an Olympic race.  He danced in a circle, arms still raised, and thought, “Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

          Then his weird, but curiously clever mind took a leap in a different direction.  He became serious and sat back down at his desk.  He wondered, “Why do people say, ‘Thank you from the bottom of their heart?’  Why don’t they say from the top, or the side, or the back of their heart?  Umm…that’s interesting.  Isn’t the bottom of your heart where all the sludge would collect, like the bottom of a barrel?  Isn’t the bottom of your heart the smallest part of your heart, too?  Hmm … sludge and the smallest part of the heart?  Uh-oh … That doesn’t sound very good or very sincere to me; not when you think about it.  He smiled and said, “OK, then.  Thank you from the top of my heart.  Yeah.  That makes very much more better sense,” he said as he laughed at the sound of his incorrect but funny sounding sentence.

          Later that night Maragold called Matt and invited him to the dance.  He stammered and stuttered a little, then the word “yes” burst from his mouth, like water from a broken dam.  He was happy to be invited, worried that he wouldn’t be, and embarrassed about both feelings.

          Cheryl also made a phone call that night.  She invited a boy to the dance and that invitation was also accepted.

                                      BERT’S QUESTIONS

                             Why isn’t there mouse-flavored cat food?

                             Do cows have calf muscles?

                                                CHAPTER  7

          One early November day, after the morning math class about mixed numerals—example: 5 ¼ = A whole number with a fraction—Maragold raised her hand.

          Mr. B. looked at her and nodded his head.

          Maragold said, “Mr. B., I have a tricky math problem that’s also funny.  It even has something to do with mixed numerals.  May I demonstrate it?”

          “Yes, you may.”

          “Ah … first I need to ask if it’s OK for me to say the word T-U-R-D?”—Maragold spelled the word.

          “It’s OK to say turd, but I hope this isn’t a gross or disgusting kind of joke.  I don’t want to have that kind of stuff in class,” Mr. B. explained.  Then he thought, I’m glad Eric isn’t the one asking, or I’d say no to him.

          “Oh … No.  It’s nothing like that,” promised Maragold.

          “OK, then, I’m going to trust you, Mara.  What’s the math problem?”

          “I need to use the chalkboard.  Is that OK?”

          “Sure.  Go ahead,” Mr. B. said, curiously.

          Maragold walked up to the chalkboard and picked up a piece of white chalk.

          Mr. B. walked to the side of the room and watched.

          Maragold said, “OK.  First I’m going to draw three trees, and then I’ll draw one small circle, for a dog turd, at the base of each tree.”

          Maragold did that quickly and turned around to face the students.  She flicked her head to get the hair out of her eyes, then asked, “Can anyone make three trees and three dog turds equal the number ten, without drawing seven more trees or dog turds?”

          Everyone looked puzzled by Maragold’s strange math problem, but she certainly had captured their attention.  It might have been Mr. B. who was the most puzzled, and the most interested.  He had no idea what Maragold was up to, and his wrinkled forehead and squinting eyes showed it.

          No one raised their hand to try to solve the problem, so Maragold looked at Mr. B. and smiled, wondering if he could figure it out.

          Mr. B. returned the smile, then shook his head back and forth, saying, “Mara, I have no idea how you can get ten out of those three trees and three dog turds.  I haven’t a clue.  You better explain it to us.”  Laughter came when Mr. B. said the word ‘turd.’

          “OK,” Maragold responded.  “You get ten by adding them together, like this:  tree and a turd, plus tree and a turd, plus tree and a turd equals ten.  See?”

          “Ahh … Very clever, Mara,” Mr. B. said with a smile.

          “Wait!” someone shouted.  “I don’t get it!  If you add them you still get three trees and three turds.  How’s that make ten and also be funny?”

          Maragold looked at Mr. B.  He said, “It’s your joke.  You explain it”

          “OK.  Look,” Maragold said as she picked up the piece of chalk and wrote on the chalkboard.  She printed: “Tree (three) and one turd (⅓), plus tree (three) and one turd (⅓), plus tree (three) and one turd (⅓) = 3 ⅓  +  3 ⅓  +  3 ⅓  =  10.”

          Maragold turned around and smiled broadly at the whole class.  Then there were groaning noises by the students who finally understood the joke.  Soft notes of laughter floated around the room like dandelion seeds in a gentle breeze.

          Mr. B. slapped his knee and laughed hilariously.  “It’s even funnier when you explain it,” he added.

          Maragold thought the joke was “ting,” but she hadn’t expected it to get such a positive and funny reaction.  She walked to her desk and sat down smiling.

          The laughter continued so loudly that Mr. B. had to hurry to the classroom door to close it so the noise wouldn’t bother other classrooms with opened doors.

          When the students had settled down, Mr. B. continued the lessons until lunch time.  There was the regular bathroom break, then the students went to lunch.

          At lunch time the class was busy talking about Maragold’s math trick.

          Robby came to the sixth grade table to talk to Matt and Eric.  He wanted Matt to come to his house and watch some self-defense CDs that his dad had bought for him.  Then Robby suggested that he and Matt should practice those self-defense techniques together.  Matt excitedly agreed to ride his bike to Robby’s house after dinner.

          By now, both Matt and Robby had heavy bags for punching and kicking.  They had them hanging up from the ceiling in their basements, along with other exercise equipment.  They had both bought used weight-lifting equipment cheaply at local yard sales, also.  The effects of their weight lifting program was just beginning to show on their arms and chests, and they were talking about it.

          Charlie overheard Matt and Robby, then leaned close to them to hear more of what they were saying.  “Ting,” he thought.  He wasn’t interested in karate, but he was very interested in losing weight and gaining muscle by lifting weights.  He was determined to lose weight by eating less and exercising more.  He wanted to start his own exercise program, including lifting weights.

          Matt noticed Charlie leaning close to him to listen.  He smiled at Charlie and slapped him on the back in a friendly gesture.  Charlie expressed his interest, so Matt and Robby both gave him tips for doing the best exercises, and how many sets and repetitions to do when first starting the weight lifting program.

          Matt looked up at the cafeteria clock, which happened to be over the cafeteria doors.  Standing in the doorway, staring at him or Charlie, were Harvey, Dan and Lee.  If you did not know them, you’d think that their smiles were friendly.  Then they were gone and Matt shook his head and raised one corner of his lips, as if he felt disgusted.

          Robby noticed Matt’s negative reaction and whispered to Eric, “Who the heck were those guys?”

          Eric, glad to finally be included in on the conversation, gave a brief summary of all the trouble that Harvey, Dan, Lee, and Dawn had created last year.

          Robby looked at Matt to see if he wanted to say anything.  He did.

          Matt said, “They’re bullies.  Harvey, the big guy, is the leader.  Dan and Lee will do anything he says.  Best stay away from those three hoodlums.  Sometimes a girl named Dawn is with them.  She’s bad news too.”

          After lunch Mr. B. allowed a short playtime, then a bathroom break.  After that, there was a review class for the upcoming social studies test about Chili.

          At the end of the day, during the study and homework time, the classroom phone rang.  When Mr. B. put the receiver back in its cradle, he said to Eric, “That was Mrs. Plum, Eric.  She wants to see you right now.  I hope you haven’t been misbehaving and getting yourself in trouble.  Please go quietly and quickly to her office.”

          Everyone’s attention was now focused on Eric.  He said, “Geez!  I didn’t do anything … I don’t think I did anything wrong … I hope.  I don’t know why the Lady Bug would want to see me.”

          “Why did you just call Mrs. Plum a ‘Lady Bug,’ Eric?” asked Mr. B.

          “Oh! That? ... Well, she’s the lady that bugs me, you know?  She says things like: ‘behave yourself,’ ‘be a good boy,’ ‘be polite,’ ‘use your manners,’ and stuff like that.  So sometimes that lady bugs me,” Eric added.

          “Oh, well … I’ll make sure I tell her for you, OK?” Mr. B. asked.

          “Oh!  Man!  Please don’t do that, or I’ll never get her off my back,” Eric responded with his eyes pleading as they nearly popped out of his eye sockets.

          “Get going.  You’re wasting time,” Mr. B. said.

          Eric walked out the classroom door quickly.

          When Eric was gone, Mr. B. told the rest of the students to stop working and listen because he had something very funny to tell them.

          The secretary, Mrs. McEvoy, who was a good friend of Mr. B., and who knew what was going to happen to Eric, smiled brightly as Eric entered the office.

          “Good afternoon, Eric.  How nice to see you,” Mrs. McEvoy said with charm, enthusiasm and sincerity.  “Mrs. Plum has been looking forward to your visit.  You may go into her office now.”

          Eric’s brow wrinkled with suspicion and unease.  Mrs. McEvoy was an older lady, extremely nice, but not usually quite this nice.  She’s usually nice, like a cake, but now she was nice like a cake loaded with frosting, Eric thought.  Eric didn’t usually come to the office unless he was in trouble.  Mrs. McEvoy was usually nice to him, then too, so he calmed himself and smiled.

          Eric said, “Thank you,” turned and approached the principal’s office.  He peeked into the room and saw Mrs. Plum looking down and writing on some paperwork that lay flat on her desk.  She sensed his presence and, without raising her head, she told Eric to come in and sit in the chair that was in front of her desk.

