Scenes from a Kid's Life

by Jan S

© 2006 by Jan S

 

Group 2: Crystal, Leaves, Ribbon

 

Crystal:

Ally was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet so fast that the head of the black horse, carried lamb-style around his neck, kept hitting his arm. This was exciting – he was being included!

T.K. yelled "Don't give him any clues!"

Jim was getting annoyed with his other little brother, "Come out and listen. I'm going to use the same words I said to you! But he won't laugh at them."

Ally was rubbing one of the beads from the string around his neck against his teeth. He was nervous – he had no idea what was happening.

T.K. squeezed through a crack he opened in the door and Jim said, "Al, today Dr. Harte subbed for Mlle. Coen, and he gave us some thought problems instead of having class. He had this one set up in screened off parts of the Commons so we could each do it alone."

Ally knew what that meant: the Physics-Calculus teacher had babysat a bunch of almost grownups in advanced French. The Commons is what the big kids called their lunchroom. He had heard Mrs. Garcia talking to Sra. McNealy and didn't think he would have gotten a free period, but he knew things were different in the big building. He bit down on the bead.

Jim went on, "Dr. Harte couldn't afford to buy a whole bunch of glasses to use, and Mom wouldn't let me use our good glasses either; so when you see the plastic cups remember they are really very fragile and very expensive crystal. OK? And you can't touch them: no physical contact at all.

"There is a diamond sitting on the table; it looks like a wadded up piece of paper but it is a diamond. Your task is, simply, to pick up the diamond. Give me your steed so T.K. doesn't think Busef told you the answer. You only have three minutes; I'll set the timer then call you in,"

OK – this is Ally at home. If somehow you have gotten the impression you've entered some kind of television land forget about it. T.K. isn't a petulant Wally, and Ally's world isn't the Beaver's. Usually by this time of night all these people would be in separate rooms, each with one or two screens turned on in front of them. Most parental contact around here takes place while a parent is driving someone somewhere, and Grace and Larry both see Jim's new driver's license as a serious threat to family unity. They do have a rule that they sit down, with the TV off, and have dinner together twice a week, but sometimes that means eating at 5:30 and scarffing down the food. Ally's still young enough that both parents try to spend time in the same room as him most nights, at least watching a show or something, but Jim and T.K. no longer take part even in that since compulsion doesn't lead to anything that one can pretend is quality time. Tonight is a rare occurrence then; born of Jim's hope of stumping his parents. If you were looking for a way to get this family all in one room, however, this would be one of your better bets.

Jim turned Ally around before he opened the door. He asked "Did I do it fairly, T.K.?"

T.K. didn't bother to answer.

When he was called, Ally pushed the door open and walked in with his eyes tightly closed.

T.K. said, "Oh, the little dummy. There is no way he will ever get it?"

Grace almost began to root for Ally. But only almost; she recognized the anxiety that caused T.K.'s behavior.

Larry grinned and kept assembling the casserole that would be tomorrow's and Friday's dinner; he had no doubt what was going to happen and thought T.K. deserved it and might learn from it too.

Jim said with the patience he had only learned recently, "You can open your eyes, Ally, times ticking."

Ally opened his eyes. He saw a large cone of plastic cups built on the breakfast table with a wad of paper in the very middle. There was a single chopstick sitting on a counter.

Ally smiled; he picked up the chop stick; he bashed the cups to all parts of the room until none were left on the table; he reached over and picked up the diamond. He turned around and stated to say "Is that all?" but decided he didn't need to.

Jim gaped at Ally – Larry chuckled and said, "Brilliant" – Ally started to dance – T.K. said "Ha! Told you, he didn't even listen." – Grace laughed and said "Of course, we showed Alexander the Great the Gordian Knot!" (She immediately regretted the 'the Great' part.)

Ally was jumping up and down and throwing in a few spins as well, he said, "Na-a, I didn't think of the story."

T.K. yelled, "But that can't be right. You said you can't touch the cups and they were fragile and he would have broken them all!"

Jim hadn't perfected patience yet so he sounded a bit condescending, "T.K., you noticed the stick too and he can buy new glasses when he sells the diamond."

T. K. burst; I thought he already had but he did now. "So everyone got it but idiot, dummy Tommy. Of course, cutie-pie, sweetie, precious little Ally the Great got it; he's brilliant, not like the stupid screw-up me." Then he started to storm out of the room."

Ally crashed, not physically, just emotionally. It wasn't the words that hurt so much; he knew the difference between words as tears and words as spears; sometimes he had to remind himself to look for the difference but, at least with his brothers, he could tell. What hurt much more was that he had hurt his brother, he would never mean to do that. Also there were second collision injuries: the emotional whiplash was horrible.

Ally ran towards a different door.

Larry grabbed his youngest and picked him up as he called to his middle child, "Get back here now, T. K."

T. K. shuffled back into the room; his steps implied remorse but his face still showed anger and disappointment.

As soon as the door opened Grace started, "How dare you hurt others because of your frustration. Ally did nothing to you!"

T. K. said, "I didn't hurt him...."

"What?" Grace interrupted, "Sticks and stones can break one's bones/..."

T. K. thought, "Oh no, The Poem." He was sure he had heard this before he was born.

"...but doctors can soon mend them/ words can hurt over and over again/ who know when one will forget them."

Oy; an English professor who rhymes them with them? – Well, I guess it isn't really supposed to be literature.

"Or were you going to argue sarcasm doesn't count?" Grace asked.

T. K. just shrugged. He hadn't planed to argue for a literal interpretation or a lack of physical harm. He really planed to argue lack of intent but The Poem had given him time to realize it wouldn't work: his words had been reckless where Grace saw a very high duty of care.

Larry jumped carefully into the pause, "Grace, let me go first. I'm less angry."

Grace stared at him. She agreed with the count to ten philosophy, and learning to take turns instructing children was one of the things that had saved their marriage the second time it needed saving.

Larry assured her, "I'm not letting him off. I recognize his crime."

Grace asked, "Both of them?"

That took Larry almost two seconds but he said, "Yes." Then he added, "I have no idea what to do about the second though," so she would know he did know.

Larry turned to T. K. and said, "Calm down and let's analyze this puzzle."

