Disclaimer: With the exception of any that I choose to create myself, the
characters, situations, and ideas discussed in this fic belong to Disney. I
own nothing but the shirt on my back, and the random order in which the
words are typed. Oh, and the cup of coffee that I'm knocking back while
typing them... which, of course, would explain the caffeinated and
delirious nature of most of this fic...
Ok. Annoying legal technicalities out of the way. Fic takes place about three weeks before the end of Fourth Grade, before the movie "Recess: School's Out", which the humble author has yet to experience the joys of watching. And... err... well, I'm renowned for incessantly babbling at the beginning of fanfics, so I suppose I should really fill up another couple of lines or so with mundane and pointless crap like this. Or not. Enjoy.
Trial By Responsibility
*
Chapter One
Ah, Friday. By far the best day of the week; with the events of the previous week now nothing more than a far-distant glimmer in a careless memory, and the future holding sweet and tantalising promise of the upcoming weekend, it was no surprise that Theodore J. Detweiller approached the doors of Third Street School on this particular Friday morning with a spring in his step and a self-satisfied smirk upon his face. Yes, life was good for the young Fourth-Grader, and even the dangerous warbling of one Muriel Finster as she threatened loiterers with detention could not wipe the smug grin from his features as he began to ascend the well-worn steps to make his way into the familiar building.
"Keep it moving, Detweiller..." Finster's voice reverberated eerily, following young Theodore as he crept stealthily down the empty corridors of the school interior.
Hmm. Late again. He turned, facing the imposing Finster with his most charismatically boyish grin, even as he caught the dangerous glint in her predatory eyes and knew perfectly well that he was playing with fire. "Yes, Ma'am," he said, snapping off a salute. "Anything you say. Your wish is my command." Jumping out of striking range, he went on, "And, may I say, Ma'am, you look especially frightening today. Did you get your bunions scraped again?" With a well-timed snicker, he darted off, leaving Finster stunned into silence as he pelted towards the safety of Miss Grotke's classroom.
Grotke hadn't arrived yet, a fact that struck the Fourth-Grader with little surprise; she, like the rest of the school, it seemed, often arrived late on Friday mornings. The weekend at Third Street often came early, and TJ had learned from the four grades he had spent within its hallowed halls that with Fridays often came a lethargic coolness borne of anticipation for that end-of-week bell. In all his recollection, TJ could not recall ever completing any real work on a Friday.
"Hey, Teej!" The sound of his close friend Vince LaSalle calling his name, caused the smile on TJ's face to widen. Vince too was grinning happily, clearly also well aware of the impending joys of the weekend, and as TJ moved to take his seat at the desk behind him, he caught a glimpse of his other close friends-Gus Griswold, Ashley Spinelli, Gretchen Grundler, and Michael "Mikey" Blumberg-each of whom wore identical smirks upon their expectant faces. TJ winked at them all in turn, unable to keep from laughing as Vince forced a mock-frown to taint his chilled features. "How come you're so late this morning? I mean, I know it's Friday and all, but even for a Friday, you're cuttin' it fine, man..."
TJ shrugged, knowing that the mischievous glint in his eye was all too visible to his friends. "Oh," he said standoffishly, "I would've been here ages ago, but I had ta give Finster the ol' Friday Morning Detweiller Treatment." Snickering once again, he watched Vince and the others for their inevitable reactions; every Friday, he pulled some sort of verbal stunt on Finster, knowing that he'd be able to get away with it, and every Friday, his friends revelled in its comic results.
"It ain't even morning Recess yet. You startin' the Treatment early, this week?" asked Spinelli, expression rapturous at the thought of trouble- making. Not even waiting for a response, she grinned widely, leaning across to slap him enthusiastically on the back. "Tender, Teej. Real tender."
Leaning back against his chair, TJ offered a thumbs-up. "Well, y'know. Only got a few weeks of Fourth Grade left... figured we'd better start makin' the best of it before it's all gone and we're Fifth-Graders. You know, Lawson would never get away with giving Finster the Treatment." Snorting derisively, he put his feet on the desk. "Not that I'd ever compare *Lawson* to TJ Detweiller..." he added quickly, in response to Vince's look of disgust at the mention of his hated enemy.
A collective chuckle erupted from the six friends, cut short in an instant by the sound of the door creaking open. Sweeping into the room, Miss Grotke smiled warmly at her class, expression as always, one of utmost benevolence. "Good morning, class. I trust we're all ready for another fun- filled day of learning Life's precious and valuables Lessons?" As ever, the cheerful flowers-and-butterflies type, TJ couldn't help notice that even Miss Grotke seemed over-enthusiastic this particular morning.
The class, for the most part, didn't even bother muttering their assent to this usual chirpy greeting, merely grunted noncommittally, and returned their attention to discussing their weekend plans. TJ didn't even pause to acknowledge Miss Grotke's existence in the vicinity. "So you guys just wait 'till Recess. Man, then you'll see the Detweiller Treatment in all its glory."
"Oh, most sacred of rituals!" cried Mikey, raising his hands in his usual poetic style. "Why, O Finster, must thou be tortured so, at the hands of your headstrong charges? Abhor us not, Oh mighty guardian of the playground, for we know not what we do!" This stated, he returned contentedly to his contemplative silence, unaware of the mind-blown stares offered him by TJ and the others.
Spotting the murderous glare on Spinelli's face, coupled with the disdain creeping across Vince's features, TJ coughed discreetly. "Hey look! Miss Grotke's waiting to start. maybe we should keep quiet and let her teach, huh?" Under any normal circumstances, of course, TJ would have been the last to suggest his friends hush up and allow the morning's lessons to proceed, but he would sooner be forced to actually learn something than risk watching Spinelli and Vince double-team the unsuspecting gentle giant for his unknowing insult against the so-called Detweiller Treatment.
With no small amount of reluctance, his friends directed their attention away from the puzzled Mikey, and focused upon the teacher standing before them, their impatient expressions perfect mirror-images of each other. Seeing the chatter beginning to slowly die down, Miss Grotke smiled warmly. "Now that the excitement of starting a brand new day of healthy education has died down... she began, as always misinterpreting--whether deliberately or not--the nature of the internal conversations taking place throughout the classroom. "...I have a very exciting announcement to make..."
These simple words were enough to silence what lingering quiet discussions were still taking place, and cause the absolute focus of every student in the classroom to switch to their teacher. TJ frowned, eyes narrowing with characteristic suspicion as he struggled to read into the mysterious smile painted across the sprightly young woman's features as she paused for breath.
"Now," she continued after a few moments. "As I'm sure you all know, the carefree childhood of the Fourth Grade is reaching an end. In less than a month's time, you will all be Fifth-Graders. You'll have all the rights, responsibilities, and privileges of being older and more experienced members of society." Yet another brief pause, coupled with a brief glance around the classroom was enough to inform her that she had lost the curiosity of her audience. Even TJ's rapturous interest was beginning to fade upon realising that the so-called 'announcement' was nothing more than a sugar-coated Responsibility Lecture. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to more important things... namely the concocting of plans so Tender that they could be basted in gravy and described as ultra-rare beef steak.
Clearly aware of the fact that she was losing her audience, Miss Grotke forced her voice up a decibel or two. "Because of this up-taking of new responsibilities," she went on, smiling warmly at her charges. "You will be spending all of next week away from school--"
TJ felt his head snapping upwards, even as he heard the low hum of murmurs circulating the cool room at this new revelation. Regarding his teacher with well-founded suspicion, he narrowed his eyes, hearing the premature cheers of his five best friends as they leaped to the same conclusion as the rest of the class; a conclusion that TJ was certain had a deeper meaning than its surface implication.
"Students!" cried Miss Grotke, though the smile upon her face remained as bright as ever--clearly she had been expecting exactly this response from the class, and was rather pleased that her prediction of such early celebration had not been proved false. "Please... let me finish. As much as I know you all feel you deserve a week off, I'm afraid it's not quite that simple."
