A/N: I just want to take a moment to let everyone who has ever reviewed this story know that I intended to personally thank each and every one of you! If you did not get one...I screwed up! THANK YOU! You are so appreciated, because feedback is priceless!
Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush!
James stared blankly at Miss Irene. "Essay?" he repeated, as if he had never heard the word before.
"Yes, James," she replied almost impatiently, especially for her.
"I don't have one," James said simply. He felt the heat rise to his neck and face, as she studied him. Her small mouth was puckered into a tiny heart, and she furrowed her brow.
"And, why not?" she asked in a higher voice.
"I don't recall being asked to write one," he replied softly, sinking a bit lower in his chair.
"I distinctly remember telling you boys that an essay, a large portion of your grade I might add, was due this week."
Carlos and Kendall were now realizing that she was implying that they should have written essays, as well.
"But, Miss Irene," James insisted, "You never told us that."
Miss Irene stood at her desk, looking much taller than her five feet, two inches. She emanated authority at that moment, making her larger than life.
"Do you boys, have your essays prepared?" she asked, slowly turning to address the two perfectly-still boys, Kendall and Carlos.
They shook their heads. Miss Irene sighed audibly, and sat back in her seat with a plop.
"I am so disappointed in you boys," she said. "With the exception of you, Logan. You were out ill when I gave the assignment."
Logan nodded. He was relieved, but he still avoided eye-contact with her, his face still red and damp from his punishment. Logan chose to look over to his friends for the first time since the paddling, instead. James shuddered to think that he might be the next one in Logan's shoes.
"Logan I want you to begin yours, immediately. You have two weeks to complete it, just as I gave the other boys," she continued. Logan nodded again, and looked down at his desk. His voice had not yet returned.
"As for the rest of you boys, I will have to speak with Mr. Slate about what I should do. You have shown great disrespect for your teacher, and lack of concern for your studies."
They did not want Farmer Slate involved, but there was clearly no choice. "He may decide that none of you boys will be able to attend the annual ice cream social, this Spring," she said, as if trying to get a rise out of them.
James' head snapped up, and she got the rise that she was looking for. He looked forward to that event every year, more than the others by far. All of them enjoyed the ice cream and the socializing, but it was James' favorite season of all, and he loved seeing the girls in their new pastels.
"I will let all of you know by Friday, and that is final," she reiterated.
"But, that's not fair!" James protested, "we don't deserve to miss the ice cream social, because you never told us about the assignment! No one else knew about it, either!"
"Speak only for yourself, James, not for the other boys. And, always address me properly. I am Miss Irene," she said firmly, and with a slight edge in her tone.
"Yes, Miss Irene," James mumbled. He did not trust the petite blonde one bit, after what he'd witnessed that morning.
"I want you to come to my desk immediately," she announced.
James slowly rose from his desk, and made his way to the front. You could hear a pin drop in the classroom, it was so quiet. He twitched nervously when she walked around to stand beside him.
"I want an apology for your outburst, and then one to the class," she said.
"I'm really sorry, Miss Irene, and I'm sorry, everyone," he said, with an obvious pleading in his voice. Logan held his breath, waiting for what was surely to come.
"Thank you, James. Now I will speak to Mr. Slate to see what he decides your punishment should be for the missed assignment, as well as mine for your behavior today.
James could only nod as he bit his lip, in an attempt to prevent himself from saying more. He was pretty sure that he knew what her decision would be.
"Go sit down, James. I am too angry to make my decision, now," she said.
They had never heard her say that before, and James tried to fight back the fears that were forefront in his mind. What was she going to do to him? Why didn't he just keep his mouth shut?
"All of you will turn in your essays when Logan turns his in, in two weeks. Is that clear?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss Irene!" they said as one.
"You may still receive failing marks, but it must be turned in, nonetheless," she said with a shake of her head.
The boys were devastated. They wondered what Farmer Slate and their parents would think of failing marks. Could they have simply forgotten because they were worrying over Logan? They wracked their brains, trying to remember. No, there was no way, all three of them could have forgotten. She simply had to have a screw loose, or something.
"Begin your research on your essay topic, now!" she ordered. "There are encyclopedias for your reference, and I am available if you have any questions." The boys bolted from their seats, not wanting to anger her further, and made a bee-line for the row of books.
x-x
At dinner that evening, Farmer Slate came to share the meal with them. After he said grace, he reached for his turkey drumstick, and began to gnaw on it. Kendall stopped to stare, endlessly fascinated at how he resembled a giant, feasting on a large animal that he had undoubtedly slain himself. The farmer sensed Kendall's scrutiny, and looked up from his leg. Kendall reddened, and picked up his own fork.