          Her voice didn’t seem nearly as pleasant as the secretary’s voice.  Eric felt as if the room didn’t have enough air in it, and the walls seemed to be closing in on him.  He took a deep breath, but felt hot and wiped his moist forehead.

          Mrs. Plum looked up and said, “Do you know what tomorrow is, Eric?”

          “Ah … Friday?” he responded hesitantly.

          “Do you know what the cafeteria will be serving for lunch, tomorrow?”

          “Oh, sure.  It’s my favorite day.  It’s a chili day.  Why’s that important?” Eric asked cautiously.

          “How do you already know that tomorrow will be a cold day?  Did you see or hear the weather forecast?  Well, it is November.  I guess we should be expecting more chilly days.

          “No, I didn’t mean the weather.  I meant the chili food,” Eric said excitedly.

          “Why would you be excited about cold food?  Do you prefer your food chilly?  Some people do prefer cold chili, but I like it hot.”

          Eric was getting frustrated as he looked at Mrs. Plum’s serious expression.  She really doesn’t understand? he asked himself.  “I didn’t say I liked chilly food!  I said that I like the food, chili.’”

          “Well now, Eric.  What’s the difference between cold food and chilly food?  It’s basically the same, right?” Mrs. Plum stated while trying not to laugh.

          Eric rolled his eyes in annoyance.  “Geez!  You don’t understand what I’m saying.  I’m not talking about chilly, cold food.  I’m talking about the hot food, chili.  You know?  The chili type food.”

          “What?  Doesn’t chilly food make your teeth hurt and give you a freeze headache, like when you bite into really cold ice cream?  Really chilly food does that to me, you know.  That’s why I like to have my chili hot.”

          “No!  No!  No!” came Eric’s increasingly frustrated voice.  “You aren’t listening carefully to what I’m saying.”  Eric took a deep breath to calm himself.  “I’m talking about when the cafeteria has chili days.”

          “Oh!  Now I understand.  Yes, I must agree.  The cafeteria is sometimes too cold during lunch time.  I suppose it’s that whole wall of windows that can’t keep the cold out.  Maybe I can ask the head custodian to do something about that so the cafeteria isn’t so chilly.  I sure don’t want any of my students catching a cold and being sick,” Mrs. Plum replied, with a slight smile that she could not stop.

          Eric swallowed and stared at Mrs. Plum.  He was wondering if she was really as goofy as she seemed to be.  But she had a nice smile.  He’d seen her when she was mad and much preferred the smile that she showed now.  Eric settled down and desperately tried not to be sarcastic.  He wanted to keep her smiling, so he tried to stay calm.

          Eric responded, “I guess we’re having a misunderstanding, Mrs. Plum.  I don’t think you understand me.”

          “What do you mean?  I understand every word that you’ve said.”

          “Yeah … but … Well, you may hear every word clearly, but, for some reason, you’re not understanding my meaning.  Actually, this whole conversation is getting confusing.”  Eric was about to say something that he did not want to say.

          Eric looked down at his hands, straining for control.  His hands were laying in his lap.  To distract himself, and to prevent a burst of anger, he pinched the web of skin between his left thumb and index finger.  He pinched hard, felt the pain, and it helped him focus on being patient.  This was, he thought, no time to be hot-tempered, or a wise-arse; not with the principal.  Plus, his mom and dad would kill him if he mouthed-off to the principal.  He took a deep breath.

          “So what is it that you think I don’t understand?” Mrs. Plum asked.

          “You don’t understand the kind of chili that I’m talking about.”

          “Oh dear.  I’m so sorry.  You may be right.  I thought you were talking about the cold kind of chilly, but I suppose that you were talking about the food that people eat in the country of Chile.  That’s what I didn’t understand, right?”

          Eric wanted to scream at her.  Instead he said, “What?  No!  I wasn’t talking about the kind of food that the people in Chile eat.  I doubt they even eat chili.  You’re getting me all confused, Mrs. Plum.”

          Mrs. Plum shook her head.  “Gee, Eric, I’m having a very difficult time understanding you, too.  You’re also getting me very confused now.  Please try to be more clear about what you’re saying.  Now, listen to me.  I’m talking about the country named Chile.  It’s the country in South America that’s on the western border of Argentina, next to the Pacific Ocean.  You know where I mean?”

          Eric finally lost control.  “Are you crazy?  Why are you talking about the country Chile, now?  A little while ago you talked about the kind of chilly that means something’s cold.  But from the beginning, I’ve been talking about a particular kind of food called chili.  And Mr. Bunnlow has taught us a lot about Chile, the country, so of course I know where it is.”  Eric stared at Mrs. Plum, then down at his lap and thought, Oh, crap!  Now I’m in trouble.

          Mrs. Plum:  “Oh!  I’m so sorry, Eric.  Well, I thought you were talking about eating the food, chili, on a cold, chilly, day, in the country called Chile.”

          Eric thought, “Man!  She’s not just Mrs. Lady Bug; she’s a mental case with a lot of screws and bolts dangerously loose.  She’s only playing with a partial deck, she’s only got one oar in the water, and the lights are out in her attic.”  The mental sarcasm helped him to be less agitated.  He even smiled stiffly.

          “Mrs. Plum.  Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.  Are you feeling OK?  Should I get Mrs. McEvoy?”  Mrs. McEvoy was hiding close to the doorway, listening and desperately holding back bursts of laughter that were aching to shoot out of her mouth.

          Mrs. Plum was now having a much easier time not laughing at her practical joke on Eric, and said confidently, “I feel just fine, Eric, but thank you for your concern.  But, you know what?  I think the problem is that you just are not being very clear about what you want to say.  It has caused a lot of confusion between us.  Mr. Bunnlow says that you’re much smarter than you look … ah … oops … I mean he says that you are much smarter than your grades indicate.”  Mrs. Plum smiled at the grimace on Eric’s face when she made that intentional mistake.  “He says that you could do much better, but seem to find it satisfactory to just slide by with average grades.  He also says that you are logical, witty, and explain things very well.  That’s why I find this conversation unusually frustrating.  You have been confusing me by talking about three different words that sound alike.  I wish you would make up your mind.  Do you want to talk about the word ‘chilly,’ that means something is cold, or the word ‘chili,’ that means a saucy, bean and hamburger food, or the word ‘Chile,’ that’s a country in South America?”  Mrs. Plum paused to stare at Eric, withholding a well-hidden smile.

          “What?  I’ve only been talking about one thing, and that’s ‘chili,’ the food called ‘chili.’  Geez,  Mrs. Plum, you’re the one who’s talking about the other two words that sound like chili.  Can we just move on to why you wanted to see me?  I don’t mean any disrespect, but you’re making me nuts with all that chili, chilly and Chile stuff.  Anyway, did I do something wrong?  Is that why I’m here?”

          “Actually, Eric, I kind of forgot why I called you here.  But I’d like to clear-up the confusion that you’re having.  Just think about the things you want to say, then be logical and clear with your explanations.”

          Eric wanted to pull his hair out and scream.  He wanted to kick her desk, then pound on her desk, then growl his frustration at her.

          Then he thought he heard laughter in the outer office.  He thought that someone must have said something funny to Mrs. McEvoy.  But this visit to Mrs. Plum was no laughing matter.  If he didn’t get away from her very soon, his head would explode and he’d be sent in a straightjacket to the local funny-farm where he could talk about squeezing orange juice from cows.

          Eric said calmly, “I haven’t been trying to confuse you, Mrs. Plum.  It seems, to me, that you are trying to confuse me.  It’s very simple, really.  Chili, c-h-i-l-i, is a food with beans, hamburger, and spicy tomato sauce.  The cafeteria has it on the menu regularly.  On the days the cafeteria serves chili, those days are commonly called ‘chili days’ by most students.  See?  Simple.”

          “Oh, sure.  That’s simple enough.  I know what you mean now,” Mrs. Plum answered sympathetically.

          Eric yelled, “Yippee!  That’s what I was talking about.  Not the other two homophones.  You know, homophones, words that sound alike but have different meanings; chili, chilly and Chile.”

          “Homophones, huh?  Mr. Bunnlow has taught you that?” said Mrs. Plum.

          “Sure,” Eric said.

          “Well then … what I don’t understand, Eric, is, if you were talking about the spicy food called chili, then why were you mentioning how cold the cafeteria is?” Mrs. Plum responded with just a flicker of a smile.

          Eric looked at her carefully and begged, “Please stop!  Either you’re crazy or I am, and if we talk any longer I know it will be me that goes nuts.  Do you know that you’re really a weird principal?  I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you’re in the wrong business.  You should be in politics, or maybe a school superintendent.  You’re already an expert with all that double-talk nonsense.  Man!  I don’t get you.”

          “Eric,” Mrs. Plum said sternly, “please don’t call me a ‘man.’  Saying something like that only proves to me that you are extremely confused today.  Don’t you see what’s happening?  You started by complaining that the cafeteria was too chilly.  Then you lead me to believe that you are also talking about the kind of food that the people in Chile like to eat, then—”

          “Nope!  Not true!  OK!” Eric said with a raised voice.  Let’s just say that I’m nuts, crazy, wacko, cookoo, a mental case, maybe even an extra-mental case or an excremental case.  But, please, please, no more talk about those homophones.  Pretty please,” Eric begged.

