Disclaimer: Mr. and Mrs. Beers are mine. Everybody else belongs to Alliance. They wanted to get together to play.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes:

I don't suppose any ten-year-old is particularly fond of Report Card Day at school, and I was no exception. How I wished my grandmother would just read my grades, box my ear for any less-than-acceptable marks, and sign the report so that life could resume with the least possible interruption. But that wasn't my grandmother's way. She insisted on understanding the 'why' for even the minutest deficiency in my school work.

"Have a seat, buddy," Grandpa said as he escorted me into the study, where Grandma was already waiting for us. He placed a chair in front of the desk and I sat opposite my grandmother, who was situated behind the desk. I looked anxiously at Grandpa as he backed away and leaned against the window sill to observe the proceedings.

"Your grandfather and I have just reviewed your report card, honey," Grandma informed me. I turned to look at her and was directed with a tap of her finger to focus my attention on the report card which she had placed on the desk so that it was facing me.

"It's not a bad report, is it, ma'am?" I hoped out loud as my eyes searched the report for anything the least bit not perfect.

"No, it's not a bad report. You've made excellent grades, and we're very pleased with your report, overall."

Gulp! I knew an operative word when I heard one. "Overall?" I echoed her with an apprehensive squeak.

"Your teacher indicates that, on occasion, you have been lax in completing your homework assignments." She didn't phrase it as a question, but it was obvious she wanted a response from me, nonetheless.

"No, I haven't, ma'am," I said emphatically.

"Are you telling me the teacher is mistaken?"

"She must be, ma'am. I always do my homework."

"But sometimes you're late in finishing it, is that it?"

"No, ma'am. I finish it on time."

"Then why do you suppose Mrs. Beers is under the impression that you don't always complete your assignments on time? Are we to assume she has you confused with another student?"

I knew exactly what this was about, but I wasn't sure it was wise to admit to it. "I don't know," I said with what I intended to be an innocent shrug but which, in reality, made me look as guilty as sin. Not even my body language could tell a believable lie.

"Benton, are you telling me the truth?" Grandma asked, clearly knowing I wasn't.

"Yes, ma'am. I always do my homework."

"That's not the question I was asking." She stared at me severely, and I couldn't keep from squirming under her scrutiny.

When I failed to acknowledge my grandmother's implied inquiry, Grandpa spoke up in an abrupt, commanding voice. "Did you hear your grandmother, son?"

"Yes, sir," I replied without lifting my lowered face.

"Then I suggest you answer her. Honestly."

"Yes, sir." I picked up the report card and perused it very carefully, hoping to give the impression that I was at a loss to explain my teacher's remark.

"Do you see what Mrs. Beers says? About your assignments?" Grandma asked.

I nodded and kept my eyes on the report rather than on Grandma. "You know what she's probably talking about, Grandma?"

"What, honey?"

"Sometimes -- not a lot, but sometimes I lost my homework."

"Lost it? How?"

"Different ways."

"Such as?" she demanded with slightly raised voice.

"Well, it would be in my pack when I left the house, but when I got to school it wasn't there anymore."

"Didn't you fasten your pack so it was closed securely?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did you take your homework out of the pack before you reached the classroom?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did somebody else take it out of your pack?"

Bingo! She'd hit the nail on the head in record time. Now things were getting really tricky. Grandma kept pressing me for an answer and accusing me of stalling (which, of course, I was), but I couldn't decide what would be better in the long run: to rat on somebody else or to accept a reprimand I didn't solely deserve.

"Ben, I'm not going to wait any longer for an answer. Either you give me the truth now, or I will take action based on the only information I have."

I put the report card back onto the desk and frowned as I met my grandmother's gaze. "He was just borrowing it, Grandma. He always gave it back."

"Who?"

"One of the kids in my class."

"Which kid?"

"Why do I have to tell you who, Grandma?"

"Because I think it's important that I know."

"Is he gonna be in trouble?"

"I don't know. What was he doing with your homework?"

My eyelids began to flutter nervously as I tried to think up a good answer.

"Was he copying your work?" she once again guessed correctly.

I tried to formulate the words I needed to say, but my mouth would not cooperate, so I brushed my tongue along my lips and inside my mouth to lubricate it.

"Because that's cheating, Ben," Grandma informed me rather ironically. "And I think you know that."

"I didn't cheat, ma'am. I did my homework all by myself, I swear."

"Helping someone else cheat makes you just as guilty as that person."

"But he wasn't really cheating, Grandma."

"Oh? He copied your homework, but he wasn't cheating? How do you figure that?"

"He's smart. He could've done the work himself, but he didn't have time."

"That's nonsense, and I won't have you making excuses for behaviour which you know was wrong."

"But it's true, ma'am. Sometimes he had other stuff he had to do, so he couldn't do all his homework."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Um, different things. Like helping his father set traps or hunt or building a new hut for the sweat. Sometimes he couldn't come to school so he got behind and then he had to do the old homework and the new homework and he didn't have time to do it all by himself."

"So you helped him by letting him copy yours?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I see. And did you ever help anyone else, besides Innusiq, in this way?"

My mind raced back over what I had said in search of how I had divulged the identity of the boy in question, but I couldn't remember having specified his name. "I didn't say it was Innusiq, Grandma."

"It was, though, wasn't it?" Her eyes seemed to penetrate me as they regarded me over the spectacles which hung low over her nose.

"He's my best friend, and best friends help each other."

"Uh huh. Is he the only one you have allowed to copy your work?"

Darn! I hadn't expected that question! "Yeah," I muttered in a soft, unconvincing voice.

"You don't sound too sure of that."

Aw, heck! I've never been one of those people who can lie at will. A slight bending of the truth is often enough to bruise my conscience until I find a way to repent. To persevere in such a bold-faced lie would have been my undoing, and I knew it. "A couple times....um...."

"A couple times, what, honey?"

"Some of the other kids found out about Innusiq copying from me, so they sometimes made me let 'em copy, too."

"Oh, Ben, Ben," my grandmother sighed in distress and shook her head disapprovingly.

"I'm sorry, Grandma," I offered sincerely as I slunk back in my seat.

"Listen to me, Ben," she commanded and paused until I had raised my face to her. "You will not repeat this behaviour. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," I whispered contritely with a nod.

"I understand that you want to help your friends, but you are not doing them any favours by doing their work for them. Would you learn anything if you let someone else do your studying?"

"No, I guess not."

"Then hadn't you better let Innusiq take the time to learn his lessons?"

"I felt sorry for him, Grandma, 'cause he had so much to do."

"I know, honey. I've no doubt your heart was in the right place, but you could have found a better way to help him."

"How?"

"Well, you could encourage him to speak to the teacher if he's having a problem."

"The teacher? Heck, Grandma, he doesn't wanna talk to the teacher about it."

"Why on Earth not?"

"Because she's the one who's making him do all the homework in the first place."

"Is Mrs. Beers unreasonable?"

"I don't know."

"I thought you were fond of her?"

"What do you mean? She's just my teacher, Grandma." I explained, blushing madly at the reference to my crush on my pretty, young teacher -- a crush which I had thought was a secret to everyone but me.

"You like her, don't you? She's been very helpful to you in the past and she always tells me the two of you get along very well in the classroom."

"She does?" I replied, trying to hide my joy but feeling quite the stud...for a ten-year-old.

"Would you be afraid to go to her if you were having a problem finishing your homework?"

I shrugged. "I don't ever have a problem finishing it."

"Well, good, that's good. But suppose you did? Or how about this: if I ordered you to explain to Mrs. Beers why some of your assignments have been late, would you be afraid to do so?"

"Aw, heck, Grandma," I whined. "Are you gonna make me do that?"

"Just answer my question, please."

"I'm not afraid, but I couldn't tell her 'cause then Innusiq might get in trouble. A guy's not supposed to get his best friend in trouble, Grandma. Besides, he's already gonna be mad enough at me for not letting him, um, use my homework any more. I can't tell on him, too!"

"All right, then, perhaps you and Innusiq should speak to Mrs. Beers, eh?"

"Do we have to, ma'am, or are you just suggesting?"

"I'm telling you that if neither of you speak to her, then I will."

"Shucks, Grandma, that's not fair!"

"What have I told you about using that phrase, young man?" she asked sternly.

"You said not to say that, ma'am. I'm sorry. I forgot."

"What else did I say about it?"

"Um, that life doesn't worry about being fair. It just happens."

"So there's no point complaining about it, is there?"

"No, ma'am. But I wasn't complaining about life. I was complaining about..." Suddenly I realized I probably shouldn't finish that thought.

"About me?" Grandma finished it for me, much to my chagrin. "I've got news for you, Mister. I'm part of life, and you can't expect me to let you always have your way any more than you can expect the sun to shine every time you want it to. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, ma'am. You don't worry about being fair any more than the weather does," I said, truly intending no disrespect, although, in hindsight, I can see why my response rubbed Grandma the wrong way.

"Perhaps I should show you just how fair I can be by giving you exactly what you deserve for that comment," she threatened firmly.

"No, ma'am, please. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. It came out wrong. Honest, Grandma."

"Haven't you forgotten something, son?" Grandpa's voice suddenly boomed from behind me.

"Huh?"

"I'd say an apology is in order."

"Oh, yeah," I replied, looking earnestly at my scowling grandmother. "I'm sorry, Grandma. I know I have to do what you say, and you're not unfair just because you make me do stuff I don't wanna do sometimes, because I'm just a kid and you're a grown-up so you know best."

Grandma's expression steadily softened, and when she spoke again, her tone was considerably gentler. "You may not believe this right now, honey, but I think you'll feel better about yourself if you tell your teacher what you've been doing. And I'm not telling you you have to do it because I want you to suffer. I'm telling you to do it because I believe that some day, down the road, you'll be glad you did. So, do you think you can trust me on this for now, until that day down the road?"

"Yes, ma'am. I guess so. But what if Innusiq won't do it? I can't make him."

"No, you can't make him. But if you tell him that you are going to explain matters to the teacher, I imagine he'll realize it's in his best interests to join you. However, if he decides to remain quiet, then it'll be his choice to let you tell Mrs. Beers what's been going on. You won't have betrayed him."

"I don't know, Grandma..."

"Well, you'll have the weekend to think about it. Come Monday, either you'll have a talk with Mrs. Beers, or you and I will be having another talk a very serious one. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am. Gosh," I added under my breath.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Sometimes I just wish I didn't have to get report cards."

"Hmm, I'm sure you do. But the fact is, honey, you've made your bed and now you must lie in it."

"Darn! You mean I have to go to bed already?"

"All right, smarty-pants! That'll do."

"Yes, ma'am. I was just joking anyway."

"I know. Joking is fine, honey, but I believe we've heard quite enough goshes and darns and the like from you for the time being!" She didn't sound angry, just a little weary of my whining complaints.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You knew what you and Innusiq were doing was wrong, didn't you?"

"I guess so, but we didn't mean to cheat, ma'am. Honestly, we didn't."

"I'm sure Mrs. Beers will take that into consideration."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have you finished your homework?"

"Almost."

"Run along, now, and finish it. I've got a lot of chores to keep you busy this weekend."

"As punishment?"

"No, because you're a member of this family, and in this family we all chip in when there's work to be done."

"Oh, okay." I rose from my chair, but hesitated to leave. "Grandma?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Do you think I'll have time to go over to Innusiq's tomorrow?"

"What for? Not to share your homework with him, I hope."

"No, so I can ask him to talk to Miss Beers with me on Monday."

"Ah, well, we'll see, honey. We'll have to get a few chores out of the way first."

"Okay." My eyes once again spied my report card where it lay on the desk. "Did you sign my report card yet so I can take it back to the teacher?"

"Not yet. I'll have it for you Monday morning, along with a brief note for Mrs. Beers."

"You don't have to do that, Grandma. She just needs you to sign it."

"I don't think she'll mind. Now, would you please do as you were told and go finish your homework."

I nodded and turned to make my way out of the study. As I got to the door, I heard my grandmother call out to detain me.

"Oh, one more thing before you go, Ben."

"Yes, ma'am?" I said, turning to face her, fearing that she had decided to punish me, after all.

"These other kids who sometimes made you let them copy your homework..."

"Uh huh?"

"Is there going to be a problem when you tell them you can no longer allow this practice?"

"What kind of problem do you mean?"

"That, you'll have to tell me. You didn't say how they made you share your homework, but I assumed threats of some kind were used?"

"Yeah, kind of," I admitted, ashamed at having been bullied into doing something I didn't want to do.

"Then I would guess they may use threats again in order to get what they want."

"They might, I guess."

"If you need any advice or help in handling that situation, your grandpa and I are always here."

"I know, but it's okay, Grandma. I can handle it." I don't know if I fooled her or not, but I do know I hadn't fooled myself for a second. I lived in dread of the next time one of the kids demanded to see my homework. Although my grandmother had been teaching me the finer points of boxing over the past few months, I had never put my skill to the test outside the ring. I believed myself to be a pretty fair boxer, however, so I was a bit worried that I might really hurt one of my classmates if he insisted on a fight.

Innusiq was a good guy. He was a lot like me in many ways, and we had an intuitive understanding between us. If one of us had a problem, the other was always there to offer support in any way he could, no questions asked. Of course, as you can see, sometimes that just resulted in getting both of us into trouble instead of solving the initial problem. But, no matter what, we either stood together or fell together.

We entered the classroom later than usual that Monday morning. In fact, the bell had already rung, and Mrs. Beers was at the door to greet each straggler with a 'hurry up' nudge to the back of the head. When she noticed me among the tardy lot, she corralled me by the collar.

"Well, Mister Fraser, what happened? You're usually more reliable than the bell. Did you get lost on the way to school this morning?"

"No, ma'am. I came the same way I always do." I hadn't actually been late to school, just to the classroom. Innusiq and I had met outside for a pep rally of sorts, to encourage each other to remain true to our mutual resolve to come clean to Mrs. Beers before the end of the day.

"All right. Take your seat, honey," she said with a gentle pat to my back. "You latecomers have delayed the class long enough."

Her habit of addressing me as 'honey' no longer phased me, despite the occasional taunt it elicited from my classmates. In fact, I'd come to enjoy her special endearment, and if she didn't call me 'honey' at least once a day, I worried that she was displeased with me. I will admit, however, that if she hadn't been the apple of my pre-pubescent eye, there's no way I would have stood for such humiliation.

"Everyone settle down, please, and take out your report cards. I will come around to collect them," Mrs. Beers announced as she started to make her way from desk to desk. When she got to me, I had nothing to offer. "Benton, may I have your report card, please?"

