through the halls was supposed to be. I told them how funny it was, which it was, and I said I wasn’t sorry that I’d done it and that the teacher hadn’t been injured at all and that Trout was my best friend. Which is not what my mother wanted to hear.
The truth is strange, especially if telling it is going to cause a problem. At first when I was talking to my parents, I felt wound up tight as a rubber band, as if I were going to propel in the air and fly out the front window. And then, somehow as if confessing the truth is medicine, I began to feel better, even good. Especially glad to tell my mother and father that Trout was becoming my best friend. The first I’d ever had.
My father got up for another beer and gave my mothera look that said “Be careful,” but my mom didn’t pay attention. I guess she was too angry.
“The first thing that happened tonight when we walked into the auditorium for Back-to-School Night is Mr. O’Dell met us at the door and told us you couldn’t
afford
to be involved in pranks during schooltime.”
“What does that mean—afford?” I asked.
I had already decided that I wasn’t going to be beaten in this conversation with my mother. That I wanted to fight back. That I didn’t really think I’d done anything wrong.
“I think
afford
means if you don’t get your act together, you’ll be kicked out of school.”
“Good news,” I said.
“Not exactly, Ben,” my mother said. “Then I saw Mr. Baker. After the meeting with all the parents, during which we heard what each class had done this year and how you were all ready to go on to the sixth grade, Mr. Baker asked if your father and I could remain afterwards, he needed to talk to us. In front of everyone, he said that.”
“I hate Mr. Baker,” I said.
“Mr. Baker wanted to talk to us about Trout and the influence he’s afraid Trout will have on your school performance.”
My father sat down with his second beer.
“What do you mean, influence?” I asked.
“Trout has had real problems in other schools, Ben. Real problems.”
“Like he’s a juvenile delinquent.”
My father hesitated.
“Exactly,” my mom said.
“We don’t know that, Jane.”
“I know it,” Mom said.
“Enough.” My dad got up and spilled his beer, which had been sitting on the edge of the couch, kicked the newspaper, which was lying on the floor, and asked my mother to come into the kitchen, he wanted to talk to her.
My parents fight. Not all the time, not even very often, but they do fight. I’ve never been worried about their fighting because it’s over before I have a chance to worry. But they usually don’t fight about me.
I decided not to go in the kitchen, where they were talking, and not to call Trout, which is what I wanted to do, of course. So I went into my bedroom, got into my pajamas, turned out the light, and lay on top of the covers, waiting.
Someone must have seen us and told Mr. O’Dell, I thought. Maybe Mr. Baker even guessed that we were “up to no good,” as my dad would say. Maybe the librarian or even Mickey Suter, who I had seen go into the boys’ room after I had left, and then I forgot to watch the bathroomdoor to see if he came out while I was standing on the stairs with Trout.
What Trout and I did wasn’t terrible. It caused some confusion. Of course, someone had to pick up the balls, but that turned out to be all the fifth graders, so it wasn’t a big deal. Ms. Pratt fell down, but she’s only about twenty-two and she’s soccer coach after school and I’m sure she falls down all the time. Besides, she didn’t get hurt.
What I’m trying to say is, we weren’t criminals.
I was waiting for one of my parents to come into my bedroom to kiss me good night. I hoped it would be my father. I love my mother, but she gets insane when I have a problem in school. That doesn’t happen with my dad. I wanted him to say what he usually says: “Listen, Benjamin, no big deal.”
But as it turned out,
The truth is strange, especially if telling it is going to cause a problem. At first when I was talking to my parents, I felt wound up tight as a rubber band, as if I were going to propel in the air and fly out the front window. And then, somehow as if confessing the truth is medicine, I began to feel better, even good. Especially glad to tell my mother and father that Trout was becoming my best friend. The first I’d ever had.
My father got up for another beer and gave my mothera look that said “Be careful,” but my mom didn’t pay attention. I guess she was too angry.
“The first thing that happened tonight when we walked into the auditorium for Back-to-School Night is Mr. O’Dell met us at the door and told us you couldn’t
afford
to be involved in pranks during schooltime.”
“What does that mean—afford?” I asked.
I had already decided that I wasn’t going to be beaten in this conversation with my mother. That I wanted to fight back. That I didn’t really think I’d done anything wrong.
“I think
afford
means if you don’t get your act together, you’ll be kicked out of school.”
“Good news,” I said.
“Not exactly, Ben,” my mother said. “Then I saw Mr. Baker. After the meeting with all the parents, during which we heard what each class had done this year and how you were all ready to go on to the sixth grade, Mr. Baker asked if your father and I could remain afterwards, he needed to talk to us. In front of everyone, he said that.”
“I hate Mr. Baker,” I said.
“Mr. Baker wanted to talk to us about Trout and the influence he’s afraid Trout will have on your school performance.”
My father sat down with his second beer.
“What do you mean, influence?” I asked.
“Trout has had real problems in other schools, Ben. Real problems.”
“Like he’s a juvenile delinquent.”
My father hesitated.
“Exactly,” my mom said.
“We don’t know that, Jane.”
“I know it,” Mom said.
“Enough.” My dad got up and spilled his beer, which had been sitting on the edge of the couch, kicked the newspaper, which was lying on the floor, and asked my mother to come into the kitchen, he wanted to talk to her.
My parents fight. Not all the time, not even very often, but they do fight. I’ve never been worried about their fighting because it’s over before I have a chance to worry. But they usually don’t fight about me.
I decided not to go in the kitchen, where they were talking, and not to call Trout, which is what I wanted to do, of course. So I went into my bedroom, got into my pajamas, turned out the light, and lay on top of the covers, waiting.
Someone must have seen us and told Mr. O’Dell, I thought. Maybe Mr. Baker even guessed that we were “up to no good,” as my dad would say. Maybe the librarian or even Mickey Suter, who I had seen go into the boys’ room after I had left, and then I forgot to watch the bathroomdoor to see if he came out while I was standing on the stairs with Trout.
What Trout and I did wasn’t terrible. It caused some confusion. Of course, someone had to pick up the balls, but that turned out to be all the fifth graders, so it wasn’t a big deal. Ms. Pratt fell down, but she’s only about twenty-two and she’s soccer coach after school and I’m sure she falls down all the time. Besides, she didn’t get hurt.
What I’m trying to say is, we weren’t criminals.
I was waiting for one of my parents to come into my bedroom to kiss me good night. I hoped it would be my father. I love my mother, but she gets insane when I have a problem in school. That doesn’t happen with my dad. I wanted him to say what he usually says: “Listen, Benjamin, no big deal.”
But as it turned out,
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