          When Mrs. McEvoy heard Eric’s begging, she laughed loudly, then quickly stepped away from the principal’s door so that Eric wouldn’t see her.

          Eric grew suspicious and Mrs. Plum saw it, so she distracted him by saying, “Well, Eric, at least I’m not like you.  Who in their right mind likes to eat chilly chili?  Just you, right?  Yep.  Only a wacko would like to eat cold chili.”

          “Now wait a second!  I never said that I liked chilly chili.  I like my chili hot, or at least warm.  You’re trying to put more words in my mouth.”

          “How about if I just put chili con carne, the food, in your mouth, instead of words.  Would that be better?  Of course you’ll have to wait until tomorrow because tomorrow is a chili day.  You did know that, right?”

          Eric was thinking, “Do I know that?  Damn!  That’s how this whole mess started.  Of course I know that!”  His eyes bugged out in frustration, but he forced himself to look at Mrs. Plum calmly, even though he was getting a bad headache.

          “Mrs. Plum.  Can I leave and go back to my classroom now?  I’m getting a headache.”

          “Eric, you should say ‘may I’ instead of ‘can I.’  But you may relax now.  I understand you perfectly.  I’ve only been teasing you all this time.  I also like the cafeteria’s chili.  The only thing I don’t like about the cafeteria’s chili is the way the school smells at the end of the day.  You know what I mean?” she said while smiling at Eric as if they shared a secret together.

          “OK!  Yeah!  Now you’re talkin’ my language.  Chili days are smelly days,” Eric said with a perked up smile and excited voice.

          Mrs. Plum and Eric could not stop themselves from laughing.  She slapped her desk lightly, pointed to Eric and said, “Gotcha!  Gotcha good, too!”

          “Yep, ya sure did,” Eric said as he heard more laughter coming from the doorway.  He looked and saw Mrs. McEvoy holding her hand over her mouth, trying, unsuccessfully, to muffle her laughter as it exploded like gas bubbles from a shaken Pepsi-Cola bottle.

          Eric turned and looked at Mrs. Plum.  His headache vanished and he felt relieved.  He said to Mrs. Plum, “You really had me going for a while.  I was really thinking that you were a very crazy lady.  So why were you teasing me?  I never heard of a principal doing something like that before.”

          Mrs. Plum signaled Mrs. McEvoy to enter the room.  Then all three people laughed again.  Mrs. McEvoy patted Eric on the shoulder and said, “You’ve been teased by an expert, young man, and it sure was fun listening to you fumble with words and get entirely frustrated.”

          “I know.  I never expected something like this,” Eric said, red faced with embarrassment, but grinning.  Laughter flooded the room.  Then Eric looked at Mrs. Plum and said, “Are we best friends now?  Can I go back to being a teacher terror?”

          “Don’t get a swelled head.  No, we aren’t best friends.  I’m the principal and an adult.  I expect you’re behavior and grades to improve.  We are all hoping that you will work harder.  Some day you’ll come to a fork in the road and you’ll need to make an important decision about which way to go.  That decision may change the rest of your life.  Do you understand?” Mrs. Plum said.

          “What if I come to a fork in the road, but I need a spoon?  Should I just take a detour until I come to a spoon in the road?  Will a decision like that affect the rest of my life?  And what about a butter knife?  I can’t go through life without a butter knife,” Eric laughed.

          “Mr. Bunnlow tells me that you’re a nice kid, but that you can be a real prankster and class comedian.  This time you are the one that got tricked and teased.  How did that make you feel?  If you do it to other kids, how will you make them feel?  From what I hear, you’re not mean, but you are a little stinker,” said Mrs. Plum.

          “Oh, no!  Not true!  You must have heard wrong because when chili gives me gas, I’m a big stinker, not a little stinker,” Eric said, raising his chin to show pride.

          Mrs. Plum said, “Well, here’s a surprise for you.  I’ve never done this kind of prank to a student before; probably won’t ever do it again, even though it was fun seeing the looks on your face.  Actually it was Mr. Bunnlow who asked me to do this to you.  He said he owed you for some pranks and jokes that you did in his classroom.  I liked the idea and thought that it may help me to get to know you better. So one day Mr. Bunnlow and I got together after school.  We wrote a script about the things that I might say to you.  We figured that once I got started, I’d be OK, especially because you’d never expect a principal to do this to you.  It turned out to be fun for me, and Mr. Bunnlow gets to pay you back for being a prankster.  And maybe you learned something too.  But, remember, it was all in fun.  Nothing mean was intended.”

          “Yep.  I have egg on my face and the yolk is on me, but it sure was eggs-citing.  And I’m not chicken to admit it either,” Eric said with a giggle.”  Then, “Hey!  Mrs. Plum.  Your room is getting chilly.  Don’t you think so?” Eric said as he wrapped his arms around himself, pretending that he was cold.

          Mrs. Plum saw a homophone joke coming.  She waved her index finger at Eric.  “No way,” she said.  “Now get out of here and go back to your room … oh … and thanks for being a good-sport.”

          As Eric left the room, his lips smiling like a crescent moon, Mrs. Plum and Mrs. McEvoy heard him singing, “Beans, beans, that musical fruit.  The more you eat, the more you toot, and the more you toot, the better you feel, so eat beans at every meal.”

          Mr. B. had already explained to his students that he and the principal were playing a trick on Eric.  He also explained how the trick worked and how Mrs. Plum was going to do it.

          Dear reader, I was with Eric all the time and I thought it was a hilariously entertaining experience.  I flew back to the classroom ahead of Eric to tell Maragold and Matt what had happened.

          When Eric walked into the classroom, a loud burst of laughter erupted and rattled the windows.

          Eric’s face turned red, but he was smiling.  He pointed to Mr. B. accusingly and said loudly, “I should have known better than try to mess with you.  What you did was very mean, rotten, vicious, cruel and child abuse.”  Eric laughed but tried hard to make Mr. B. feel guilty.  Then Eric said, “But I must admit that you really paid me back in style.  And you know what?  I had two women giving me their complete attention.  I’m so good looking that I had to push them away just to stop them from hugging and kissing me.  I can’t help it, Mr. B.  It’s tough being a chick magnet.”

          It was a good thing that the door was closed because the classroom exploded as if the laughter was chunks of hot lava shooting out of a volcano.  The laughter was so intense that most faces were red, some eyes were watering, and many students were holding their stomachs because their muscles hurt from the intense laughter.

          Eric sat in his chair, smiling, as he ignored everyone.

          When the laughter had nearly stopped, Mr. B. told the students to get ready for home.  There was still mild laughter when the students lined up.  Mr. B. reminded the students that tomorrow there was a social studies test about Chile.  The laughter stopped, replaced by groans and shaking heads as the students went to their buses.

          The next morning Cheryl showed Mr. B. a test prayer poem that she wrote the night before.  Mr. B. smiled and asked her to read it to the class, before the test.  So after attendance, announcements and the pledge, Cheryl came to the front of the room and read her poem:

                                      TEST PRAYER

                             NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO REST.

                             I PRAY TO PASS TODAY’S TEST.

                             BUT IF I DIE BEFORE I WAKE,

                             YIPPEE!  IT’S A TEST I’LL NEVER TAKE.

          “Can’t say any prayers in school, Mr. B.  School and religion have to be kept separate.” Eric said with prideful knowledge..

          “Let me tell you a secret, Eric.  As long as schools give tests … there will be silent prayers in school.  Anyway, Cheryl could just rename it and call it her TEST POEM,” Mr. B. responded, then smiled at Eric.

          Mr. B. passed out the social studies tests.  He liked to give tests the first thing in the morning, while his students’ minds were fresh and uncluttered by a half day of events, and undisturbed by school problems, frustrations and the confusion that a school day may bring to some students.

          Mr. B. announced to the class, “If you’ve been paying attention, taking notes, and have studied the information handouts that I gave you, you’ll do well on this test.  Don’t get nervous, just do the best you can.  There’s an extra-credit question at the end of the test, if you’d like to try it.”

          Mr. B. winked at Eric when he made that statement.  It turned out that the extra-credit question was: Explain the different meanings for the homophones Chile, chilly, and chili, then use all three words in one sentence.

          There were smiles and quiet giggles and laughter when the students came to the extra-credit question.

          Mr. B. circulated around the room to see if each student had placed his/her name and date on their test paper, and had answered all the questions.  While doing this, he saw some eyes wandering and quickly said, “Please keep your eyes on your own paper.  I would like to see how much you remember, not how well you can copy what someone else remembers.”

          When all the tests were completed, Mr. B. collected them.  He looked up and saw Eric’s hand raised.

          “What is it, Eric?” Mr. B. said.

          “Mr. B.  I know that we shouldn’t cheat because it’s dishonest.  But sometimes it’s tempting.  That’s why it kind of bothers me that I can rearrange the letters in the word TEACHER, and get the word CHEATER.  Isn’t that an awful feeling?  It makes me suspicious of teachers,” Eric said with a teasing smile.  Giggles floated around the room like soap bubbles.