Helga entered the dining area with Anna, and they quickly laid down the rest of the dishes. They seemed to be hurrying the meal along, for some reason.
"Boys, after our meal is complete, I want all of you to remain at the table. I have some important things to discuss with you," he said. The dread was clearly written on their faces, as they prepared themselves for a lecture.
Within an hour, the food and dishes were promptly cleared, and they were apprehensively awaiting the talk.
"It appears that there has been a misunderstanding with Miss Irene, am I right?" asked Farmer Slate, getting directly to the point.
"Yes," Kendall spoke up, grateful that he had used the term 'misunderstanding'. "She believes that she asked us to write an essay a couple of weeks ago, but she did not," Kendall said rather smugly. He leaned back in his chair.
"Are you absolutely certain that you had no prior knowledge of it?" Farmer Slate asked.
"Absolutely positive!" Kendall stated, his chin rising slightly. He was happy to have his say after how she had treated poor Logan, and the rest of them that day.
The farmer noted the attitude that Kendall projected, with a slight lift of his eyebrows. He was always amazed at how eager the boy was to take charge.
"Carlos?" he asked, "What do you have to say?" The farmer was relatively calm, and they were surprised that he was conversing, rather than yelling.
"I agree with Kendall," Carlos said, sounding matter-of-fact, only less arrogant than Kendall.
"James?" he asked.
"She did not mention it, as far as any of us can remember," James added with certainty.
The farmer reached over to a small table behind him. He pulled out a manila folder and opened it. He looked down, and held up a sheet of paper, as he recited, "This is the syllabus that you are to follow for my class, in order to ensure that all necessary assignments are completed. This will prevent any discrepancies, or confusion."
Their hearts sank, as they began to understand what he was implying. "Here I have a chart which clearly shows that an essay worth a fourth of your final grade, is due this week. Do you boys have this paper in your possession?" he asked, looking directly at Kendall.
It couldn't be true! She had handed out a syllabus, but none of them remembered it listing actual assignments. They exchanged confused glances.
Kendall did not look so sure of himself, anymore. He shifted uncomfortably, and looked up sheepishly at the farmer. "I-I guess so," he almost whispered.
"Carlos? James? Logan? Do you boys have a copy of this paper?" he asked.
Logan could not believe that he had not looked at that sheet since it was handed out. It was not like him at all, to disregard a hand-out. He tried to rationalize how it could have happened, but the truth was, he had no explanation. All he could figure, was that it had been one continuous, chaotic learning experience with Miss Irene. He swallowed, in spite of himself.
He had to get his hands on the hand-out in his folder, and see if it matched!
"Y-Yes," Logan admitted. "I haven't looked at it since the day she passed it out, though."
"As I suspected!" said the farmer, his voice more forceful now. "There is no excuse whatsoever, for not having the essay completed!"
They squirmed in their chairs. This was not going well. He stared at the boys a good long while in complete silence.
"Sir?" Kendall finally said, breaking that silence.
"What is it, boy?" he demanded to know.
"Logan was sick...and we were preoccupied with-" Kendall tried to bargain for leniency.
"Are you insinuating that this is the boy's fault that the rest of you did not do the work?" he roared.
Kendall flinched. "N-No, not at all!" he said.
"You my boy, will be assigned to the orchard to collect fruit!" he said. "In return for your work, Miss Irene will accept your assignment, and count it on time!"
Kendall nodded, already dreading the punishment. He was not looking forward to hanging out with the burly group of men, that he previously met in the orchard. Then again, nothing was ever easy with Farmer Slate calling the shots. The now angry man, turned his attention to Carlos. Carlos was already pouting.
"You will continue to work alone, without the other boys, on chores that I assign! In return, your essay will not be not be considered late either!"
It was difficult for the sociably needy boy, to work in solitude. It broke his heart that he could not be with the others. His little face crumbled. Logan couldn't help but sigh for him.
"James! You will be working solely on helping to bag up manure on the farm! You will also be allowed to turn in your essay, and have it counted on time!"
"WHAT?" James shrieked. "I c-can't do that!"
"You can and you will!" The farmer wagged a calloused finger at him. "And I will allow Miss Irene to punish you as she sees fit for that outburst in class today!"
James was taken aback by the fact that he already knew about that. His cheeks burned like fire at the thought. He looked down at his lap, and hung his head in shame.
