A Place so Foreign

and he, MrsNicholson, at your earliest convenience, to discuss his future at the Academy.Signed, Rbt. Adelson."

  Mama grabbed my ear and twisted. I howled and dropped the card. Before I knewwhat was happening, she had me over her knee and was paddling my bottom with heropen hand, hard.

  "I don't" -- whack -- "know _what_" -- whack -- "you think" -- whack -- "you'redoing, James." -- whack -- "If your _father_" -- whack, _whack_ -- "were here,"-- whack -- "he'd switch you" -- whack -- "within an inch of your life." And shegave me a load more whacks.

  I was too stunned even to cry or howl. Pa had only beat me twice in all the timeI'd known him. Mama had _never_ beat me. My bottom ached distantly, and I felttears come to my eyes.

  "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

  "Mama, it's a mistake --" I began.

  "You're durn right!" she said.

  "No, really! I did all my homework! I passed all the exams! I showed 'em to you!You saw 'em!" The unfairness of it made my heart hammer in time to the throbbingof my backside.

  Mama's breath fumed angrily out of her nose. "You go straight to your room and_stay there_. We're going to see Mr Adelson first thing tomorrow morning."

  "What about my chores?" I said.

  "Oh, don't worry about that. You'll have _plenty_ of chores to do when I let youout."

  I went to my room and stripped down, and lay on my tummy and cracked my windowso the icy winter air blew over my backside. I cried a vale of tears, and raineddown miserable, mean curses on everyone: Mama, Pa, and especially the lying,snaky, backstabbing Runnyguts Adelson.

  #

  Mama didn't get any less mad through the night, but when she came to my door atcock-crow, she seemed to be holding it in better. My throat and eyes were soreas sandpaper from crying, and Mama gave me exactly five minutes to wash up anddress before dragging me out to the horsebarn. She'd already hitched up our teamand refused my hand when I tried to help her up.

  I'd been angry and righteous when I woke, but seeing Mama's towering, barelycontrolled fury changed my mood to dire terror. I stared out at the trees andfarms as we rode into town, feeling like a condemned man being taken to thegallows.

  Mama pulled up out front of the Academy and marched me around back to theteacher's cottage. She rapped on the door and waited, blowing clouds of steamout of her nose into the frosty morning air.

  Mr Adelson answered the door in shirtsleeves and suspenders, unshaved andbleary. His hair, normally neatly oiled and slicked, stuck out like frayedbroom-straw. The muscles on his thin arms stood out like snakes. He blinked atus, standing on his doorstep. "Mrs Nicholson!" he said.

  "Mr Adelson," my mother said. "We've come to discuss James' report card."

  Mr Adelson smoothed his hair back and stepped aside. "Please, come in. Can Ioffer you some coffee?"

  "No, thank you," Mama said, primly, standing in his foyer. He held out his handfor her coat and kerchief and she handed them to him. I took off my coat andstruggled out of my boots. He took them both and put them away in a closet.

  "I'm going to have some coffee. Are you sure I can't offer you a cup?"

  "No. Thank you, all the same."

  "As you wish." He disappeared down the dark hallway, and Mama and I found ourway into his tiny parlour. Books were stacked every which where, dusty andprecarious. Mama and I sat down in a pair of cushioned chairs, and Mr Adelsoncame in, holding two mugs of coffee. He set one down next to Mama on the floor,then smacked himself in the forehead. "You said no, didn't you? Sorry, I'm notquite awake yet. Well, leave it there -- there's cream in it, maybe the cat willhave some."

  He settled himself onto another chair and sipped at his coffee. "Let's startover, shall we? Hello, Mrs Nicholson. Hello, James. I understand you're here todiscuss James' report card."

  Mama sat back a little in her chair and let hint of a sardonic smile show on herface. "Yes, we are. Forgive my coming by unannounced."

  "Oh, it's nothing."