          “Well, Eric, an anagram”—Mr. B. wrote the word on the chalk board—“is a word with the letters rearranged so that it makes a different word.  So ‘cheater’ is an anagram of ‘teacher.’  But ‘teacher’ and ‘cheater’ are just two different words that happen to have the same exact letters.  There’s nothing strange about that.  It’s just a coincidence.  It certainly doesn’t mean that they are connected in any way.”

          “Maybe,” Eric continued with a smirk spreading across his lips.

          Mr. B. saw the smirk and said, “OK, let’s explore this some more.  Your name, Eric, has four letters.  An anagram of your name can be RICE.  Now,” Mr. B. said firmly, “you don’t look like rice.  I’m sure you don’t feel like rice.  You can’t be cooked or eaten like rice.  You don’t smell like rice … uh … beans, maybe, but not rice.  Are you rice just because rice is an anagram of your name?”

          The students laughed at the reference to ‘beans,’ but Eric kept a straight face, as if to say that he didn’t know what anyone could be laughing about.

          “So,” Mr. B. continued, “I think we can all agree that you are not rice because your name is Eric, any more than I am a cheater because I’m a teacher.  Understand, my fine friend?”

          “Yep, but I was hoping you wouldn’t wiggle out of it so easily,” said Eric.

          Mr. B. smiled at Eric and replied, “Eric, of all the things you may have lost in your short life, I’m sure that it’s your mind that you’ll miss the most.  Just kidding.  OK, class.  Let’s get back to work.”  Mr. B. continued with the next lesson.

          Veteran’s Day came and since Mr. B. was a veteran of four years in the U.S. Navy, he took extra time to explain the importance of this day.

          On a more humorous side, Mr. B. also jokingly said that Vet’s Day had nothing to do with veterinarians.

          Mr. B. also started reading both funny and serious poems to his students just prior to their morning, independent reading assignments.  He wanted to prepare them for their coming poetry lesson.

          After a few days of reading poems to his students, he informed them that they should practice writing poems in their journals because, in December, they would be having a poetry contest.  They would also read their best poems orally at the front of  the classroom.

          After a classroom full of disappointed groans—except for Cheryl, who was excited—Mr. B. continued to tell the class that they could write funny or serious poems and that he would teach them easy ways to write different kinds of poems.  Then they should practice writing them in their journals and in December they would be reading the one that they thought was their best poem.

          Then Mr. B. told his students that he would be making a very large tree, out of construction paper.  It would be placed on the hallway wall, outside their room, so that he could hang their poems on the “Poet Tree.”

                                      BERT’S QUESTIONS

                   Would a fly without wings be called a walk?

                   Why is there an expiration date on sour cream?

                                                CHAPTER  8

          Middle November arrived with a cold chill that negatively affected some students’ moods, as well as Mr. B.’s.

          It was a depressing time of year for anyone whose mood was affected by the lack of bright sunshine.  Winter in the Rochester, New York area, being close to the Great Lakes, has many cloudy, dark and dreary days.  To make moods worse, the trees were bare, their leaves having been torn off by bitter-cold winds.  The leaves were battered continuously, eventually becoming heavy with wetness, then buried under snow until the spring rot.

          To Mr. B. the sight of bare limbed trees was a very depressing sight, like a painting of a lush, summer scene done only in gray and black.

          Mr. B. did not take his class outside in the cold, winter months.  Recess time was spent in the classroom, shortly after lunch.

          Some students’ behaviors were also dulled at this time of year because it was close to report-card time.  However, the Sadie Hawkins dance was coming soon and the girls were excited. Outwardly, the boys pretended that the dance was no big deal.  Inwardly, most boys were both scared and excited.

          Mr. B. was cheery about the dance because he and his wife, Sandra, would be two of the six chaperones at the dance.  Mr. B. thought that it would be fun and insightful to watch the boys’ and girls’ behaviors toward each other.

          When the Saturday night Sadie Hawkins dance finally arrived at the Kroy School, the first half hour was dominated by mixtures of happiness, fear, and awkwardness, but mostly embarrassment.  Dancing meant holding hands and taking a position that was very much like hugging.  Bodies came close together and many faces were red because of that.

          The high school gym area was brightly lit and decorated beautifully.  The bleachers had been pulled out so students could sit.  Colored ribbons and brightly colored balloons hung from the walls.

          The boys and girls were dressed nicely, with boys having neat hair cuts and girls having had their hair styled by moms or beauticians.  They wore some of their best clothes and it was apparent that the boys had used their fathers’ cologne and the girls had used their moms’ perfume.  The gym smelled like a florist shop.

          Maragold and Matt stood together, near the punch bowl.  Matt towered over Maragold, but they were a fine looking pair.  Soon they were met by Eric and Grace.  Both girls looked like beautiful flowers.  Matt and Eric looked like business men with ties and sport coats that obviously cramped their movements, which made them shrug and pull at their coats and ties to rearrange them for comfort.

          I was there, wearing my best, traditional green, leprechaun suit.  But neither Maragold nor Matt seemed to notice me.  Their focus and concentration was on each other.  I couldn’t blame them.  They had more important “ting” things on their minds.

          Suddenly Cheryl and her date filled the gym doorway.  The mystery had just ended.  Cheryl’s date was Robby.  Robby, like Matt, towered over his date.

          Soon all three couples were standing together with contagious, smiling faces, but hesitating to dance.

          Their classmates, as well as seventh and eighth graders, milled around, talking and laughing.  They were also very nervous about the first dance; worrying about stepping on toes, bad breath, bad hair day, being at a loss for words, and other things that they feared might embarrass them.

          At that point no one noticed Harvey and Dawn as they entered the gym.  Seconds later Dan and Lee entered, dressed badly and with their hair looking like it was greased before it went through a hurricane.  Their hair looked like spikes were sticking out of their heads.  If any balloons fell on their heads, they would certainly pop.

          Maragold wanted everyone to feel at ease.  She knew that a few jokes would do that.  She smiled at her friends, then said, “I have some alphabet jokes to tell you.  Wanna hear them?”

          “Of course,” Matt said happily, not really wanting to dance yet.

          “OK.  What are the three most unfriendly letters in the alphabet?”

          Five curious faces looked at Maragold.  Then they looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

          “Stumped all of you, huh?” Maragold said.  “Well the three most unfriendly letter of the alphabet are the letters N-M-E because they sound like the word ‘enemy.’”  Maragold looked at her friends who were not laughing and said, “Hey!  Don’t laugh all at once!  Try this one then.  What two letters really stink?”

          “PU,” shouted Eric.  “That’s so old it’s written on cave walls.

          “Did you write it there, Eric,” teased Grace.

          Eric’s face reddened slightly.

          Grace gently grabbed Eric by the arm, turned slightly for privacy and whispered, “Just kidding, handsome.  You look really nice.”

          Eric froze, as his face blushed a deep red.  Then a bead of sweat appeared on his upper lip.  When Grace stopped whispering in his ear, he shivered.

          Grace’s warm breath had given him a “ting” feeling.

          The other two couples saw the shiver and started laughing at Eric.

          Grace had not meant for that to happen, so she also blushed.

          Eric and Grace looked at each other shyly, then joined in with their own laughter.  Eric reached out and held Grace’s hand.

          Maragold continued with jokes.  “What three letters show the most action?”  Maragold saw smiling faces, but no one guessed.  She said, “None of you can even guess?  I’ll tell you what.  I’ll ask the question part of the jokes, then I’ll just answer them quickly, since all of your brains are numb.”

          “That’s a good idea,” added Cheryl, “especially since we probably won’t know the answers”

          Robby said, “You haven’t told us what letters show action.

          “Yeah!  And I shouldn’t tell you.  You all act humorless tonight,” Maragold shouted because of the background noise.  The three letters that show the most action are N-R-G.  N-R-G … Get it? ... Energy.”

          Each of her friends smiled, giving Maragold some encouragement.

          Maragold continued, “Which three letters are the most musical? … P-N-O, which sounds like ‘piano.’  I’m on a roll now.”

          Eric thought, “I hope it isn’t my dinner roll.”

          “What two letters have nothing in them? ... M-T … as in the word empty.

          “What two letters show jealousy? ... N-V as in the word envy.

          “What letter is the smartest? ... Y is.  ‘Y is’ sounds like wise.

          “And last.  What letter’s favorite color is yellow?”

          Maragold couldn’t answer that question because all three boys yelled, “P, as in the word PEE!”

          Teachers were circulating around the room encouraging the students to dance, so the dance floor started to fill up.  One of the single female teachers got caught up in the music and was dancing by herself, swinging her hips and feet to the rhythm of the music.  There was a lot of pointing and laughter aimed at her.

          The three boys, all of them holding the hands of their dates, slowly walked out onto the dance floor.  A fast dance was playing and Eric felt really awkward.  Matt and Robby were dancing well because of their karate training and kata routines, which are similar to dance routines.

          Eric knew the music would only last for two or three minutes, but it seemed like an eternity to him as he performed each awkward step.  But by the third dance Eric finally felt more at ease and was having some fun, especially during the slow dances.  He didn’t even have to stare down at his feet to make them keep moving.

          Also, Grace was very encouraging as she smiled at Eric.  She moved with the limber grace of a ballet dancer.

          The other two couples were all smiles and happy feet.  They weren’t self-conscious any more, and their growing confidence gave them the energy that propelled them around the dance floor as if they were on a merry-go-round.