"Go on, now! Get your homework done, and get ready for bed!" he ordered.
xxx
All week, the boys were on tender hooks, just waiting for Miss Irene to go off. She basically ignored them, other than to remark on how beautifully the sun shone lately. She said she was looking forward to spring every day she arrived, but said little else while they worked. The remainder of their days were spent wondering who her callers were, or working on their essays.
Logan found the original syllabus that Miss Irene had handed out the first day, in his folder. It did not match the one that Farmer Slate had. They were happy to learn that she was mistaken.
"Well, let's tell her that she really screwed up!" Carlos cried eagerly.
When Carlos actually said the words, the boys grew quiet, and looked at one another. They decided to wait and see how things went first. They did not want a confrontation with Miss Irene, or Farmer Slate. Even when they were right, they were wrong when it came to those two.
Saturday, they began their assigned chores. Logan was able to stay with the horses, and feed the various animals. He knew that he was the fortunate one, for a change, and he spent his time thinking about the others, and wondering how they were doing.
Carlos was back at the coop with the two chicken killers. He hated every moment of his time with the men, and found himself actually grateful to have to clean the coop, when the men finally left. With them gone, he wouldn't have to guess what the heck they were saying, and he could daydream about better days to come.
He was terribly lonely though, and he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for himself. He decided to sing every song that he knew the words to, in order to keep his mind off of the dead chickens, and especially off of being utterly alone.
James was holed up in one of the fenced-in cow pastures, with a shovel in his hand. He was supposed to shovel the manure into the large sacks that were laid out before him, but he could barely breathe, never mind shovel. He shamelessly cried, as he flung the dung into the sacks, muttering all the while.
"I'm too good to be bagging poo!" he whined aloud to one of the cows, who watched him with curiosity. It mooed in response.
He tried to picture Bonnie's face, instead. He began to fantasize about how she might look, running down the sandy beaches of California in her bathing dress, in order to keep his mind off of the nasty chore, at hand.
Farmer Slate paid him a special unannounced visit that evening, and was watching the distraught teen as he huffed, puffed, and grumbled.
"How's it going there, Prince James?" the farmer asked sarcastically, when he saw his dirty tear-stained face, glistening in the golden sunlight.
"Oh! Just peachy!" James heard himself retort.
The farmer's eyes narrowed, as he watched the boy dramatically lift and heft the manure into the sack.
"Watch the attitude, boy!" the farmer warned.
"Oh, I am!" James threw back with a bit of sass.
"Don't you boys ever learn?" Farmer Slate asked the sky above.
He sat down on a crate, and placed his large hands on his thighs. He leaned forward, stared, and waited for the pretty boy to look at him. James gradually stopped shoveling, and slowly turned to face the farmer, eyes questioning.
"Come over here, young man," he said, as if he were luring him into some sort of a trap.
"W-What?" James asked warily.
"You heard me... come here," he said, patting his lap. James licked his dry lips. He laid down the shovel and walked up to the waiting farmer, his nerves raw.
"Ye-es?" he asked, his voice breaking.
The farmer reached for the tall boy's arm, and pulled him closer. "You know that you are acting like a spoiled brat that thinks that he's too good for a little hard work, don't you?" he breathed into James' ear.
James swallowed the lump in his throat. He shook his head. "No...I don't think so," he protested.
"You are! And do you know what a spoiled teen who behaves like a bratty five year-old gets?" he hissed. James' eyes were wide with fear. He shook his head, and pulled his lower lip firmly between his teeth.
The farmer swiftly yanked James' long body across his lap, and began to spank him fiercely with his over-sized open hand.
"OW! Stop!" James pleaded, flailing wildly.
"He gets punished just like a five year-old brat should!" Farmer Slate finished for him.
He gave him several more embarrassing hard slaps on the bum before finally releasing him. James stood up, shock and hurt on his face. He was speechless as he held his stinging bottom.
"You didn't expect that to ever happen, did you?" the farmer asked, actually laughing in the boy's face. "Everyone always let the prince get away with everything! He was untouchable, wasn't he? Well, not anymore!"
James' long lashes fell across his cheeks, casting shadows as he tried to compose himself. The tears were inevitable when the farmer continued to taunt him with his evaluation of what type of boy he felt he was.
"You are a vain young man who should have been made to work hard a long, long time ago. I am going to teach you how to be a gentleman, and a worthy human being that's not afraid to get his hands dirty. Before you can be admired, you must first be admirable, James Diamond," he said gruffly. "You are going to continue bagging manure until you get off your high horse, and do it without grumbling, crying or complaining. Do you understand?" he asked, finally finished with his lecture.
