Raji, Book Two

“Look, here at the bottom; ‘All instructors will have a list of students and their time to be excused from class.”

“It will be so good to see Mrs. MacArthur. She is wonderful to me.”

* * * * *

At sunset, Liz and I stood on the steps of Alexander House, across the Quad from Hannibal House. Along with a dozen other juniors, we watched the flag ceremony taking place on the grassy center square. A few more cadets came to sit on the lower steps in front of us, watching in silence.

As the bugler played taps, the three Guardians, each wearing white gloves, lowered the flags in military precision. The American flag came down first and was held out flat by two of the Guardians. They folded it in half lengthwise, popped out the wrinkles, then folded it once more in the same way. The cadet on the opposite end from the stars started a triangle fold and continued along the length of the flag until he reached the blue union end being held by the second cadet. While one cadet held the tightly folded triangle now showing only the blue field of stars, the other one tucked the edge into a fold, then handed the neatly folded flag to the third cadet. This cadet held the flag, while the other two performed the same routine for the Virginia flag, then the academy flag.

After the flags were lowered and folded, the bugler played Hail Columbia as the three Guardians marched toward the Admin Building. The cadets who were seated on the steps stood in respect as the Guardians passed before us. Inside the building, the flags were locked away in an oak breakfront, beside the old flags in their wooden cases.

“It is such an honor to be Guardian,” I said as Liz and I watched the three cadets leave the building.

We walked toward our room.

“How are they chosen?” Liz asked.

“They were announced at first welcome ceremony, but I am not knowing how this came about.”

“The three of them were obviously surprised when they were chosen.”

“And quite happy also,” I said.

“I think Miss Pompeii selects the new Guardians at the beginning of each school year.”

“But the first two were called forward by graduating senior.”

“That’s true,” Liz said. “Maybe the seniors elect them.”

“Elect?”

“Vote for them.”

“Ah, I see. That may be.”

* * * * *

The next day in Science, Mr. Simpalus called my name.

“Yes, sir?”

“You have an appointment with Nurse MacArthur at 3:10. It is now five after three, so go on to the infirmary, then come straight back here.”

“Yes, sir.”

I hurried to the Admin Building, where the infirmary was located. The door was open, but the door to the examination room was closed, so I took one of the wooden chairs and opened my history book to read.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Andrew Hobbs came out.

“Hey, Raji,” he said.

“Hi, Andrew. How did it go?”

“She said I’m doing fine.”

“Good. See you back at Science.”

“Okay.”

“Raji!”

“Hello, Nurse Smithers.” I stood and dropped my book on the chair. “Now you are Mrs. MacArthur.”

“Come here, girl, and give me a hug. You sure are a sight for sore eyes.”

“It’s good to see you again. How is Mac, and your son, William?”

“They’re doing just fine. You’ve gained some weight, I’m glad to see that. And I think you’re a little bit taller, too. Have you heard from Marie Fusilier?”

“Yes, she is well, and James keeps getting better. I received a letter just yesterday.”

“And Vincent?”

It sounded strange to hear Fuse called by his first name. I looked down at the floor. “He writes about the farm and all the animals, but I think he is sad, not being here, at the academy.”

“All that boy ever did want was to come to Octavia Pompeii Academy.”

“I know.” I looked up at Julia. “And now I am here and he is stuck on the farm.”

“Did he say that?”

“No, but I feel so bad about taking his place here.”

“Come on in this room, and I’ll do a little check-up on you while we catch up on everything.”

She had me sit on the examination table while she peered into my eyes and ears, then checked my throat.

“How you liking it here?” She went to a nearby table and came back with a stethoscope.

“I love it, but I am not sure I will pass all the six-weeks exams.”

She placed the earpieces in her ears. “I bet you do just fine. Now breathe deep for me.”

She placed the endpiece on my back. I took a deep breath. She moved the endpiece over a few inches.

“How do you like being our nurse?”

“Oh, I love this place, too. Miss Pompeii is a most special person.”

“I know.”

“Do you get winded when you play tennis?”

“Winded?”

“Breathing fast, maybe short of breath.”

“After an hour of playing.”

“Hmm…that’s normal. Can you catch your breath after resting for a few minutes?”

I nodded.

“Good. Your lungs sound clear. Now let’s see about that heart.” She placed the endpiece on the left side of my chest.

“I hope Fuse gets another chance next year,” I said.

She looked at me and smiled as she moved the endpiece over. After a moment, she pulled the earpieces from her ears.