          After the fifth fast dance, Eric was huffing and puffing from the exercise and the heat, so he and Grace sat on the bleachers, each drinking a can of cold soda.  Then the other two couples joined them, guzzling down their own sodas.  All three boys took off their sports coats to cool off.

          They were quiet for a minute, drinking soda and catching their breath when Robby gently poked Matt on the upper arm.

          Matt looked at Robby, who moved his head and eyes toward a different part of the gym, with a concerned look on his face.

          “Somebody’s watching you; staring at you,” whispered Robby.

          “Who?  Where?” Matt asked.

          “On the bleachers, across the dance floor, opposite us, and near the upper right hand corner.  A big guy and a nice looking girl,” Robby whispered again.

          Matt looked and his smile disappeared instantly.  He said, “They’re the kids we had trouble with last year.  They’re seventh graders now, although I have no idea how Harvey could have passed sixth grade.  The other two boys are Dan and Lee, Harvey’s pals.  Don’t know how they could have passed either.  They both act so dumb, someone could say that there’s delicious tasting bottles of dehydrated water for sale at this dance, and they’d be the first ones to rush and buy a bottle.”

          “Who’s the pretty girl?  And what’s she doing with him?” Robby asked.

          Matt replied, “Her name’s Dawn.  Kind of pretty and a talented singer, but her personality is messed-up.  She’s very mean.  I wouldn’t go near her.”

          Maragold, Cheryl, Grace and Eric were wondering about the whispering.

          “What’s going on with you two?  Why all the whispering?” Maragold inquired.

          Robby looked at Matt, his expression saying that Matt should be the one to explain.

          Matt hesitated, then said, “Harvey, Dawn, Dan and Lee are staring at us.  They’re probably going to start some trouble.  I sure hope not, though.  I promised Mr. B. that I wouldn’t fight in school.”

          “Where are they?” Maragold asked.

          Matt looked at the opposite bleachers, but the upper right corner was empty now.  “They’re gone.  They were right there.”  Matt pointed to the upper right corner, across the dance floor.

          “Are you sure,” Cheryl asked.

          Robby answered, “Matt’s right.  I saw them and pointed them out to him.  They were there a minute ago, just staring this way.  Matt told me the big guy is Harvey.  His pals are Dan and Lee and the girl is Dawn. You guys had trouble with them last year.”  Robby continued, “That Harvey sure is big.  Sure doesn’t look like a seventh grader.  He doesn’t look like someone you want to mess with, either.”

          “Yeah?” Eric nearly shouted loud enough to be heard over the music.  “Matt beat him up in the boys’ bathroom last year.”

          Robby looked at Matt.  “You did?” he asked.

          “I was really lucky that one time.  I had fast hands.  It seemed like I was faster and stronger than usual.  Anyway, you’re right, he’s still no one to mess with … physically.  Mentally, he acts about as sharp as a basketball.  At least  that’s the way he acts.  I think he’s flunked a couple grades so he just gets passed on to the next grade now,” Matt said with worry in his voice.

          “Yes.  I agree with Matt,” Maragold stated.  “He probably should be a ninth grader.  It wouldn’t surprise me any, if you could cut him in half like a tree, that you’d find more rings than a pretty high school girl’s cell phone gets in a week.”

          Eric said, excitedly, “There’s Dan and Lee over there!”  He pointed.  “I guess no girls would come with them.  Can’t blame ‘em.  Look at their dirty pants, stained shirts and their greasy hair.  Oh!  I’ll bet the four of them are the main reason why Charlie wouldn’t come to this dance.  I know that they can’t pick on him when they’re on the bus any more, but I’ll bet they would try to do it here.  Charlie is very shy and Harvey, Lee, and Dan can be very intimidating, … well, Harvey is.  Dan and Lee wouldn’t be much without Harvey.”

          Cheryl said, “Did you know that Charlie is trying to lose weight?  In library class this week I saw the title of one of his books.  He tried to hide it, but I saw it.  The name of the book was: Chew On This.  The cover said it was written for kids.”

          “It was a diet book?” Grace asked in a surprised voice.

          “Not exactly,” Cheryl responded.  “I had to go to ‘Amazon dot com’ to see what the book was about.” … Cheryl paused to think.

          “Well, are you going to tell us or not?” Eric asked impatiently.

          “I’m thinking.  Geez!  Take it easy.  The book was written by a guy named Schlosser.  He writes about how awful most food from the popular fast food restaurants are.  After reading the summary of the book you’ll feel like dieting and avoiding all fast food places.  This Schlosser guy also wrote an adult book about the harmful affects of fast food.  That book’s title is: Fast Food Nation.  The book summary said some parts of the book are very gross because few people really know what’s in fast food, or how it’s processed before it reaches the customer.”  Cheryl saw Matt and Robby smiling at her.  She said, “Did I say something funny?”

          Robby said, “No.  It’s just that we already know about Charlie.  He told us that he wanted to eat less and exercise more so he could lose weight.  But he asked us not to tell anyone.  That’s why we haven’t mentioned it to any of you.”

          Eric said, “I hope he has a lot of success because I know what it’s like to get picked on.  I’m too short for my age and he’s too fat.  People like us get teased a lot.”

          Matt became lost in his thoughts, but after a few seconds he stood up on the bleachers and stretched his cramped muscles.

          “Where are you going?” Maragold asked.

          “To see Mr. B.  I made a promise to him and I don’t want to break it.  But if Harvey starts a fight, I’m going to fight back,” Matt said in a determined voice.

          “I don’t think he meant that you couldn’t defend yourself.  He just wanted you to do everything possible to avoid a fight.  You know?  Like out-think him.” said Maragold, the tone of her voice sounding very concerned.

          “Well, I can avoid a fight by going home right now,” Matt said. “That would solve the problem really well.”

          “Wait a second,” Eric interrupted, “you have a right to be here.  You’re not doing anything wrong.  Why should you leave?  Going home is not something that Mr. B. would expect of you in order to avoid a fight.  You’re being silly about this, Matt.”

          Maragold grabbed Matt’s upper arm and said, “Eric’s right, Matt.  You shouldn’t have to leave the dance just to avoid Harvey.  He’s the trouble-maker, not you.  And I think you’re right telling Mr. B. about some possible trouble.  He may be able to stop it right away just by talking to Harvey, Dan, Lee, and Dawn.”

          The whole group agreed, then followed Matt and Maragold down the bleachers and across the gym floor to where Mr. and Mrs. B. were holding hands as they watched the students having fun.

          On the way to see Mr. B., Maragold could still feel the sensations that she got after holding Matt’s upper arm.  Matt’s arm muscles were hard; she could feel the strength.  He was definitely a little bigger and stronger as a result of his karate exercises and his weight lifting routines with Robby.  But his muscles were hidden under a lose fitting long-sleeved shirt.  She wondered if his chest muscles felt like his arm had.  At that point I could no longer read her private thoughts … and I was grateful.

          I was kind of bored so I flew off Maragold’s shoulder and went exploring.

          The Maragold gang stood by Mr. and Mrs. Bunnlow and got their attention.

          When Mr. B. turned and saw them, Matt said, “Mr. B., can I speak to you?  There’s something important I need to tell you.”

          “Of course you may, Matt”  Mr. B. decided not to correct Matt’s use of the words can I, instead of the words may I.  “What’s bothering you?” Mr. B. said as everyone walked to a more private and quiet corner of the gym.

          Everyone waited for Matt to speak

          Mrs. Bunnlow looked at the group with friendly eyes and a smile.  “Finally,” she thought, “I get to see the students that I hear so many good things about.”  She recognized Matt, Mara, Cheryl and Eric from previous yearbook pictures.  She didn’t know Robby or Grace.  She stood quietly by her husband and listened to Matt.

          Matt was nervous, but he spoke clearly and was comforted by the feeling of Mara’s warm hand in his hand.

          “Mr. B.,” Matt started, hesitantly, “we’ve noticed that Harvey, Dawn, Dan, and Lee are here.  They were in the bleachers staring at us as if they had something mean planned.  They may cause trouble here and I wanted to let you know that because I promised you I wouldn’t fight in school, but—”

          “Matt,” Mr. B. interrupted, “I’m grateful that you remembered your promise.  But I was talking about not starting a fight and to do whatever you could to avoid it,” Mr. B. said after placing his hand on Matt’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

          Maragold squeezed Matt’s hand, knowing that that’s what she had told Matt, but feeling grateful that Mr. B. just confirmed it.

          “Everyone has a right to protect themselves, if attacked,” Mr. B. said.  “But I don’t think Harvey will try anything at this dance.  I will, however, keep an eye on him and his friends, and I’ll tell the other teachers about them, too.”

          “OK.  Thanks,” Matt answered, though he was still worried.

          The dance went smoothly for the next hour.  Most of the hesitation to dance, and the embarrassment of dancing, melted like the ice cubes in the fruit punch bowl.

          Matt, Eric and Robby got to have more slow-dances with their dates.  It was a thrilling feeling for all of them while they held hands and danced close to each other.  It was a strange feeling, too; a feeling that separated them from being children and becoming adolescents, with the private discoveries that come with being an adolescent.

          Mr. and Mrs. Bunnlow watched the Maragold gang for awhile, sharing their happiness, smiles and laughter.  Mrs. Bunnlow asked about Robby and Grace, since she did not recognize them.