  Mr Adelson drank more coffee. Mama smoothed her skirts. I kicked my feet againstthe rungs of my chair. Finally, it was too much for me. "What's the big idea,anyway?" I said, glaring daggers at him. "I don't deserve no F!"

  "Any F," Mr Adelson corrected. "Why don't you think so?"

  "Well, because I did all my homework. I gave the right answers in class. Ipassed all the tests. It ain't fair!"

  "Not fair," my Mama corrected, gently. She was staring distractedly at MrAdelson.

  "What you say is true enough, James. What grade do you suppose you should'vegotten?"

  "Why, an A! An A-plus! Perfect!" I said, glaring again at him, daring him to sayotherwise.

  "Is that what an A-plus is for, James? Perfection?"

  "Sure," I said, opening my mouth without thinking.

  Mama shifted her stare to me. She was looking even more thoughtful.

  "Why do you suppose you go to school?"

  "'Cause Mama says I have to," I said, sullenly.

  "James!" Mama said.

  "Oh, I suppose it's to learn things," I said.

  Mr Adelson smiled and nodded, the way he did when one of the students got theright answer in class. "Well?"

  "Well, what?" I said.

  "What did you learn this semester?"

  "Why, everything you taught! Geometry! Algebra! Latin! Geography! Biology!Physics! Grammar!"

  "I see," he said. "James, what's the formula for determining the constant in thesecond derivative of an equation?"

  I knew that one: it was one of Newton's dirty calculus proofs. "It's a trickquestion. There's no way to get the constant of second derivative."

  "Exactly right," he said.

  "Yes," I said, and folded my arms across my chest.

  "Where did you learn that?"

  "In --" I started to say 1975, but caught myself. "In France."

  "Yes."

  "Yes," I said. The fingers of dawn crept across my comprehension. "Oh."

  Mama smiled at me.

  "But it's not fair! So what if I already knew everything before I started? Istill did all the work."

  "Why are you in school, James?" Mr Nicholson asked me again.

  "To learn."

  "Well, then I think you'd better start learning something, don't you? You're thebrightest student in the class. You're certainly smarter than I am -- I'm justan old sailor struggling along with the rest of the class. But you, you've _gotit_. You've been marking time in class all semester, and I daresay you haven'tlearned a single thing since you started. That's why you got F's."

  "Mr Adelson," Mama said. "Am I to understand that James performed all hisassignments satisfactorily?"

  It was Mr Adelson's turn to squirm. "Yes, but madam, you have to understand --"

  Mama waved aside his objections. "If James satisfactorily completed all the workassigned to him, then I think he should have a grade that reflects that, don'tyou?" She took a sip of her coffee.

  "Yes, well --"

  "However, you do have a point. I didn't send my son to your school so that hecould mark time, as you put it. I sent him there to learn. To be _taught_. Haveyou taught him anything, Mr Adelson?"

  Mr Adelson looked so all-fired sad, I forgave him the report card and spoke up."Yes, Mama."

  Mama swiveled her head to me. "Really?"

  "Yes. He taught me what I was at school for. Just now."

  "I see," Mama said. "This is very good coffee, Mr Adelson."

  "Thank you," he said, and sipped at his.

  "James," Mr Adelson said. "You've learned your first lesson. What do you proposeyour second should be?"

  "I dunno," I said, and went back to kicking the rungs of the chair.

  "What is it that you have been doing since you came back to town, son?" heasked.

  "Hanging around in the attic, mostly. Reading. Tinkering. Like my Pa."

  "My husband's machines and journals are up there," Mama explained.

  "And his books," I said.

  "Books?" Mr Adelson looked suddenly interested. "What kind of
books?"

  "Adventure stories. Stevenson. Wells. Some of it's in French. We have all ofVerne."

  "Well, perhaps that can be your next assignment. I would like to see an originalcomposition of no less than twenty pages, discussing each work of Verne's,charting his literary progress. Due January