Again, the class broke into an uproar of argumentative muttering; half the students were certain that Miss Grotke had lost her marbles, the other half thought this whole speech was some sort of cruel joke. As for TJ... well, he knew Miss Grotke well enough to have suspected some ulterior motive from the beginning, and so continued to listen with mild confusion as she went on. "Monday morning, you, and the rest of the Fourth Grade, will be transported to Velgon's Baudry, where you will spend the whole week learning to develop your powers of responsibility and independence." She paused, the class once again deathly silent. "Think of it as a week-long field trip. You will be away from school and away from your parents for an entire week... and, in this week, you will grow and mature alongside your classmates, preparing for the responsibilities of the Fifth Grade and learn the beauty of independent living."
As she spoke, she was circling the room, placing small booklets in front of each student and offering them each a reassuring smile. "This is for your parents. It contains details of the activities we have planned for you, the purpose of the programme, and some background information about Velgon's Baudry. At the back, you should find a permission slip."
There was some mild empathy touching her features as she continued her rounds, still addressing her class-none of whom, TJ realised, were paying any attention any more. "All students attending the field trip must have this slip signed by Monday. Any student without the appropriate paperwork will, unfortunately, be forced to remain at school, where they will sit in on Fifth-Grade classes as a taste of what will be expected of them next year. Feel free to read through the booklets yourselves before showing them to your parents." This said, and having given out the last pamphlet, she returned to the front of the class, waiting patiently for the chatter to die down once again.
"This has got to be some kind of sick joke..." Vince was muttering, as he stared dumbly down at the sky-blue cover of the leaflet before him. "No way they'd drag us away from home for a whole week, just to teach us how to be 'responsible'. I'm plenty responsible!"
"I hear ya, man." Spinelli agreed, holding her booklet up to the light as if trying to determine the best method of shredding it. "What're they gonna do, anyway? Show us the safest way of peelin' a potato?" She laughed coldly, Vince joining in with her bitter sarcasm and annoyance.
For the first time since he had walked into the classroom, TJ heard the familiar voice of Gretchen Grundler speaking up. "I don't know, guys..." she said slowly, studying her own pamphlet. "The logic behind the idea is actually perfectly sound. We are growing up very quickly, and TJ himself stated that Fifth-Graders hold far greater levels of responsibility than us Fourth-Graders. I believe this excursion is going to be a great learning experience for our entire Grade, and I for one look forward to this unique opportunity to grow and develop in both mind and character."
Mikey nodded in acute agreement. "Oh, I agree, Gretchen! Verily, this shall indeed be the greatest of experiences! Imagine, learning together of the subtle nuances of life. developing alongside each other those necessary traits that will mould our impressionable young minds into the stuff needed to survive in a cruel world fraught with painful responsibility and necessary independence..."
"Unique opportunity? The greatest of experiences?" Spinelli repeated, face awash with disgust. "You guys are pathetic. This is just gonna be another stupid waste-of-time field trip like all the others, only longer. Face facts, you're livin' in a dream world."
"What do you think, TJ?" asked Gus, his quiet voice carrying somehow over the increasing volume of his friends' heated arguments, even as his small eyes pierced TJ's own.
TJ shrugged; truth be told, he didn't know what to think. His rational mind demanded that he side with Vince and Spinelli--the last Third Street field trip he could recall had been exactly that: a field trip. He and his companions had spent the entire day sitting in the middle of an open field and working on repairing a broken-down bus while Miss Grotke had attempted to console a distraught bus driver. But then, even as he thought back to this, his other side kicked in, reminding him of all the fun they'd had that day. and all the hard work they had put into fixing Old Smokey.
"I dunno, Gus..." he said thoughtfully, still mulling over the possibilities. "I guess it could be fun. And we'll all be together, so it can't be too bad... right?" Ok, so this decision was far more borne out of a desire to silence the arguments that were being thrown to and fro between his friends, but still. certainly, he'd never have said something he didn't believe in, and even as he thought about it, infinite ideas for pranks and other havoc that he and his friends could cause at Velgon's Baudry.
Overhearing his words, Miss Grotke grinned. "That's the spirit, TJ! Safety in numbers! Think of it as an experience in teamwork and friendship..." She paused almost imperceptibly, now facing not only TJ and his friends, but the whole class. "But now that we've discussed the important issues, I'm afraid we must now return to more mundane tasks. If you'd all open your textbooks to Page 74, we can continue our fascinating journey through the life cycle of a bee..."
Within ten seconds of the lesson's induction, the class had already ceased paying attention. Some chose to focus their attention elsewhere--gazing out of the window, daydreaming, falling asleep--while others chatted quietly in their unseen private corners, and still more concentrated on personal projects--random sketching on notebook covers, writing down song lyrics... or, in TJ's case, scribbling down of the latest Tender Plans that wormed their way casually into his carefully-plotting mind.
*
"Ok, guys. Here's the Plan..."
Recess at last, and TJ and his friends could be found huddled inside the Cheese Box, exchanging banter and, more importantly, plans for mischief regarding the upcoming would-be field trip. TJ sat in the centre, the others kneeling in a circle around him, their postures almost religious as they listened attentively to his every word. Slightly removed from the other five, Mikey struggled to concentrate upon TJ's words, even as his mind wandered restlessly, filled with images of poetry and chocolate.
"Vince, you bring the stink-bombs. Spinelli, water-balloons. Gretch, I want you to find out as much stuff about this Baulgon's Vedry place as you can... so we know what to expect, and how to go about pulling the best pranks Third Street School has ever seen." He waited for a nod of affirmation from each of his addressed targets, then continued, "Mikey, you're on food. Who knows what kind of slop they're gonna be feeding us out there? Your task is to make sure that, no matter what they try an' force down our throats, we'll have a stash of Winger Dingers waitin' for us. Ok, big fella?"
In the deafening silence that followed, Mikey smiled, leaning forwards slightly; finally, he had discovered the perfect rhyme for 'tactile' and he just couldn't wait to get back into class to put onto paper the nature of this new enlightenment. It was nearly a full minute before he realised that his name was being called, and he jumped nervously to attention at the somewhat irritated sound of TJ's voice.
"Huh!? Oh... sure, TJ. Don't worry about a thing..."
Rolling his eyes slightly, the group's leader nodded, addressing them all once again. "Right. Everyone got their assignments? Good." This last was uttered without even pausing for a response from his comrades. "Whatever Prickly and Finster have planned for us, we're gonna be ready for 'em! Pranks, Winger Dingers, and no school for a week... Man, this field trip is gonna be so Tender!"
"Not necessarily, TJ..."
All eyes turned to Gretchen as she shook her head, expression sombre as she regarded TJ with critical dispute. "What you talkin' about, Gretch?" demanded the red-capped group leader. "How could it possibly be anything *but* totally cool? Think about it for a minute, would ya?"
"I *am* thinking about it," she said curtly. "Perhaps you ought to do the same. An entire week away from home. I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I certainly have never spent this long a time without the company of my parents." She stopped, allowing the others to realise the implication of what she was saying as she regarded each of her friends in turn, watching their expressions flicker from mischievous contentment to restless unease.
"She's right!" yelled Gus, already beginning to panic, even as Mikey felt his own heart begin to flutter with discomfort. "I've never spent more than one night away from home! Oh, this is a disaster! I'm too young to be taken away from home for a whole week! I won't go, I tell you!"
Lunging forwards, Spinelli took the trembling boy by his shoulders and began shaking him roughly. "Get a hold of yourself, willya? It's only a week! You're actin' like they ain't never gonna bring us back! Man, you wimps really need to dry up. I can't wait to get free from my parents for a week! Jus' wish it was longer." Smirking courageously, she grudgingly released the helpless Gus, turning to regard TJ and the others with a grin that suggested they *better* not argue.
"You said it, Spin!" cried Vince, flexing his muscles as he attempted to couple Spinelli's bravery with his own. "This is gonna be Sweet! A whole week of total freedom!"
Even TJ was looking a little uneasy now, however, and it was clear that Gretchen's observation had made its point nicely; looking around , Mikey couldn't deny that he was rather relieved to discover that he was not alone in his unease this time. He had always been something of a wet cloth, preferring to stay home in the company of his parents than almost anywhere else--except Kelso's, of course--and the thought of having to spend an entire week away from home struck him as highly unnerving. Not that he would ever let his friends see it, of course...