T.K. leaned back against the wall, put his hands in his pockets and looked somewhere in the direction of his father's knees. Everyone knew that was the best indication of listening they were going to get.

Actually, at most times Larry's words would have gotten a smile from Grace; five thousand times (without exaggeration) she had thought that the people who called psychiatrist annalist should spend some time around engineers. After a few years of marriage she had met enough engineers to know that with some their analysis, and with a few their vocalizations, didn't extend beyond numbers and names of esoteric symbols. She realized she had picked one of the most verbal of the breed.

Larry, of course, had analyzed this before he had asked Grace to marry him (or rather before he realized it was too late to ask and she had already accepted). He had concluded that it wasn't the dimples she still retained or her funny navel or even the interesting things she was still willing to do with the lights out that he loved; he was certain he had met his perfect compliment: the most analytical of all possible word-persons. Even after over two decades of marriage (and learning what literary criticism actually was) he was still sure he had come very close.

Ally was still sitting on Larry's hip and tried to get down. The tension was unpleasant: he didn't like watching people getting punished; and he hated being seen by his brothers when he was this upset. Larry said, "Wait, puddin', I want you to hear this too".

T.K. said, "Of course, make him hear why T.K. is the idiot of the family. What difference does it make?"

"Just stop, T.K.," Larry said, "before I get as mad as your mother. This wasn't an intelligence test."

Grace knew she had surrendered her turn but had to object, "And no one but you has ever said or thought you were stupid."

"Oh yeah! Why wouldn't you even let me try to get into that Young and Talented Summer thing Jim goes to?" T.K. said, trying to garner some sympathy or, better yet, change the subject.

"T.K.!" Grace said with an apologetic shrug to Larry, she hadn't meant to take over, "it's not that we didn't let you: we didn't make you. You should see those tests with some of the twelve and thirteen year olds cramming like it's doctoral comps just to go to camp. I wouldn't put you through that, but you would have had to prepare a little. If you had wanted it and been serious about it, I know there is no way you wouldn't have gotten in, but it would have been useless if you didn't want it." Grace knew T.K. already had too many options for next summer; wilderness, wrestling and drama camps vied for his three weeks' commitment; she called his bluff, "There is still time for next year. Do you, truly, want to go to nerd camp?"

Jim said, "Hey!"

Grace said, "Sorry, Jim."

"No, that's OK. I just didn't know you knew its real name," Jim said.

Larry almost laughed but hid it by saying, "Don't distract your mother when she is yelling at your brother."

Ally turned his head towards the others for the first time but kept his face partially hidden in Larry's shoulder. "She's not yelling very loud," he said, "I've heard her do lots better."

T.K. noticed the small crack in the pressure cooker opened by his brothers. He proved Grace's point by applying a lever to it, "At least she isn't talking real soft and quiet. That scares the sh- sh- geewillerkers out of me."

Ahh, the lid was off. Larry chuckled, Jim laughed, Ally giggled and Grace smiled. She couldn't help it, having been called on her best and most earnest tactic.

While Grace searched for her mood Larry took over again.

Ally stretched out perpendicular to his father, and a perceptive Jim passed him Bucephalus. He laid the horse over his father's shoulder and laid his head on the horse, only partly because it was to his left.

Larry said, "I examined every inch of the structure. This is what I do, and what I teach others to do, T.K., but it is axiomatic: there is always one sure way in. So I knocked part of it down; not as dramatically as Ally did, I just took down what I had to."

Ally blushed; he had deliberately 'broken' every glass and enjoyed doing it.

"Jim told me he just stared at the thing until the fifteen seconds warning and then knocked it down. Maybe he was breaking the puzzle in frustration or maybe it was an insight born of frustration."

"A little of both," Jim said, then to be totally honest added, "I hope."

Recently, as he began filling out college applications, Jim had announced he had always wanted to be a doctor. This was a huge surprise to his parents. When he was five Jim was going to build a platform above the rainforest canopy so he could be an astronomer at night and a herpetologist by day. Since then he had always had an attachment to one natural science after another (except at T.K.'s age, when it had been philosophy and theology). But his parents, watching his interest rather than his fascinations, had always believed that Jim would wind up either as an historian or a cultural anthropologist if he were doomed to an academic life (which seemed likely). They took their earnest son's sincere declaration seriously, however, and admitted it had a different quality from his previous pursuits. (Neither had even pointed out to Jim that both his parents had Ph.D.'s, that there were several more such persons on his street as well as uncounted J.D.'s and a D.D.; so "doctor" didn't necessarily narrow things down much. That was difficult because both view prevarication as high humor. They did, however, make a bet on who would learn what specialty he had in mind first; he seemed determined to keep that a secret.)

"Maybe, but maybe it was the third possibility," Larry said "T.K., I think that what happened was that Jim faced the possibility of having no answer; the one thing that scares him more than having the wrong answer. Once he didn't care if it was right or not, he could then knock over the glasses.

"Your mother did it differently. I didn't know how she found the answer until she said what she did about Ally. She found it in a story, of course. I think if her review of literature had somehow failed her, she may still have figured it out, but when you have read a million books they can give you a few answers."

Grace wondered if she could have solved it some other way, but she felt compelled, as always, to object to the hyperbole. "I don't think I've read nearly that many."

Ally said (Remember Ally? This is a story about Ally; he's still being held by Larry.), "Yeah, she's only read..." he drew some numbers in the air, "73,365, one for each day of her life," and giggled a very small giggle.

"What?" Grace said, "That would make me a hundred and ..."

"It would be seven weeks exactly before your two hundred and first birthday," T.K. said with out looking up, "there would have been forty-nine leap years, he didn't add those in."

Grace and Larry both laughed at "idiot Tommy." T.K. had no idea why.

"Then it was your turn, T.K. You spent the entire time pacing around, and hitting the table with the stick. And you asked Jim about the rules over and over. T.K., you were willing to argue the rules, but you were the one making the rules. That is what this test is about. In spite of the seventeen black shirts you own, and the seventeen holes you want to drill in your face, you are the one who builds many of the walls you resent so much. And all the black and red and studs and rings just represent another set of rules you're willing to adopt.