          Mr. Bunnlow told her about Robby; that he was a fifth grader, one of Matt’s best friends because of both their interests in karate training, his part in last year’s talent show, and that he had permission from Mrs. Plum to be here, even though he was a fifth grader at a sixth to eighth grade dance.

          He added that he did not really know much about Grace because she was new to Kroy School this year and had moved here from the Waverly, New York area.  He did know that she took dance lessons after school, was a good student and a kind person, but shy, like Cheryl used to be in fourth grade.

          “Pretty girls,” Mrs. Bunnlow remarked.

          “Yes they are.  I’ll miss them tremendously when they go to seventh grade.  Such wonderful students … except I don’t know about Robby since he isn’t in sixth grade.  Maybe next year I’ll get to know him better when he comes to sixth grade.  He does reminds me a lot of Matt, though, and Grace is very similar to Cheryl.  I can see why they’re all close friends.

          Mr. B. told Mrs. B. about Harvey, Dawn, Dan and Lee.  Then they both went to speak to the other teachers about those trouble makers.

          A while later, Mr. B. noticed that Mara and Matt, plus their friends were leaving the gym area, apparently heading into the hallway and to the bathrooms.

          I was sipping some punch from a plastic spoon when I noticed them, also.  I thought of only one word:  TROUBLE.

          Just then an out-of-breath boy shouted, “Mr. Bunnlow!  There’s trouble in the parking lot.  It looks like some kids brought beer and there’s a lot of arguing!”

          Mr. B. looked at his wife and said, “Honey, please stay here.  Tell the other teachers where I’ve gone.  I’ll handle this myself.”  He forgot about the Maragold gang and the warning that they had given him about Harvey.

          “Show me,” Mr. B. said to the kid, as they both ran to the parking lot.

          Meanwhile, the girls entered the girls’ bathroom and the boys entered their bathroom.  They were all extremely happy and excited.  Robby yelled “ting,” which he had learned from Cheryl.  The “ting” echoed off the tile walls and so did their laughter.

          I waited outside the girls’ bathroom.  The girls laughed loudly together.  They were having a wonderful time at the dance.  They did not notice that one of the stalls was occupied.

          Then Maragold shouted, “Specnificent!”

          “Spec … what?” Cheryl asked while Grace looked curiously at Maragold.

          “Specnificent!” Maragold repeated.  “It’s a combination of the words spectacular and magnificent.”

          “Gee, that’s pretty good,” Grace said while laughing.  “Now we have Cheryl’s ‘ting,’ and Mara’s ‘specnificent,’ to describe the terrific time that we’re having.”

          The stall door slammed opened with a shocking bang that startled the girls, and Dawn stepped out with a smug expression.  “Having fun, are you?” she said as she washed her hands.  Then she snapped her fingers at the girls, spraying water on them.  She stood between the girls and the door.

          The three girls were silent, with shocked expressions.

          Grace was closest to her so Dawn grabbed Grace’s arm and told Maragold and Cheryl to come with her to the auditorium, or they would get hurt.

          Maragold and Cheryl hesitated, thinking about grabbing Dawn until Dawn squeezed and dug her fingernails into Grace’s arm and made her wince.

          All three girls went to the stage area of the high school auditorium.

          The boys were washing their hands when they heard a familiar sound echoing loudly off the tiles walls.

          Matt snapped his head toward Robby.  “One of Eric’s anal volcanoes,” Matt said, smiling.  “At least he did it in here and not on the dance floor.”

          Matt and Robby both laughed, while Eric showed a satisfied smile.  Then with a sigh filled with relief, Eric said, “Ahhh … I’ve been holding that for a long time.  Good to get it out of my system.  How do I spell ‘relief?’ … f-a-r-t-i-n-g,” he spelled.”

          Robby and Matt laughed, then said, “Phew,” as they fanned the air around them and walked a few steps away from Eric.

          Robby teased, “Eric, you’re an egotist … always me-deep in your thoughts and words.”

          “Well … maybe a little bit,” Eric responded, then, “But I sure don’t feel guilty about it.”

          Matt added, “Oh, boy, you just convicted yourself, as my dad would say.”

          “Why’s that?” Eric asked.

          “Well,” Matt answered, “my dad always says that a clear conscience is a sure sign of a very poor memory.”

          Eric thought about that, then answered, “Do I know you?  Who are you guys?  What’re your names?  Who’s your teacher?  Why are you two strangers at this Kroy School dance?  Let me see some ID!”

          Matt said, “See what I mean?  Us?  Strangers?  You’re the stranger … stranger than any other kid in this whole school.

          Laughter filled the boy’s bathroom, then the door slammed open and the laughter stopped immediately, like an unplugged radio.  They turned toward the door and saw Dan and Lee grinning evilly at them.

          Lee spoke: “Don’t say or do anything.  Harvey and Dawn have yer girlfriends on da auditorium stage.  Harvey wants a rematch wid you.  He says you was just lucky las’ year.  Shoot!  I think he wants ta rip yer head off and play soccer wid it.  So, jest follow us, an’ no funny stuff or Dawn will have fun slapping yer girlfriends aroun’.”

          Lee led the way, with Dan at the rear—an appropriate place for him, since he looked like one—both of them smiling at each other and showing unbrushed, yellowish teeth.

          They walked to the auditorium to meet with Harvey.

          As they walked, Robby whispered, “I’ll help you.”

          “Stay out of this, if you can.  Protect the girls,” Matt whispered.

          When they got to the stage, Dan and Lee stood in back of Matt, Eric and Robby, blocking their escape.  The Maragold gang stood together with Harvey and Dawn in front of them so they were sandwiched between Dan and Lee behind them, and Harvey and Dawn in front of them.

          Eric couldn’t resist commenting, “Long see, no time, Harv.”

          “Still da wise guy, huh?” Harvey answered.

          Matt, Robby and Eric looked at the girls to see if they’d been hurt.  They hadn’t.  They did see fear and worry, though.

          Robby’s anger peaked suddenly when he saw tears form in Cheryl’s eyes.  He made a move forward, but Matt put his hand out to block him.  Matt, whispered, “No.  You have to keep Dan and Lee away from the girls, or ganging up on me … but stay out of this, if you can.  It’s between Harvey and me.”

          Robby was nervous and angry.  At that moment he didn’t care how big Harvey looked.  Matt made sense, though, so he stepped back to stand by Eric.

          Harvey just smiled at Dawn; then the two of them smiled at Matt.

          Eric whispered to Robby, “Whose watching Dawn if Matt fights Harvey?”

          “You keep an eye on Dawn,” Robby whispered to Eric.

          “I’ll do more than that, damn it,” Eric thought.  “I’ll bite her knee cap off, throw it like a boomerang that’ll come back like a rocket and knock her silly.  She thinks she’s such a big star, but when she’s hit with her own knee cap, she’ll feel more like a comet with fireworks shooting out her butt.”

          All Harvey seemed to want to do was talk to Matt, perhaps trying to intimidate him into admitting that he would lose the fight, then beg Harvey to let them all go.

          I received a thought from Matt.  “Stay out of this,” it said.

          Matt figured out that I must have helped him when he fought Harvey in the bathroom, last year.  But he didn’t want me to interfere now.  So be it.

          Matt stood quietly after shifting his position to a forty-five degree angle—a defensive karate stance—with Harvey.

          Harvey said, “Da girls won’t be hurt if ya behave yerself.  I wanna fight Matt again.  I been waitin’ a long time.”

          Matt’s face showed a mixture of worry, fear, and anger.  He thought, all that intense karate practice and weight lifting.  Would it help?”

          Maragold shouted, “This is so silly!  We’ll all get in serious trouble.  We already told Mr. B. about all of you starting trouble.  So stop this silliness now.”

          “Well, if it ain’t me ol’ loud mouth frien’, marijuana!” Harvey said angrily.

          Dan and Lee looked at each other, laughed sarcastically, like unschooled hillbillies, and said, ‘marijuana,’ over and over, as if it were a one-word song.

          Dawn looked at Maragold.  “Got a smoke for me, Marijuana?  Hi Marijuana … or should I say ‘Marijuana is high.’”

          It’s not the first time that Maragold had been called “Marijuana,” teasingly.  She hated being compared to a cigarette that contained a drug that causes a person to have hallucinations.  Marijuana is an illegal drug and she hated being compared it.

          Angered by Dawn’s teasing, Maragold started walking toward Dawn as her fingers rolled into fists, saying, “You hateful witch!”

          Dan and Lee both rushed forward and grabbed her arms to stop her.

          Robby’s open right hand quickly chopped down hard on Dan’s bicep, causing his hand not only to let go, but to drop numbly to his side as he grimaced in pain.  Robby looked at Lee’s feet, then at Eric.  Eric got the message and stomped hard on Lee’s toes, making Lee let go of Mara and hop around the stage.  Dan and Lee both stepped away from Mara as Robby whispered, “Stay here,” to Mara.

          Then I received Maragold’s thought: “Bert, help Matt.”

          I returned her thought with my own: “Matt asked me to stay out of this.”

          Maragold hated my answer, even hated me a little for the very first time.  It felt as if someone had stabbed me in the heart.  But I still told her, “I can’t help Matt this time.  He needs to face this himself.  He knows that and that’s why he asked me to stay out of it.”