"Uh... yeah!" TJ cried after a few moments, though his voice lacked the wild enthusiasm it had previously carried. "You're right. See, Gretch, we got nothin' to worry about! I'm tellin' ya, this is gonna be a blast. Who needs our parents when we got each other, anyway? Right, guys?"
A mumbled assent from all directions followed this, and, despite his continued unease at the suddenly-looming promise of a week spent alone, Mikey added his own optimism to the group's happiness; far be it from him to offer anything short of delighted poetry and peaceful pleasantries to a conversation. "Yes indeed. A wonderful time shall be had by all. Fun and games and learning abound in this upcoming week of excitement and enjoyment."
"That's what *you* think..." muttered a dark voice, emanating from outside the quiet sanctuary. The group spun full circle, expressions confused as they struggled to place the tone.
"Butch?" asked TJ, a little nervously.
The familiar white-streaked head of the Fourth Grade storyteller peeked in through a particularly large hole in the Cheese Box, a typically malicious grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "The one and only. Now, I hear you guys talkin' about how great this little trip is gonna be... how much fun you're gonna have away from home an' without yer parents tellin' ya what to do. But you're wrong... it ain't gonna be fun. It ain't gonna be great." He shuddered lightly, though Mikey guessed that this gesture was more for dramatic effect than out of any genuine reaction to some extraneous variable.
Gretchen smirked slightly at this confirmation of her earlier statement, but the others sustained their sceptical frowns. "What crazy story did ya hear this time, Butch?" asked Vince, trying to keep the sardonic smirk from earlier upon his features.
"Hear, nothin'!" the storyteller retorted, his voice lowering somewhat to adopt its characteristic secretive accent. "You ever heard of Mary Chewitt?" He didn't even wait for a response before leaning ever closer, eyes bulging. "She went on The Trip two years back, when she was in the Fourth Grade. Lookin' forward to it too, just like you guys. What better place to spend a week than th' middle of nowhere wit' yer best friends? But somethin' happened. Kids all got back safe an' sound a week later... only Mary weren't with 'em." He took a harsh breath, eyes raking furiously across the assembled group. "Some say she got so homesick that they had no choice but to call her parents and have 'em come all that way an' pick her up... say it was so embarrassing she could never face school again. Some say the stuff they put 'em through out there was so traumatic that she ended up scarred for life, unable to ever return to the hallowed halls of Third Street. And the rest... the rest are too horrified to even talk about it." His jaw worked tersely on the toothpick that, as always, was clenched tightly between his teeth.
Mikey gulped. Perhaps he was gullible, perhaps simple; either way, he fell-- hook, line, and sinker--for this surreal, enigmatic story. "Oh, cruel Fate!" he cried, eyes irremovably focused upon Butch's fear-tainted features. "What unspeakable horrors does the next week hold for we, your mindless sheep? What terror will we be subjected to at your deadly hands?"
"Oh, gimme a break!" muttered Spinelli, rolling her eyes and folding her arms as she leaned back against the far wall and fixed Butch with a steely glare. "That's a load of froopin' hooey, an' you know it. Go find some Kindergartners to scare with those kiddie-stories of yours, cos they don't wash with us." Looking back to her friends, she saw the nervous discomfiture that still touched their features. "Come on! Don't tell me you actually believe him! Everythin' he ever says is total bull."
"Is it?" Butch demanded darkly.
"I must confess, Spinelli," Gretchen commented quietly. "Much of his story makes sense, and the logic behind it is most certainly valid..." She frowned, clearly contemplating.
Vince threw up his arms in disgust. "I can't believe you're chickening out!" he cried. "You were the one who was all for this stupid thing in class."
"Yes," she admitted, straightening her glasses as she switched the focus of her attention to him. "But I have had the time to consider the facts since then, and, having actually read the booklet that Miss Grotke gave me, I find myself forced to question the motives of our kind-hearted teacher." She paused. "I'm not saying it *won't* be a great learning experience, of course... only that we must take into consideration all of the facts... and prepare ourselves accordingly for the worst outcome."
Butch was smirking. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm gonna beg my parents not to sign that slip. a week sittin' at the back of a Fifth-Grade class has gotta be easier than whatever they've got planned for us out there..." He shivered once, then retreated back into his shadows, much to Mikey's relief--and, it seemed, the relief of his friends as well.
Silence ensued, heavy in the aftermath to this tense conversation. Looking back, Mikey supposed he really should have expected such a response to the intrusion; reluctant as he was to speak ill of people, he could not remember a confrontation with Butch that had ended with whatever topic was broached being viewed in a positive light. The skunk-haired boy's tall tales just had *that* effect on impressionable young minds... which, of course, was bad news for the minds in question.
Thankfully, the small gang being as diverse and prone to digression as it was, the uncomfortable silence lasted only a handful of seconds, broken, as usual, by a well-timed explosion from Spinelli. "I don't believe you guys!" she yelled, shaking her head. "Hear a couple of creepy stories and suddenly you're cryin' like a bunch of babies. Well, do what ya want. *I'm* going on that trip, and *I'm* gonna have a great time, with or without the rest of you chickens!"
Having finished, she climbed to her feet and crawled through the largest hole in the Cheese Box, storming back towards the familiar school building and muttering savagely under her breath, all the while glancing over her shoulder. Mikey shook his head as she left; he had spent enough time in her company to know that she would cool down soon enough, and doubtless be back to her normal high-spirited self before the start of mid-morning classes. He did not, however, expect to see the annoyed frown upon TJ Detweiller's face as he watched his friend disappearing onto the playground horizon.
"There she goes again," he grumbled. "Jumping to conclusions." He looked back to his companions, trying ineffectually to mask his anger as he continued, "just cos we're bein' cautious don't mean we're not going, right guys?" This last was spoken as a challenge--a threat, almost--aimed directly at anyone who may have been considering secretly joining Butch.
Vince nodded instantly, his cool expression clearly belying a hidden unease, as evidenced by the slightest crease about his forehead; Gretchen and Gus took a few more moments before swallowing their nerve and mumbling their assent in slightly quavering but otherwise decisive voices.
Mikey waited the longest; more than anything, he wanted to feel safe, and the more he was thinking about this upcoming Trip, the more he realised how dangerous it promised to be. but how could he put this across to his friends, who were so certain that it would be nothing but fun and games, despite Butch's prophetic warnings? Sighing, and with no small amount of reluctance, he nodded as well, expressing once and for all his loyalty to his friends above all else.
"Of course," he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper as he too pushed himself to his feet, eyeing the giant clock that ticked away the last few minutes of Recess with precarious inevitability. "A wonderful time shall be had by all." This weak reiteration of his earlier enthusiasm was met with a puzzled frown from TJ and similar uncertainty from the others. Averting his eyes quietly, he eyed the clock once again, seeking refuge. "But, for now... let us follow in plucky Spinelli's footsteps and return to class, lest we be tardy and, Heavens forbid, force our loving teacher to give us Late Marks..."
*
The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully for TJ and his friends, though conversation both inside and outside of the classroom seemed incessantly centred upon the upcoming trip. Looking at his friends as he sat in his designated seat in Miss Grotke's class--listening to her struggling to sustain the attention of her students with vivid and dramatic representations of the biological processes surrounding the life cycle of various insects--TJ couldn't blame them for zoning out.
He had seen the uneasy concern in the faces of his closest companions upon hearing Butch's unbelievable tale, had felt the worry twisting around his own heart as he had realised the implications of spending an entire week away from the sanctuary of his home and family... but far more significant than any of that, he had watched the fury emblazoned across Spinelli's features, and the matching determination touching Vince's. They were unafraid, unconcerned by the solitude and loneliness that threatened the others; they, the most courageous of the group, and seeing their heroic reactions had steeled TJ's own mind. He would not allow them to show him up. He was the leader. He would be the bravest.
Lunch was a subdued affair, finding the small group huddled around their usual table, munching quietly on their various sources of nourishment, and consciously struggling to keep from mentioning the trip that loomed so worryingly upon the horizon. They made small-talk, as usual--"did you see last night's episode of Beanie McChimp?" "Man, I can't wait till next month's ultra-Limited Edition issue of Señor Fusion!" and similar such nonsense--but it was clear from even a moment's glance at any one of his friends, that their minds were all on one thing. one pivotal event.