Seventeen was probably an accurate number for the black shirts, but ten would have been closer to the number of piercings T.K. would have liked and, to be totally fair, it was only three or four days a week he wanted them. The rest of the time he wanted to get ten varsity letters. He wasn't sure why the two were mutually exclusive but after a month of high school he knew they were.

"I thought Ally would do this but was surprised at how fast. Very early, much earlier than any little person should – ow..." Ally thought he was required and expected to make a demonstration any time he was referred to as little so he had bopped his father on the head. "... young person should have to, Ally learned to examine situations and adjust to them or, sometimes, just stay quite and unnoticed."

T.K. said, "You mean because he is so..."

"Because he is so energetic," Jim said, preserving the taboo, "but doesn't like being the center of attention."

"The point is, T.K.," Larry said, "Ally knows, and I hope he never forgets, to look for the walls to the boxes. Sometimes he accepts them and keeps himself to himself; I wish he never had to be in those places, but he does. Sometimes he knows it is OK to be who he is. He might stay in the background sometimes, but he doesn't deny, or even really hide, who he is or try to be something else. And he knows he can find places where he will be accepted. He always fills the box to the best of his ability.

You always see boxes and try to break them down before you know how big they are, and if you can't break them you try to mold yourself to them. But there are place where you can be less confined with less fight too."

Ally had no idea what these people were talking about. He didn't think he was energetic and knew nothing about any boxes. There were places with friends where he could be happy; and there were places without friends where he was quiet, some so bad he didn't want to move, but that didn't mean he was sad in those places. And there were in between places too, like school.

Larry sat Ally on the counter so he could wrap up his casserole, "Now your mother's going to pass sentence; let's get out of here, Pud. Jim, you get to pick up the cups"

Ally said, "I'll help Jim and I'm pots 'n pans."

"OK, come see me before bed, Kid," Larry said and left.

Grace said, "All right, T.K. – no TV; Video games; phone; computer, even for homework, you'll be too tempted to chat; – nothing with an on switch unless it is in the kitchen for 24 hours for each of my children you insulted. You start when you get home Friday afternoon. You'll be done Sunday."

"But I didn't say anything about Jim!" T.K. said.

"I have three children, T.K.," Grace said, "it may not make sense to punish you for punishing yourself, but I have to get you attention somehow. It hurts me too much to ignore it any longer. There are other ways to deal with those feelings, Honey."

"But ..." T.K. wasn't paying any attention to his mother's reasons or sentiments and started to point out that he was going to Carl's house Saturday night to hang out (not a sleep over, certainly not a slumber party, just hang out all night like real grownups do), but he realized that Grace knew that, so instead he said, "Soccer game Saturday?"

Grace said, "I'm punishing you not the team, you can fulfill your obligations even if they are fun ones."

T.K. tried to find a way to make Carl's house into an obligation.

Jim left to put the cups away. Ally walked over hugging Bucephalus and staring at the floor. "Mom," he said, he was old enough to know adults weren't always right but was a long way from old enough to enjoy pointing it out to them, "T.K. didn't hurt me."

"Why were you so upset then, Sweetie?" She knew Ally the Defender well.

"'Cuz I'd hurt him."

Grace stared at her child. She had felt the same emotion and knew that she couldn't punish T.K. without punishing Ally's compassion more. "I'm going to let T.K. off, Ally, but," she got down on a knee and held Ally's chin to look him in the eye, "I'm giving you a new rule until you are about as big as Jim. In a game with younger children it is OK to let them win, or if you are way ahead in a soccer game and your team stops trying to score that is OK. But, Ally, I don't want you to ever, ever not try to do your best just to save someone's feelings, especially if they are older than you or if you don't know how well you can do. Your responsibilities do not extend that far, Allydally. Do you understand?"

Ally nodded. He thought this would be the hardest rule he had ever heard of.

Grace said, "Ally, even though you care about others, you have a right to feel good about doing well, maybe more so because you care so much. It will be hard sometimes, but I want you to do it. T.K., you are off for one day."

T.K. stared at his sibling but addressed his mother, "Carl's Saturday night?"

"You can leave twenty-four hours after you get home Friday and not a second earlier. Also you will do Ally's chores for the rest of the week but do it out of gratitude not as a punishment, start with pots and pans tonight. Ally, come on you should take a bath tonight."

"I don't mind doing 'em. Honest," Ally said.

Grace smiled and said, "I won't punish you by not letting you help, Honey, but the jobs are T.K.'s. Hurry though it is getting late and you are taking a bath." She left to read her 73,366th book.

Pot and pans wasn't a big chore; the dinner dishes had been done and only the things used on future meals were left. Ally took the first pan and put it in the dishwasher. T.K. was disappointed to see the machine was almost empty; he liked this job when it was a spatial-relations challenge.

T.K. was still watching Ally. Ally said, "T.K.?" but got no response so he went on, "I think you're real smart."

T.K. grinned and said "You're my number one fan," and grabbed a pot.

Ally returned the grin; it's nice to be appreciated. He wanted to give T.K. a hug, or even a kiss, but that, of course, was one of those walls that he was an expert at recognizing but knew nothing about.

T.K. continued thinking about Ally: he was sweet, cute, brilliant, precious. How in Holy Bloody Hell was he supposed to deal with that?

**** ****

 

Leaves:

Ally had just finished arranging his leaves: the reddest ones on the very ends, the yellowest ones in the very middle with the ones with both colors in between. Leah had taken a different approach, alternating red with yellow and a half and half right in the center. "That's pretty," Ally said.

"Thanks, so are yours," Leah smiled.

There was a simultaneous roar and groan from behind them and Etta said, "Did you see that? That Jacob kid tried to tackle with his feet; didn't reach for the ball or cut off the angle or nothin', and Becky stood there picking her nose like a fat blob."

Ally looked over. Becky wasn't picking her nose and the new coach told her to just stand in the goal. (She was an unfortunately large child, and the coach, her parents and even Becky seemed to think this was a great use of her skills. She was the only girl that got to play the whole game.) But Etta could be cruel when she was frustrated. Last year she had been the Dragons second-half goalie and had only given up two goals in the last three games of the season; those were to her best friend's team that had been down 6-0 and their old coach had never mentioned them. In fact, that score had been a bad mistake; they had always stopped trying to score when up by five. Coach Edwards said he wanted to be the first team to score ten this year. So far the Dragons hadn't scored in two and almost one half games and had given up nine goals now, two today.

