Read Online Charlinder's Walk by Alyson Miers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alyson Miers
Tags: Coming of Age
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wouldn't see him. He snagged a bowl of stew and a square of cornbread and then snuck out of the meeting square to find a private place to eat. He didn't have anything to hide, but he needed to be alone.
"There he is," said a familiar voice when he was partway through his lunch on the riverbank. His uncle and Miriam were headed to his spot with their lunches in hand.
"I wondered where you were," said Roy.
"Char, darling, what's the matter?" asked Miriam, never one to beat around the bush.
"Nothing."
"So why are you avoiding us?" she asked.
"Listen, Char, you don't need to tell us what's going on right now, but the next time you want to eat alone, just say so, don't sneak off," said Roy.
"There was a fight at school today," said Charlinder.
When he was finished explaining, he was less than pleased with their reactions. Roy snickered unbecomingly when Charlinder described the language the children used together, and Miriam laughed out loud at one point. "Children do fight, you know," she reminded him.
“They’ve never fought in my class before," said Charlinder.
"And if you can teach for going on two years before you see any fighting, then you're doing an excellent job,” chuckled Roy, "but everyone has a bad day eventually. The kids will be fine tomorrow, and you'll feel better."
"So, what, did I do something wrong with them?" Charlinder demanded.
"Darling, no one is saying anything was your fault today," said Miriam. “Just that these things happen. Kids are little animals and sometimes they get violent. I remember when Robert lost his front two baby teeth early, do you?"
"He shouldn't have said that about my mother," Charlinder pointed out.
"And you didn't need to punch him," Miriam laughed. "So how can you be surprised when other children fight?"
"I didn't hit Robert at school."
"And it's hardly news that most other children are nowhere near as interested in their education as you were, so getting violent at school is no different from anywhere else," said Roy.
Charlinder only shook his head, at a loss for what to say. There was something missing here, something his uncle and Miriam didn't grasp. There was just something about that fight that felt off-balance, or more extreme than the scuffles that Charlinder had witnessed as a schoolboy. Was his memory of childhood faulty, or had Miriam and Roy simply not seen what had happened in the schoolroom?
“Am I the only one here,” he asked, “who finds it kind of odd that when the class gets on the topic of the Plague, suddenly some kid brings up God’s holy wrath and next thing we know there’s a fisticuff on the schoolroom floor?”
“Well, kids tend to talk about what they hear from their families,” said Roy, “and then they come home and tell their families about what they saw at school. I don’t blame you for being uncomfortable at the message, but the end of the world isn’t happening again.”
“But to ‘talk about what they hear from their families’ isn’t the same thing as trying to kill each other in the middle of the school day,” Charlinder said.
Miriam put her arm around Charlinder’s shoulders. “Some day,” she said, “you will forgive yourself for allowing a couple of six-year-olds to get into a fisticuff on the schoolroom floor,” she said, obviously trying not to laugh. “And now, I am going back to the square to join my children for lunch.” She stood up.
Maybe he was being ridiculous; perhaps he was just upset about his luck running out, or he'd forgotten what it was like to be a small child with poor impulse control. "Can I join you later in Spinners' Square?" he asked.
"Of course. I'll save you a wheel," she said.
"Would it make you feel better," Roy began after Miriam left, "to track down Taylor's older siblings and tell them to smack some sense into their boy? And then we'll go find the other family and ask them to rein in the kid's fondness for calling
"There he is," said a familiar voice when he was partway through his lunch on the riverbank. His uncle and Miriam were headed to his spot with their lunches in hand.
"I wondered where you were," said Roy.
"Char, darling, what's the matter?" asked Miriam, never one to beat around the bush.
"Nothing."
"So why are you avoiding us?" she asked.
"Listen, Char, you don't need to tell us what's going on right now, but the next time you want to eat alone, just say so, don't sneak off," said Roy.
"There was a fight at school today," said Charlinder.
When he was finished explaining, he was less than pleased with their reactions. Roy snickered unbecomingly when Charlinder described the language the children used together, and Miriam laughed out loud at one point. "Children do fight, you know," she reminded him.
“They’ve never fought in my class before," said Charlinder.
"And if you can teach for going on two years before you see any fighting, then you're doing an excellent job,” chuckled Roy, "but everyone has a bad day eventually. The kids will be fine tomorrow, and you'll feel better."
"So, what, did I do something wrong with them?" Charlinder demanded.
"Darling, no one is saying anything was your fault today," said Miriam. “Just that these things happen. Kids are little animals and sometimes they get violent. I remember when Robert lost his front two baby teeth early, do you?"
"He shouldn't have said that about my mother," Charlinder pointed out.
"And you didn't need to punch him," Miriam laughed. "So how can you be surprised when other children fight?"
"I didn't hit Robert at school."
"And it's hardly news that most other children are nowhere near as interested in their education as you were, so getting violent at school is no different from anywhere else," said Roy.
Charlinder only shook his head, at a loss for what to say. There was something missing here, something his uncle and Miriam didn't grasp. There was just something about that fight that felt off-balance, or more extreme than the scuffles that Charlinder had witnessed as a schoolboy. Was his memory of childhood faulty, or had Miriam and Roy simply not seen what had happened in the schoolroom?
“Am I the only one here,” he asked, “who finds it kind of odd that when the class gets on the topic of the Plague, suddenly some kid brings up God’s holy wrath and next thing we know there’s a fisticuff on the schoolroom floor?”
“Well, kids tend to talk about what they hear from their families,” said Roy, “and then they come home and tell their families about what they saw at school. I don’t blame you for being uncomfortable at the message, but the end of the world isn’t happening again.”
“But to ‘talk about what they hear from their families’ isn’t the same thing as trying to kill each other in the middle of the school day,” Charlinder said.
Miriam put her arm around Charlinder’s shoulders. “Some day,” she said, “you will forgive yourself for allowing a couple of six-year-olds to get into a fisticuff on the schoolroom floor,” she said, obviously trying not to laugh. “And now, I am going back to the square to join my children for lunch.” She stood up.
Maybe he was being ridiculous; perhaps he was just upset about his luck running out, or he'd forgotten what it was like to be a small child with poor impulse control. "Can I join you later in Spinners' Square?" he asked.
"Of course. I'll save you a wheel," she said.
"Would it make you feel better," Roy began after Miriam left, "to track down Taylor's older siblings and tell them to smack some sense into their boy? And then we'll go find the other family and ask them to rein in the kid's fondness for calling
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