None of them seemed willing to broach the subject, and TJ himself couldn't blame them; the last thing he wanted was an argument like the 'discussion' at Recess had threatened to become. Certainly, the peace and quiet that they had become comfortable with, was far safer an aim than the malcontent that had formed between them that Recess. What would come, TJ decided, would come irregardless of his--or, indeed, any of their--opinion on the subject, so why waste time arguing about it?
Still, knowing this as he did, TJ nonetheless could not deny the relief he felt as that final bell rang at the end of the day, signifying the beginning of the weekend. He, and what seemed to be the rest of the class, exhaled collectively and pushed their chairs back with the intention of climbing to their feet and escaping the prisons of the classroom for a who two days; however, before TJ had even completed the act of standing, he was being commanded back into his seat by a smiling Miss Grotke. "Just a moment please, students," she said, waiting patiently for them to return to their seats, each child muttering blasphemous complaints as he or she sank back into their chair.
"Now, now... I won't take up more than a minute of your precious weekend," she assured them, all the while smiling with disgusting cheerfulness. "All students attending the field trip to Velgon's Baudry will be expected to be packed and ready to go, and waiting outside the front of school by 6:30 sharp, Monday morning. There's a list of the stuff you need to bring in the leaflet I gave you, as well as an itinerary of the week's events for your parents reference. Study the booklet over the weekend so that you're happy and prepared on Monday morning." She paused, still smiling and apparently unaware of the scowls upon her students' faces as she continued with scarcely a moment for breath.
"You'll be supervised on this trip by myself, of course, and your favourite other member of staff. the one and only Miss Finster." A jolt of shock rippled through the silent classroom at this revelation; glancing to his companions, TJ even saw a flicker of doubt crossing Spinelli's face, and Vince looked nothing short of sickened by this turn of events, even as Miss Grotke broke the stunned silence once again, her smooth, casual voice cutting through the air. "Dismissed. Have a great weekend."
*
"Finster?" Having finally been freed from the confines of school for the weekend, TJ and his friends were far from contented as they made their way towards their respective homes; their unanimous malcontent was expressed most clearly in the horror so beautifully portrayed in the voice of young Gus Griswold as he spoke aloud the fear that rolled through each of their hearts. "Finster!?"
"I told you!" Gretchen stated blankly. "This trip is doomed to be a disaster. We may as well give up right now and surrender to the inevitable fact that we will remain worthless Fourth-Graders for the rest of our insignificant lives." Nodding sagely, and pausing to grace each of her companions with a steely gaze so reminiscent of Finster herself, she lapsed into silence.
Gus quivered for a moment; of course Gretchen was right. Gretchen was *always* right! Why had he been inspired, even for a moment, to doubt her supreme knowledge? "I don't know about you guys," he said, voice scarcely above a whisper--as it always was when he found himself forced to speak out among his peers. "But I'm gonna do just what Butch said to do. No way this little Private is going on that trip! No, Sir!" This stated, he happily allowed himself to shut up once again.
TJ opened his mouth to speak, and Gus was certain from the uneasiness upon his features that he was about to side with he and Gretchen, but before he had the chance to utter a single word, the calm voice of Reason--also known as Mikey--interposed. "Friends, it matters not. We should leave each other now in good spirits... do not let the promise of tomorrow force us to argue." He smiled. "We must part ways shortly, returning to our homesteads. Let us do so cheerfully."
"Uh, yeah... what Mikey said..." TJ said quickly, offering the big guy a grateful smile. "Let's just go home an' have fun over the weekend. Whatever's gonna happen next week don't matter yet, so quit thinkin' about it. I'll call you guys over the weekend." Even as he spoke he was crossing the road to make his way towards his own abode. "But, whatever ya do, don't worry about it."
He was long out of earshot before any of the others could think of a reply; from a growing distance, Gus watched as the leader of the small group disappeared against the horizon, and waited for his other companions to do the same. With scarce moments between each departure, they wandered their separate ways one by one, each bidding the others farewells of varying mood. It was less than a full minute before Gus was left alone.
Making his own way home, the smallest member of the little gang could not deny feeling a little torn in his perception of the upcoming field trip. True, it sounded like fun--a whole week in the company of his five closest friends, away from his father's militarily-run household, and essentially free for the first time in as long as he could recall. But, despite this knowledge, a small part of him was screaming, demanding that he think about it from Gretchen's side for just one moment.
He recalled vaguely his last experience of independence; overhearing a conversation between his parents, he had fallen under the misconception that the Griswolds would be moving yet again, and had run away from home, seeking to build his very own "bachelor pad" beneath the Jungle Gym. The idea had been perfect, and had worked well. until nightfall.
'Ok, so you're afraid of being left on your own at night...' he thought, shaking his head as he approached his home. 'That doesn't mean you won't have fun on this trip, right? I mean, TJ and the others will be there. They'll protect you...' Still, even with this reassurance firmly planted within his mind, he couldn't help but wish with ever fibre of his being that his father would refuse to grant him permission to take part in this obviously doomed excursion. 'Maybe if I cry like a baby, he'll let me stay...'
Confident in this course of action, Gustav Patton Griswold pushed open the front door to his home and, leaflet firmly clasped in his sweaty hands, approached his father's War Room. He gulped, waiting patiently for the Lieutenant to grant him permission to enter, in response to his son's tentative knock, the sound of which resounded noisily through the deserted hallway.
Lieutenant Griswold looked up from the enormous map placed strategically upon the hardwood desk in front of him, to regard his son with a warm smile. "Good evening, Private," he said curtly, snapping off a brisk salute, which Gus nervously mimicked. "How was your day in the barracks?"
"Umm..." Gus swallowed nervously, holding out the pamphlet with trembling hands; he would have felt far more comfortable had the leaflet contained details of some criminal offence that he stood accused of committing. "It went very well, Sir. I got a B on that geography test... and... umm... Miss Grotke wants me to give you this." He paused, placing the booklet on the very edge of the desk, hoping that it would slide off the edge and conveniently land in the paper-shredder. "It's about some field trip we're supposed to be going on next week. I don't really think I should--"
"A field trip?" Lieutenant Griswold repeated, eyes gleaming with excitement as he reached out to grab the pamphlet. "Excellent, Private! Real life experience! That's what builds character! Learning how to respond to hostile situations out in the field is what separates the men from the boys! I know you'll make me proud, son..." This last was uttered with a single loving gaze into the eyes of his cowardly boy; Gus returned the look with tears shining in his own eyes. "You *are* going, aren't you?"
Gus sighed; he really should have known better than to show the leaflet to his father first. Why hadn't he approached his mother? The Lieutenant would never go against the whims of his wife, and Gus knew that all he'd need to do was turn on the waterworks to convince Mrs Griswold that this trip was not meant for wet weeds like him. But no! He'd gone and done the honest thing and shown his father. When would he ever learn? "Of course, dad..." he mumbled with unconcealed misery, before realising a moment too late what he had just said. "Uh... I mean... Yes, Sir..."
"There's a good soldier!" Lieutenant Griswold exploded, his booming voice echoing painfully in response to the boy's own plaintive whimper. "Rise to the challenge, Private! Go out there and show them what you're made of!" Even as he spoke, he was reading through the leaflet with rapturous joy upon his face, and seeing this delighted expression, Gus knew that his cause was lost.
Perhaps he should have argued... perhaps he should have done as his father instructed him to do on so many occasions. Perhaps he should have stood his ground and held his own against the enemy that stood before him and strove to force him into undertaking a challenge that he knew he would never be able to confront. But, with all these 'should have's, there remained one single underlying fact, making each and every possible course of action obsolete. He was just a kid... and a cowardly kid, at that. He couldn't stand up to his military father any more than he could stand up to the school bully. Gus Griswold knew exactly what he was, and he was *not* a "good soldier".
"I'll do my best, Sir," he heard his own voice murmuring, even as he struggled to keep the uncertainty and discomfiture from touching his features as he gazed in wide-eyed awe at the one man that he would have happily given his own life away for. the sole entity for whom the lowly Private would sell his soul if it would only make this celestial, heroic father-figure proud. "I'll do my best."