Etta said, "Ally, why don't you get the ball and take off with it today?"

Ally sighed, Leah said, "We're going to be fullbacks again." Last year's coach had tried to let everyone play up front for part of every game.

Etta kicked the ground.

T.K., Carl and Gail walked over from another field, and T.K. said "I got a goal, Ally."

Ally was still kneeling but stretched his arm way up to give a high-five.

Carl, who played for the other team, said, "But we creamed 'em anyway."

"It was three to two, and you only got those because Gail kept giving you the ball." T.K. said.

Gail laughed, and said, "I had to; the commissioner was there, and she knows I know you." Gail was too old for this league and was an assistant referee.

T.K. had been selected by his dream team, the Wizards; they weren't very good so even as a first year he was one of the better players, but more importantly he got to wear almost solid black (even the socks) with some red stripes and a red lightning bolt 'W' on the jersey.

Gail asked, "How are the Purple People Eaters doing? Why aren't you watching the game?"

Ally, Leah and Etta had on purple jerseys and shorts with yellow stripes and green letters. Gail was allowed to tease because she had helped coach them last year when her little sister, Jenny, had been on the team.

Etta said, "We stink."

Ally said, "Coach Edwards makes us sit by the tree 'til half time."

"Gail, look how they run around and don't pass," Etta said, "Tell Ally and Leah to help me take the ball up the sideline. Bet it'd work."

Ally said, "He'd scream at us."

Etta said, "Gonna quit this stupid team; even at practice he only lets the boys do anything, and we never scrimmage. Gail come back and coach us, Pleeease. (She really knew Gail was only sixteen and couldn't be a real coach.) Leah, will you help me?"

Leah nodded, but Ally said, "We're suppose' to stay on the line 'til the ball gets past."

Last spring Ally had stayed with Gail and Jenny every afternoon after school. Gail liked Ally, and she liked the babysitting money, and she kind of liked Jenny, but she loved soccer. She had played on the varsity team as a freshman. She made Ally run up and down the block and taught him to pump his arms and lean into the run. Then she had made them dribble the soccer ball up and down the street. They hadn't had room to work on passes, but Ally and Jenny had become fast and very good ball handlers. Ally had just started to hate it when his old coach noticed and praised him. Then he got the ball around T.K., and T.K. had been both mad and happy enough for Ally to know it had been for real. He had dared to play at recess for the first time after that and had begun to love the game. He still did but this was no fun anymore.

Gail said, "Ally, if they run around like that the whole game they will get tired. If you're fresh you might out run them."

Ally just shook his head; he wanted to but he didn't want to.

"Ally, the girls want to," T.K. said, "why won't you? Why are you so afraid?"

Ally looked down at his leaves.

Gail said, "Shut Up, T.K.!"

The whistle blew, and Etta and Leah went off to get the juice and orange slices that were theirs by right, but Ally stayed, and he wasn't crying.

He stood up and kicked his leaves (but not Leah's). He was thinking of all the times that people called him names and acted like because he liked some things that girls liked sometimes and liked to play with girls sometimes, he was real prissy and scared of everything and cried all the time and things like that; and that they were wrong because he wasn't like that at all, and he did lots of stuff just like a regular girl would do and boys too, but now he was scared to do what Etta wanted, and now he did even want to cry, and everyone knew boys didn't. And he still wasn't crying.

So it may have seemed like a non sequitur to the others, but it didn't to Ally when he said, "I'm not a sissy; that means a scaredy-cat and a cry-baby and won't get dirty and play hard and stuff, and you're just an – an – an – asshole." Then he very slowly followed the other Dragons, and he still wasn't crying.

T.K. hadn't really meant to hurt Ally; he was just thoughtless sometimes – often – but now he tried to defend himself, and said, "I was just trying to make him braver. It's embarrassing; people get on me about it."

Gail glared at T.K., she was getting unbelievably mad. She said, "Who care's if you're embarrassed. It ain't about you, Buster. Maybe if you were brave enough your 'friends' would shut up!" Her glare now took in Carl, so he quickly agreed with her.

"You're as bad as anyone, always ragging me about it," T.K. said.

"So, I'm a jerk. What's new? He isn't my brother. When Greg said something about Zack's R problem I nearly threw him out the window." (Zack was Carl's little brother. His R problem was he never said any.)

"OK," T.K. said, "You ever do it again I'll cream you." And T.K. did mean it.

"It's about time," Carl said.

"It's way too late," Gail said, "what if Ally were your sister, T.K., would you still treat him like that?" Jim and T.K. had always been among the best at treating her the way she wanted to be treated, which made T.K.'s problems with Ally that much worse.

T.K. said, "You act like I don't care about him, and that's just wrong! It was the girls' idea."

"Maybe it's worse for him. What would happen to the girls if the coach got mad?" Carl asked.

"See! Even Carl gets it," Gail said, meaning nothing against Carl. "Get a clue, T.K., or do you think you should call him all the names first and toughen him up? He's already tougher than you by a long ways."

T.K. walked off towards the end of the field. Who had declared it Bash T.K. Week anyway? You know, what he said was not that horrible, and he would have had to be much more perceptive than he could be expected to be to know how bad his timing was. He wasn't any where close to a bully; he was short, slight and fair, like all the males in his family, and had been the target of many bullies. He worried about Ally a lot. He walked over and kicked the back pole of the goal five times; he walked to the far side of the field; he came back and kicked the pole three more times; he walked to the corner flag and knocked it over a few times to watch it spring back up.

Ally had spent the half-time leaning against Larry. Larry assumed he was upset about the team because that had been the topic among the parents during the first half, and he was, I guess, partially right. He also knew T.K. was upset about something, but didn't think the two were necessarily connected, and he was, I guess, partially right. Larry tried to cheer Ally up by telling him lots of the people watching knew how good he was and to play hard and try to have a good time.

As soon as Ally got on the field T.K. called him over and said, "I did not mean you were any of those things you said, Al. I know you a lot better than that. I just want you to do your very best. Remember that rule Mom gave you the other night. It isn't just for family, you know." Ally nodded, he had no idea what that rule had to do with this situation.