“Your heart sounds strong. Do you perform stretching exercises before playing tennis?”

“No.”

“You should. The reason is that if you go right out and start running and jumping around, especially on a cold morning, you might pull a muscle if you don’t stretch first. I got some I’m going to show you in a few minutes, and I want you to be sure you do them before you start playing. I’m telling all the boys the same thing. I sure don’t want to be called out to take care of a pulled muscle or a torn ligament.”

“I will be sure to do that, and I will make Liz do it, too.”

“Oh, yes, Elizabeth Keesler. I saw her name on my list. You two are the first girls to come to the academy. Isn’t that something?”

“Yes, it is, and we are happy to be here.”

After she showed me the warm-up exercises, she hugged me again, then I ran back to Science class.

* * * * *

That evening, just when we had started on our homework, we heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Liz said.

Morgan Townsend, a senior, pushed open the door. “You two are wanted in the day room.”

“For what?” Liz asked.

“You’ll find out when you get there.”

We followed him down the hall to the day room. Inside, we found the room packed. It looked like half the junior class was there. Two seniors stood at the front of the room, while the senior who came to get us stood by the door. One of the seniors stepped up on a chair so everyone could see him.

“Quiet down, people,” he said.

When he had everyone’s attention, he spoke to the cadet at the door. “Close the door, Adams, and stand guard.”

“Yes, sir.” Cadet Adams went out, pulling the door closed behind him.

“I am Cadet Captain Davenport,” the senior said. “We have half the junior class here. After we finish, we’ll bring in the second half, and they’ll get the same drill.” He glanced around at the quizzical expressions. “You’ll notice that none of you have stripes on your sleeves.”

The juniors looked around but saw no stripes. Liz and I did not yet have our uniforms, but they would probably not have stripes either.

“Stripes must be earned; they are not given out freely. They are earned through academics, chess, tennis, and good conduct. The better you do in these four categories, the more stripes you will earn. Why, you may ask? Why should you care about stripes?”

There were some murmurs and nodding of heads.

“R.H.I.P.,” the senior said. “Rank Has Its Privileges. The more stripes you have, the more privileges. One stripe is a Private, two is a Corporal, three is a Sergeant, and four is a Master Sergeant. After the stripe ranks, comes the officer ranks. A Lieutenant has one silver bar on his shoulder, a Captain has two silver bars, like mine, and a Colonel has a silver eagle. We have only one Colonel. He is elected from the ranks of Captains. All the cadets participate in the vote for the Colonel of the Academy. He is elected at mid-term and holds that office until the next election.

“The three Flag Guardians have command authority separate from the Stripe and Officer ranks. If they speak to you, pay attention and also show respect for them and their position here at the academy. They are our moral leaders, and they have earned their places of honor. Now I’ll take your questions.”

Liz raised her hand.

“Yes?” the Captain said.

“What’s the point? It makes me feel like I’m in the army.”

“What’s your name, Cadet?” the Captain asked.

“Elizabeth Keesler.”

“Cadet Keesler, Octavia Pompeii Academy has the highest academic standing of all the private preparatory schools in Virginia. You know how hard it is to get into the academy, but why did you want to come here?”

“So I can get into a good university.”

“Exactly. Ninety-five percent of our graduates are accepted to the Top Ten; Harvard, Yale…and some have even gone over to Oxford and Cambridge. If your application to one of these universities includes a transcript of good grades here at the academy, plus a high rank, your chances of being accepted are very much enhanced. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“R.H.I.P. Always show respect to anyone ranking above you. Those of you who attain rank should be ready to help those who are falling behind. Our goal is that no cadet should be expelled from the academy.”

One of the juniors raised his hand.

“Yes,” the senior said. “Your name?”

“Haskel Layzard.”

“Your question?”

“How do we know when we get promoted?”

“Promotions usually come about after a major event, like the six-weeks exams or a tennis tournament or a chess tournament. But stripes can be earned anytime by the display of honorable conduct, benevolent behavior, or the traits of good character. Now, let’s move on to the Cadet Code of Honor; we’re running short on time. The first order of The Code is that a cadet shall not give evidence against another cadet. The second order is that a cadet will always help another cadet in dire circumstances. The third order is, when one is off campus, he will conduct himself in a manner reflecting honor upon all cadets at Octavia Pompeii Academy. Any cadet violating the Code shall suffer the penalty of shunning for a period of two weeks.”

I raised my hand.