* TBC.
Ok. Annoying legal technicalities out of the way. Fic takes place about three weeks before the end of Fourth Grade, before the movie "Recess: School's Out", which the humble author has yet to experience the joys of watching. And... err... well, I'm renowned for incessantly babbling at the beginning of fanfics, so I suppose I should really fill up another couple of lines or so with mundane and pointless crap like this. Or not. Enjoy.
Trial By Responsibility
*
Chapter One
Ah, Friday. By far the best day of the week; with the events of the previous week now nothing more than a far-distant glimmer in a careless memory, and the future holding sweet and tantalising promise of the upcoming weekend, it was no surprise that Theodore J. Detweiller approached the doors of Third Street School on this particular Friday morning with a spring in his step and a self-satisfied smirk upon his face. Yes, life was good for the young Fourth-Grader, and even the dangerous warbling of one Muriel Finster as she threatened loiterers with detention could not wipe the smug grin from his features as he began to ascend the well-worn steps to make his way into the familiar building.
"Keep it moving, Detweiller..." Finster's voice reverberated eerily, following young Theodore as he crept stealthily down the empty corridors of the school interior.
Hmm. Late again. He turned, facing the imposing Finster with his most charismatically boyish grin, even as he caught the dangerous glint in her predatory eyes and knew perfectly well that he was playing with fire. "Yes, Ma'am," he said, snapping off a salute. "Anything you say. Your wish is my command." Jumping out of striking range, he went on, "And, may I say, Ma'am, you look especially frightening today. Did you get your bunions scraped again?" With a well-timed snicker, he darted off, leaving Finster stunned into silence as he pelted towards the safety of Miss Grotke's classroom.
Grotke hadn't arrived yet, a fact that struck the Fourth-Grader with little surprise; she, like the rest of the school, it seemed, often arrived late on Friday mornings. The weekend at Third Street often came early, and TJ had learned from the four grades he had spent within its hallowed halls that with Fridays often came a lethargic coolness borne of anticipation for that end-of-week bell. In all his recollection, TJ could not recall ever completing any real work on a Friday.
"Hey, Teej!" The sound of his close friend Vince LaSalle calling his name, caused the smile on TJ's face to widen. Vince too was grinning happily, clearly also well aware of the impending joys of the weekend, and as TJ moved to take his seat at the desk behind him, he caught a glimpse of his other close friends-Gus Griswold, Ashley Spinelli, Gretchen Grundler, and Michael "Mikey" Blumberg-each of whom wore identical smirks upon their expectant faces. TJ winked at them all in turn, unable to keep from laughing as Vince forced a mock-frown to taint his chilled features. "How come you're so late this morning? I mean, I know it's Friday and all, but even for a Friday, you're cuttin' it fine, man..."
TJ shrugged, knowing that the mischievous glint in his eye was all too visible to his friends. "Oh," he said standoffishly, "I would've been here ages ago, but I had ta give Finster the ol' Friday Morning Detweiller Treatment." Snickering once again, he watched Vince and the others for their inevitable reactions; every Friday, he pulled some sort of verbal stunt on Finster, knowing that he'd be able to get away with it, and every Friday, his friends revelled in its comic results.
"It ain't even morning Recess yet. You startin' the Treatment early, this week?" asked Spinelli, expression rapturous at the thought of trouble- making. Not even waiting for a response, she grinned widely, leaning across to slap him enthusiastically on the back. "Tender, Teej. Real tender."
Leaning back against his chair, TJ offered a thumbs-up. "Well, y'know. Only got a few weeks of Fourth Grade left... figured we'd better start makin' the best of it before it's all gone and we're Fifth-Graders. You know, Lawson would never get away with giving Finster the Treatment." Snorting derisively, he put his feet on the desk. "Not that I'd ever compare *Lawson* to TJ Detweiller..." he added quickly, in response to Vince's look of disgust at the mention of his hated enemy.
A collective chuckle erupted from the six friends, cut short in an instant by the sound of the door creaking open. Sweeping into the room, Miss Grotke smiled warmly at her class, expression as always, one of utmost benevolence. "Good morning, class. I trust we're all ready for another fun- filled day of learning Life's precious and valuables Lessons?" As ever, the cheerful flowers-and-butterflies type, TJ couldn't help notice that even Miss Grotke seemed over-enthusiastic this particular morning.
The class, for the most part, didn't even bother muttering their assent to this usual chirpy greeting, merely grunted noncommittally, and returned their attention to discussing their weekend plans. TJ didn't even pause to acknowledge Miss Grotke's existence in the vicinity. "So you guys just wait 'till Recess. Man, then you'll see the Detweiller Treatment in all its glory."
"Oh, most sacred of rituals!" cried Mikey, raising his hands in his usual poetic style. "Why, O Finster, must thou be tortured so, at the hands of your headstrong charges? Abhor us not, Oh mighty guardian of the playground, for we know not what we do!" This stated, he returned contentedly to his contemplative silence, unaware of the mind-blown stares offered him by TJ and the others.
Spotting the murderous glare on Spinelli's face, coupled with the disdain creeping across Vince's features, TJ coughed discreetly. "Hey look! Miss Grotke's waiting to start. maybe we should keep quiet and let her teach, huh?" Under any normal circumstances, of course, TJ would have been the last to suggest his friends hush up and allow the morning's lessons to proceed, but he would sooner be forced to actually learn something than risk watching Spinelli and Vince double-team the unsuspecting gentle giant for his unknowing insult against the so-called Detweiller Treatment.
With no small amount of reluctance, his friends directed their attention away from the puzzled Mikey, and focused upon the teacher standing before them, their impatient expressions perfect mirror-images of each other. Seeing the chatter beginning to slowly die down, Miss Grotke smiled warmly. "Now that the excitement of starting a brand new day of healthy education has died down... she began, as always misinterpreting--whether deliberately or not--the nature of the internal conversations taking place throughout the classroom. "...I have a very exciting announcement to make..."
These simple words were enough to silence what lingering quiet discussions were still taking place, and cause the absolute focus of every student in the classroom to switch to their teacher. TJ frowned, eyes narrowing with characteristic suspicion as he struggled to read into the mysterious smile painted across the sprightly young woman's features as she paused for breath.
"Now," she continued after a few moments. "As I'm sure you all know, the carefree childhood of the Fourth Grade is reaching an end. In less than a month's time, you will all be Fifth-Graders. You'll have all the rights, responsibilities, and privileges of being older and more experienced members of society." Yet another brief pause, coupled with a brief glance around the classroom was enough to inform her that she had lost the curiosity of her audience. Even TJ's rapturous interest was beginning to fade upon realising that the so-called 'announcement' was nothing more than a sugar-coated Responsibility Lecture. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to more important things... namely the concocting of plans so Tender that they could be basted in gravy and described as ultra-rare beef steak.
Clearly aware of the fact that she was losing her audience, Miss Grotke forced her voice up a decibel or two. "Because of this up-taking of new responsibilities," she went on, smiling warmly at her charges. "You will be spending all of next week away from school--"
TJ felt his head snapping upwards, even as he heard the low hum of murmurs circulating the cool room at this new revelation. Regarding his teacher with well-founded suspicion, he narrowed his eyes, hearing the premature cheers of his five best friends as they leaped to the same conclusion as the rest of the class; a conclusion that TJ was certain had a deeper meaning than its surface implication.
"Students!" cried Miss Grotke, though the smile upon her face remained as bright as ever--clearly she had been expecting exactly this response from the class, and was rather pleased that her prediction of such early celebration had not been proved false. "Please... let me finish. As much as I know you all feel you deserve a week off, I'm afraid it's not quite that simple."
Again, the class broke into an uproar of argumentative muttering; half the students were certain that Miss Grotke had lost her marbles, the other half thought this whole speech was some sort of cruel joke. As for TJ... well, he knew Miss Grotke well enough to have suspected some ulterior motive from the beginning, and so continued to listen with mild confusion as she went on. "Monday morning, you, and the rest of the Fourth Grade, will be transported to Velgon's Baudry, where you will spend the whole week learning to develop your powers of responsibility and independence." She paused, the class once again deathly silent. "Think of it as a week-long field trip. You will be away from school and away from your parents for an entire week... and, in this week, you will grow and mature alongside your classmates, preparing for the responsibilities of the Fifth Grade and learn the beauty of independent living."