"I have to give it to you later, ma'am."

"I'd like it now, if you don't mind."

"But..." My eyes wandered over to Innusiq at the desk beside me, as if to say 'what should I do now?' But he just shrugged back at me.

"Did you leave it at home, honey?"

"No," I stated loudly, over the giggles and mocking 'honey's that filled the room.

"Quiet down, please," Mrs. Beers ordered the class and then turned back to me. "Where is it, then?"

"In my pack."

"Give it to me, please."

"But I have to talk to you about it first, Miss Beers."

"Oh? Haven't your grandparents signed it?"

"Uh huh."

"Then what seems to be the problem?"

"I told you, I have to talk to you about it." I lowered my voice to a whisper and added, "My grandma says so."

"I see. Very well. I'll see you at recess, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She then moved on to Innusiq, who, taking my lead, also refrained from handing her his report card. "Let me guess," she said, "you also have to speak to me about your report card?"

"Yes, ma'am," Innusiq replied.

"We have to talk to you together, Miss Beers," I explained.

"Is that so?"

"Uh huh."

"Anyone else, or just the two of you?"

"Just us, ma'am. As far as I know."

"Good, good," she said, eyeing me on the first 'good' and Innusiq on the second. "I look forward to our chat, gentlemen."

And Innusiq and I looked at each other and took a deep breath as Mrs. Beers resumed her stroll through the classroom.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. When the noon bell sounded, my classmates gladly ceased their studies and hopped off their chairs, eager to enjoy every minute of the lunchtime break. My sigh of anxiety was interrupted by Eric, who punched me on the arm and crouched beside my desk, grinning sadistically.

"You're both nuts, you know," he said.

"Leave us alone, Eric. We know what we're doing."

"You do, eh? Well, then, I guess you know that once Miss Beers finds out you've been cheating, she's gonna send you both to the Principal's office."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"There's no doubt about it. Cheating's one of the worst things a kid can do. It always gets you a visit to the Principal."

"So what? We're not scared of any old Principal."

"You ever been sent to the Principal?"

"No."

"Well, I have and, take it from me, you're in for it."

"What'll he do to us, Eric?" Innusiq asked, concerned.

"Hard to say for sure. Kick you out of school, maybe."

"Oh, man, my dad's gonna kill me! He only let me come to school 'cause I begged him and promised to study hard. If I get kicked out already, he's gonna think I wanted to go to school just to goof off. "

"Don't be ridiculous," I attempted to laugh off his concern. "We're not gonna get kicked out just for this."

"Yeah, right," Eric agreed. "Maybe he'll just suspend you for a few days so you can catch hell from your folks. And if he's in one of his really bad moods, he'll probably whip your asses before he sends you home."

"Cut it out, Eric!" I protested. "You're making that up."

"Maybe, maybe not. Do you really wanna risk finding out?"

"Gee, Ben," Innusiq said. "Maybe we should just give our report cards to Miss Beers and tell her we don't need to talk to her, after all."

"No, we can't. We gotta tell her what we did or my grandma's gonna tell her."

"So, tell your grandmother we told her. She won't know we didn't."

"Yes, she will. She always knows. Anyway, we're not gonna get expelled or get our butts whipped. Eric's just making that up to scare us," I said, glaring at Eric pointedly to mask my uncertainty about his warnings. "But if we don't confess and my grandma tells on us, then we're gonna be in really big trouble."

Eric chuckled as if he were really enjoying putting us through hell. "Okay, you do what you want, Mountie-boy." He then leaned in to me and whispered into my ear, "Just remember, I tried to warn you."

"Eric!" Mrs. Beers called from her desk across the room, startling all three of us.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Do you also need to discuss your report card with me?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then please join the other students outside for recess."

"Yes, ma'am." Eric stood up to leave, but Innusiq detained him.

"Hey, Eric..."

"Yeah?"

"Were you just fooling around about getting sent to the Principal?"

Eric smirked and bent down between us to offer his final piece of advice. "Just ask Miss Beers if you don't believe me."

"Now, Eric, please!" Mrs. Beers ordered as she came up behind him.

Mrs. Beers stood before us, her eyes alternating glances from me to Innusiq and back again, as she waited for Eric to vacate the room. Once he was gone, Innusiq and I glanced quickly at each other and then bowed our heads and stared at our desktops.

"Okay, now, what's this all about, boys?" Mrs. Beers asked with obvious curiosity.

"Our report cards, ma'am," I replied, keeping my face lowered.

"Considering that you both made straight 'A's again, I can't imagine that there's a problem...is there?"

"Just a little one, maybe, Miss Beers."

"I see." Mrs. Beers pulled a chair around in front of our desks and sat. "Well, who'd like to go first?"

Neither Innusiq nor I spoke...or even moved.

"Okay, why don't we start with you handing me your report cards."

Innusiq and I looked sideways at each other. He shrugged, I answered with a nod, and we retrieved the report cards from our packs and handed them to Mrs. Beers. Attached to my report card was an envelope addressed to Mrs. Beers.

"Shall I read this now, Ben?" she asked, holding up the envelope.

"I don't know. You can if you want, I guess."

"Well, I think I'll hold on to it 'til later. You boys have been waiting to speak to me, so I don't want to keep you waiting any longer."

"It's not really that important, ma'am," Innusiq said. "If you're busy, we can just forget it."

"Oh? And would you be just as happy to forget it, too, Ben?" she asked, interrupting my silent, questioning frown at my friend.

"No," I replied with a slow shake of my head.

"All right, I'm listening. What is it you need to tell me, honey?"

"Um, well, it's about something you wrote on my report card, ma'am," I began, rubbing my eyebrow and then fidgeting with a loose button on the cuff of my shirt. "About my homework assignments."

"Ah, I see. Go on."

"Well, when my grandparents read what you wrote, they thought I didn't always finish my homework on time. But I did always finish it on time. So, that's what I wanted to tell you." In my nervousness and impatience to get my confession over with, I kind of left out a few, rather significant, facts.

Mrs. Beers leaned in toward me and placed her hand on top of mine to make me look at her. "There were a number of instances when you failed to turn in your assignment when it was due. You always turned it in eventually, and it was always well done, but it wasn't always turned in on time. Do you mean to dispute that fact, Ben?" she asked firmly.

I shook my head and tried to steady my breathing and my heartbeat. Without turning my head, I could tell that Innusiq was watching me with interest.

"I'm sorry if your grandparents were upset by my report, honey, but I felt it was something they should be made aware of. I know you can do the work, but I'm not so sure you always make the effort to complete your assignments within the expected time frames."

"But I do, ma'am," I stated with assurance. "I finish my homework every night."

"The evidence would seem to suggest otherwise."

"I know, but..." Innusiq was now squirming quite noticeably in his seat, and I suddenly felt very uncertain about my resolve to explain everything to Mrs. Beers because, as much trouble as I would be in, he stood to face as much, or perhaps even more, trouble. Risking my own hide was one thing; risking my best friend's was quite another.

"But what, Ben? Did you or did you not sometimes fail to produce your completed assignments when they were due?"

"Um, well, yes, ma'am. Sometimes I handed 'em in a little bit late."

"All right, then. Perhaps you should work on correcting that, eh?"

"My homework won't be late any more. I promise."

"Good."

She smiled at me and I was overcome with a huge weight of guilt. Not only had I failed to tell Mrs. Beers the whole truth, but I had disobeyed my grandmother's strict order to do so and was, no doubt, going to have to face my grandmother about that failure. I felt worse than ever about the whole thing.

"Now, Innusiq," she said, turning her attention to him, "is there a concern you need to discuss with me?"

"Um, I'm not sure, ma'am," he replied, looking at me for guidance but getting nothing from me but a confused shrug. "I was wondering, Miss Beers..."

"Yes, wondering what?"

"If a kid does something bad and he tells you about it, do you have to send him to the Principal's office?"

"Well, that would depend, I suppose, on what this bad thing was. I prefer to handle any problems with my students myself, but if the matter is very serious, the Principal may have to be informed."

"What kind of thing would be very serious?"

"Innusiq, why don't you just tell me what's troubling you? We'll work it out from there, eh?"

"Um, well, it's about cheating, ma'am."

"Cheating?"

"Ben says it's cheating, but I wasn't trying to cheat. Honest, Miss Beers."

"Hold on a minute, dear. What exactly did you do that may or may not have been cheating?"

"I, um...I borrowed Ben's homework sometimes, when I had too much to do."

"Do you mean to tell me you copied Ben's work?"

"Um, yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Beers looked at me again with an expression of surprise. "With your knowledge, Ben?"

I nodded reluctantly, loathe to disappoint my beloved Mrs. Beers.

"Well, I must say, boys, I'm extremely surprised at this news. I would never have expected such deceitful behaviour from either of you."

Neither of us attempted to say anything else. We just folded our hands on our desks and hung our heads in shame.

Mrs. Beers sighed and then took the envelope I had given her, ripped it open, and removed the note that was tucked inside. I had no idea what my grandmother had written in the note, but as my mind considered the possibilities, my heart started to feel like it would jump right out of my body. I snuck a peek at Mrs. Beers as she read the note and tried to gauge her reaction to whatever my grandmother had written. When her eyes suddenly fell onto me as she settled her hands and the note onto her lap, I felt momentary panic. A measure of relief followed when she bestowed on me a subtle smile and a wink.

"Are we in big trouble, ma'am?" I asked, buoyed by a surge of courage.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that until after I hear the full story."

"What else is there to tell you?"

"I'd like to know why you decided upon this course of action. If you didn't mean to cheat, you must have had some motive. Why don't you tell me about it?"

And so we explained how Innusiq sometimes felt overwhelmed with work when he had to play catch-up after an absence and how I had agreed to lessen his burden by helping him with some of his assignments.

"Well, Innusiq, regardless of this practice of copying Ben's work, you seem to have absorbed an awful lot of knowledge. You scored excellent marks on your exams. You didn't cheat on the tests, did you?"

"Oh, no, ma'am. Never."

"Then I guess you must have done more honest studying than you realize. Perhaps if we exercise a little discretion with your assignment deadlines, you'll find you're able to complete them on your own."

"You mean you'll let me have longer to complete them, ma'am?"

"If an extension is justified, yes, I'm sure we can work something out. I'd much rather have you turn in your own work a day or two later than have you hand in a copy of someone else's work. All right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now, as for you, Benton..." She tilted her head slightly and raised her eyebrows to add effect to her scolding. "I understand your grandmother has already discussed this matter with you?"

"Uh huh. She sure did."

"So, do you understand that your behaviour was just as unacceptable as Innusiq's?"

"Yes, Miss Beers. I won't let him copy my homework any more. I promise."

"And what about the other students?"

"Ma'am?"

"Helping your classmates to cheat is no way to go about making friends."

My face blushed deep red and my ears got so warm I thought they would burn right off my head. Apparently, my grandmother had revealed quite a bit in her note to Mrs. Beers. "I know," I choked out in a guilty whisper.

"From now on, no one sees your homework except you and me, right?"

"Right, ma'am."

"Excellent." Mrs. Beers sat back and looked at the two of us for a moment as we waited, barely breathing, to hear our sentence pronounced. "You're both to see me at the end of class today. I'll have a report of this matter prepared for each of you to take home to your folks. Bring them back to me tomorrow, signed, and the subject will be considered closed."

"That's it, ma'am?" I asked.

"Will that be enough?" she questioned in reply.

"Yes, ma'am. Plenty," I assured her.

"We thought...um," Innusiq searched for his words. "Eric said anyone who gets caught cheating gets sent to the Principal."

"Hmm, well, this is a little different in that rather than waiting to get caught you came to me and confessed. I think that should count for something, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed heartily and then wrinkled his face as he asked timidly, "Does the Principal really expel a kid if he cheats?"

"Tell you what, boys, if you want an answer to that question, be assured that if either of you does anything like this again, I'll personally escort you to the Principal so that you can find out, first hand, how cheaters are punished. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," we answered in unison, dissatisfied with her answer, but not brave enough to tell her that.

"Very well. Now, go on outside for the rest of the break. I've got some work to do."

My heart felt infinitely lighter as I stood up, and my love for Mrs. Beers had grown even stronger than I'd thought possible. I wished I could wrap my arms around her in a hug, but something inside me told me to rein in that desire.

"Come on, Ben," Innusiq urged with a pull on my arm. "Let's go tell Eric he's full of baloney 'cause we didn't get sent to the Principal."

"Go ahead. I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, but hurry up. We gotta think up a way to get him back."

"Yeah, okay."

Innusiq ran out of the room, leaving me standing by my desk, staring at Mrs. Beers as she worked at her desk. I shyly approached her desk and cleared my throat to get her attention.

"Yes, honey, what is it?"

She didn't look at me, so I cleared my throat again until she did. I stood as tall as I could and extended my hand in the same fashion with which I would greet my father on those rare occasions when we met. She seemed perplexed, but she took my hand and returned my firm grip.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am, for what I did."

"I know you are, honey." She now held my hand tenderly in both of hers. "And I realize it took a great deal of courage for you and Innusiq to come to me and confess. I'm proud of both of you."

"You're really proud of us?" I asked in astonishment. "We thought you'd be angry."

"I'm not thrilled to discover what you've been doing, but the fact that you owned up to it has reinforced my faith in you."

Mrs. Beers' expression of trust made me feel a bit ashamed. It hadn't, after all, been my idea to confess to my crime. "My grandmother kind of made us tell you, ma'am," I admitted as I wrung my hands behind me and shuffled my feet.

"Yes, I gathered as much. And I'm sure your grandmother will be just as pleased as I am that you decided to obey her wishes."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Is there something else?" she asked when I failed to take my leave.

"No, just thank you, ma'am. You're, um, you're a real nice teacher, and I won't ever deceive you again."

"That's good to hear because I know I can rely on your word."

"A man is always true to his word, ma'am, or else he's not a man. That's what my dad says."

"Your dad must be a fine man."

"Uh huh. Everybody says he is."

"He's also a very fortunate man to have a son like you."

A sadness came over me as I realized I had no idea how my father felt about having me for a son -- or if he even felt anything.

"May I tell you a secret?" Mrs. Beers asked with a smile as she lifted my chin with her gentle fingers and kindly pretended she didn't notice the tears welling in my eyes.

"A secret, ma'am? What is it?" I asked, blinking away my emotion.

"I'm not planning to make an announcement to the class for a while, so can I trust you to keep this to yourself until then?"

"Sure, Miss Beers," I answered, thrilled at the prospect of sharing something special with her. "What's the secret?"