"Yes, Sir," James said, finally giving the farmer the eye-contact that he demanded.
"Good boy," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'll come and retrieve you for dinner."
James stared at the farmer's back when he walked away. He could not believe that the man had the nerve to do what he had just done!
The farmer smiled to himself. He had just spanked his royal highness! Something that he had wanted to do to the prissy boy for a long while, and there would be plenty more, if necessary," he thought to himself with satisfaction.
x-x
Kendall focused solely on the task at hand, hoping that the men around him would pay little attention to his presence. He just wanted the time to pass quickly, and to be back with the other boys whom he was equally worried about at the moment. Being separated from one another, was scary for all of them.
It turned out to be rare spring weather that month, with record-breaking temperatures. The gooseberries were just beginning to get ripe, and the farmer wanted them picked for the jellies and jams that were sold every year at market. Kendall found a spot where the other men weren't already working. It was on the outskirts of the orchard, where the berry bushes grew densely. He hoped that he could collect all the berries that he needed, right from that very spot.
The late afternoon sun's rays were shining brightly off of Kendall's halo of blond hair. He reached for a bush, and stretched it forward to pull off the gooseberries, tossing them carelessly toward the bushel basket. They missed their intended target, and he bent over and reached for the ones that bounced off the rim, and rolled astray. He sighed, then jumped when a strong hand gripped his shoulder.
"I didn't mean to..uh how do you say? Startle you?" the man said apologetically, in a deeply accented voice.
Kendall nodded. "Oh...that's okay. I'm just a little jumpy," he said with a shrug. The man's dark eyes locked with the vibrant green ones of the young man.
"You have to roll them into the basket gently but swiftly, to not squash them. Keep them shallow, or the weight will ruin them," the dark-skinned male instructed. He gestured to the basket of fruit that Kendall had already collected. Kendall's eyes were drawn to the rose tattoo on his forearm. He tilted his head to read the name inked in black, below it. Maria. The man was most likely, one of the Mexican migrant workers, that Farmer Slate had hired on for the seasonal work.
"I know," Kendall replied. "I mean, I was shown, but I forgot...I guess."
He just really wanted the man to go away, and let him do his work. He didn't trust anyone, anymore. He placed another handful of berries in the basket, making sure to do it properly, hoping the man would turn away and leave. The man chose to stay, watching as he continued to fill his baskets. Finally, tired of dealing with the uninvited guest, he turned to face the foreigner.
"Look, I've got this now. Thanks, anyway," he said softly, not wanting to come off as rude.
The man crossed his arms, and leaned up against a tree trunk, a smirk upon his lips, as he studied the green-eyed teen. "Ouch!" Kendall cried, when he pricked himself on a spine of the bush. The man came forward, and leaned in to see the blood dripping from the his fingertip.
"Aw!" he said, "Here, I fix it!" He took Kendall's fingertip into his mouth, and sucked at the blood deeply until it stopped flowing.
"Ew!" Kendall cried out, yanking his sore finger away from the strange man's mouth. He tucked his hand close to his body, and looked at the man with disgust. "Isn't that unsanitary? My friend Logan, would say-"
The man's guttural laugh cut his words off. He seemed to become more intrigued by the lean boy than ever, while he watched his green eyes grow wary while he backed away from him. He looked around, a bit shifty-eyed, before moving closer to the boy. He reached out to stroke the blond locks of hair.
"So pretty," he said.
Uneasy now with the man's touch, Kendall backed away as far as possible, without landing himself in the bushes.
"What's wrong, Goldilocks?" the man smiled widely, revealing a row of tobacco-stained teeth.
Kendall's eyes scanned the unshaven jaw, and took in the tattered muscle shirt that he sported so early in the season. He was scraggly and tense, like a caged animal. He shuddered as the man's gaze traveled over his face, then down his body. Kendall pulled his plaid flannel shirt tighter around his overalls, bracing against the chill he now felt tingling through him.
"I-I...just want to be left alone," Kendall said, almost begging now.
"Well, I just want to make sure you don't anger Mister Slate," the man said. "He could probably get pretty rough with a sweet young thing like you," the man said suggestively, letting the 'r's" of his native language roll off his tongue. The man was still grinning.
"I-said-I-got-this," Kendall said more forcefully now, enunciating each word. He just wanted the stranger to go away.
The smile faded from the man's face. "Oh, do you now?" he asked, more harshly.
Kendall's heart began to race when the man grasped both his wrists, and began to pull him away from his baskets of gooseberries, off to parts unknown..