          “You can help him, but you won’t?” Maragold thought.

          “Yes.  Matt needs to fight his own battles.  He wants to build character, confidence, and show maturity.  He does not want help and I will honor his request.”

          Harvey saw how ineffective Dan and Lee were, so he told them to come stand by him and Dawn, then ordered Eric and Robby to step back a few feet.  When Harvey stepped forward, it was like he and Matt were in the center of a boxing ring.

          Matt tensed, anticipating the fight.  He hated breaking his promise to Mr. B., but it could not be helped.  He did know that he would not, could not, throw the first punch or kick.  Sensei Dorsey taught the all important rule that karate skills were to be used for defense only.  If Harvey started the fight, then Matt was free to defend himself with karate techniques.  It was a rule that was constantly stated to all the students, from the lowest white belt all the way to black belt.  “Black belt … black?” Matt thought.  An idea flashed in his brain.

          Matt said, “Harvey, I made a promise to Mr. B. that I would not fight in school.  We’ve done pretty good at staying out of each other’s way since our fight last year.  But I’d like to make a bet with you that might save us both a lot of trouble.”  Matt saw Harvey listening to him and not objecting, so he continued.  “If I can make you say the word black, then we do not fight, but if I fail to make you say the word black, then I will give you one free punch at me.  Do we have a deal?”

          “Y’all think I’m stupid.  Y’all maybe think I’m a retard,” Harvey stated angrily.  I ain’t no retard.  I ain’t no stupid hillbilly either.  Ya was lucky las’ time.  How lucky ya feel now?”

          Matt replied, “We are all guilty of mocking you, all of you, and, I admit we have treated you badly.  But you and your friends caused a lot of trouble, too.  But I’ll offer you my sincere apology for all of us if we can avoid this fight.  We don’t have to be enemies or friends.  We just have to agree to go our own way; no more name calling or teasing.  Can we do that so no one gets hurt or gets into trouble for fighting?”

          “Like hell!” bellowed Harvey, with spit spraying out of his mouth.

          Everyone was startled by the loudness of Harvey’s anger.  No one spoke.  After a pause, Matt said, “All right then,” Matt baited Harvey, “but I bet that I can still make you say ‘black.’  Are you telling me that you’re afraid to take such a simple bet?”

          At the mention of the words afraid and simple, Harvey’s expression changed.  He said, “I ain’t afraid, an’ I ain’t stupid.  Ya think yer so smart!  Ya can’t make me say it.”

          “OK.  But if I can make you say black, then there’s no fight, right?”

          “And if ya can’t make me say dat word, I gets ta punch ya?”

          Matt paused to think.  “You get to freely punch me once in the stomach, as hard as you want.  I’ll just stand still, brace myself and let you hit me in the stomach, just the stomach.  What do you say?  You got enough guts to take the bet or are you all muscle and mouth?”

          “I gets to hit ya in yer stomach as hard as I wants?” asked Harvey.

          “Only if you win the bet, but if I can make you say the word ‘black,’ then there will be no fighting, no punching, no teasing or name calling or practical jokes between us any more.  And no cheating.  Plus, no one can help you”—Matt looked at Dawn—“or I win the bet automatically.  Agreed?” Matt asked, hopefully.

          Harvey paused, and his friends wondered what he would do?

          Harvey was suspicious, but curious, so he said, “Ya got yerself a deal, wise guy.” Then he grinned at Matt.  His grin looked nastier than a moldy, week-old, burrito.

          Dawn, Dan and Lee looked excited, while Maragold, Cheryl, and, Eric secretly smiled.  They knew what Matt was going to do.  As a matter of fact, Maragold had played the same trick on Eric one day when Eric was acting like he was smarter than all his friends.  Grace and Robby looked confused.  They had no idea what was happening.

          “OK,” Matt said, “Are you ready, Harvey?”

          “Yep,” Harvey responded, confidently, staring at Matt.

          “OK, then.  We begin right now, and the game is not over until we both agree that it’s over.  Agreed?” Matt stated.

          “Yep,” Harvey answered, staring fiercely at Matt.

          “Ah … Now wait a second … I’m sorry, Harvey.  What word did I say I could make you say?  Oh, yeah, it was red right?” Matt inquired.

          “Ha! Ya can’t even remember da word yerself,” Harvey laughed.  “Heck, ya say ya would make me say dat word bl…  Oh no ya don’t!  Ya tricky, nerd.  Yer tryin’ ta make me say da color of road tar, but I ain’t sayin’ it,” Harvey said as he glared a Matt.

          “Sorry.  My mistake.  I apologize.  I just got mixed up a little about what color I told you,” Matt responded, trying not to smile.

          “Sure ya did.  An’ ya think yer so smart.  Ha!” Harvey said, sarcastically.

          Matt: “What color is a banana?”

          Harvey: “Yeller.”

          “How about an orange?”

          “Orange is orange, ya dummy.”

          “How about your shoes?”

          “Mos’ly day be white.”

          “Any other color on your athletic shoes?”

          “Yep.  Sure is.  But I ain’t sayin’ it.”

          “Why not?  You’re being honest, right?”

          “I’m honest, and ya ain’t goin’ ta make me say dat other color.  Nope!  Ya ain’t goin’ to trick me ‘cause I wanna punch yer stomach right inta yer backbone.”

          Matt asked, “Well, you’ve said the ‘bl’ sound already.  You just have to finish the word.  You don’t have to even know how to spell it.  You do know how to spell the word, right?”

          Harvey replied “Of course I knows!  Only a idiot don’t know how ta spell bl…”

          While Harvey was saying the word ‘how,’ Dawn coughed very loudly to warn Harvey not to say ‘black.’

          “Damn!  Ya still be a tricky creep.”

          “Sorry, Harvey.  You just lost the bet.  Dawn just helped you.  She coughed to give you a warning, and that’s cheating.  Game’s over and I win.”

          “Nope!  I didna cheat.  I didna ask for help.  Dawn!  Ya move over an’ turn ‘roun’ so there be no cheatin’”.

          Dawn’s face flooded with humiliation as she moved away from Harvey and turned her back to everyone.

          “OK.  Keep goin’,” Harvey demanded

          “Sure, Harv.  What’s the color of our school buses?”

          “Same as bananas … Yeller.”

          “How about strawberries?”

          “Red.  Ya gives up now?  Game’s so silly.  Ya ain’t gonna trick me ya know.”

          “Well, I can’t do this much longer.  You’re wearing me out.  Just a little more, OK Harv?  After all, Dawn tried to help you and the game should have been over, but I gave you a second chance.”

          “I have a dry throat!  I didn’t warn him,” Dawn said, unconvincingly.

          “Shut up,” Harvey said to her.

          “OK, Matt.  Keep goin’ but don’ call me ‘Harv’ any more.  Name’s Harvey.  I don’ call ya a ‘door Matt’—doormat—so you don’ call me Harv.”

          Giggles came as everyone was surprised by Harvey’s humor.

          “Hey, man.  Doormat.  That’s pretty funny Harv … er … Harvey.  I didn’t think you had a sense of humor.”

          “Ha!  Lots ya don’ know ‘bout me.”

          “I may have made a really big mistake and misjudged you.”

          “So I gets ta hit ya now?”

          “Very soon.  You’re the one that’s tricking me now.  Anyway, what’s the color of your shirt?”

          “Brown.  This is boring.  Take da punch like a man an’ stop wastin’ time.”

          “I could have won the game because Dawn helped you and we agreed that you would get no help.  So you owe me time to ask more questions.”

          “OK, OK, ya cry baby.  But only if ya let’s me hit ya in da face.  Deal?”

          Maragold’s thought’s pleaded for help again, but I refused.  I can not repeat her next thoughts.  All I can say is that those thoughts expressed more verbal anger than I would ever expect from her.

          “Deal.  What’s the color of spring grass?”

          “Green.”

          “How about something that’s multi-colored?”

          “What?  What’s a ‘moldy-color’ mean?”

          “Oh.  Sorry.  Not moldy.  Multi-colored means something has more than one color, like a rainbow.  Can I ask you the color of things with more than one color, or is that too tough for you?  You know, like a car might be blue and silver, or a house might be white and green.”

          “Sure, but then I gets ta knock da snot atta ya?”

          Eric laughed the loudest, but everyone laughed, even Dawn’s shoulders could be seen bouncing with laughter.

          “I’m afraid so.  I’m running out of questions.  I hope you’ll be nice enough not to break my nose.”

          Harvey, who was growing impatient, shouted, “Bull crap!  Dats what I’m aimin’ fer, even if yer snot spladders all over me knuckles!”

          “OK.  I’ll try to take it like a man.  Just a few more questions, then we are done.”

          Harvey, Dan and Lee smiled broadly.  Dawn peeked over her shoulder, her eyes lit up with joy, then she turned her head back around quickly.

          “Let’s see … Ah … How about the flag?  What colors are in our flag?”

          “Too easy.  Red, white, blue.”

          Matt pointed excitedly at Harvey.  “That’s it!  You said it!” Matt shouted.  “I just won the bet when you said the word ‘blue.’  Finally, I got you to say the ‘blue.’  I thought you’d never say ‘blue.’ I was almost ready to give up and let you punch me.  Blue, blue, blue.  What a wonderful word!” Matt yelled.  “Great!  Thanks for saying, blue, Harvey!  Now you can’t punch me and we don’t have to fight because I won!”