"Well..." She put her hands on my shoulders and massaged them as she leaned in close to me. I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. "I hope my child is just like you, honey."

What child? You don't have a child, you're a teacher! That was the gist of the thoughts running through my mind as I stood there speechless for several seconds, anxiously biting my lip.

"It's getting dark," my grandfather's voice suddenly sounded over the steady trickle of the river that flowed a short distance from the sweat lodge.

I offered no reply, remaining hidden in my harbour. I knew he knew I was in there; I wasn't trying to deny my presence. It was just that, in my melancholy, I saw no point to acknowledging my grandfather. He disagreed.

"Come on out of there, son. We have to talk."

It was clear that disobeying him was not an option, so I crawled out from the hut and stood before him in my underwear with my head bowed. I could not let him see that I'd been crying. "Hello, sir."

"Never mind the innocent act. What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Nothing, sir."

"Do you have permission to use this sweat lodge?"

"Eric said I could anytime I wanted."

"Hmm, well, that may be, but you were expected home hours ago. Am I mistaken, or is the rule that you are to come straight home from school?"

"Yes, that's the rule, sir," I admitted in a whisper. Although I couldn't lie outright, my grandfather appeared unaware of my unscheduled departure from school, so it seemed best not to mention it.

"Did you clear this little excursion with your grandmother?"

"No, sir. It was, um, kind of a spur of the moment idea. Sorry I broke the rule."

"You're gonna have to do better than that."

I was aware that he was demanding an explanation, but I didn't have it in me to give one. Not yet. So, I lowered my head even further, until my chin was pressed against my chest.

Grandpa was clearly annoyed as he pushed my head back to reveal my face. He scowled as he perused me and firmly wiped his thumb once across each of my tear-stained cheeks. "Put your clothes back on. You can't go home looking like that."

"I'm not ready to go home, Grandpa." I purposely stated my intention rather than asking permission because I wanted to assert some independence.

"Put your clothes on!" he commanded as he gripped my arm and lightly tossed me toward the neat pile of clothing that lay just outside the hut.

So much for independence. But as I was feeling rather vulnerable being questioned in nothing but my skivvies, I complied with his order. As I dressed myself, I tried in vain to ignore the stern eyes watching me. I finally had to accept that there was no escaping the inevitable: I was going to have to answer for my rash, spontaneous act.

Once I was dressed, I crossed my arms in front of me and raised my face hesitantly, only as far as necessary to make the slightest of eye contact with my grandfather. I saw him struggle to relax his expression, but his brow still retained its posture of irritation.

"Let's go," he said calmly and extended his arm to call me to his side.

"I can't."

"Eh? You can't what?"

"Go home."

"Listen, son, if I were you, I wouldn't add fire to the flame. You've already--"

"But, that's it, Grandpa. I can't leave while the steam pit is still burning." To be honest, the burning embers in the sweat lodge had completely slipped my mind until my grandfather's words sparked my memory. I simply was in no state of mind to act responsibly, which was a big reason for my reticence about going home where, without doubt, a thorough interrogation awaited me. If my grandparents sensed an uncooperative attitude in me, the situation was bound to escalate.

"Go put it out. I'll wait."

"Yes, sir." So I crawled back inside the steam-filled hut and prepared to douse the fire. Within seconds, my grandfather had crawled in to join me.

"Phew! It's warm in here!" he exclaimed, loosening the collar of his shirt.

"That's why you're supposed to take off your clothes, Grandpa."

"Yes, precisely."

"You can go home, sir. It won't take me too long, and then I can come home."

"Nice try, but, no. I think it's best if we go home together."

Frowning, I made a move to start extinguishing the fire, but my grandfather grabbed my wrist to stop me.

"Hold up a minute, son. It's been years since I've experienced a sweat. Do you think your friend would mind if we, uh, dallied here for a bit?"

A smile started to creep across my face, replacing my frown. "No, I'm sure he won't mind," I answered.

Taking Grandpa's lead, I eagerly stripped myself again and we laid our clothes off to one side of the hut. I couldn't hold back a giggle or two when I noticed that my grandfather's boxers provided inadequate coverage when he positioned himself in the traditional tight crossed-leg manner. I'd seen his body many times, as well as my father's, because we often bathed together in the river. But, despite this familiarity, something about the sight of his manhood reaching beyond the confines of his shorts struck me as hilarious. Maybe I just needed a laugh.

"What the devil's tickling your funny bone?" he inquired with confusion.

Still giggling, I pointed and said, "Your shorts won't stay closed, Grandpa."

Upon discovering his bulge peeking out from his gaping fly, he wrinkled his face in dismay and went about performing some rather complicated adjustments until he was safely stowed. Thus settled, he looked up and winked at me. "Rectified." He saw me staring at his lap, as if waiting for a curtain call, and coughed to get my attention. "Just one of God's gifts to man," he said with a grin.

I looked down at my own shorts and then back at Grandpa with a questioning expression.

"All in due time, son, all in due time," he reassured me. "Er, a gentleman doesn't stare," he advised seconds later, placing his hands over the area which had continued to fascinate me.

"Sorry, sir," I apologized, forcing my blushing face to lock its eyes on Grandpa's.

"Well, no harm done. A little curiosity's only natural for a boy your age."

"Can I ask you something, Grandpa?"

"Certainly."

"When does it, um, get like that? Like yours and Dad's?"

"Oh, anytime now, I expect."

"Really?" I took hold of the waistband of my shorts and stretched it just far enough so that I could see what was hidden underneath, but not far enough to expose anything to Grandpa. I half expected to see things sprout before my very eager eyes.

Grandpa tried unsuccessfully to stifle his laugh as he began to massage my shoulders with his fingertips. "Probably not today, buddy."

"Oh," I replied, crestfallen, as I let my waistband snap back against my skin.

"Fret not, Ben. Mother Nature knows when it's time. She'll take care of everything. You just be patient, eh? No point in rushing it."

"I guess I don't have a choice, huh?"

"I didn't realize you were so anxious to, uh, mature. Think you're missing out on something?"

"I don't know. I just wanna be a man, a real man."

"And you think having fully-developed genitalia would make you a real man?"

"Well, it'd be something, so people wouldn't think I was just a kid."

"Which people do you have in mind?"

"Nobody. Just everybody."

"And when you are, uh, developed, you plan on, er, flaunting it to prove your manhood?"

"No, sir!"

"Hmm, so is it how everybody else sees you that's worrying you? Or is what you're really after something to make you feel like a man, inside?"

"Um, I don't know. Maybe, I guess."

"There's no shame in being a kid, you know. It happens to the best of us."

"Yes, sir."

"Listen, you wanna know what qualities I look for in a man?"

"Sure."

He held up his hands and started to count them out on his fingers. "Honesty, integrity, kindness, courage, trustworthiness "

"Aw, Grandpa, I know about those things!"

"Glad to hear it, because, in my book, those things go a lot further in making you a man than what you got down your drawers!" He put his face close to mine as he made that statement, and I just nodded, unable to argue his valid point. "What do you say we get started, eh?" my grandfather suggested to get my mind off my disappointment. "Throw some water on the coals, son."

"Okay." I closed my eyes and listened to the hiss of the steam and felt the vapours surrounding me and invading my pores. I breathed deeply and tried to clear my mind, but my conscience was too burdened to allow me peace. "Grandpa?" I questioned with a quivering voice, peeking at him through one hesitant eye.

"Shhh." He reached out blindly and searched for my mouth, pinching my lips together when he found them.

I obeyed for a few seconds, but my discomfort kept growing, urging me to break the silence once again. "But I gotta tell you something. Please, sir?"

Grandpa sighed and then nodded his head once. He never opened his eyes, for which I was very grateful. I felt it would be easier to confess to someone who couldn't see me.

"Um, well, it's about why I didn't come home after school." I paused to wipe my brow with my undershirt, and Grandpa waited patiently for me to resume. "I sort of left school...before I was supposed to...and hid in the hills...and then I came here."

"Mmmm," was all he said. He put his fingers to his lips to signal that I should say no more, so I closed my eyes and tried once more to silence my mind. It wasn't easy. My feelings of guilt had abated, but a sense of anxious anticipation now gripped me.

About five minutes later, I heard my grandfather take a deep breath, in and out, slowly. I opened my eyes to look at him, and he winked, so I winked back and then used my undershirt again to swab my face.

"Are you all right?" Grandpa asked.

"Yes, sir. I was just...sweating."

"Ah, good. Nothing like a good sweat to cleanse a soul, eh?"

"Yeah."

Grandpa took his clothes and placed them in his lap. "Put out the fire. I'll wait for you outside." He didn't wait for an acknowledgment, but immediately turned around and made his way out of the steamy hut.

To my own surprise, I found myself wasting no time in extinguishing the fire and joining my grandfather outside the hut. I can't be sure whether it was the sweat ritual or my grandfather's patience that had relaxed me, but I suspect it may have been both. I had no doubt that I would yet be made to answer for my misbehaviour, but I didn't feel threatened by my grandfather. To the contrary, I felt compelled to confide in him. Despite my fear of humiliation, I needed to tell somebody about my sorrow.

"So, Benton," my grandfather said loudly as he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me snugly to his side just as I finished dressing. "There was a problem at school today, was there?"

"No, sir, not exactly." I put my arm around him and kept step with him as we walked.

"Surely you didn't leave class for no reason. Your grandmother and I would have to frown upon such behaviour quite severely."

"I had a reason, sir, but it wasn't 'cause I was in trouble or anything like that. Can we talk about it, Grandpa, um, man to man?"

"I think that's an excellent suggestion, son."

I was quiet for a moment as I wondered how a man would reveal to his grandpa the things that I needed to reveal to my grandpa. "You know my teacher, Grandpa?"

"Of course. Mrs. Beers. We're well-acquainted."

"She's a nice lady, don't you think?"

"Yes, a very nice lady, indeed."

"Well, she's a nice teacher, too. She's the nicest teacher I ever had....not counting Grandma, I mean."

"She's also the only teacher you've ever had, not counting Grandma, eh?"

"Oh. Yeah, that's right."

"But, that's not really important. Sorry. Go on, son. Continue." He obviously realized he had let the air out of my tires and felt bad about it.

"Um, well, she...um...I really like her, Grandpa. A lot."

"That's wonderful, Ben. I'm sure that's very helpful to your education, to like your teacher."

"Yeah, but I used to think she liked me, too...a little bit."

"Of course she likes you."

"No, I mean, you know, liked me. The way I like her."

"And just what way do you like her, buddy?"

"I never liked anybody before like I like her."

"Oh?"

"I think I love her, Grandpa."

"Oh!" He nodded in recognition and patted my side as he momentarily tightened his embrace.

"She's so pretty and nice and she laughs when I make jokes and she always calls me 'honey.' She doesn't call anybody else 'honey.'"

"Ah, she makes you feel pretty special, eh?"

"Uh huh. Doesn't that mean you like someone, when you call him 'honey' and stuff?"

"Yes, I imagine so. But, you know, there are lots of different ways of liking - or loving - someone."

"Yeah, I know."

"For instance, your grandma calls you 'honey' sometimes. Do you think Mrs. Beers loves you the same way Grandma does?"

"Aw, heck, Grandpa!"

"What's the matter?"

"I don't want her to love me like Grandma does!"

"How do you want her to love you, then?"

"You know, just to love me because she does, not because she's my grandma and has to."

"Listen here, Buster, I take exception to that. Your grandmother loves you for who you are, as do I. We don't love you out of obligation."

"You mean even if I was somebody else's grandson, you'd still love me?"

Grandpa chuckled and then squeezed my neck as he teasingly scolded me. "If you were someone else's grandson, I reckon I'd think you were a fresh-mouthed little monster who needed a good kick in the pants more often!"

I looked up at him to deduce whether he was angry and he gave me a playful pinch of my nose. "Do you think Miss Beers thinks that, too?" I said, horrified at the prospect.

"What happened today, Ben?" Grandpa's tone was very serious. "Why are you suddenly so worried about what Mrs. Beers thinks of you?"

"I don't know."

"Balderdash! You ran out of her classroom. Why did you do that? You said you had a reason, now I want to hear it."

"It's hard to explain."

"You asked if we could talk man-to-man. Well, a man would just say what needs saying."

"Um, well, it was just, um...I decided not to go to school anymore. That's all."

"Ah, well, man-to-man, Ben, I'm not so sure that's your call to make. You might've discussed it with me and your grandma before you just up and walked out of class." He was a tad miffed, yet he continued to speak to me almost as an equal.

"I never had to go to school before. Grandma always gave me my lessons at home."

"That's true, and I suspect she's gonna have a doozie of a lesson to give you tonight!"

"Um, do we have to tell her everything? You know, about me leaving school today? Can't we just let her think I loitered on the way home?"

"You're suggesting we be dishonest with her?"

I hung my head to hide my blush of shame. "No, sir."

"No, I didn't think so. Besides, it wouldn't work, you know. She's already been told that you left school."

"She has?"

"Yes, of course. The school had to notify us when you disappeared. For all they knew, you might've gone home, so that was the first place they looked for you."

"Oh." I felt pretty stupid for not realizing that's what would happen, and I was grateful to Grandpa for refraining from rubbing my ignorance in my face. "How come you didn't tell me you knew?"

"Because I figured you'd rather tell me about it yourself. Was I correct?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. Um, are you proud of me, sir?"

"Proud of you? That seems an odd question to ask, considering the circumstances."

"I mean because I confessed. Miss Beers said she was proud of me and Innusiq 'cause we told her about him copying my homework and didn't wait to get caught. She says that should count for something so she didn't make us go to the Principal's office and she said she was proud of us."

"Ah, I see. All right, then, yes, I am pleased that you confessed; however, that doesn't mean you're completely exonerated."

"Exonerated?"

"Freed from blame."

"Oh. Um, so is Grandma pretty angry, too?"

"She will be, I expect. Right now, she's concerned. We were all very concerned. We feared you were hurt or in trouble somewhere. I should think you would've been able to figure that out, but apparently you didn't think of anyone but yourself." This was probably one of the sternest reprimands I'd ever received from my grandfather, and it sure woke me up to how selfish I had been. But still, a little voice inside me somewhere kept insisting it was necessary to be selfish now and then. *If only it were possible to be selfish without hurting someone else,* I wished silently in answer to the little voice.

"I'm sorry for making you worry, sir. I just didn't know what else to do."

"Why did you have to do anything? You still haven't told me why you ran off like that." Grandpa had raised his voice more than usual, and I could tell it was a struggle for him not to raise it even more. "If you expect to be treated like a man, you're gonna have to act like one."