“When a cadet is shunned, he shall not speak to another cadet, and no cadet will speak or have any other social contact, except by written notes, with the shunned cadet. Does that answer your question?”

I nodded.

“Shunning also means no tennis and no chess.”

There was a collective groan, then someone whispered, “Oh, no.”

Captain Davenport ignored the sounds of dissent. “Any more questions?”

No one spoke.

“All right, raise your right hand and repeat after me; ‘I’…say your name.”

Everyone spoke their names.

“‘…swear to uphold the Code of Conduct…’” He paused to allow everyone to repeat his words. “‘…in any and all circumstances, under the penalty of shunning…’”

After we repeated his words, Captain Davenport stepped down from the chair and went to the door.

“You’re dismissed, and we’ll talk to the second half of the junior class.”

After a moment, he opened the door, and we filed out of the room.

Chapter Seven

Liz and I sat at the desks in our room, doing homework. It was almost 10 p.m.

“What is meaning of ‘gluteus?’” I asked.

Without looking up from her Latin book, Liz said, “A large muscle in the buttocks.” When she didn’t hear a reply from me, she glanced up, seeing a raised eyebrow. “Either of the two fleshy mounds above the legs and below the hollow of the back.”

“Ah, I see that now,” I said. “Thank you.” A minute later, “What is this ‘biceps’?”

Liz groaned, then pointed to her upper arm. “This one.”

“Oh, yes. Good.”

Almost two minutes passed.

“How is this…”

Liz slammed her book shut. “Raji! You’re driving me nuts. Every time I read two lines, you interrupt me with your stupid questions. Then I have to back up and start all over.”

“I sorry, Liz, but–”

“I can’t study this way.”

She grabbed her book and stormed out of the room, slamming the door. Twenty minutes passed before I peeked out the door to see her sitting on the floor, beneath a dim hall light, trying to read. I walked down to where she was.

“Liz,” I said as I sank down beside her, “you come back by your study desk. I be mouse quiet for all night now.”

Liz closed her book, keeping her place with a finger. She stared down the hall, away from me. After a moment, she got up.

“Come on. I need my nail file.”

Back in the room, I watched her rummage through her purse. “Why you need file your nails in late night?”

“You’ll see.” She dumped her purse out on her bed. “Ah, there you are, you handy little rough-sided stick.”

She motioned for me to follow her, and we crept down the hall, past Pepper’s vacant desk, to the door of the library.

Liz tried the doorknob. “Yeah, I figured they’d lock us out of the library at night.”

As she slipped her nail file into the keyhole, I looked up and down the hallway.

“See anyone?” she asked.

“I see only one hundred demerits coming our way.”

Liz giggled.

I heard a loud click, then the door swung open. We squeezed inside and closed the door.

“Why we break and enter library?”

Liz felt her way along the wall in the dark room. “You know what a dictionary is?”

“I…no.”

“You’re about to find out.”

She bumped into a wooden chair and knocked it to the floor with a crash. We both caught our breath with an audible whoosh. Frozen in place, we listened for someone to come running down the hall to investigate. After a moment, we began to breathe again.

“Here it is,” Liz said.

She took my hand and placed it on the book. I ran my hands along the top of the open book and down the edge of the pages.

“It is so much ginormus.”

“Yeah, it’s got about fifty million words in it.”

I tried to lift it. “Must weight…”

“Eighty pounds.” She rotated the book on its pedestal. “But it has wheels.”

I reached down; indeed, small wheels were at the base of each of the four legs of the pedestal.

“Come on,” Liz said, pulling the book toward the door.

“We are stealing this now?”

“No…” she paused to open the door and peek out into the hallway. “Only borrowing it for the night.”

After locking the library door, we pushed and pulled the rolling pedestal down the hall as fast as we could go. But the small, squeaky wheels swiveled this way and that, causing the whole thing to rotate in a circle. We danced around the giant book as it careened from side to side. By the time we got to our room, we were giggling, and after we had the dictionary safely inside, we fell on our beds, almost hysterical with laughter.

Liz sat up, wiping her eyes. “You know how to use this thing?”

I dabbed my sleeve across my cheeks and shook my head.

“Okay, gluteus starts with a ‘g,’ right?”

“Yes,” I said.

“See these little tabs on the edge of the pages?”

I tilted my head. “A, B, C...”