As she spoke, she was circling the room, placing small booklets in front of each student and offering them each a reassuring smile. "This is for your parents. It contains details of the activities we have planned for you, the purpose of the programme, and some background information about Velgon's Baudry. At the back, you should find a permission slip."
There was some mild empathy touching her features as she continued her rounds, still addressing her class-none of whom, TJ realised, were paying any attention any more. "All students attending the field trip must have this slip signed by Monday. Any student without the appropriate paperwork will, unfortunately, be forced to remain at school, where they will sit in on Fifth-Grade classes as a taste of what will be expected of them next year. Feel free to read through the booklets yourselves before showing them to your parents." This said, and having given out the last pamphlet, she returned to the front of the class, waiting patiently for the chatter to die down once again.
"This has got to be some kind of sick joke..." Vince was muttering, as he stared dumbly down at the sky-blue cover of the leaflet before him. "No way they'd drag us away from home for a whole week, just to teach us how to be 'responsible'. I'm plenty responsible!"
"I hear ya, man." Spinelli agreed, holding her booklet up to the light as if trying to determine the best method of shredding it. "What're they gonna do, anyway? Show us the safest way of peelin' a potato?" She laughed coldly, Vince joining in with her bitter sarcasm and annoyance.
For the first time since he had walked into the classroom, TJ heard the familiar voice of Gretchen Grundler speaking up. "I don't know, guys..." she said slowly, studying her own pamphlet. "The logic behind the idea is actually perfectly sound. We are growing up very quickly, and TJ himself stated that Fifth-Graders hold far greater levels of responsibility than us Fourth-Graders. I believe this excursion is going to be a great learning experience for our entire Grade, and I for one look forward to this unique opportunity to grow and develop in both mind and character."
Mikey nodded in acute agreement. "Oh, I agree, Gretchen! Verily, this shall indeed be the greatest of experiences! Imagine, learning together of the subtle nuances of life. developing alongside each other those necessary traits that will mould our impressionable young minds into the stuff needed to survive in a cruel world fraught with painful responsibility and necessary independence..."
"Unique opportunity? The greatest of experiences?" Spinelli repeated, face awash with disgust. "You guys are pathetic. This is just gonna be another stupid waste-of-time field trip like all the others, only longer. Face facts, you're livin' in a dream world."
"What do you think, TJ?" asked Gus, his quiet voice carrying somehow over the increasing volume of his friends' heated arguments, even as his small eyes pierced TJ's own.
TJ shrugged; truth be told, he didn't know what to think. His rational mind demanded that he side with Vince and Spinelli--the last Third Street field trip he could recall had been exactly that: a field trip. He and his companions had spent the entire day sitting in the middle of an open field and working on repairing a broken-down bus while Miss Grotke had attempted to console a distraught bus driver. But then, even as he thought back to this, his other side kicked in, reminding him of all the fun they'd had that day. and all the hard work they had put into fixing Old Smokey.
"I dunno, Gus..." he said thoughtfully, still mulling over the possibilities. "I guess it could be fun. And we'll all be together, so it can't be too bad... right?" Ok, so this decision was far more borne out of a desire to silence the arguments that were being thrown to and fro between his friends, but still. certainly, he'd never have said something he didn't believe in, and even as he thought about it, infinite ideas for pranks and other havoc that he and his friends could cause at Velgon's Baudry.
Overhearing his words, Miss Grotke grinned. "That's the spirit, TJ! Safety in numbers! Think of it as an experience in teamwork and friendship..." She paused almost imperceptibly, now facing not only TJ and his friends, but the whole class. "But now that we've discussed the important issues, I'm afraid we must now return to more mundane tasks. If you'd all open your textbooks to Page 74, we can continue our fascinating journey through the life cycle of a bee..."
Within ten seconds of the lesson's induction, the class had already ceased paying attention. Some chose to focus their attention elsewhere--gazing out of the window, daydreaming, falling asleep--while others chatted quietly in their unseen private corners, and still more concentrated on personal projects--random sketching on notebook covers, writing down song lyrics... or, in TJ's case, scribbling down of the latest Tender Plans that wormed their way casually into his carefully-plotting mind.
*
"Ok, guys. Here's the Plan..."
Recess at last, and TJ and his friends could be found huddled inside the Cheese Box, exchanging banter and, more importantly, plans for mischief regarding the upcoming would-be field trip. TJ sat in the centre, the others kneeling in a circle around him, their postures almost religious as they listened attentively to his every word. Slightly removed from the other five, Mikey struggled to concentrate upon TJ's words, even as his mind wandered restlessly, filled with images of poetry and chocolate.
"Vince, you bring the stink-bombs. Spinelli, water-balloons. Gretch, I want you to find out as much stuff about this Baulgon's Vedry place as you can... so we know what to expect, and how to go about pulling the best pranks Third Street School has ever seen." He waited for a nod of affirmation from each of his addressed targets, then continued, "Mikey, you're on food. Who knows what kind of slop they're gonna be feeding us out there? Your task is to make sure that, no matter what they try an' force down our throats, we'll have a stash of Winger Dingers waitin' for us. Ok, big fella?"
In the deafening silence that followed, Mikey smiled, leaning forwards slightly; finally, he had discovered the perfect rhyme for 'tactile' and he just couldn't wait to get back into class to put onto paper the nature of this new enlightenment. It was nearly a full minute before he realised that his name was being called, and he jumped nervously to attention at the somewhat irritated sound of TJ's voice.
"Huh!? Oh... sure, TJ. Don't worry about a thing..."
Rolling his eyes slightly, the group's leader nodded, addressing them all once again. "Right. Everyone got their assignments? Good." This last was uttered without even pausing for a response from his comrades. "Whatever Prickly and Finster have planned for us, we're gonna be ready for 'em! Pranks, Winger Dingers, and no school for a week... Man, this field trip is gonna be so Tender!"
"Not necessarily, TJ..."
All eyes turned to Gretchen as she shook her head, expression sombre as she regarded TJ with critical dispute. "What you talkin' about, Gretch?" demanded the red-capped group leader. "How could it possibly be anything *but* totally cool? Think about it for a minute, would ya?"
"I *am* thinking about it," she said curtly. "Perhaps you ought to do the same. An entire week away from home. I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I certainly have never spent this long a time without the company of my parents." She stopped, allowing the others to realise the implication of what she was saying as she regarded each of her friends in turn, watching their expressions flicker from mischievous contentment to restless unease.
"She's right!" yelled Gus, already beginning to panic, even as Mikey felt his own heart begin to flutter with discomfort. "I've never spent more than one night away from home! Oh, this is a disaster! I'm too young to be taken away from home for a whole week! I won't go, I tell you!"
Lunging forwards, Spinelli took the trembling boy by his shoulders and began shaking him roughly. "Get a hold of yourself, willya? It's only a week! You're actin' like they ain't never gonna bring us back! Man, you wimps really need to dry up. I can't wait to get free from my parents for a week! Jus' wish it was longer." Smirking courageously, she grudgingly released the helpless Gus, turning to regard TJ and the others with a grin that suggested they *better* not argue.
"You said it, Spin!" cried Vince, flexing his muscles as he attempted to couple Spinelli's bravery with his own. "This is gonna be Sweet! A whole week of total freedom!"
Even TJ was looking a little uneasy now, however, and it was clear that Gretchen's observation had made its point nicely; looking around , Mikey couldn't deny that he was rather relieved to discover that he was not alone in his unease this time. He had always been something of a wet cloth, preferring to stay home in the company of his parents than almost anywhere else--except Kelso's, of course--and the thought of having to spend an entire week away from home struck him as highly unnerving. Not that he would ever let his friends see it, of course...
"Uh... yeah!" TJ cried after a few moments, though his voice lacked the wild enthusiasm it had previously carried. "You're right. See, Gretch, we got nothin' to worry about! I'm tellin' ya, this is gonna be a blast. Who needs our parents when we got each other, anyway? Right, guys?"