Coach Edwards yelled, "Greyson, get on the field or quit the team. You girls stay back there. Boys, get to the ball; don't let them even kick it! Pursuit! Pursuit! Let's go! Make some noise out there. Let's go! Joe, I want to see you at the front the whole time, Boy."

For most of the next twenty minutes the soccer ball went all around the middle of the field. Where ever it went six Dragons chased it. The other team had begun with fullbacks and midfielders and forwards, but as soon as the ball got near any of them they joined the pack, and soon all but their sweeper and goalie was chasing all around too.

After a while Ally forgot about the discussions with T.K. and Etta and whether or not this had anything to do with what his mom had said. The ball got into the penalty area about five times, so Ally got to play then, but once the ball was back near the center line he dutifully returned to his spot. Most of the time Ally spent thinking about getting feelings hurt and how sometimes with the people that you would think that would be hardest it was the easiest, and about how the leaves changed colors and how now there were only a few but soon there would be zillions and that he wished he hadn't messed his up, and he wondered what would happen if he was a witch this year even if he was a real ugly, scary one.

Then the ball and the herd came up the sideline on Leah's side. She dashed out and kicked the ball, a great kick, clear across the field. It rolled almost to a stop between Ally and the center mark. Ally charged to the ball and looked up field; there was nothing in front of him; the goalie and the sweeper were standing talking inside the goal. He took off. He thought he was dribbling as fast as he ever had. As he entered the penalty area he heard Etta holler "here" the way she had been taught last year, but that was just to tell him she was close; he didn't need her yet. Then he heard Leah, further off but ahead of the pack. When he entered the goal area the sweeper finally challenged him, and he tapped the ball over to Etta. She tried to make a one touch shot and slammed the ball at the goal. The goalie made a fantastic dive, but the ball bounced off his stomach. Leah was there to get it and pushed it towards the middle. Ally got to it just before the sweeper and walked it into the goal. The Dragons went wild!

At least twenty or thirty Dragons patted his back or tried to pick him up as he went back up the field.

The referee gave the Dragons three tries to do a good kick-off, and the coach told them to kick it up field like in American football. As soon as the ball got back to midfield the final whistle blew. The Dragons had lost 2-1 and were ecstatic.

The coach called everyone over; they all thought he was going to tell them they had done well. The first thing he said was, "That goal shouldn't have counted, and I want have players who don't listen on my team. Golden, Yo and Greyson you're suspended for the next five games (They only played eight in the fall season.), and you don't need to come to practice either."

Etta, who had talked most about quitting, was the first to start crying. "What for? What was wrong with the goal?"

"Because you were all in the goalies box, and you were off sides, and the refs just gave it to you, but I won't take pity goals. And I won't have disobedient brats who give me back talk on my team," Coach Edwards said.

Mrs. Yo grabbed Etta. She said, "You as..." but stopped herself and just pulled Etta away.

T.K. shouted, "There was nothing wrong with that goal. What are you talking about?"

Coach Edwards said, "Get the hell off my pitch. You don't belong here."

Larry put the car keys into Ally's hand and told him to go to the car. Then he said very calmly, "Coach, I think we should talk about this quietly and privately."

Ally walked about five steps away. He didn't want to be a disobedient brat, and he was scared and the fear was here, but the zone of safety emitted by his father was here too, and his Dad might need him, so that was as far as he got. He stood and watched, biting down on one of his beads.

Edwards yelled, "Greyson, I am talking quietly, you're the people shouting. I'm the coach of this damn team, and I'm going to let the boys who will be playing real sports later and know how to listen get the chance, whether you like it or not. It's bad enough I have to let the girls on my team. They just like showing up the boys because they get there growth earlier, I know that. (These were eight and nine year olds. That hadn't happened yet.) But putting up with that little fruit of yours is even worse. Now they've given me a reason to get rid of them, and I've done it. Why don't you keep him at home in a play pen or give him ballet lessens or something."

"You leave my brother alone!" T.K. said, "You don't know anything about this game and don't belong on the same field or planet with him."

Edwards said, "Ha, I know it's a pitch not a field, Twit. So this thing is yours to too, huh, Greyson. You breeding little tootie freaks?"

Ally was frozen to his spot, staring intently at his father and brother. Still he noticed that there were still some Dragons around, and that several, boys and girls, besides him were crying. He noticed that Joseph Edwards was crying as hard as anyone. He felt sorry for Joseph because he thought he'd get in trouble for that. I don't know how he found time to feel sympathy for someone else right now, but he did.

Larry took a slow step forward. In his head he was shouting every curse and cuss he knew but not at Edwards, at civilization; he want to be a savage for thirty seconds – three. The single step had been enough, however, to intimidate Edwards.

"What, you going to come over and fight me," Edwards screamed, "That should be fun!"

T.K. had spent less than one third as long in civilization and also stepped towards Edwards. He said, "You total idiot – you... (He was, it turned out, too civilized to use the word he wanted to use to an adult.). Go wash your hood. Crawl under a roc..."

Edwards shoved him and knocked him to the ground.

Three other fathers encircled Edwards. Even he was smart enough to know he had gone too far. "Don't run up on me like that, Stupid Punk," he said. Then he turned around and shouted, "Quit acting like a damn wimp, Joseph. Get in the car." He added much more about people telling him what to do and political correctness as he walked away, but no one listened.

Several parents were talking to Larry and T.K., and as soon as he was sure T.K. was all right Ally walked to the car. He didn't know that several Dragons put their arms on his shoulders, and that some moms were following him too. He got into the back seat and but his head in his lap. He noticed he was shaking.

He listened to himself; he didn't hear sobs. He closed his eyes tight; there were no new tears. He looked inside his head; he didn't feel scared now.

He was trembling.

Someone was on the seat beside him – He was on his father's lap – T.K.'s hand was on his back – His head was gently pulled onto his father's shoulder.

T.K. started to say something, but Ally and Larry would have disagreed with what he would have said. Larry put his fingers on T.K.'s lips then wiped some tears off T.K.'s cheek; not the names he had been called, not his own fear, not the bruise forming on his shoulder had caused those tears. Larry put that hand on top of T.K.'s hand on top of Ally's back.