My shame and sorrow became too much for me and I succumbed to a heartfelt cry, which I tried with all my might to stop. But every time I attempted to say something to my grandfather, my emotion became more intense, until finally Grandpa sighed and pulled me against him.

"All right, son, get it out. Let it all out."

"I'm sorry, Grandpa," I wailed with my sobbing face pressed against his comforting body.

"I know, I know."

"I love her, Grandpa. I love Miss Beers. I can't help it, I just do."

"And it hurts because you don't think she loves you back?"

"Uh huh. I didn't mean to make anybody worried or angry," I explained amidst my gasps for air. "I just had to leave, I couldn't help it."

"Hmm, a broken heart can do that, you know. Many's the man -- or woman, I suppose -- who've done things in the pain of a freshly broken heart that they never would've imagined doing under normal circumstances." He ran his fingers through my hair, and I could feel my despair starting to subside.

"Really?" I lifted my head to look at him and wiped my face with my sleeve.

"Oh, lordy, yes!" He crouched and laid his hands on my shoulders, kneading them with his fingers as he spoke. "You know, I remember an incident when I was about your age. I was madly in love with the pretty young girl who used to stay with me and my little sister when my parents went off to minister at a neighboring village. She was quite a few years older than me, of course, but that didn't matter to me. As far as I was concerned, I was just as much a man as the next guy." He paused and smiled at me, then continued. "Her name was Millicent. A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Was she as pretty as Miss Beers?"

"Yes, just as pretty as that."

"Wow."

"Precisely. Anyway, one evening a young man came over to the house to visit Millicent while she was staying with us. My sister and I were sent to bed, but I snuck out of the bedroom and found Millicent snuggled up close to the young man on the couch."

"Gosh! Were they kissing?"

"Yes, they were kissing."

"Gosh. What'd you do?"

"Well, I decided if the young man was going to steal Millicent from me, I would at least have something to remember her by. So, I fetched a scissors from the kitchen, crept up behind the couch, and snipped off the shiny, brown ponytail that she always wore. I knew I'd never forget her as long as I had that ponytail."

"Oh my gosh! What'd she say when you did that?"

"Oh, plenty, plenty. She was furious. She screamed at me for, oh, at least five minutes -- as did her boyfriend -- and chased me around the house, threatening to cut off my fingers. They finally caught me and she grabbed the scissors from me and smacked my hand and then sent me to my room and made me stay there until my parents returned home a couple days later. I was crushed."

"Because Millicent didn't love you?"

"I was sure she hated me. She didn't even speak to me for those next two days. Then, as soon as my parents got home, she told them the story, and my father called for me. When I got to the parlour, he asked me if what Millicent told him was true. I couldn't bring myself to lie to him, so I admitted it was true. He said nothing else, just turned me over his knee and soundly paddled my bare bottom right there in front of the girl I loved. By the time he'd finished with me, all four of my cheeks glowed as red and warm as the embers of a fire. But the worst part was he also made me return the ponytail to the girl."

I wasn't sure what to say. I couldn't help thinking a similar fate awaited me. "Gosh. Couldn't she just grow another ponytail?"

"You know, son, that was my thought exactly!" he exclaimed with a nod of his head. "However, something told me it wasn't a good idea to suggest it out loud, you know?"

"Yeah. So you gave it back?"

"I gave it back."

"Gee, that's awful."

"Yes, I was quite an unhappy fellow after that. I never saw Millicent again. A month later, she and the boy were married and moved away."

A tear of empathy for my grandfather fell down my cheek and Grandpa kindly reached out and brushed it away. "Do you still love her, Grandpa?" I asked.

"No, I reckon not. Although, at the time, I was sure I'd never love anyone else as much as I loved her."

"Even though she got you in trouble?"

"Oh, she didn't really. I had acted inappropriately and got my comeuppance. I suppose I felt a fleeting resentment that I was the one who got spanked when, in my estimation, she had caused the whole thing by betraying my love. But I loved her too much to hold that against her for too long."

"Yeah," I agreed, thinking how difficult it was for me to be angry with Mrs. Beers for any length of time.

"Besides, eventually I met your grandmother and she turned out to be the love of my life."

"Did Grandma have a ponytail?"

"You know, she did, and it was even shinier and prettier than Millicent's."

"Wow, did you cut it off?" I asked with a teasing grin. "'Cause she doesn't have a ponytail any more."

"Oh, dear, no. I'd learned my lesson there. But one day, Grandma cut off a lock of her hair and gave it to me as a token of her love. And I still have that lock of hair."

"You do? Can I see it?"

"Sure, buddy, sure. Soon as we get home and, er, get this mess straightened out."

My face fell immediately at the thought of getting home. "I guess I'm gonna get my comeuppance, huh?"

"That's a distinct possibility."

"Just remember, Grandpa, I did it 'cause I had a broken heart."

"Are you prepared to explain that to Grandma?"

"Aw, darn, do I have to?"

"You can't expect her to understand unless she knows why you did what you did."

"I know, but, gosh..."

"You told me. Why can't you tell your grandmother?"

"You're a guy, Grandma's not."

"No, she's not. That's true."

"So I can't tell her man-to-man 'cause she's not a man," I reasoned very logically.

"Hmm...point taken." Grandpa stroked his chin as he thought for a minute, then he crossed his arms over his chest and made a suggestion. "What would you say to me, er, having a word with Grandma about it?"

"You mean you'd tell her everything I told you?"

"Well, perhaps not everything, but enough so she could understand the situation a little better."

"We're home!" Grandpa called out as he led me into the house. "Hang up your coat, buddy."

I could hear the exasperation in my grandmother's voice as she bellowed a medley of exclamations on her way to greet us in the mud room, and I was not looking forward to having to answer to her. I didn't feel up to it in my present state of melancholia. So, out of desperation, I tried to hide myself among the coats that filled the rack.

"Isn't Ben with you?" my grandmother asked in wonder.

"He's right he--" my grandfather started to answer, and then, seconds later, his hand clutched my collar and dragged me out of my sanctuary. "He's right here, Martha, and he's fine. Physically, that is."

"I'm sorry I was late, ma'am. May I go to my room?" I asked, knowing full well that my request would be denied.

"No, you may not!" Grandma replied, blocking the doorway as I attempted to pass through. "We have more than tardiness to discuss, do we not?" she asked sternly with a good tug on my ear.

"Yes, ma'am," I agreed, hanging my head.

"Are you okay, honey?" she sighed as she held my face between her hands and scrutinized it.

"Uh huh."

"We've been worried sick! Half the town's been out looking all over kingdom come for you! Where have you been?"

"Just around."

"You do not run off in the middle of the school day without telling someone where you're going! For heaven's sake, what's gotten into you that you would do such a thing?"

I hung my head sulkily, failing to respond, and suddenly I felt myself being dragged against my will once more.

"Come with me."

"Where, Grandma?"

"You'll see."

I was certain she was taking me to the study to finish her reprimand and, very probably, to tan the hell out of my truant hide. I held my tongue as I was sure Grandpa would intervene before Grandma had a chance to take harsh action. But when we reached the living room, she halted. As I looked up to question her, I saw Mrs. Beers seated on the couch, her hands held lovingly by a strange man who sat beside her.

"Miss Beers!" I uttered softly in surprise and sorrow.

"Ben, what happened? Why did you run off like that, honey?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened, ma'am," I lied, turning my face from her in shame.

"You owe us a better explanation than that, Mister," Grandma declared in a stern voice and then pulled me to stand at her side as she took a seat across from Mrs. Beers and the strange man. "Now, where did you go and why?"

"I can't tell you, Grandma. Not right now," I added with a quick glance toward the couch. "Please, may I go to my room?" I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to hold back my tears.

"No, I've already told you--"

"Pardon me, dear," Grandpa interrupted her politely. "Why don't we let the boy go to his room."

"He's going to tell me what this is all about," Grandma stated adamantly.

"Yes, he will. He knows that."

I nodded in agreement when both of my grandparents looked at me for acknowledgment.

"But I think there are a few things I should tell you first," Grandpa continued.

"Very well. Ben, you may go to your room until I call for you."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said. But, before leaving the room, I turned to my grandfather and pleaded, "Will you come to my room for a minute, sir. I have to tell you something."

"You can't tell him here?" Grandma asked with obvious suspicion.

"Uh-uh. It's guy stuff, Grandma."

"Can it wait?" she asked.

"It's important. It won't take long. Please?"

Grandpa touched Grandma's shoulder and winked. "Excuse me for a moment, folks. I'll be right back."

Once in my room, I shut the door and motioned for Grandpa to follow me to the far side of the room. I didn't want anyone else to mistakenly overhear what I had to say.

"All right, buddy, what is it?" Grandpa finally asked, a bit fed up with my obsessively cautious behaviour.

"You're not gonna tell Miss Beers that I love her, are you?"

"Um, well..."

"Because you can't tell her that, Grandpa, or I'll die!"

"You won't die, Ben."

"Yes, I will! I'll be so embarrassed, I'll die! And I won't be able to ever see her any more 'cause she'll hate me and--"

"Now, hold on there, buddy," Grandpa quieted me with a squeeze to my shoulder. "Just settle down, would you?"

"But, Grandpa--"

"Hush, Ben. You listen to me for a minute, eh?" He paused to let me nod and then he crouched to speak to me, eye-to-eye. "Now, for starters, love is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about."

"I know, but--"

"Are you gonna hush up for a minute, or shall I just send you to your grandmother and let her deal with you?"

"I'll hush up, sir," I acquiesced a bit reluctantly.

"All right. Now, as I was saying, you've no cause to feel bad about loving Mrs. Beers. Love is a fine thing. They say it makes the world go 'round."

"But she's my teacher, sir. The other kids make fun of me 'cause they think I like her even though I tell 'em I don't."

"Then perhaps you should just admit that you do like her."

"Huh?!"

"They only make fun of you because they think it bothers you. If you showed them that it doesn't bother you, I bet they'd stop doing it."

"But..."

"But what?"

"I can't let Miss Beers know. She'd hate me."

"Rubbish! You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think she already knows."

"No, she couldn't. I never told her."

"You didn't have to tell her. I'm sure she can tell that you care about her by the way you treat her. You never told me or your grandma how you feel about Mrs. Beers, but we could tell."

"You could?"

"Of course."

"Aw, heck. What am I gonna do now, Grandpa?" I was pretty much beside myself with panic.

"Do about what?"

"If everybody knows, I'm gonna die! I can't ever leave the house again!"

Grandpa put on a stern aspect and grabbed my upper arms in a tight grip until he had my full attention. "I won't stand for that kind of talk, you understand? A man doesn't run away and hide whenever he's afraid of something. That's no way to live your life."

"I'm not afraid, sir."

"Yes, you are. You're afraid to let anyone know how you feel about Mrs. Beers. Including Mrs. Beers. Isn't that right? Eh?"

"It's dumb, Grandpa."

"What's dumb?" he asked, relaxing his hold of me.

"She's gonna have a baby."

"Yes, I know. She told us. She said that was when you ran off -- after she told you about the baby."

"She's not gonna be a teacher anymore. She's just gonna be....a mum."

"Ah, well, you know, she wasn't gonna be your teacher forever."

"I know." It wasn't so much that I wanted Mrs. Beers to be my teacher forever; it was just that I didn't want her to be somebody else's mum. I figured I needed her as much as some kid who wasn't even born yet. Sure, I had my grandma, but that wasn't quite the same.

"What is it you want from Mrs. Beers, eh, buddy?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, come on, man to man. It'll be our secret."

"I don't know what I want, Grandpa. I just love her."

"So, does that have to change? Can't you go on loving her?"

"No, 'cause that's dumb."

"I don't understand. What's dumb about it?"

"She's married to some other guy, and she's even having a baby."

"So what? What does that have to do with you loving her?"

"Well, gee whiz, Grandpa..." I thought it was pretty obvious, but I didn't know how to put it in words.

"Do you want to marry her, buddy?" Well, my grandfather found the words with no problem. Now the question was how to answer him.

"I can't," I mumbled, staring at the floor. "I'm not old enough."

Grandpa sighed deeply and then tapped my shoulder to make me look at him. "You know, maybe you're looking at this all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"You're dwelling on what can't be instead of what is. So, you can't marry Mrs. Beers nor can she be your mum, but you're forgetting the one thing you can be to her that no one else can."

"What's that, Grandpa?"

"Ben Fraser. You're the only Ben Fraser in Mrs. Beers' life and nothing can change that. She can be married for fifty years and have dozens of kids, but you'll still be her only Ben Fraser. And you know something else?"

"What?"

"I bet that means as much to her as it does to you."

"You really think so?"

"She was very upset when you disappeared this afternoon. She had to leave her class and could think about nothing but finding you, safe and sound. Her husband tried to take her home to rest, but she wouldn't go. She insisted on staying right here until you were found. In fact, if it weren't against medical orders, she would've been out looking for you herself." Grandpa cocked his head at me and squinted as he asked, "Does that sound like someone who doesn't have room for you in her heart?"

"No, sir."

"Does it sound like someone who'd hate you if you told her how you feel about her?"

"I guess not."

"No, I guess not. You know what it does sound like?"

"What, sir?"

"It sounds like someone who's not gonna rest easy until she knows you're all right, until she knows she hasn't hurt you."

"She would never hurt me, Grandpa!"

"Perhaps you should let her know you know that, eh?"

"That means you're gonna make me tell her, huh?"

"Yes, buddy, it means I want you to talk to her."

"Do I have to do it right now? In front of everybody?" I started to brush my sleeve across my face as a means of illustrating that I was in no shape to make a public appearance, without actually admitting in so many words that I needed time to dry my tears.

Grandpa stood up and stretched and then perched his hands on his hips. "Tell you what, kiddo. You stay here and, er, think about what you want to say. I'll go out there and stall them for a few minutes and then I'll send your lady in here to see you. Okay?"

"In here?"

"So you can talk privately, without any interruptions."

I smiled. "Okay. Thanks, Grandpa."

A short while later, there was a gentle knock at my bedroom door. I froze momentarily, my mind racing, wanting to make the best possible impression on Mrs. Beers. I mean, this was my room she was visiting. My personal room with all my stuff in it. It was like I was going to be letting her see the very depths of my soul, which is kind of scary when you're ten years old and you're not even sure you understand the depths of your own soul yet.