“Yes. So, you open it to the letter ‘G.’ The next letter in the word is ‘l,’ which is near the middle of the alphabet. You skip down the ‘G’ pages, almost to the ‘H’ tab…”

“Oh, yes! I see how this dictionary thing works.” I ran my finger down the row of tiny print, then flipped a page. “Gl…” Down more and up to the top of the next column. “Gluteus. Wonderful! ‘A large muscle in the buttocks.’ That is just as you told to me, Liz. And now I will look for ‘buttocks’ meaning.” I flipped pages to the “B” section and began looking for the word.

Liz sighed. “And now, back to my Latin.”

“Yes, and if you have need of a word, just to ask me, and I am finding it, tout de suite.”

She laughed and curled up with her Latin textbook.

* * * * *

“Elizabeth,” I said in a loud whisper. I shook her shoulder. “Liz, wake up.”

“What’s wrong?” She sat up. “Pink slips!”

“No, we are in our room, see?”

“Oh, yeah. What time is it?” She glanced at her alarm clock. “Six a.m.! Why are you waking me at 6 a.m.?” When she swung her feet over the side of her bed, the Latin book fell to the floor. She reached to pick it up and realized she was still fully dressed. “When did I fall asleep?”

“Almost at 2. We must to return big dictionary before other people come into this house.”

“Oh, my God. I forgot all about it.” She jumped up and grabbed the edge of the book pedestal. “Come on.”

We rolled the dictionary out the door and ran down the hall with it. But this time the gyrating pedestal wasn’t so funny. When we got to the door of the library, Liz whispered, “Oh, piffle!”

“What?”

“My nail file.”

She ran for our room. Soon, she was back and picking the lock with trembling fingers. When the door swung open, we shoved the dictionary inside and pulled the door shut. We then hurried back along the hall, past Pepper’s desk–but before we got to our room, someone stopped us.

“Good morning, ladies.”

We turned to see Octavia Pompeii striding toward us, with a curious look on her face.

“It’s nice to see you two up early and ready for a new day.”

Liz glanced down at her wrinkled dress and tried to smooth it out with her shaking hands.

“It nice to see you also, Dr. Pompeii.” I straightened my sari.

“Elizabeth,” Dr. Pompeii said. “I’ll just have a word with Rajiani, if you don’t mind.”

We stared at her, not moving.

“In my office.” Dr. Pompeii motioned toward a closed door, near Pepper’s desk.

Liz swallowed and glanced at me. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, then hurried away.

“Sit down, Rajiani,” Dr. Pompeii said after we entered her office.

She sat behind her desk. I sat in the hardwood visitor’s chair.

“Did I hear the library door close when I came into the building just now?”

I hesitated, then nodded. Dr. Pompeii tilted her head and lifted a shoulder. I reached to take a blank pink slip from the stack on the desk and held it out to her.

“Dr. Pompeii, please not to give demerits to Liz. I will gladly take all for her, and mine also, and do this KP for month or more.”

Dr. Pompeii took the pink slip and smoothed it out on the desk. “Have you done something so terrible, then?”

“Last night, I asked poor Liz so many times to tell me of word meaning that she cannot even learn her Latin. After little bit later, and yet another question, she slam book and go to read herself in hallway. Then I tell how sorry and that I keep quiet from then on. Then she say to me, ‘You know of dictionary?’ I tell no. ‘Come on,’ she say, and we go to library and steal that very big dictionary book on wheels for all night. And just now, before you arrival, we take it back and close door with too much slam.” I looked down at my clenched hands.

“That door was locked. How did you get in?”

“We…um…I mean…” the Code of Honor. “I break lock thing.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

The corner of Dr. Pompeii’s mouth twitched, trying not to curl up. “And Elizabeth had nothing to do with it?”

“No. She say to me, ‘Do not break lock thing because this is not forgiven.’ But I make her to help me when all time she say, ‘Raji, do not do this anyway.’”

“Hmm.”

Dr. Pompeii picked up a sheet of typewritten paper and held it close to her face, as if she were looking for tiny errors in spelling or grammar. After a moment, she put down the paper.

“Did you learn anything from the dictionary?”

“Oh, yes. I find the exact meaning of ‘gluteus,’ ‘buttocks,’ ‘biceps’…”I then quoted the definition of each one, plus a few more.

“My goodness. When did you go to sleep?”

“I not sleep yet this night.”

Dr. Pompeii shook her head. “All right, you better go get ready for breakfast.”

I glanced at the pink slip. Dr. Pompeii picked it up and carefully placed it back with the other blank ones.