Then he showed his good analytical and verbal skills and spoke the perfect words: None.

**** ****

 

Ribbon:

Ally put the book down and waited. He was wearing a blue T-shirt that almost reached his knees and announced his participation in a 10K three years before he was born. There were some strange holes around the neck because Jim had chewed on his collars until he was much too old to do that.

Ally sat up on the bed and felt behind his head. He flipped his hair back and forth a few times and smiled. It was T.K. that had taken a red, a yellow and a white ribbon during tonight's dinner and given Ally his very first pony tail; he had escaped a bath tonight so he still had it. The loops were a lot longer than his hair and he pulled them tighter then flipped it around again. It felt neat.

He was pretty high up right now because his bed was a captain's bed with three rows of large drawers below the mattress. It was a light cherry laminate, the same color as most of the furniture and the woodwork in the room. The walls were a bright yellow he had picked himself, but they were almost hidden by posters. Among the bigger ones was one of a bunch of frogs with big red eyes sitting in a tree, one of a girl in a blue dress holding a hoop, one of a statue of a ballerina, one of a big dog running very fast, one of some boys painting a fence that he got for reading the fourth most books of all third graders during last year's Read-athlon and, right over the long side of the bed, one of a girl in a green dress lying on the ground looking way off the other way. Although he had this picture before he knew Rocky and the girl's hair was a darker red and she was older, Ally had written Rocky's name at the bottom of it.

The bottom drawer of the bed, which was partly open, went its whole length and was once a trundle, but the mattress had been replaced with a thousand or so plastic blocks. One end of the compartment had been divided into small bins to hold different kinds of blocks showing Ally's innate sense of order. The fact that more than half of the blocks were in a pile at the other end and the condition of the rest of the room indicated either that this sense of order wasn't a compulsion, or a total lack of discipline; depending on how bad it got and the mood of the parent talking.

At the foot of the bed there was a menagerie of two bears, a panda (it's not a bear), an alligator, a fluffy dog, a fox, a snowman and a skunk. They kept Bucephalus company while Ally was at school. A lot of art supplies, several robots, soccer equipment, a jump rope, some jacks (Chinese and regular), some smaller animals including some very tiny ones in their own shop, and other toys sat with the large number of books on the shelves or spilled out from a box in one corner. In another corner there was a five story model of a Victorian house with a round tower. The open back was towards the room showing a montage of furnishings in its many rooms. Some of the people from the block sets, three small bears that had once had careers as Christmas tree ornaments and some other small, possibly animate, objects were engaged in various activities throughout the building. Two floppy, faded and damaged Bucephaluses (Bucephali?) kept watch from their place of honor on a top shelf.

The stairway was on the opposite side of the wall from the long side of his bed so Ally always knew who was walking up and, often, where they were headed without even thinking about it. That is why he was waiting, but he was still surprised when there was a knock at the door (that hardly ever happened).

"Yeah," he said.

"Is Mister Alexander H. Greyson in," Larry asked though the door.

One day every year his father called him that, but he was tolerant of the eccentricities of the old so he smiled and said, "Yes. Come in Coach Gray." Most of his teammates knew Ally's last name, but they all dropped the last syllable when talking to their new coach.

Larry came in and asked, "Do you think they call me that because of my hair?"

Ally did his best to put a grimace over his grin and said, "Nah. Your hair doesn't have very much gray at all. – It's mostly brown or white."

"Oh, Thanks a lot. I feel much better," Larry said.

"Sure, no problem," Ally answered, working hard to hold his straight face, "I do wonder why you cut that hole up at the top though."

"You had just better be careful, Youngster. Special day or not, you can go too far," Larry said (A smile negated the threat.).

The bed was high enough that Larry had to boast himself up to sit on it, which he did, then he asked, "All ready for bed? Teeth? Everything? – That's quit a haul downstairs. We're going to have to hire some sherpas to carry it all up."

Ally nodded to the first parts of that. As for the last, he could have argued at length that Tinzing Norgay was the first man to the top of Mt. Everest (Though, in his view, that didn't detract from what Hillary had done in the least.), and something like it was another annual (actually twice-annual) line so he just grinned.

Larry asked Ally what he was reading, and Ally said, "It's about Maggie's cousin and the man on the train works for the judge, but Mrs. Ericson won't believe her, so she hid it even though he keeps acting nice, and she might not get to the senator on time."

Larry had no idea what Ally was talking about, but he enjoyed Ally's assumption that he knew about everything Ally knew about too much to ask any questions, and just said, "Wow. I hope it works out. I wanted to talk to you about a few important things, OK?"

Ally became very serious; this would be a horrible day to get in trouble, and he didn't think he had done anything, but sometimes you couldn't be sure. He took a bead and touched it to a tooth. He now had two strings on; but the new one, which had silver beads with a wooden one every five and had two blood red stone next to the clasp, was too short to go over his chin, so the same bead still got this chore.

Larry said, "The first thing is about last week, I've been waiting until it was far enough away to bring it up but I think you might think that happened because you did something wrong and, Ally, you certainly didn't! You just played hard and did your best and that is what you're supposed to do. The coach wasn't being fair, Ally, even the parents were upset. If he had treated everyone the same and you didn't like the job he gave you that would be different, but he didn't.

"T.K. thinks he made you do something that was dangerous or at least turned out badly. Do you think that?"

Ally shook his head and said in a small voice, "I wasn't thinking about that at all."

"Good. Can you remember to say that to T.K. sometime – Now, the second thing, When you get older I'm going to give you a long speech about the three things I hope you will do when you are grown up, the things that will make me proud."

Ally did something impossible for an adult; he simultaneously let out an audible groan and giggled. The groan was for the mere thought of something his father would admit was a long speech. The giggle was for the 'three things'. Larry was famous, or infamous, among his children for his 'three things' and 'third possibilities'. They were sure he pushed things together or added things just to make the right number. Even Ally had laughed the first time Jim said that that was the only reason for Ally's existence.

"Don't worry" Larry said, "I'm only going to give a little taste for now, Puddin'. Just something I think you might need to know early. – You know you can't make everybody in the world like you, don't you?"