A mumbled assent from all directions followed this, and, despite his continued unease at the suddenly-looming promise of a week spent alone, Mikey added his own optimism to the group's happiness; far be it from him to offer anything short of delighted poetry and peaceful pleasantries to a conversation. "Yes indeed. A wonderful time shall be had by all. Fun and games and learning abound in this upcoming week of excitement and enjoyment."
"That's what *you* think..." muttered a dark voice, emanating from outside the quiet sanctuary. The group spun full circle, expressions confused as they struggled to place the tone.
"Butch?" asked TJ, a little nervously.
The familiar white-streaked head of the Fourth Grade storyteller peeked in through a particularly large hole in the Cheese Box, a typically malicious grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "The one and only. Now, I hear you guys talkin' about how great this little trip is gonna be... how much fun you're gonna have away from home an' without yer parents tellin' ya what to do. But you're wrong... it ain't gonna be fun. It ain't gonna be great." He shuddered lightly, though Mikey guessed that this gesture was more for dramatic effect than out of any genuine reaction to some extraneous variable.
Gretchen smirked slightly at this confirmation of her earlier statement, but the others sustained their sceptical frowns. "What crazy story did ya hear this time, Butch?" asked Vince, trying to keep the sardonic smirk from earlier upon his features.
"Hear, nothin'!" the storyteller retorted, his voice lowering somewhat to adopt its characteristic secretive accent. "You ever heard of Mary Chewitt?" He didn't even wait for a response before leaning ever closer, eyes bulging. "She went on The Trip two years back, when she was in the Fourth Grade. Lookin' forward to it too, just like you guys. What better place to spend a week than th' middle of nowhere wit' yer best friends? But somethin' happened. Kids all got back safe an' sound a week later... only Mary weren't with 'em." He took a harsh breath, eyes raking furiously across the assembled group. "Some say she got so homesick that they had no choice but to call her parents and have 'em come all that way an' pick her up... say it was so embarrassing she could never face school again. Some say the stuff they put 'em through out there was so traumatic that she ended up scarred for life, unable to ever return to the hallowed halls of Third Street. And the rest... the rest are too horrified to even talk about it." His jaw worked tersely on the toothpick that, as always, was clenched tightly between his teeth.
Mikey gulped. Perhaps he was gullible, perhaps simple; either way, he fell-- hook, line, and sinker--for this surreal, enigmatic story. "Oh, cruel Fate!" he cried, eyes irremovably focused upon Butch's fear-tainted features. "What unspeakable horrors does the next week hold for we, your mindless sheep? What terror will we be subjected to at your deadly hands?"
"Oh, gimme a break!" muttered Spinelli, rolling her eyes and folding her arms as she leaned back against the far wall and fixed Butch with a steely glare. "That's a load of froopin' hooey, an' you know it. Go find some Kindergartners to scare with those kiddie-stories of yours, cos they don't wash with us." Looking back to her friends, she saw the nervous discomfiture that still touched their features. "Come on! Don't tell me you actually believe him! Everythin' he ever says is total bull."
"Is it?" Butch demanded darkly.
"I must confess, Spinelli," Gretchen commented quietly. "Much of his story makes sense, and the logic behind it is most certainly valid..." She frowned, clearly contemplating.
Vince threw up his arms in disgust. "I can't believe you're chickening out!" he cried. "You were the one who was all for this stupid thing in class."
"Yes," she admitted, straightening her glasses as she switched the focus of her attention to him. "But I have had the time to consider the facts since then, and, having actually read the booklet that Miss Grotke gave me, I find myself forced to question the motives of our kind-hearted teacher." She paused. "I'm not saying it *won't* be a great learning experience, of course... only that we must take into consideration all of the facts... and prepare ourselves accordingly for the worst outcome."
Butch was smirking. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm gonna beg my parents not to sign that slip. a week sittin' at the back of a Fifth-Grade class has gotta be easier than whatever they've got planned for us out there..." He shivered once, then retreated back into his shadows, much to Mikey's relief--and, it seemed, the relief of his friends as well.
Silence ensued, heavy in the aftermath to this tense conversation. Looking back, Mikey supposed he really should have expected such a response to the intrusion; reluctant as he was to speak ill of people, he could not remember a confrontation with Butch that had ended with whatever topic was broached being viewed in a positive light. The skunk-haired boy's tall tales just had *that* effect on impressionable young minds... which, of course, was bad news for the minds in question.
Thankfully, the small gang being as diverse and prone to digression as it was, the uncomfortable silence lasted only a handful of seconds, broken, as usual, by a well-timed explosion from Spinelli. "I don't believe you guys!" she yelled, shaking her head. "Hear a couple of creepy stories and suddenly you're cryin' like a bunch of babies. Well, do what ya want. *I'm* going on that trip, and *I'm* gonna have a great time, with or without the rest of you chickens!"
Having finished, she climbed to her feet and crawled through the largest hole in the Cheese Box, storming back towards the familiar school building and muttering savagely under her breath, all the while glancing over her shoulder. Mikey shook his head as she left; he had spent enough time in her company to know that she would cool down soon enough, and doubtless be back to her normal high-spirited self before the start of mid-morning classes. He did not, however, expect to see the annoyed frown upon TJ Detweiller's face as he watched his friend disappearing onto the playground horizon.
"There she goes again," he grumbled. "Jumping to conclusions." He looked back to his companions, trying ineffectually to mask his anger as he continued, "just cos we're bein' cautious don't mean we're not going, right guys?" This last was spoken as a challenge--a threat, almost--aimed directly at anyone who may have been considering secretly joining Butch.
Vince nodded instantly, his cool expression clearly belying a hidden unease, as evidenced by the slightest crease about his forehead; Gretchen and Gus took a few more moments before swallowing their nerve and mumbling their assent in slightly quavering but otherwise decisive voices.
Mikey waited the longest; more than anything, he wanted to feel safe, and the more he was thinking about this upcoming Trip, the more he realised how dangerous it promised to be. but how could he put this across to his friends, who were so certain that it would be nothing but fun and games, despite Butch's prophetic warnings? Sighing, and with no small amount of reluctance, he nodded as well, expressing once and for all his loyalty to his friends above all else.
"Of course," he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper as he too pushed himself to his feet, eyeing the giant clock that ticked away the last few minutes of Recess with precarious inevitability. "A wonderful time shall be had by all." This weak reiteration of his earlier enthusiasm was met with a puzzled frown from TJ and similar uncertainty from the others. Averting his eyes quietly, he eyed the clock once again, seeking refuge. "But, for now... let us follow in plucky Spinelli's footsteps and return to class, lest we be tardy and, Heavens forbid, force our loving teacher to give us Late Marks..."
*
The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully for TJ and his friends, though conversation both inside and outside of the classroom seemed incessantly centred upon the upcoming trip. Looking at his friends as he sat in his designated seat in Miss Grotke's class--listening to her struggling to sustain the attention of her students with vivid and dramatic representations of the biological processes surrounding the life cycle of various insects--TJ couldn't blame them for zoning out.
He had seen the uneasy concern in the faces of his closest companions upon hearing Butch's unbelievable tale, had felt the worry twisting around his own heart as he had realised the implications of spending an entire week away from the sanctuary of his home and family... but far more significant than any of that, he had watched the fury emblazoned across Spinelli's features, and the matching determination touching Vince's. They were unafraid, unconcerned by the solitude and loneliness that threatened the others; they, the most courageous of the group, and seeing their heroic reactions had steeled TJ's own mind. He would not allow them to show him up. He was the leader. He would be the bravest.
Lunch was a subdued affair, finding the small group huddled around their usual table, munching quietly on their various sources of nourishment, and consciously struggling to keep from mentioning the trip that loomed so worryingly upon the horizon. They made small-talk, as usual--"did you see last night's episode of Beanie McChimp?" "Man, I can't wait till next month's ultra-Limited Edition issue of Señor Fusion!" and similar such nonsense--but it was clear from even a moment's glance at any one of his friends, that their minds were all on one thing. one pivotal event.