“Tonight, when Miss Caster closes the library at 8 p.m., go to her, and she will have instructions to allow you to take the dictionary to your room—”

I jumped to my feet. “Oh, thank you, Dr. Pompeii.”

“But be sure it is returned before class the following morning.”

“I will be sure to do this.”

“Go on, now.”

I started for the door.

“Oh, Raji.”

“Yes, Dr. Pompeii?”

“Don’t stay up all night tonight.”

I grinned and hurried from the room.

* * * * *

Liz turned from the window when I came into our room.

“What happened?”

I smiled. “I have free use of giant dictionary every night!”

She grabbed my hands. “How did you do that?”

I told her about my conversation with Miss Pompeii.

“No pink slip?”

“No.”

“Did she ask about me?”

I nodded.

“Did you tell her I picked the lock?”

I shook my head.

“Did you tell her I helped pinch the dictionary?”

“Pinch?”

“Steal.”

“No.”

She grabbed me in a tight hug. “I love that Cadet Code of Honor.”

* * * * *

After classes on Wednesday, Pepper Darling entered our room without knocking.

Liz looked up from her Science book. “Raji, we may have to start locking our door.”

Pepper dropped a brown-paper bundle on my bed, then a similar one on Liz’s bed. “Lock it if you want, it won’t matter. I have a skeleton key.”

“Hey, our uniforms?” Liz asked.

“Yes,” Pepper said. “Try them on.”

We ripped the bundles open, and soon we were dressed in our new outfits. The blue blazers and ankle-length khaki skirts contrasted nicely and fit quite well. We also wore white blouses, with blue cross-over ties and high-top black shoes. Our kepi caps were blue, with tan trim.

“It is perfectly fit,” I said.

“I really like this jacket,” Liz said. “And the seamstress got the sleeves just right.”

I glanced at Pepper to see her smiling; this was something new. I looked at Liz and cut my eyes toward Pepper.

Liz glanced her way, then gave me a look, like, How about that?

“Yes,” Pepper said, “you two look pretty good.”

I put on my cap, came to attention, and popped my hand to my forehead in a salute. Liz returned my salute, and we both giggled.

“Well,” Pepper said as she gathered up the wrapping paper, “if you two think they fit all right, I’ll order two more sets for each of you.”

“Mine fits great,” Liz said.

“And mine fit fine also, Miss Pepper. Thank you for them so much.”

We wore our new uniforms when we went out at sunset to watch the flag ceremony. As we walked in step toward the center field–or the ‘Quad,’ as we called it–someone on the second floor of Hannibal House leaned out the window and gave us a long wolf whistle.

Liz grabbed my hand. “Don’t look,” she said. “We’ll just pretend we didn’t hear a thing.”

I glanced at her to see a grin on her face.

* * * * *

Along with our two additional uniforms, Liz and I received long collegiate coats in solid navy blue. These were double-breasted, with two rows of six buttons each. They were fleece-lined, quite warm, and a welcome comfort on the cold, blustery days in November.

* * * * *

Each evening, just before the supper hour, the bugler stood in front of the Admin Building and played Mail Call.

Most of the cadets came to stand in front of the building as a senior passed out the mail.

“Clyde Breckenridge,” the senior called out as he read the name on an envelope.

“Here.” Breckenridge pushed through the crowd to reach for his letter.

“Michael Lemonade.”

“It’s LemonDOWEL, you doofus.” He grabbed his letter from the senior’s hand.

“Rajiani Dovekey.”

“Devaki!” I shouted and pushed through to get my letter.

The senior held it up to the sun, as if trying to read the page inside.

“Give it.” I jumped up to yank it from his hand.

“You don’t have to get violent.” The senior looked at the next letter. “Darrel Whisperpants.”

I ran for our room, eager to read my letter in private.

At my desk, I read the return address, “The Fusilier Farm, Appomattox County, Virginia.”

I was filled with happiness as I opened the envelope, but as I read Fuse’s words, I felt tears well up in my eyes. He probably thought his description of the small events taking place at the farm would cheer me up, and they did to a certain extent. But not being present and helping with the mundane work of the farm also brought a sense of loss.

The stress of trying to learn subjects totally alien to me, as well as the open contempt of most of the boys, made my days at the academy very nerve-racking. Fuse’s description of the activities of little Ransom, of the new litter of piglets and his mom’s cooking, brought back memories of the soft and simple hours he and I had spent together.