I checked myself in the mirror to make sure no traces of tears remained visible, then ran my fingers through my hair in imitation of the way my grandmother always did when my hair needed taming. I just seemed to be making matters worse, though, so I quickly gave up on that. After tucking my shirttail neatly underneath the waistband of my trousers, I went to the door, took a deep, cleansing breath, and pulled it open. And there stood my Miss Beers, just as Grandpa had promised.

"Hello, Benton," she said with a cheerful smile.

"Hi, Miss Beers. You wanna come in?" I offered with a wave of my arm.

"Yes, thank you. That would be lovely."

My adrenaline was really rushing. I felt almost like I was on a date -- or at least it was how I imagined a date felt like. "This is, um, my room," I announced and then stood by silently as Mrs. Beers had a quick look around.

"It's very nice, Ben. I've never known a young boy to keep such a neat room," she remarked, smiling at me again.

"A disorderly room leads to a disorderly mind, Grandma says."

"Yes, I can imagine it would."

"So I have to keep it in order or Grandma gives me demerits, and if I get too many demerits, I get in trouble."

"Well, that sounds like a fair system."

"Yeah, except when I get in trouble. Then I don't like it too much."

Mrs. Beers laughed and tousled the hair I had tried in vain to groom. "Oh, Ben, you must be quite a handful for your poor grandparents!"

My heart sank. "I try to be good most of the time," I told her earnestly, praying I could convince her I wasn't so bad to have around.

She saw the dejection on my face and immediately stopped laughing and took my hand and squeezed it tenderly. "Oh, honey, of course you do. I was just teasing you."

I nodded and tried to smile, but I don't think I was very convincing.

"Well, something must be wrong," she declared, swinging her arm as she held my hand. "The Ben I know and love is always quick to give as good as he gets."

My eyes darted her way at the word 'love,' but I couldn't bring myself to speak. So, I just stared at her as my puzzlement worked the features of my face.

"Shall we sit down, honey?"

"Oh, sure. Darn, I'm sorry, I should've told you you could sit before," I apologized nervously.

"Relax, Ben. You're a fine host. I just thought we might like to sit down for a talk."

"Okay. Um, you can sit at my desk if you want. That's where I do my homework and stuff," I explained as I escorted her and then pulled out the chair for her.

"Thank you, honey," she said as she took her seat. "But, um, where will you sit?"

"That's okay. I can stand. I don't mind."

"All right." After a brief pause, during which we both seemed to be waiting for the other to speak, she finally said, "Well, Ben..."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Your grandfather said there was something you wanted to tell me."

"Um, yeah, but, um..." I squirmed uneasily, wondering how the heck I'd ever be able to articulate what was on my mind without making a total fool of myself.

"Here, honey," Mrs. Beers said as she cleared the corner of the desktop. "Hop up here."

"That's not a chair, ma'am."

"Oh, it won't hurt to pretend it is for a little while, will it?"

"No, I guess not." So I positioned myself atop the desk and smiled shyly at her while my legs dangled over the edge, bumping against the desk in a regular rhythm.

Mrs. Beers tried to calm me down by steadying my legs with a gentle touch and smiling. "How about if I get the ball rolling, eh?"

"Okay," I agreed with a sigh of relief.

"You were absent from class this afternoon."

"I know...I mean, yes, ma'am."

"Did something happen to make you run off?"

"Sort of."

"A problem with one of your classmates?"

"No, ma'am."

"A problem with me, then?"

We stared at each other and I tried to think of something to say, but failed, so I finally averted my eyes.

"You're not still bothered about the homework incident, are you, Ben?" she asked, to which I silently shook my head without looking at her. "Because we settled that and, as far as I'm concerned, it's forgotten."

"Yes, ma'am. That's not it. It's, um....personal. Do I have to tell you?"

"No, I suppose not. But, you know, honey, whatever it is probably isn't going to go away if you keep it to yourself. If there's a problem, someone needs to know."

"I talked to my grandpa about it."

"Oh, I see. Well, good." She cleared her throat and took hold of my arm to get me to look at her. "I do need an answer to one question, however."

"What, ma'am?" I asked with trepidation.

"Are you not aware that a student must have permission to leave the school grounds in the middle of the school day?" Her tone was severe, which was a great help in getting my mind to focus.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"This was a serious breach of the rules of conduct, and I'm afraid I had to report it to the Principal. Therefore, you and your grandparents will have to go straight to his office in the morning, and he will decide on the appropriate disciplinary action."

"I don't think I'll be going to school tomorrow, ma'am."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"I'm thinking I won't be going to school any more. My grandma can teach me at home like she did before."

"You've discussed this with your grandparents?"

"Uh huh. Kind of. I told my grandpa."

"And what did he have to say about it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" she questioned with disbelief.

"He didn't say I have to go to school."

"I see. I must say, I'm rather surprised, Ben. I thought you enjoyed coming to class."

"Yeah, I did. I mean, I used to."

"But no more?"

"I don't think so."

"Any particular reason for this sudden change of heart?"

I looked at my lap, shrugged, and mumbled, "Different things."

"You're not finding the work too difficult, are you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Personal reasons?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I see. Well, I'll be sorry to lose you, honey. I've enjoyed getting to know you. However, I want what's best for you and, if home schooling is best for you, then I guess that's what you should do." She shook my leg playfully and smiled sweetly when I looked at her. "I hope we will continue to be friends."

"Until you have your baby?"

"What? No! Why should we stop being friends when I have my baby?"

"Well, 'cause you'll be busy taking care of it and stuff so you won't, um, need me."

"Listen, Ben, when a woman has a baby she doesn't give up all her friends. It's a big responsibility to care for a child and raise him, so, if anything, she needs her friends more than ever. I've seen what a loyal and trustworthy friend you can be and, to tell you the truth, I was kind of hoping I could count on you to be there when I need a friend."

"Really? Me, ma'am?"

"Yes, you. Of course, I understand if you'd rather not. You have family and friends of your own who need you so I have no right to expect--"

"No, ma'am!" I cut her off vehemently only to immediately blush in embarrassment. "I mean, I can be your friend, too...if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh. Positive."

"I'm glad," she smiled broadly. "I can't tell you how much that means to me."

"Me neither, ma'am," I admitted bashfully.

"May I ask a favour of my friend?"

"Uh huh. What is it?"

"My husband is in the other room. He'd like to meet you."

"How come?" I asked, a bit wary of coming face-to-face with my rival for Mrs. Beers' affection. "Is he angry at me?"

"Why on earth would he be angry at you?" When I could only shrug timidly in response, Mrs. Beers shook her head and wrinkled her face in frustration. "Honestly, Ben Fraser, the things you say sometimes! What goes on in that head of yours?"

"I don't know." I couldn't seem to say anything that wouldn't make me look like an idiot. Mrs. Beers must have sensed my uneasiness because she took my hand and smiled.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?" she asked.

"No, that's all, I guess."

"Then, would you be so kind as to accompany me to the living room?"

"Okay." I jumped down from the desk and saw Mrs. Beers to her feet. She then slipped her arm under mine and I began to escort her out of the room. I paused before the closed door and looked up at her. "Um, ma'am?"

"Yes, honey?"

"When are you gonna stop being a teacher?"

"If all goes as planned, not till the end of this term."

"Oh. You know, I was thinking maybe I can keep coming to school for a little while."

"If that's what you and your grandparents decide, I'd be most happy to have you in my class. You'd be expected to obey the rules, though."

"Yes, ma'am, I would. I promise."

"All right, then."

As Mrs. Beers and I entered the room, arm in arm, all conversation ceased and six eyes watched our every step with interest. I made a point of holding my head high and avoiding eye contact with anyone as I escorted Mrs. Beers to her husband. Time seemed to slow to an excruciating pace. I almost wished I had stayed in my room, but I knew that would have been, not only cowardly, but ungentlemanly behaviour as well. And I simply could not be unchivalrous to Mrs. Beers, no matter how many dragons I might have to face.

"Benton Fraser,..." Mrs. Beers began, gently grasping my shoulders and bringing me forward to face the strange man who had just risen from the couch, "...this is my husband, Geoffrey Beers. Geoff, this is Ben."

I nodded and smiled at him, but I couldn't manage to speak.

"Hello there, Ben," Geoff offered cheerily as he thrust a welcoming hand my way, which I took after a slight hesitation. "I was beginning to think Em had made you up."

"Huh?" I uttered, wondering who Em was and what Geoff meant by this. "Who?"

"My wife, Emily. I guess you know her as Mrs. Beers, eh?"

"Uh huh." For some reason, it came as a shock to discover that 'Miss Beers' was known by some as 'Emily' or 'Em.' Suddenly, I felt as if I didn't know her at all.

"Em's forever coming home with another story about something you did or said at school that day. I didn't think one kid could possibly be that interesting! But, there you are, in the flesh."

"Yes, sir." I was a little ill at ease, wondering what, exactly, Mrs. Beers had told him about me.

He laughed and leaned down close to me, bracing himself with his hands on his knees. "Look, Ben, I'm not your teacher, so why don't you forget the 'sir' and just call me Geoff, eh?"

I swivelled my head to one side to check with Grandma whether this would be appropriate, and she nodded her head. "Okay, Geoff."

"Great! Hey, how old are you?"

"Ten...eleven in a few months."

"You like school?"

"Um, I don't know. It's okay."

"Ah, some things you like about it, others you're not crazy about, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, sounds about right. You're a smart little guy for ten, I hear. Two grades ahead?"

"Uh huh, I guess I'm a little smart," I agreed, reluctant to sound overly proud.

"You know, I was always the smart kid in class, too."

"You were?"

"Two grades ahead. Just like you. It's quite a lot to handle. Your parents and teachers always expecting great things from you. And then there's the other kids who kind of resent the little squirt who thinks he's smarter than they are. So, you have to find that perfect balance: smart but not too smart. Not easy."

"Uh-uh."

"I don't know what I would've done without Miss Pupulovic."

"Who was that?" I asked, wrinkling my face at the odd-sounding name.

"My grade six teacher. Ah, I thought she was the best idea God ever had."

"Your teacher?"

He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "I know. Pretty dumb to be sweet on your teacher, eh?"

I shrugged and tried to look oblivious. Heck, what else could I do, considering the circumstances.

"Boy, did the other kids give me the business about that! Constantly singing silly songs about Geoffrey loving Miss Pupu."

"That wasn't very nice of 'em."

"No, but it didn't matter. I went to school happily, just to be near Miss Pupulovic. She treated me like I had just as much right to be in that class as any of the older kids, and, eventually, I came to believe that myself. And, you know what else happened?"

"What?"

"The older kids stopped picking on me because it was no fun for them when I just laughed right back at them. Some of them even became good friends."

"So what about when, um...when she wasn't your teacher anymore? Did you miss her?"

"Yes, of course. I missed her terribly. But what I didn't realize at the time was that Miss Pupulovic would always be with me. I'd learned a lot from her, a lot about myself. Because of her, I had the courage to believe in myself, and, for that, she'll always have a special place in my heart."

I glanced at Mrs. Beers and found her looking at me, so I turned my eyes back to Geoff. "Did you ever get to see her again?"

"Oh, sure. We lived in a small town, so I saw her around quite often. And, even now, whenever I go home to visit, she'll remember me and have a big smile for me."

Suddenly, Grandpa's words from earlier echoed through my mind. "She probably remembers you 'cause you're her only Geoff Beers, huh?"

"I never thought of it like that, Ben, but, you know, I think you must be right. You are a heck of a smart guy!" he confirmed as he gave me a grin and a friendly poke in the gut. "No wonder Em likes you so much. She fancies us smart guys, you know," he added with a wink.

Oh, boy, did I blush at that remark! I wanted to say something to assure him -- and everyone else within earshot -- that I had no interest in being liked by Mrs. Beers. However, since it would've been an indisputable untruth, such words refused to leave my mouth.

"Oh, Geoff," Mrs. Beers broke in, graciously coming to my rescue, "you should know that the last thing a schoolboy wants to hear is that his dumb old teacher likes him. What if his classmates got hold of such information?" It seemed clear, from the reassuring smile she gave me, that she understood my feelings for her and returned the affection.

"That's okay, ma'am," I spoke at last. "I think he was just kidding around."

"Of course," Geoff agreed, standing at my side with his hand on my shoulder like we were best buddies. "A sharp man like Ben, here, can take a joke. Right, Ben?"

"Right, Geoff!" I boasted proudly. I felt a slight twinge of guilt for the envy I had felt toward Mrs. Beers' husband. Now that I had met him, I couldn't imagine a guy who deserved her more. Except myself, perhaps, but that's another story.

"Well, now that's what I like to see," Mrs. Beers said as she came closer. "Smiles and jokes." She crouched and held my chin as she spoke. "You gave me such a fright earlier when you disappeared."

"I know. My grandpa already yelled at me about that. I'm sorry. I promise I didn't want to scare you."

"Well, you're home now and still in one piece. That's what matters. I just hope that if you need to leave the classroom for any reason in the future, you'll speak to me about it first."

"I will, ma'am. I swear. Oh, and ma'am?"

"Yes, honey?"

"It wasn't your fault I ran away. I wasn't, um, mad at you or anything."

"I see. So, is everything okay, now? Is the problem solved, whatever it was?"

"I guess."

My grandmother suddenly snuck up behind me and tugged my ear. "All that's left to do now is pay the piper, eh?" she reminded me, much to my chagrin.

I turned to face my grandmother. "Yes, ma'am. We have to go to the Principal's office tomorrow before school," I informed her, trying to hint that she didn't need to punish me.

"We?"

"Miss Beers says you and Grandpa have to come with me 'cause I, um, 'cause I did a serious breach of the rules."

"Hmm, I suppose we'll get a good lecturing for raising our boy to be a truant," she said with a stern frown.

"You didn't do that, ma'am."

"Didn't we?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then how come you are one?" she asked, bringing her face close to mine and speaking very firmly.

"I'm not, ma'am," I corrected her with a humble blush. "Not anymore. I'll tell the Principal it was all my fault so he should just punish me and not blame you and Grandpa."

Grandma squeezed my cheeks and glared at me over her eyeglasses. "It is not your place to tell the Principal what he should do, young man. You will show him the respect due a man in his position. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am, I know. I didn't mean I was gonna be sassy, or anything."

"I should hope not, but, as you appear to think it's okay for you to do whatever you please, I'm not sure what kind of behaviour I can expect from you."

My face became beet red. I had hoped my grandmother wouldn't scold me in the presence of Mrs. Beers and, while she hadn't yet unleashed a full-fledged rebuke, she was heading in that direction. "I don't think that, ma'am," I mumbled as I eyed her earnestly, hoping she would take pity on my discomfort.