None of them seemed willing to broach the subject, and TJ himself couldn't blame them; the last thing he wanted was an argument like the 'discussion' at Recess had threatened to become. Certainly, the peace and quiet that they had become comfortable with, was far safer an aim than the malcontent that had formed between them that Recess. What would come, TJ decided, would come irregardless of his--or, indeed, any of their--opinion on the subject, so why waste time arguing about it?
Still, knowing this as he did, TJ nonetheless could not deny the relief he felt as that final bell rang at the end of the day, signifying the beginning of the weekend. He, and what seemed to be the rest of the class, exhaled collectively and pushed their chairs back with the intention of climbing to their feet and escaping the prisons of the classroom for a who two days; however, before TJ had even completed the act of standing, he was being commanded back into his seat by a smiling Miss Grotke. "Just a moment please, students," she said, waiting patiently for them to return to their seats, each child muttering blasphemous complaints as he or she sank back into their chair.
"Now, now... I won't take up more than a minute of your precious weekend," she assured them, all the while smiling with disgusting cheerfulness. "All students attending the field trip to Velgon's Baudry will be expected to be packed and ready to go, and waiting outside the front of school by 6:30 sharp, Monday morning. There's a list of the stuff you need to bring in the leaflet I gave you, as well as an itinerary of the week's events for your parents reference. Study the booklet over the weekend so that you're happy and prepared on Monday morning." She paused, still smiling and apparently unaware of the scowls upon her students' faces as she continued with scarcely a moment for breath.
"You'll be supervised on this trip by myself, of course, and your favourite other member of staff. the one and only Miss Finster." A jolt of shock rippled through the silent classroom at this revelation; glancing to his companions, TJ even saw a flicker of doubt crossing Spinelli's face, and Vince looked nothing short of sickened by this turn of events, even as Miss Grotke broke the stunned silence once again, her smooth, casual voice cutting through the air. "Dismissed. Have a great weekend."
*
"Finster?" Having finally been freed from the confines of school for the weekend, TJ and his friends were far from contented as they made their way towards their respective homes; their unanimous malcontent was expressed most clearly in the horror so beautifully portrayed in the voice of young Gus Griswold as he spoke aloud the fear that rolled through each of their hearts. "Finster!?"
"I told you!" Gretchen stated blankly. "This trip is doomed to be a disaster. We may as well give up right now and surrender to the inevitable fact that we will remain worthless Fourth-Graders for the rest of our insignificant lives." Nodding sagely, and pausing to grace each of her companions with a steely gaze so reminiscent of Finster herself, she lapsed into silence.
Gus quivered for a moment; of course Gretchen was right. Gretchen was *always* right! Why had he been inspired, even for a moment, to doubt her supreme knowledge? "I don't know about you guys," he said, voice scarcely above a whisper--as it always was when he found himself forced to speak out among his peers. "But I'm gonna do just what Butch said to do. No way this little Private is going on that trip! No, Sir!" This stated, he happily allowed himself to shut up once again.
TJ opened his mouth to speak, and Gus was certain from the uneasiness upon his features that he was about to side with he and Gretchen, but before he had the chance to utter a single word, the calm voice of Reason--also known as Mikey--interposed. "Friends, it matters not. We should leave each other now in good spirits... do not let the promise of tomorrow force us to argue." He smiled. "We must part ways shortly, returning to our homesteads. Let us do so cheerfully."
"Uh, yeah... what Mikey said..." TJ said quickly, offering the big guy a grateful smile. "Let's just go home an' have fun over the weekend. Whatever's gonna happen next week don't matter yet, so quit thinkin' about it. I'll call you guys over the weekend." Even as he spoke he was crossing the road to make his way towards his own abode. "But, whatever ya do, don't worry about it."
He was long out of earshot before any of the others could think of a reply; from a growing distance, Gus watched as the leader of the small group disappeared against the horizon, and waited for his other companions to do the same. With scarce moments between each departure, they wandered their separate ways one by one, each bidding the others farewells of varying mood. It was less than a full minute before Gus was left alone.
Making his own way home, the smallest member of the little gang could not deny feeling a little torn in his perception of the upcoming field trip. True, it sounded like fun--a whole week in the company of his five closest friends, away from his father's militarily-run household, and essentially free for the first time in as long as he could recall. But, despite this knowledge, a small part of him was screaming, demanding that he think about it from Gretchen's side for just one moment.
He recalled vaguely his last experience of independence; overhearing a conversation between his parents, he had fallen under the misconception that the Griswolds would be moving yet again, and had run away from home, seeking to build his very own "bachelor pad" beneath the Jungle Gym. The idea had been perfect, and had worked well. until nightfall.
'Ok, so you're afraid of being left on your own at night...' he thought, shaking his head as he approached his home. 'That doesn't mean you won't have fun on this trip, right? I mean, TJ and the others will be there. They'll protect you...' Still, even with this reassurance firmly planted within his mind, he couldn't help but wish with ever fibre of his being that his father would refuse to grant him permission to take part in this obviously doomed excursion. 'Maybe if I cry like a baby, he'll let me stay...'
Confident in this course of action, Gustav Patton Griswold pushed open the front door to his home and, leaflet firmly clasped in his sweaty hands, approached his father's War Room. He gulped, waiting patiently for the Lieutenant to grant him permission to enter, in response to his son's tentative knock, the sound of which resounded noisily through the deserted hallway.
Lieutenant Griswold looked up from the enormous map placed strategically upon the hardwood desk in front of him, to regard his son with a warm smile. "Good evening, Private," he said curtly, snapping off a brisk salute, which Gus nervously mimicked. "How was your day in the barracks?"
"Umm..." Gus swallowed nervously, holding out the pamphlet with trembling hands; he would have felt far more comfortable had the leaflet contained details of some criminal offence that he stood accused of committing. "It went very well, Sir. I got a B on that geography test... and... umm... Miss Grotke wants me to give you this." He paused, placing the booklet on the very edge of the desk, hoping that it would slide off the edge and conveniently land in the paper-shredder. "It's about some field trip we're supposed to be going on next week. I don't really think I should--"
"A field trip?" Lieutenant Griswold repeated, eyes gleaming with excitement as he reached out to grab the pamphlet. "Excellent, Private! Real life experience! That's what builds character! Learning how to respond to hostile situations out in the field is what separates the men from the boys! I know you'll make me proud, son..." This last was uttered with a single loving gaze into the eyes of his cowardly boy; Gus returned the look with tears shining in his own eyes. "You *are* going, aren't you?"
Gus sighed; he really should have known better than to show the leaflet to his father first. Why hadn't he approached his mother? The Lieutenant would never go against the whims of his wife, and Gus knew that all he'd need to do was turn on the waterworks to convince Mrs Griswold that this trip was not meant for wet weeds like him. But no! He'd gone and done the honest thing and shown his father. When would he ever learn? "Of course, dad..." he mumbled with unconcealed misery, before realising a moment too late what he had just said. "Uh... I mean... Yes, Sir..."
"There's a good soldier!" Lieutenant Griswold exploded, his booming voice echoing painfully in response to the boy's own plaintive whimper. "Rise to the challenge, Private! Go out there and show them what you're made of!" Even as he spoke, he was reading through the leaflet with rapturous joy upon his face, and seeing this delighted expression, Gus knew that his cause was lost.
Perhaps he should have argued... perhaps he should have done as his father instructed him to do on so many occasions. Perhaps he should have stood his ground and held his own against the enemy that stood before him and strove to force him into undertaking a challenge that he knew he would never be able to confront. But, with all these 'should have's, there remained one single underlying fact, making each and every possible course of action obsolete. He was just a kid... and a cowardly kid, at that. He couldn't stand up to his military father any more than he could stand up to the school bully. Gus Griswold knew exactly what he was, and he was *not* a "good soldier".
"I'll do my best, Sir," he heard his own voice murmuring, even as he struggled to keep the uncertainty and discomfiture from touching his features as he gazed in wide-eyed awe at the one man that he would have happily given his own life away for. the sole entity for whom the lowly Private would sell his soul if it would only make this celestial, heroic father-figure proud. "I'll do my best."
* TBC.