          Dawn, Dan and Lee, were so shocked, they looked frozen, while Maragold, Cheryl, Grace, Eric and Robby laughed.

          Harvey stepped toward Matt and angrily said, “Ya didna say ya would make me say ‘blue.’  ‘twas not da bet we had.”

          Harvey’s face was close to Matt’s face.  They were the same height, but Harvey was much broader and heavier.

          Matt acted totally innocent.  “I don’t understand, Harvey.  I’m shocked.  You said you’d be honest and not cheat.  Now you’re going back on your word?  Men don’t do that.  Only babies do that.  You keep telling me, ‘Be a man,’ but now you have to be a man too.  We made a bet.  I was prepared to let you punch me if I lost.  Now I’ve won and you’ve lost.  Be a man, Harvey.  Only little children go back on their word.”

          Harvey stuck his face in Matt’s, their noses almost touching, and screamed, “But dats not the bet we had!”

          Matt could feel flying spittle hit his cheek and tried to ignore it.

          Dawn turned around with a shocked, speechless, and worried look.

          Matt yelled back into Harvey’s face, “Of course it was.  I bet that I could make you say the word ‘blue,’ and when you said the colors of our flag, you said the word ‘blue.’  We all heard you say ‘blue.’  How could you stand there and deny that you didn’t say ‘blue?’”

          Dawn cried, “That wasn’t the deal!  You said you’d make him—”

          “I automatically win if she helps you!” Matt yelled, forcefully.

          “Shut yer trap!” Harvey yelled angrily at Dawn.  Then to Matt he said, “I think yer cheatin’ now.  Ya spose ta make me say ‘black,’ not ‘blue.  Dat was da deal!”

          Matt suddenly relaxed and calmly said, “You’re absolutely correct, Harvey.  I was supposed to make you say ‘black,’ not ‘blue.’  That was our bet.”

          Harvey, Dan and Lee nearly jumped for joy.  Dawn just sighed with disgust.

          “At leas’ you is hones’.  Now I ken flatten yer nose.”

          “Harvey.  You don’t understand,” Matt explained.  “I just won the bet.  Now we have a truce.  No punching, no fighting, no teasing, no name calling.  It’s over.”

          Harvey shouted, “Now what ya talkin’ bout?”  Ya jus’ said ya made dat mistake dat ya was spose’ ta make me say ‘black’ instead of ‘blue.’

          “Harvey, I’m sorry, but I had to trick you into saying ‘black’ so that I could stop us from fighting.  I promised Mr. B. that I would try my best to avoid fighting.”

          Eric was looking at Dawn while everyone else was focused on Matt and Harvey.  Eric laughed to himself.  She’s blonde; probably a ‘suicide blonde,’ he thought, with a silent giggle.  A suicide blonde; dyed by her own hands.

          Matt continued. “Harvey, please listen.  In two of your last three sentences, you said the word ‘black.’  You see?  You’ve said ‘black’ twice.  So I won the bet.  Will you keep your word?  From now on there will be no trouble between our two groups, right?  We don’t have to like each other, we just leave each other alone.  A bet is a bet, Harvey, even though I tricked you.  A man keeps his word, Harvey  If he doesn’t keep his word other people will see him as a weak person, or as a child.”

          Harvey glared at Matt, especially when Matt used the words ‘weak,’ and ‘child.’ Harvey’s expression was fierce.  His mouth was just a purple slash.  His eyes looked as if his pupils had become daggers.  His fists were clenched so tightly that his fingernails must have been cutting into his skin.  At this moment, Harvey was so full of anger that, if he saw an old lady, wearing her Sunday best white dress and white gloves on a very hot day, he’d buy her four purple popsicles; two for each hand.

          Everyone’s attention focused on Harvey as his face started to calm, his eyes mellowed, and his lips relaxed as his clenched fists opened.  Harvey said, “Ya see dat yer friends keep da deal?”

          “Yes, I will.  What about Dawn?  Can you make her keep the deal?” Matt asked.

          Harvey half smiled. “Oh yeah.  I ken make her do dat.  There be things ‘bout her dat nobody knows but me an’ she don’ want ‘em known.”

          Harvey turned around and with a wave of his ham-like hand told Dan, Lee, and Dawn to let the girls go.  The girls quickly walked to Matt, Robby and Eric.

          Harvey stared at Matt for a few seconds, then said, “We done.”

          Matt said,” So, now there’s no more trouble between us, right?” Matt repeated.

          “No more trouble,” Harvey said with a huge smile full of sarcasm.  “That was my promise.  But if you break your part of the bargain, you’ll all be seeing us again.  And I don’t expect to hear that anybody else knows about what just happened here.  We aren’t walking around school and getting teased because of your clever trick.  That trickery was not in our bargain, but I’m telling you right now; if this trick of yours leaves this stage, I’ll break our bargain and come looking for all of you.  Starting now, I’m considering that as part of our agreement.  Understand?” Harvey said as everyone stared at him in shock, because of his vastly improved speaking skill.

          “Come on!” Harvey yelled.  “You didn’t think I really had to talk like a doltish, moronic, inbred hillbilly, did you?  The whole dumb, hillbilly thing is as fake as most teachers.  But it’s useful.  School’s just a form of prison, you know.  It wastes a person’s time.  All I do is have fun; my kind of fun.  I can fail three-fourths of the school year and just pass the last quarter and the final exams and I’ll get passed to the next grade.  And I’ve never failed any grade, even though you think I have.  My mom and dad are dead, but they were very large people.  My size is just genetically determined.  So put that on your toilet paper and wipe your butt with it.

          “You know?  School is so boring for most kids, it’s a wonder every school system doesn’t have a rebellion.  You see the glazed eyes and the jaded behavior on so many students.  You want to read why so many older kids hate school?  No problem.  Go to the Internet and Google the title, ‘Why Do Kids Hate School?’ by Robert Sparrow.  After I read his article, I thought of forming a school protest group and calling it the RATS, an acronym for Rising Against Terrible Schools.  But I decided not to.  It would reveal, rather than conceal my fake, stupid, hillbilly routine.  I can’t give that up; too much fun, you know?  It gives me a lot of sympathy and extra breaks and advantages from the teachers who are such suckers.

          “Oh. You may be interested to know that I dress differently for the last quarter of school on purpose.  I wear, short sleeve shirts and cut-off pants or shorts so there’s no suspicion about me cheating.  I don’t need to cheat; school is boring because it’s too easy.  And it’s so easy to fool teachers; just act stupid, talk stupid and they’ll believe you are stupid.  I have a great time making jackasses out of all of them.

          “And guess what?  I plan to go to college.  Bet you don’t believe that, huh?  Well maybe college will be more challenging.  How do I get to college with poor grades in high school?  God!  Give me a break.  I ace the GRE exam, then go to community college and excel there, then transfer to a university.  I’ll do it easily.  Sure, I’m a rebel with a cause.  The cause is me.  In the meantime I have fun fooling the fools of the world, and most of them are teachers.  I just hope the college professors aren’t just as bad.  This information doesn’t go any farther than this stage, also.  A guy’s got to have some fun, right?”

          Harvey laughed heartily, followed by his friends.  The Maragold gang was still stunned as Harvey and his friends turned and departed from the stage.

          In a minute, Maragold and friends also departed the stage with Matt thinking, “I guess I was wrong.  Maybe he’s just as bad as we all think he is.”

          As soon as both groups were out of the auditorium, the gold and purple stage curtain opened slightly.  Mr. B. looked to see if everyone had gone, then he stepped back behind the curtain and exited through the back stage door with a very satisfied smile.  He thought, “I’ll have to mention Matt’s maturity and sense of responsibility on his report card.”

          At the thought of report cards, Mr. B. smiled even more broadly because he knew that everyone in his classroom would be receiving a satisfactory grade, or better, on their report card.  He wished every class did as well as this class.  Maybe he should show all his students that the word impossible could really mean I’m possible and I’m capable and I can do this.

          Mr. B. was glad he made it to the stage by the backstage entrance so he could keep an eye on Harvey.  When that boy came to get him and bring him to the parking lot because of beer, he had found a practical joke waiting for him.  There actually were beer bottles, but there was no alcohol in them.  The beer bottles had been refilled with root beer so the boys who brought it could brag that they had real beer.  They were also friends of Harvey and Mr. B. figured out that they did this prank on purpose so that Harvey could get the Maragold gang into the auditorium.  “Not as stupid as he looks and acts,” thought Mr. B.

          Also, when Mr. B. got back to the dance, from the parking lot, he saw that Maragold and her friends were gone; so were Harvey, Dawn, Dan and Lee.  He checked the boys’ bathroom.  One of the boys there told him that he saw a bunch of boys headed toward the auditorium, so Mr. B., instead of entering the front door, very quietly entered the back entrance.  That put him behind the stage curtains where he could hear everything, but not be seen.

                                      BERT’S QUESTIONS

                    Is it possible to get cornered in a round room?

          Could the length of a minute be more accurately determined by which side

          of the bathroom door you’re standing on when you have an urgent need?