Grandma stood up and pulled me back against her, wrapping her arms around me and tightening them about my neck in an embrace as she informed me, "Well, we'll talk some more about that in a few minutes. Say good-night to our guests, then run along and get ready for bed."

"But it's still pretty early to get ready for bed, Grandma."

"I'm aware of the time of day, thank you. Now, would you please do as I told you."

"May I see Miss Beers and Geoff to the door?"

"Yes, you may," she answered with a hint of a smile. "Why don't you go get their coats."

I retrieved the coats from the rack while my grandparents thanked Mrs. Beers and her husband for all their help and apologized for the trouble I had caused them. Geoff took his coat from me and indicated with a wave of his hand that I should help Mrs. Beers with her coat.

I have to say, I liked Geoff more and more the longer I knew him. He didn't appear at all upset that I had designs on his wife. Of course, looking back on it now, it all seems pretty silly. I was only ten years old, after all, and, despite what I may have believed at the time, I had no romantic interest in Mrs. Beers. Not really. I had no concept of adult romance. My idea of loving a girl was sneaking a kiss on the mouth with my little friend, Julie Frobisher.

But I did feel something special for Mrs. Beers. Grandpa had hinted that I may have been looking for a mother in her, and I would guess he was probably correct. Perhaps I just couldn't admit that to myself because I wanted to be a man, not a little boy in need of a mum or, at least I believed that was what was expected of me.

"You like to fish, Ben?" Geoff asked as I walked them to the door.

"Uh huh, sure I do."

"I've got this favorite spot about a half-day's hike down the river. I thought maybe I'd go down this weekend and camp overnight. I don't suppose you'd want to come along, would you?"

"Wow! I could really come with you?"

"Sure...if it's all right with your grandparents."

I turned and found my grandparents just catching up to us at the door, but before I even had a chance to open my mouth to ask permission, my grandmother gave her answer.

"That's very kind of you, Geoff, but Ben won't be able to go with you this weekend, I'm afraid."

"Aw, shucks, how come?" I whined.

"Because you're grounded for the next week for your misconduct today."

"Grounded?"

"Yes, grounded. You're restricted to the house except to go to school and to do your chores."

"But, Grandma, the Principal's gonna punish me."

"That's fine, but so are your grandfather and I."

"Aw, heck, that's not..." I cut myself off, not daring to finish the forbidden sentiment.

"I beg your pardon?" my grandmother inquired with raised eyebrows.

"Nothing," I sulked.

Grandma pinched my cheek between her fingers and raised my lowered head. "A gentleman does not bid farewell to his guests with a pout on his face."

"That's 'cause his grandma probably doesn't ground him," I replied under my breath with a frustrated kick at the floor. I had tried not to speak my mind, but my obstinate mouth insisted. I hesitantly lifted my eyes to my silent grandmother and received her unhappy glare.

"If you're trying to show us all how rude you can be, you're doing a good job," she informed me with her own brand of sarcasm.

"I wasn't," I choked out.

"Then you might want to mind your manners. I won't have you treating me or others with disrespect, so if you cannot behave like a gentleman, you may go to the study and wait for me."

"No, ma'am," I said contritely, passing on her subtle offer of a hiding. "I can behave like a gentleman."

"Then I would strongly suggest that you do so."

"Yes, ma'am." I turned toward Mrs. Beers and offered her my hand. "Good-bye, Miss Beers, and thank you for, um...for coming." I wasn't sure if I really meant that last part. I would've been in a lot less trouble if she hadn't reported my absence from school. However, it shames me to admit that it did make me feel kind of good to know that she had worried about me.

Mrs. Beers enveloped my hand with both of hers and crouched to my level. "Do you forgive me for getting you into trouble?" she asked sweetly.

"Uh huh. It was mostly my fault, anyway."

"Mostly?" my grandmother queried sarcastically from behind.

"I guess it was all my fault," I admitted with a blush.

Mrs. Beers laughed and pulled me close in a hug, and I closed my eyes as I nestled my face in the crook of her neck and felt her hands firmly rub my back.

"Sorry about that," she said, pulling away and laying her hands on my shoulders. "I bet you're way too old for silly hugs."

"That's okay, ma'am. I didn't mind it," I replied with nonchalance, eager to appear as if I didn't care one way or the other. However, the truth was that, as she held me, I could very easily have imagined her to be my mum. I stopped myself from falling too deeply into that illusion, though, because I knew it would hurt too much to lose the fantasy when it was time to face reality.

"You behave yourself, now, and mind your grandparents, eh?"

"Yes, ma'am." I held one of her hands as Geoff held the other and helped her to her feet. "Good-bye, Geoff," I said, accepting his handshake.

"So long, Ben. And, hey, don't worry. We'll go fishing another time, eh?"

"Okay. I'll be real good so I don't get grounded next time."

"That's my man!" he exclaimed proudly as he patted my back.

After final farewells with my grandparents, they were off. The house suddenly seemed very quiet and still, ominously so. I avoided looking at my grandparents and started to make my way to my bedroom.

"Where are you going?" Grandma asked.

"To get ready for bed, like you said, ma'am," I answered, not turning to look at her.

"Hmm. Are you hungry?"

"Um, yeah, I guess so." I didn't like being reminded of this, as I had already reckoned on being sent to bed without dinner.

"Come to the kitchen when you're done and I'll fix you some supper."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." I started to walk away again, but was interrupted once more.

"Then we'll talk."

I slowly turned to face my grandparents. "Talk about what? You already told me I'm grounded."

"Yes, I did, but there are some other things that need saying, as well."

"Oh. Well, couldn't we do that first. It won't be much fun to eat if I know I have to get yelled at after."

"Did I say anything about yelling at you?"

"Um, no, but "

Grandma came over to me and ran her fingers through my hair, pushing it back off my face and sniffing about me. "You spent a good deal of time in the hills and down by the river this afternoon." She took one more good sniff and, picking up the tell-tale scents, added, "Had yourself a sweat, did you?"

"Yes, ma'am. How could you tell all that?"

She laid her finger aside her nose and said, "God gave us a sense of smell because he intended for us to use it."

"Wow, you sure use it good!"

"Proper grammar, please!" she urged with a pinch to my ear.

"You use it well, ma'am," I corrected myself as I rubbed my chastised ear between my fingers to soothe it.

"Thank you, honey. After we've finished some remedial grammar lessons, we'll spend some time on identifying smells, eh?"

"Aw, Grandma. I don't need grammar lessons."

"I'll be the judge of that...among other things." She inspected me once again with the aid of her spectacles and shook her head. "And, in my judgment, what you need most at this moment is a good scrubbing in a nice, hot tub."

"But I had a sweat, Grandma, and that, um, purified me."

"The sweat may have cleansed your insides, but it didn't do much for your outside. Now, you skedaddle into that bath and don't forget to wash your hair. I want your hide as pure as your soul for our meeting with your Principal in the morning."

"Yes, ma'am."

"While you're busy with that, Grandpa and I will discuss your behaviour today and then, if we're ready for you, we can have our talk before you eat. All right?"

I nodded and, at her signal, turned toward my room. After taking a couple steps, I stopped and faced my grandparents again. "Grandma, before you and Grandpa discuss my behaviour, can I may I tell you that I'm really sorry?"

"Yes, you may," she replied and then stared at me, as if waiting for me to say something else. So I did.

"Um, well, that's it. I'm very sorry that I, um, upset you...and everybody. That's not why I did what I did."

"Why did you do it?"

"Um, well, Grandpa knows. I told him, and he said he could tell you."

"Ah, I see."

"May I go take my bath now?"

"Yes, you may."

Although I'd told my grandmother that I wanted to get her scolding over with, I wasn't exactly eagerly anticipating it. So, I loitered in the bath a little longer than usual. I filled the deep tub as high as the water would hold without spilling over and submerged myself, pretending I was a deep sea diver hunting for underwater treasure. I got bored of collecting imaginary artifacts, however, so I scavenged about the room and threw into the tub as many objects as I could find that would make suitable substitutes for actual undersea treasures. The sponge, of course, was the obvious first thing into the water, followed closely by the bar of soap. Soon, the bottom of the tub was littered with toothbrushes, small drinking cups, combs, brushes, tubes and bottles of toothpaste, ointments, medicines, shampoos, and colognes, and anything else which I deemed impervious to water damage.

I could hold my breath under water for so long that it completely slipped my mind that there was another world happening above water. I lost all track of time and had no idea how long someone had been knocking at the door when the sound caught my ear upon one of my brief resurfaces.

"Who is it?" I called out, sitting up straight in the tub and shaking the water from my ears.

"It's Grandma. What's going on in there?"

"Nothing."

"If you're finished washing, get out of the tub before you shrivel up into a prune."

I took a quick look at my body, then replied, "I'm not a prune yet."

"Get out of the water. You've been in there long enough," she ordered.

"But I'm not done yet." I knew it would be unwise to get out of the bath without washing because Grandma would know in a heartbeat that I hadn't even looked at a bar of soap.

"Have you been playing deep-sea diver again?" she asked sternly.

"No," I lied softly, crossing my fingers so that it wouldn't count against me. In a divinely-sent flash of inspiration, I stretched out my leg and, with my toes, pulled the chain to release the plug. My grandmother would've had a fit if she'd seen the tub full of water, as she had long ago declared that excess water would not be squandered frivolously just to make bathtime more fun.

"I'm coming in, and if I find that tub filled to the brim "

"No, Grandma!" I shouted in a panic. "You can't come in. I'm naked!"

"Don't be silly. I've seen your naked body before." She started to turn the latch on the door, and I threw my arms around myself and slouched forward in an attempt to hide my body.

"No, Grandma, don't! Grandpa!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "Grandma's coming in the bathroom when I'm naked! Make her stop, Grandpa!"

"All right, that's quite enough, Ben," Grandma said, remaining outside the room.

"What in tarnation is going on?" I heard Grandpa ask as he joined Grandma in the hall. "What's the boy hollering about?"

I didn't give her a chance to answer him. "Grandpa, Grandma says she's coming in here and I don't have any clothes on!"

"Well, I hardly think that's cause for such an outburst. For crying out loud, you'd think the house was on fire or something!"

"But I'm *naked,* Grandpa!" I stressed the operative word.

"All right, all right. Settle down, buddy. I'm sure your grandma meant no harm."

My grandparents started whispering so that I couldn't hear what they were saying. Seconds later, the door opened a crack and I heard Grandpa's voice.

"It's me, Ben, Grandpa. Mind if I come in for a minute?"

"Um, okay." I was shivering as I sat huddled in the now-waterless tub, where the evidence of my under-sea escapade lay scattered all about me. I watched Grandpa's face as he came toward me and took note of the situation.

After brushing away a puddle, Grandpa sat on the edge of the tub. Something caught his eye and he bent forward to get a closer look. "Is that your grandma's antique brooch?" he exclaimed with annoyance and rescued the pin from where it had been beached behind me.

"Sorry, sir," I humbly answered his glare of disapproval.

"These things are not toys, son," he stated as he started to remove the rest of the objects from the tub. "And a lot of this stuff doesn't belong to you."

"Yes, sir. I was just borrowing 'em and pretending they were corals and fish and stuff. I didn't ruin 'em, did I?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "But you're going to rinse and dry all this stuff before you go to bed tonight. And, if you've ruined anything, you will have to replace it."

I remained still as he went across the room and deposited everything into the sink. Everything except the brooch. He dropped that carefully into his shirt pocket. As angry as Grandpa was, I was darn lucky it was him in the room and not Grandma. Rest assured, the fortuity in that situation of my being a naked boy and Grandma being a girl wasn't lost on me.

"But I don't have any money, Grandpa," I explained, resting my chin on the edge of the tub.

"Don't you?" He turned and made his way back over to me, hunkered down, and brought his face within inches of mine and said, "Guess you'd better say your prayers that nothing's ruined, then, hadn't you?"

I nodded and looked down at his feet.

"Let's go, son. Out of the tub," Grandpa commanded with a clap of his hands. "You're turning blue, and your grandma's waiting on you."

I sat up straight and looked at him where he now towered over me beside the tub. "I have to wash first or Grandma will be mad."

"Let me get this straight. You emptied a tub full of water and you haven't even washed yet?"

"I was just gonna empty some of it, but it all went down the drain before I could stop it."

"This just isn't your day, is it, buddy?" he asked with a frown.

"No, sir," I agreed in a whisper.

"Stand up," he ordered gruffly, and I obeyed, thereupon startled by an open-handed slap across my bottom, which echoed against the cavernous tub, giving the impression that my grandfather had hit me much harder than he had.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed with a wince. "Geez, Grandpa, what'd you do that for?" My tone was rather angry as I tended to my backside while Grandpa wrung the sting from the palm of his hand. When I looked up at him, he appeared as vexed as I.

"I did that because you were in need of some firm redirection. You've pushed your limits quite enough for one day, Mister. Now, you about ready to shape up and fly straight for a while, or is a proper smarting in order?"

"Uh huh. Um, I'm ready to fly straight, sir. I didn't mean to misbehave."

"Yes, I'm sure. But you didn't mean to behave, either, or you wouldn't have disregarded your grandmother's wishes about the bath, would you?"

"I'm sorry," I apologized sincerely. "But, gee whiz, Grandpa, it's just water. Why can't I play in it sometimes?"

"There's no such thing as 'just water,' son." Grandpa took the sponge and soaped it up and then began to scrub my body as he went on to tell me about the importance of living in concert with the environment. "Water is a precious resource which nourishes us and other living things. We need water, and if we don't respect it and use it wisely, we may lose it some day."

"Gosh, we could lose all our water?"

"Our environment can only survive if we allow it to. If we cut down all the trees, pollute our air and waters, and use everything up faster than it can replenish itself, we're not gonna have much of an Earth left to live on."

I was truly interested in what Grandpa had to say, but I became a little distracted as he worked the sponge down my body. When he got as far as my belly-button, I took hold of the sponge to stop him. "You don't have to wash me, Grandpa. I can do it."

"Ah, of course you can," he said, letting go of the sponge. "It's all yours." He sat back and watched, apparently with more to say, so I turned my back to him before taking the sponge between my legs.

"Water makes things grow, doesn't it, Grandpa?" I asked as I worked carefully.

"That's right."

"So how come Grandma says I'll get all shriveled up if I stay in the water too long?"

"Shriveled up?" Grandpa inquired with a small cough.