"You can just be nice." Ally said. He had fallen over onto his left side as soon as his father started but was staring right at Larry's face.

"That's right and the importance of being nice doesn't stop even to mean people. They probably need the kindness most. But there are people who aren't going to like you no matter what, and that is true of everybody else in the world too. No one can please everyone. Some of those people, Al, are going to think that you should be like them. That you should only like the things they like, and act like they act. Don't listen to them. Ever."

"Coach Edwards," Ally whispered.

Larry was nodding when he said, "We aren't doing names tonight, but there are many, Kid. When you are doing things that don't hurt anyone else, or get in the way of what others are doing, then you MUST be yourself.

"There are a lot of people in this world, and we have to take care of each other. For you, for now, that means just be nice and thoughtful and considerate. But you also must be nice to yourself. If you like doing something or find something fun. Don't listen to the people that say you aren't supposed to, I'm not talking about things that might get you hurt, you know that, right? Or people who are trying to protect you. I'm just talking about ordinary things that you do or find interesting.

"Because, Al, you must find your own joy in your own self. That is the only way you can have joy to give to others, and that is one of our duties in life. Some people may be mean, stay away from them when you can; you can't always change their minds and don't need to. When you find your joy and your passion, you will also find the people, plenty of people, who you can please, and who want to share your joy. And miraculously those will be the very people that please you the most. That is how you will know the people that were meant to share your life.

"I really believe that the people who want to tell everyone else what they should be like are the ones that have never found their own joy. They always think others are picking on them and use it as an excuse to be a bully, because they haven't let them selves be happy. Don't let that happen to you, don't hide your light, Ally...Did you follow that, Pud."

"Uh-huh," Ally said, "Do things that make me happy, 'cuz otherwise I can't make others happy and then might wanna make people unhappy 'stead."

Larry smiled and said, "Very good. I'm glad someone around here has my talent for brevity. (He was joking; I think he was joking; I hope so. Ally didn't get it.) Now we are done with this years lecture. You relieved?"

There is no answer for that kind of question, at least when you're a kid and it comes from your father, so Ally just put his arms around Larry.

Larry said, "Now I have a third thing to ask you about." (Are you surprised? Ally wasn't at all surprised there were three things to talk about.)

"I know about some things you have, and you know I know about them, and I know your know I know, and on and on and on; but we never talk about them. – Could you show me your secret toys?"

Ally never thought of them as 'secret', just as his 'other stuff'. He had put them away several years ago because some kids had said things when they visited, but he had friends (well at least one, Jenny, next door) that he brought them out for too. Some of the small items he had even taken to school a few times. But he knew what Larry was talking about and went to the back of his closet, under all the future hand-me-downs, and got a plastic milk crate. There was also a broken cradle full of tangled Mardi Gras beads and pieces of cloth, but he thought this was what his father would want to see. It was a small collection but not that bad. Every year, after his birthday party, there was always an extra girl's goodie-bag, often with something nicer than what he thought the girls had received. Also at least once a year some old things were given to charity, and he always got the job of checking to make sure nothing got mixed in by mistake and was told he could keep whatever he could use. His mother seemed to have a penchant for buying presents and then finding something else she preferred to give, especially for girls.

Larry took a long, pink feather boa out and put it across Ally's shoulders; he laid out the three fashion dolls and some of their clothing; he put another boa on Ally's neck and one on his own; he took out the chests of doll clothes and the box of costume jewelry; he put a tiara on Ally's head. He went through the crate one item at a time and spread all the miniature dolls and other things out on the bed until he got to the bottom and found a heavily jeweled wooden sword.

Ally remembered when he got this sword at a Renaissance Fair but had forgotten why it belonged in this box, but it did. Larry, however, could remember the drive back from the fair four years ago, when Ally cradled the sword in his arm, talked baby talk to it and then hummed it a lullaby. All four members of Ally's family had broken out in laughter. Well it was very cute! And Larry was certain that not even the boys had meant it derisively. The six year old, however, had been mortified and had not accepted the reassurances of goodwill.

Larry now cradled the sword in his own arms and hummed. Ally giggled and said, "That's just reeeeal silly."

"Ah," Larry said, "but sometimes silly is fun, and cute." He stabbed Ally in the stomach then knighted him with a tap on each shoulder. He decided to test his credibility with the last item in the box. "Is this one still called Sammy?" he asked as he took out a baby doll whose hair and face were painted on and were faded. It also had a crack or rip by its ear and was missing a leg.

Ally nodded, he was surprised Larry knew that name.

"Do you know this guy is older than either you or T.K.? I remember when Jim and then T.K. use to play with him."

"Really," Ally said, amazed either of his brothers had ever done such a thing.

"Sure, they were practicing being daddies."

Ally believed his father, but most of the boys he knew now were older, and he only vaguely remembered when boys did that. Also he had never thought of any of the things he did when playing as being practice,except maybe soccer.

Larry put Sammy down and asked, "Doesn't he have a friend somewhere?"

Ally crawled to the foot of the bed and retrieved another baby from under the alligator and bears. This one had real hair and eyes that closed when it was laid down, and his fingers, arms and legs were easier to move. It had a paper towel wrapped around its loins.

Larry took the doll and asked its name.

Ally blushed scarlet and hid his face when he said, "Benny." It had been Sally until recently and had also reached the bottom of the crate for a while.

Larry sat the baby on his knee, smiled and said, "That is a very good name. Do you have a way to feed it?"

Ally blinked at Larry several times, then remembered and ran to the closet and looked in the old cradle. He found the bottle that would change from white to pink when it was held upside down.

Larry took it and began to feed Benny. He said, "You know that gift card you have down stairs, Ally?

$50! Wealth! "Yeah."

"That is enough for one new computer game or video game. But I think ... You might – could ... Maybe ...You know you could..."

I started to go back and remove everything I said about Larry's good analytic and verbal skills just now, but I think those talents are what are causing the problems he's having.

Larry finally said, "If I made a suggestion, you'd do it even if you didn't want to, wouldn't you?"

Well Duh. Ally nodded.

"Even if I just said something would be a good idea you would do it. Even though you had a good idea of your own, right?"

Double Duh. Grin and nod.