I missed all of it very much; Mamma Marie Fusilier, her husband James, the pet horse Ransom, and more than anything, the time spent with Fuse—playing chess, learning English, or just walking together around the farm, watching things grow and blossom.

It was the best time of my life, and now I had lost it.

Chapter Eight

“I don’t know where you learned your penmanship, Devaki.” Mrs. Hazel Morton held a sheet of paper between her fingertips, giving it a look of supreme disdain, “but it is, by far, the worst I’ve seen this year.” She dropped the paper on my desk and walked back toward the front of the classroom.

“What is penship?” I whispered across the aisle to Liz.

Before she could answer, Mrs. Morton wheeled around, giving me her gray eagle-eye glare. “The word is ‘penmanship,’ and it means handwriting. You do understand ‘handwriting,’ I presume?” She placed her fists on her hips.

I nodded and reached for the sheet of paper, which was my writing assignment from the previous day.

When Mrs. Morton turned away, I mouthed to Liz, “Handwriting?”

Liz grabbed her pencil and made a motion, as if writing a word in the air.

“You might, Miss Devaki,” Mrs. Morton said after she reached her desk and faced her students, “ask Mr. Kavanagh for tutoring. He has the best penmanship in class, even though his writing is a nonsensical mishmash.”

This brought a few giggles from the other students until Mrs. Morton’s daunting scowl shut them up.

Rodger Kavanagh glanced at me and grinned.

My hand shot into the air.

“Mishmash,” Mrs. Morton said, “means hodgepodge, muddled.”

I didn’t drop my hand.

“What, then?”

“What is meaning of this ‘tooting’ you said?”

More giggles, and almost a smile from the indomitable Mrs. Morton. She wrote a sentence on the blackboard. ‘Tutor means to instruct or train someone.’ “Occasionally, a brighter student…” she looked at Kavanagh, “will help someone who is falling behind. If you want to pass my English course, Devaki, I suggest you find a tutor for yourself as soon as possible. High intelligence is no excuse for incomprehensible communications.”

Mrs. Morton looked at the clock on her desk, waited a moment, then announced, “Class dismissed.”

I heard a sudden scuffle and scrape of chair legs on the wooden floor as students grabbed their books and hurried for the exit from English Composition.

* * * * *

Many students wolfed down their food to spend the balance of their noon hour in the dayroom, playing chess. Some even skipped the meal altogether to have more time at the chessboard.

“Good game,” Rodger Kavanagh mumbled after I beat him soundly in a game of speed chess. He began placing the pieces back in their starting places.

This was on Wednesday, the day following Mrs. Morton’s suggestion that I find myself a tutor.

“Mr. Rodger,” I said.

He looked at me, raising an eyebrow.

“You will not mind too much giving me this tutoring of penmanship?”

When Kavanagh grinned, his lips pulled back, showing all his teeth, giving him the appearance of a hungry wolf. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“You telling me how it is you beat me every single time we play.”

“One thing is that you give up your rooks too soon.”

“What?” He reset the chess clock.

“In first part of game, you bring out your rooks and trade off for my knights. This may be good for middle game, but not so good for end game, when board is cleared of so many pieces and rooks have clear field of battle. If you have but a knight and bishop at end and I have my two rooks, I have your disadvantage.”

“Really? Well, we’ll see. You have the first move.”

In this game, Rodger did manage to keep his rooks until the endgame; however, I still demolished him in less than two minutes.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “My rooks didn’t help a bit.”

“You must remember to maintain distance between your rooks to prevent my knight’s fork.”

“Yeah, right.” He stood, kicking back his chair. “Be here right after supper. Your handwriting does stink, so be prepared to start from scratch.”

“Scratch?”

“From the beginning, like a child in first grade.”

I smiled. “Yes, I be your first grade student.”

* * * * *

That evening, I skipped supper and hurried to the dayroom. Several boys asked me to play chess, but I refused them, wanting to keep my table clear except for my pencils and writing tablet. I studied my history assignment while waiting.

Rodger Kavanagh came in at 5:20. He didn’t offer me a greeting, even though I said hello and thanked him for helping me. He dropped a tablet on the table, then pulled a chair over next to me and sat.

I looked at the tablet. “Who is this ‘Gregg?’”

“What?”

“Your name is ‘Rodger’, but here is ‘Gregg.’” I touched my finger to his tablet.

“Oh, when Mother bought my school supplies for the academy, she accidentally picked up three Gregg Shorthand tablets.”

I held my hands out in front of me, glancing from one to the other. “Shorthand? What is this meaning?”