I suddenly realized I had paused in my task and was curiously scrutinizing my boyish penis which I held supported in my palm. Embarrassed, I dropped my hand and my penis and bent over to wash my legs and feet. "Yeah. Shouldn't the water make me, um, grow, if that's what water does?"

Grandpa had filled the bucket with fresh water, so I dropped the sponge and shut my eyes tight then stood still while he poured the water over me. He then put a dollop of shampoo on my hair and lifted my hands to my head. "Scrub," he ordered and then began to refill the bucket.

"Grandpa?" I asked as I scrubbed.

"Eh?"

"Is the water gonna make me grow or make me shrivel up?"

"Would you believe me if I said both?"

"Both? How can it do both?"

"Well, tell you what. Tomorrow I'll fetch you a book or two from the library and you can read all about it while you're confined to the house for the next week." He came at me with the bucket, so I covered my eyes while he rinsed the shampoo from my hair. "Here you go," he said, handing me a towel. "Get dried off and into your pajamas. Grandma and I will expect you in the other room in five minutes."

I used every last second of those five minutes. I climbed into the brand-new pair of red long johns that Grandma had bought me because I so admired those favoured by Grandpa. After brushing all the snarls out of my hair, I struggled to convince it to conform to my will. To that end, I snuck back into the bathroom and borrowed a rather large squeeze of Grandpa's hair gel, which added a nice sheen to my hair, if nothing else. Relatively confident that my grandmother would be pleased with my appearance, I made my way to the living room.

Grandma was doing some mending, but as soon as she saw me standing across the room, she put her work aside and removed her eyeglasses, folding them and letting them hang against her chest at the end of a chain.

"Well, it's about time, young man," she said as she called me forth with a wave of her hand.

I approached her slowly, trying to ascertain from her manner just how severe the impending lecture was going to be. I was at a loss to figure her out, however. Something had her perplexed, which was plain to see from the way her face just kept getting more and more wrinkled the closer I got to her. I stopped walking when I reached a spot just out of her arm's reach.

"Come here," she ordered, clearly frustrated.

"I did, ma'am. I'm here," I pointed out innocently.

My grandmother leaned forward and pulled me to stand before her, and I hung my head and stared into the tiny space between us, down to where our feet intermingled on the floor. I looked up and pulled my head away when I felt Grandma's fingers probing my hair.

"What in heaven's name..." she exclaimed. "What have you done to your hair?"

"Nothing. I just washed it like you told me. Didn't I, Grandpa?" I asked, begging for a little back-up.

"Uh huh," he agreed, but said no more.

"It's all heavy and sticky. What'd you wash it with, glue?"

"No, ma'am. Shampoo."

"Followed by an entire tube of your grandpa's Brylcreem?"

"Not a whole tube, Grandma."

She sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. "The thing with hair gel, honey, is 'a little dab'll do ya.' I'm afraid you're going to have to wash your hair again."

"Aw, heck, Grandma," I interrupted her with a pout.

"Watch the backtalk, Mister! You're in no position to be sassing me."

"Yes, ma'am, but it took me a long time to make my hair look right. Why do I have to do it all over again?"

"Because practice makes perfect. After you rewash it, if you want to try the gel again, ask your grandpa if you may borrow some and if he'll show you how to use it."

"You don't like my hair like this?"

"Let's just say it lacks subtlety."

I thought about that for a moment, then replied, "You mean my hair's too obvious?"

"Yes, honey. It's too obviously drenched in gel."

"Oh. Gee, I just wanted to make you happy by looking clean and tidy."

"I know, honey. I'm very happy that you went to so much trouble to look your best."

"But you don't think I look my best."

"Don't worry about it, Ben. Anybody can get a little carried away with the gel now and then. It's not the end of the world. Just wash it out and start over, eh?"

"Yes, ma'am." I turned to leave, but my grandmother grabbed my long johns to stop me. "Don't you want me to wash my hair, ma'am?"

"That can wait a few minutes. Since we're here, let's talk first."

"Oh, okay." I stood straight before her with my hands folded behind my back and looked her in the eyes. "I'm ready, Grandma. You can yell at me now."

Grandma's face suddenly became very severe. "If you don't stop insinuating that I'm in the habit of yelling at you, I will yell at you!" she scolded in a slightly edgy tone of voice.

"Yes, ma'am. I didn't mean you were gonna scream or anything. Just that you're gonna tell me how badly I behaved and how disappointed you are in me and stuff like that."

"If you knew I would disapprove, then why did you misbehave in the first place?"

"I don't know. I guess I wasn't thinking about that."

"Clearly, you weren't. Perhaps you should do a little thinking now."

"What do you mean?"

"Try to imagine how you would feel if, for example, your grandpa and I left home without telling you where we were going or if we'd be back."

"I wouldn't like it, ma'am."

"Why not?"

"Um, well, because I'd be all alone and, um, I'd miss you."

"And if we were supposed to be here, taking care of you, and you couldn't find us anywhere, what would you think?"

A surge of panic shot through my body at the thought. It hadn't been all that long since my mum had disappeared from my life with no warning or good-bye. Well, actually, sometimes it seemed like a lifetime ago. But at this particular moment, it seemed like just yesterday. "I guess I'd be afraid that something bad happened to you."

"Then I guess you know what you put us through this afternoon, eh?"

I hadn't truly realized how I had hurt my grandparents until Grandma forced me to imagine myself in their shoes, and the realization shamed me. I hung my head and nodded, wondering how I could ever atone for what I had done.

"Suppose after Grandpa and I disappeared we came home and told you we had left without considering how you might feel when you discovered we were missing?"

That was too much to bear. Had I really done that? I spontaneously gasped out a sob then struggled to suppress my emotion.

Grandma cupped my chin firmly and raised my face to her. "I said 'suppose,' honey. You know we'd never do such a thing, don't you?"

"Uh huh, I know."

"Then are the tears necessary?"

"No, that's not why....um...." I called my tears back with a sniffle and set my jaw. "Did I really do that to you, Grandma? 'Cause I didn't mean to, um, forget about your feelings. Really, I didn't."

"I know, honey. You're a good, caring person. You'd never intentionally cause someone pain of any kind. But, do you see how your actions can hurt others and why it's important to consider all of the consequences before you act?"

"Uh huh," I replied with a fair amount of uncertainty in my voice. "I'm very sorry, Grandma. Honest. I didn't mean to do it. It kind of, um, just happened." I glanced at Grandpa, but my grandmother quickly turned my face back toward her.

"Yes, so I understand. Your grandfather has explained that you ran off because you were upset."

"Did he, um, tell you what I was upset about?"

"Yes."

"Yeah?" I said, sweeping my soft, clean sleeve across my damp face.

"Yeah."

"So, does that mean you understand why I did it?"

"Yes, I believe I understand. But I'd be much happier if you'd come to us with your problems instead of trying to hide them."

"That's what Grandpa told me, too. But..."

"But...?"

"Why is it bad to want to be alone sometimes, you know, when you're sad?"

"It's not bad, honey. On the contrary, it's only human to need time alone. However, as it's also only human for me to worry about you, can you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Try to let me know when you're having time alone."

"Okay."

"Thank you kindly, sweetheart."

"You're welcome. Um, so, do you forgive me, Grandma?"

"Yes."

"You're not angry?"

"I'm a bit angry to discover that you disobeyed such a clearly-defined rule of behaviour, but I imagine I'll get over it. I know you won't repeat this mistake."

"No, ma'am, I won't." I blushed as I worked up the courage to ask, "So, um...am I not still grounded for the whole week?"

"Oh, no, no, you're still grounded."

"Oh." I let out my frustration with a long sigh, restraining an urge to voice my disappointment with the words running through my mind.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I believe it's necessary to punish you now so you don't grow up to be a man who is unable to practice discretion in his behaviour. You'd only end up in much more serious trouble, and it would break my heart to see that happen."

"But that wouldn't happen, Grandma. When I'm grown up, I'll know the right things to do."

"Not unless you learn how to make those choices now. If you don't face consequences for poor choices, you won't be motivated to make the right choices."

"But I did face consequences."

"You're grounded for the rest of the week, Ben. That's final."

"Yes, ma'am," I acknowledged sulkily. "May I have my supper now?"

"In a minute. There's something else we have to settle first. Your grandfather mentioned that you don't want to go to the village school anymore. Is that true?"

"No, ma'am."

"No? You didn't tell Grandpa you wanted to be home-schooled?"

"Yeah, I did, but I think I changed my mind. I think I want to keep going to school."

"I see. Well, in that case, let me make something clear. Under no circumstances are you to walk out of the classroom because you think you'd rather be schooled at home. That's not a decision for you to make on a whim. It would have to be discussed with me and your grandpa, and we would make the final decision."

"I didn't think you'd mind 'cause you home-schooled me before," I explained.

"Did you hear what I just said, honey?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I take my responsibility for your schooling very seriously, and I expect you to take your schooling seriously as well."

"I do, ma'am."

"Your behaviour today indicates otherwise."

"Yes, ma'am, but I won't do it again. I promise."

"Very well. But, be forewarned..." She took my ear between her thumb and forefinger and rubbed it back and forth. "...if you can't behave according to the rules, you won't be allowed the privilege of attending school. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, go wash your hair and then come to the kitchen for a bowl of stew."

I nodded and tried to turn to go, but she held me back by failing to let go of my ear.

"And this time," she said, pointing a meaningful finger at me, "no squandering water or loitering!"

"Yes, ma'am," I mumbled, relieved that Grandpa had apparently refrained from telling her how I had made use of her antique brooch. I then ran out of the room after being dismissed with a hardy swat to the seat of my long johns.

My grandparents and I got to the school well before the first bell the next morning. There were a few kids playing in the yard, but the atmosphere was very subdued compared to the bustle of activity I usually found upon my arrival on a normal school day. And this was far from a normal school day for me.

I had done my best to keep our walk to school at a leisurely pace, but Grandma would not cooperate. She kept reminding me that the sooner we got the meeting with the Principal over with, the sooner I could get back to my class. But I couldn't see beyond the fact that the sooner we got to the Principal's office, the sooner I would get my punishment, and, as much as I tried to convince myself that I didn't believe Eric's account of a visit to the Principal, a doubt continued to nag me. Grandma finally grasped my hand and pulled me along at a brisk clip until we reached the school.

"Open the door for your grandma," my grandfather ordered as the three of us stood outside the building.

I advanced a step or two, then halted and said, "It's probably locked."

"Try it," he commanded in a firmer voice.

"But nobody's here this early. Maybe we should wait outside."

"Benton, whatever it is you're afraid of getting from your principal, you'll get much worse from me if you don't open that door this instant!"

"Yes, sir," I replied, thoroughly chastened. I put my hand to the door latch, then looked my grandfather in the eyes. "I'm not afraid, sir." He nodded, as if to say, 'then show me,' so I opened the door and escorted my grandmother into the school.

The corridor was empty and on the dark side, as all the lights had not been turned on yet. However, there was a soft glow emanating from underneath the door of the Principal's office, which was at the far end of the hall.

"Down there, honey?" Grandma asked, indicating the office.

"Uh huh, I think so."

Grandma squeezed my hand tightly in hers and led me down the hall while Grandpa closed the school door and then followed us. The secretary was apparently not in yet, but the door that led to the Principal's inner sanctum was ajar so my grandma called out, "Hello," to announce our presence.

"Yes, come in," came the enthusiastic reply.

I had pretty much lost the use of my legs due to sheer panic, so Grandma pulled me along as the three of us went into the Principal's private office. I tried to hide behind my grandparents, but, with a stern set of his face, my grandfather directed me to take my place in front of them.

"Well," the Principal said, rising to his feet behind his desk. "Fraser, Benton?"

Grandma nudged me closer to the desk and kept her hands perched on my shoulders.

"Er, no, sir. That's backwards."

"Excuse me?" he asked, now standing only inches from me.

"My name is Benton Fraser, sir, not Fraser Benton," I corrected him as politely as a schoolkid can correct his Principal.

The Principal seemed reluctantly amused, as he covered his face with his hand to hide his smirk, but my grandmother was not amused. She squeezed my shoulders and leaned down to admonish, "That's quite enough of that, young man!" Grandma was usually pretty tolerant of my sarcasm, except in the presence of a stranger when she felt it might be misunderstood and make a bad impression.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser," he greeted them each as he showed my grandmother to a chair and shook my grandfather's hand. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you, and I will try to keep this as short as possible so you can get back to your own work."

"Please, Mr. Tilley, there's no need for you to apologize," Grandma responded. "It's our duty to cooperate in any way you wish when our boy has misbehaved at your school."

"Thank you, ma'am. That's an admirable attitude and one to which, I'm afraid, not all parents subscribe. Please have a seat, Mr. Fraser," he said to Grandpa as he returned to his chair.

"Thanks." Grandpa seated himself in the chair next to Grandma and then reached behind himself, grabbed my arm, and pulled me around to stand beside him.

"Well, now, Benton Fraser," Mr. Tilley said as he regarded me intently, his hands folded atop the desk. "I believe this is a first, is it not? The first time you've been on report for misconduct?"

"Yes, sir."

"I hope it'll be the last, as well."

"So do I, sir."

"Hmm, of course that's entirely up to you, isn't it?" he asked sternly.

I gulped and thought for a moment. Taking responsibility for one's behaviour -- and especially one's misbehaviour -- is not an easy thing to do, so I was hesitant to make any promises. "I'll be as good as I can, sir," I finally offered.

Mr. Tilley nodded uncertainly and then referred to the report in front of him. "Truancy is a very serious charge, Fraser. How do you plead?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Did you do it or didn't you?"

"Um, yes, sir. I thought you knew that already."

"I'm trying to give you a chance to explain yourself," he said with raised voice.

"Yes, sir."

"So, were you ill? Is that why you left class without permission?"

"No, sir."

"Was there some kind of emergency to which you needed to attend?"

"Um, no, sir. Not really."

Mr. Tilley leaned forward across his desk, his patience clearly dwindling. "Then what is your explanation for your misconduct?"

Naturally, I couldn't tell him the real reason, so I averted my eyes from his and squirmed and fidgeted while I pondered how to answer his question.

"Answer Mr. Tilley, Ben," my grandmother coaxed.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm gonna."

"I assume you've explained yourself to your grandparents?" he inquired.

I nodded uncomfortably, refusing to look at him.

"And what did you tell them?"

"Uh, just that I, um, made a mistake, sir. And I'm sorry."

"Nothing else?"

"No, sir, not really."

"I see." He sat back in his chair and cleared his throat. "Please step into the outer office while I have a few words with your grandparents."

"You're done with me, sir?" I asked, hopefully.