"That's nice, I guess, but it makes it hard for me to mention an idea when I want you to make up your own mind. Don't do this just because I mentioned it, OK, Al? A new game would be a good use for that money; that's what we thought you would do with it, or you might have another idea too; but one possibility would be to spend it for the kinds of things you keep in this box. The decision is all yours, Ally. It's for what you want most."

Ally was getting ready to answer right then, but then he started waiting for his mom. The knock came (second time tonight, wow), and it didn't even open right away.

"Come in," Ally said.

Grace did a remarkably good job of not reacting to seeing her husband wearing a lime green feather boa bottle feeding a doll. She said, "Someone seems to think he is too old to tell me good night all of the sudden."

Ally walked on his knee across all the things on the bed to give her a hug and say good night.

She said, "Congratulations again, My Baby. Good night."

"Baby!?" Ally said.

Grace smiled and said, "Absolutely. Did you think I'd forget to remind you of that tonight of all nights?"

Ally shoulders collapsed as he (temporarily) gave up this endless and, apparently, hopeless battle. That got him a new hug, then Grace straightened his tiara and said, "You sure look fancy but I think some things are missing."

She dumped out the box of jewelry and put a rhinestone bracelet on each of Ally's arms. Then she added three link bracelets to one arm and a woven one to the other. The Hope Diamond's big brother was put on one of his hands, while four smaller rings were placed on the other. Two broaches and a clip were stuck into his hair. She tried to use some stick on ear studs, but the goop was all used up so she had to make do with the five plastic clip-on rings she found. She asked Ally if he would prefer to have some of the rings in his nose, but he was giggling way too hard to make any coherent response. She finally said, "There, that should do it for now."

Larry was feeling very uncomfortable right now because for the second time tonight he was in the rare position of not knowing how to say what he wanted to say. He settled on, "Wow. Gorgeous."

Grace said, "Now that's accomplished I need to go and scribble all over some students' masterpieces. Turn around a second, Dally." She tightened the bows in his hair so they could make it through the night and said "We are going to have to make a decision soon about all this hair, you know that?"

Ally shook his head wide and fast and then rolled it around. That wasn't a response; barbers, dentist and doctors were not things he thought he had power over. Grace and Larry knew he was just having fun with his pony tail and smiled at him.

Grace said, "Remember you haven't been elected president yet so you do have school tomorrow. Good night, Sweetie. Don't let your Dad talk too much longer, OK?"

"I won't, 'night," Ally said, just as if he could do something to stop his father, then kissed her cheek.

"You come in here," Larry said, "and find a perfectly calm child and create a giant gigglesquiggle, and then I have to get it into bed!"

As she closed the door Grace said, "If you want a job done right, ask an engineer."

As soon as Grace left Larry said, "You're Mom's right, it's late and I've got some problem sets to look at too. Just look at this mess. Can't you play with one thing at a time?"

Ally put his chin on his chest so he could glare at his father from under his eye brows. Larry finally laughed and started to fill the crate.

Except for his necklaces and bows all Ally's finery was removed. He decided to hang the boas on his coat pegs; he got the sword and tossed it towards the other toy box; it no longer belonged with these things. He left the crate sitting beside the closet door.

Larry asked, "Water in your cup? Need a bathroom run?"

Ally was set and jumped on to the bed and started to crawl under the blanket Larry had pulled back, but suddenly someone pulled his pony-tail. He was stunned and outraged until he realized that Larry was simply demanding a good night hug. That done, he got into bed. Larry placed every animal in its right and proper place and lifted Ally's arm up to put Bucephalus just right; he had to guess about Benny but got close (well, he put him on his stomach, and his head was going the wrong way, but he was close). He smoothed out the cover and pulled them right up to Ally's chin and kissed Ally's forehead. "Get to sleep fast OK, it's late," he said and waited until he hit the light switch to add, "Good Night, Pud'. See you in the morning."

Ally said, "See ya', 'nite. – Hey, Daddy."

Larry stopped in his tracks. Under the influence of two big brothers, Ally had practically stopped calling Larry that until last week. Larry thought that 'Dad' was probably the harder title to earn, especially when it was bestowed by someone taller than the person addressed, as with Jim. But 'Daddy' was nice too and, defiantly, created bigger grins. If his basso profundo was supposed to make him sound stern it utterly failed. "What, Ally? It is late."

"'K, but know what Rocky's Mom says?"

"What?" still profundo.

"Don't bite the bed bugs."

Larry chuckled and lost the voice, "That is the second piece of excellent advice I have heard that came from that lady. She must be very, very wise. You be sure to follow it. OK? Good night, Sweetheart."

"'K, 'nite, Daddy." Ally said as he giggled.

Hold it. Read that sentence again – the one before that. – Larry did call Ally that. Neither of them seemed to have notice.

Ally waited again. His daddy had done a really good job of tucking-in, and he hated to mess it up, but he had an essential chore to do before he could go to sleep. Once he heard his daddy leave the stairs he sat up, pulled Benny over by an ankle and hiked his shirt up to his arms. He held the baby on his chest and hummed an unknown song as he rocked back and forth.

After a minute he realized Benny couldn't be too hungry because he had had a bottle earlier, so he burped the baby over his arm and laid him down, on his back with his head towards the head of the bed. Ally then kissed Benny on the forehead and whispered, "Ga' nite, Sweetie. You're going to get some new clothes soon," and Benny smiled.

I know. I know, but Ally and I discussed this and we agree; Benny smiled. It couldn't have been gas, he had just been burped.

Ally's head finally reached the place it belonged at this time of night, and he got himself almost as snug his daddy had made him.

I don't know what it is about '0'. But people always seem to make a big deal out of any number that ends with it. As Mrs. Garcia pointed out to Ally, none of them are really that important or interesting. They are never part of important ratios; they are never prime or perfect numbers; they don't appear in the Fibonacci sequence (at least not to the point anyone I know has computed it). The multiples of twelve have a lot more factors, and the binary numbers are much more useful. As for legal rights and privileges, 16, 18 and 21 are more important than any age ending in a zero. Ally considered all this, but he didn't care. He had a whole 'nother digit now!

"10!" he thought.

He slept.

He dreamed.

  

  

  

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