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into a chair.
    â€œYou’re a working man now, so you need a big supper,” his mother said.
    JW was used to calling his father’s morning meal “supper,” but it was the first time for him. He ate his food quickly and was back on the road toward school by twenty minutes past eight.

Chapter 19
    W hen he reached the hill above Beth’s house, JW saw she was waiting for him.
    â€œHow was it? Were you scared? Of course not,” Beth said before he had a chance to answer. “So tell me, how was it?” she asked again, excitement present in her voice.
    â€œWell, there’s lots of rats down there, and they sure are hungry. One near ate my leg,” JW told her, watching as Beth’s eyes opened wide.
    â€œNear ate your leg?” Beth said and waited.
    â€œWell, not really. But one did crawl up my pant leg. I’ll be sure to tuck my pants in my boots tonight and tie a string around them.”
    â€œIs it very dark underground? What do you have to do?” Beth asked.
    â€œIt’s dark as pitch, but the oil lamp helps a bit. I have to control the air in the tunnel by opening and closing the trap door. So you have to be ready when the horses are coming through,” he explained. “I met a nice fellow. Red Angus is his name. He told me everyone in the pit has a nickname. He gave me one.”
    As they walked, he looked at the sun and realized how lucky he’d been before entering the pit. The air smelled fresher, and he paid special attention to the birds singing.
    â€œWell, are you going to tell me your nickname, or is it a secret, some kind of code?” Beth said, smiling at him.
    â€œJW,” he said.
    â€œWhat?” Beth said.
    â€œJW. That’s my nickname.”
    â€œPretty much everyone calls you that,” Beth said.
    â€œI know that, but he doesn’t.”
    The schoolyard was filled with students, many of whom were returning for their second and third years. A large group of grade nine students stood off to one corner of the yard. He and Beth hurried over.
    JW listened as Beth told some of the other kids that he was working in the mine. There were some sad faces as his friends digested the news. He hoped classes would soon begin. He was tired from standing around, especially after spending all night on his feet. The ringing of the bell was music to his ears, and he joined the crowd as they shuffled toward the double doors that led to the high school.
    Orientation took twenty minutes, followed by English class. JW listened with interest to the poetry and paid close attention to the titles of the books he would have to read throughout the year. French class seemed like a continuation of last year, building on grammar and conversation.
    When the final morning class arrived, JW felt his eyes closing against his will. Trying desperately to remain alert but losing the battle, he thought the algebra being taught seemed to him like a new language. Finally, the bell rang for lunch, and he sought out Beth.
    â€œI can’t stay any longer today. I’m just too tired. I practically slept through algebra. If you could pick up my other books and assignments, I’ll get them from you later,” he said, as a face-altering yawn overtook him.
    â€œSure, I’ll drop them off to your house right after school. Tell your mother I’ll be over,” Beth said, squeezing his arm.
    JW walked to the office to speak with the principal.
    â€œI hope you don’t plan on making it a habit to come half days, because it won’t be long before you’ve fallen far behind your classmates,” Mr. Morrison said.
    â€œNo, sir,” was the reply. “Last night was my first night in the pit, so my body hasn’t made the adjustment yet. I hope after a few nights, it will get used to the switch between nighttime and daytime.”
    â€œOkay, son. Go home and get some sleep. I hope to see you back here tomorrow. If you can’t make