"No. Wait in the other room until I call you."

"Yes, sir."

Nobody spoke as I made my way out of the office. I left the door open and stood, leaning against the wall, my ears attuned to the inner room, trying to convince my guilty conscience that eavesdropping was justified when the parties in question were discussing me.

"Benton has an excellent academic record, and, I'm sure you will agree, it would be a shame to see his record compromised by inappropriate behaviour." Mr. Tilley's voice seemed to get louder and clearer as he spoke. I realized why seconds later when he suddenly appeared in the outer office. He looked at me deliberately, silently directed my attention to some chairs across the room, and then disappeared again into his office, closing the door behind him.

So I sat and waited.

About ten minutes later, Grandpa opened the door to Mr. Tilley's office and waved me forth. "Mr. Tilley is ready for you, son."

I wanted to ask Grandpa what was in store for me, but I didn't. I knew he'd much prefer that I face Mr. Tilley on my own, uncertain but brave. So I walked past Grandpa and presented myself to the Principal.

"Benton," he began, "...a report of this incident will remain on your permanent record. That means that, should you be reported for misconduct at any time in the future, you will be dealt with as a repeat offender."

I nodded to give Mr. Tilley the acknowledgment he required, but said nothing.

"In addition, each successive act of misconduct will be documented in your record, along with an account of any disciplinary action taken. The severity of the discipline imposed will increase with each instance of misconduct, up to and including expulsion from this school if your behaviour fails to improve. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, sir. I think so. It sounds pretty serious."

"It is serious, Fraser. Keep breaking the rules and you'll see just how serious it is."

"Yes, sir I mean, no, sir. I'm not gonna break any more rules."

"Time will tell, won't it?" He paused for an answer, so I gave a nod of my head. "As to the matter at hand, I'm placing you on office duty for two weeks."

"What's office duty, sir?"

"Just what it sounds like. You'll be assisting with odd jobs in the office, before and after school and during your recess. You're to report here every morning, an hour before classes start, and return after classes for another hour's duty. If you're late in the morning, you'll make up the time after school. Chronic tardiness will result in an extra hour after school. You'll also eat your lunch in the office and spend the remainder of the break working. Any failure to report for and to perform your office duty as ordered will be considered an act of misconduct and will be dealt with as such. Any questions?"

"What kind of stuff will I have to do, sir? Because I never worked in a school office."

"The secretary, Mrs. Campbell, will show you what to do. Nothing terribly difficult, I dare say. Besides, I understand you have experience working in the library, for your grandparents."

"Uh huh."

"Then I'm sure you can handle this job. In fact, your grandmother suspects you may have a trick or two up your sleeve which you could teach us about running an office."

I scowled, but didn't voice my displeasure.

"Well, if that's all " he began.

"Um, no, sir," I interrupted. "There's one other thing."

"Yes?"

"If I have to come to school early and stay late every single day, I won't have much time for my chores and homework."

"We'll work that out, honey," my grandmother broke in. "You may have to sacrifice your free time for a while."

"All of it, Grandma?"

"If necessary, yes."

"But that's not fair. You said I was just grounded for the rest of the week and now you're changing it."

"Hush, Benton! I'm not changing anything. You brought these consequences on yourself, so now you're going to have to deal with them."

"But--"

"I don't want an argument!"

I crossed my arms over my chest in a show of defiance. "Okay, but you'll be sorry when I keel over from so much work!" I sassed them all with a petulantly protruding lower lip.

My grandfather made a move to get up, but Grandma stopped him. "You'll be mightily sorry, yourself, young man, if you don't apologize without delay," she warned.

"I'm sorry," I muttered incoherently from a bashfully-lowered face.

"Come here, Benton," Grandma ordered, so I folded my hands behind my back and slithered the few steps to her. With a firm hold of my ear, she pulled me close for a semi-private warning. "You're not too old to be turned over my knee. Do I need to take you home and do just that, eh?"

I wondered for a second whether she was seriously threatening to drag me all the way home that very minute just to whack me, but as I couldn't discount that possibility, I quickly decided it wasn't a good time to challenge her. "No, ma'am," I replied with a decisive shake of my head. I realized I'd been so eager to prove my courage that I'd gotten a little carried away and said some pretty stupid things. "I'm sorry I was rude, ma'am."

"All right. Next time you won't get a reminder. Now apologize to Mr. Tilley."

I turned around and stood at attention before the Principal. "I beg your pardon for my rudeness, sir. I spoke inappropriately, and I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Fraser, for your very gracious apology. I hope I may assume you're not often prone to such disrespectful outbursts towards those in authority?"

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir, I'm not. I mean, I respect you, sir."

He didn't look entirely convinced. "You're a fine student, Benton. Your teacher, Mrs. Beers, speaks very highly of you and assures me you are not a chronic miscreant."

"No, sir."

"But, as I explained to her and to your grandparents, I don't excuse misconduct. It's my intention to nip this behaviour in the bud before you become a regular fixture in my office. There are many ways I'd rather spend my time than disciplining you."

"Yes, sir. Me, too," I agreed, shyly, which brought another reluctant smile of amusement to Mr. Tilley's face.

"Mrs. Beers warned me that you're a bit of a joker."

"She did?"

"Not that there's anything wrong with a joke now and then -- so long as it's not used as a weapon of disrespect. Would you agree, Fraser?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good! I'm glad to hear that. You and I will get on much easier if we're working on the same side."

"Yes, sir."

"Are we on the same side?"

"I guess so, sir. What side do you mean?"

"I mean the side that wants you to enjoy coming to school and getting a good education, making good friends, and maturing into a fine young man."

"Um, yes, sir. I'm on that side, too."

"Good."

I waited with expectation for his next order, but none was forthcoming. "Is that all? May I go now, sir?"

Mr. Tilley glanced at his watch then thought for a moment. He took a small pad of paper and began to write a note which he addressed to Mrs. Beers. "It's too late to get you started working this morning," he finally declared as he wrote and I struggled to read his handwriting from my upside-down vantage point. "You may report to your classroom and wait for class to begin. And I mean go straight to your classroom, take your seat, and wait quietly. No talking with your friends." He stopped writing and held the note out to me. "Give this to Mrs. Beers first thing. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, taking the note. "But what if somebody talks to me, sir?"

Mr. Tilley squinted at me, as if he weren't quite sure whether I was trying to give him a hard time. "Unless it's me or one of the teachers, tell them you're on detention and can't talk to them at the moment."

"Yes, sir."

"All right. You're dismissed. Say good-bye to your grandparents, then you may go. And don't forget: you're expected back here promptly at lunchtime."

Eric and Innusiq entered the classroom together and, upon seeing me sitting quietly at my desk, ran over for a full report.

"Where the hell did you disappear to yesterday, Mountie-Boy?" Eric asked.

"Nowhere. I can't talk about it right now. I'm supposed to just sit here and wait for class to start."

"What?"

"The Principal put me on detention."

"Oh, man! I don't believe it! Mountie-Boy's got detention!"

I glared at Eric, but kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to get in worse trouble by disobeying Mr. Tilley's orders, which was bound to happen if Mrs. Beers caught me talking with Eric and Innusiq. Fortunately, the room was filled with the sounds of arriving students, so I was able to get away with those few words to my friends.

"The Principal gave it to you good, eh?" Eric said. "A good chewing-out and detention. It's about time somebody took you down a peg or two."

"Wow, Ben, no fooling, you got sent to the Principal?" Innusiq asked.

I made sure Mrs. Beers wasn't watching and then I looked at Innusiq and nodded.

"Man! So, um, how bad was it?" Although Innusiq seemed genuinely concerned about me, his curiosity to know all the details was also rather apparent.

I shrugged and then decided to have a little fun with them so I began to squirm in my seat and wrinkle my face as if I were in pain.

"No way," Eric stated, unconvinced.

"What?" Innusiq asked.

I hung my head and feigned humiliation as I brought a hand around behind me and began to gingerly rub it up and down my backside.

"You got the switch?" Innusiq yelped, horrified, yet fascinated.

I didn't want to lie outright, so I said nothing. But I did continue to apply unnecessary first aid.

"He did not!" Eric countered. "He's bullshitting!"

"But you said the Principal might whip a kid's butt if he does something really bad, and Ben did something pretty bad, didn't he?"

"Mountie-Boy didn't get no whipping from the Principal," Eric insisted.

"How do you know he didn't?"

"Because I know. He's asking for a good beating from me, though."

I moaned and winced, trying to appear as if I were in agony.

"You did, Ben, didn't you?" Innusiq asked, and I lifted my head to look at him as if the effort was more than I could bear in my state. "Look at him, Eric. He must've got a heck of a thrashing."

"Bullshit, and I'll prove it to you." Eric pulled me to my feet and then pinned me to my desk, face down, while my struggling protests proved useless against his greater strength. "Your scrawny, white ass can't lie, so let's have a look. I'll bet it's still white as the Arctic snow!"

"Boys!" a stern voice saved the day just as Eric hooked his hand around my waistband and was about to pull. "What is going on here?" Mrs. Beers demanded to know, sending the three of us into a momentary freeze. "Get up, Ben."

"Um, I can't, ma'am," I replied, still held captive.

"Eric!" she prompted him in no uncertain terms, and he released his hold of me.

I pulled myself to my feet and then stood beside my companions as we all stared at Mrs. Beers and tried to look completely innocent of any crime.

"Eric, what were you doing to Ben?"

"He didn't do anything, Miss Beers," I cut in before Eric had a chance to reply. "I was um, goofing around with them."

"Eric, Innusiq, take your seats, please." She waited for them to leave us and then cocked her head at me and spoke sternly. "Mr. Tilley ordered you to sit quietly at your desk until class, did he not?"

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, barely moving my mouth.

"Since you can't seem to follow his instructions, perhaps you'd better go stand in the corner until the bell."

"I'll sit quietly, ma'am. I promise."

"Go stand in the corner, honey. Unless you'd rather go to Mr. Tilley's office and explain to him why you disobeyed his order."

I whispered a sorrowful "Yes, ma'am," and shuffled over to the corner of the room behind her desk. I could hear Mrs. Beers' footsteps as she walked back to her desk, and, although I couldn't see her, I was aware that she hadn't sat down.

"The rules of detention are very clear, Ben. You won't get another warning from me."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry." I turned to face her, as that seemed the polite thing to do.

"Turn around!" she commanded with a wave of her arm. "When the bell rings, you may return to your seat. Until then, stand there quietly."

"Yes, ma'am." I heard her sit down, and then I turned half-way around and said, "Thank you, Miss Beers."

"Face the corner and no talking," she repeated firmly, and I complied. A few silent seconds later, I heard her offer in a secretive breath, "You're welcome."

Standing in the corner was not, by any stretch of the imagination, my favourite thing. But, as it turned out, enduring that humiliation on occasion as a schoolboy prepared me to withstand the punitive sentry duty that was sometimes foisted upon me by my commanding officer when I was stationed at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago.

"That should do us for a while," my grandfather said late that evening after I had lugged in about the sixth sledful of split wood and stacked it neatly in the mud room.

I looked at Grandma for confirmation as she peered in from the kitchen to survey the supply of logs. "Should I get some more, ma'am?" I asked, conceding the supply was not quite up to the usual standard.

"No, that'll get us through the next day or so, I dare say. You can bring in a bit each day until your schedule is back to normal. Get cleaned up and then finish your homework. It's almost bedtime."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hey, buddy," Grandpa called to me as I passed through the kitchen, where he sat at the table, smoking a pipe, a small, wooden box opened on the table before him. "Come here. I've got something to show you."

"What is it, Grandpa?" I asked, going to stand at his side and peering curiously into the box.

"Here, take a gander at that," he said as he handed me a small object.

I rubbed my dirty hands up and down my trousers to remove some of the dust and dirt and then I carefully took the object from him. It was a tiny wooden picture frame, hand-carved into the shape of a heart. Protected underneath the scratched, dingy glass was an ancient black and white photograph of a young woman, partially obscured by a lock of dark brown hair which curled around the photograph like a matte.

"Recognize that young lady?" Grandpa asked.

I stared in disbelief at the photograph, realizing who the woman was, but unable to reconcile her youthful appearance in the photograph with the more 'lived-in' look she had sported ever since I had known her. "Grandma?"

"Certainly it's Grandma. She hasn't changed a bit in all these years."

I wrinkled my face and alternated glances between the photograph and my grandmother, who stood at the opposite end of the table, folding clean laundry.

"Don't lie to the boy, George," Grandma broke in. "He's got eyes. He can see how I've aged."

"Is that what you see, son?" he asked.

"Um, well...everybody gets older," I replied, non-committally.

"Sure, but how many get more and more beautiful with each passing year, like your grandma, eh?"

I grinned when I saw Grandma's ironical roll of her eyes and shake of her head. "Not many, Grandpa!" I giggled in response.

"Darn tootin'!" he agreed.

"All right, you two! That's enough of that nonsense!" Grandma scolded us. "What's the idea? Are you trying to butter me up, eh?"

"Heck, no, Grandma," I replied. "What would we do that for?"

"I haven't the foggiest notion. That's what worries me."

"Gee whiz, you don't think me and Grandpa would lie to..."

"I don't think who would...?" she interrupted, alarmed by my dreadful grammar.

"Me and -- oh, I mean, Grandpa and I. Sorry," I added with a smile of embarrassment.

"That's just laziness, that is," she declared. "Do you want people believing you're lazy, eh?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then I'd suggest you use proper grammar in your speech."

"Yes, ma'am. I will." She continued to 'tsk-tsk' under her breath, so I feared she was unduly concerned about my grasp of the English language. "Um, you're not gonna make me write out a lesson, are you, Grandma?" I inquired, knowing I wasn't giving her any ideas she hadn't already considered -- and employed -- many times in the past.

She looked at me over her eyeglasses as she continued folding the laundry. "No, I reckon your plate's full enough at the moment."

"Thanks, Grandma."

"However, next time you display such laziness, you'll be writing out two lessons!"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied with a scowl.

Grandpa nudged me with his elbow and leaned in, drawing my attention back to the photograph and pretending to conspire with me, although he spoke loud enough for Grandma to clearly hear him. "Still pretty as a picture, isn't she?" He winked when I looked at him, and we both smiled broadly and looked at Grandma.

"She sure is, Grandpa," I agreed, enthusiastically.

"You two ought to be ashamed!" Grandma rebuked.

"Ashamed of telling the truth, Grandma?"

End Mrs. Beers' Secret by Mary: maryspen@aol.com

Author and story notes above.