See Chapter One for Disclaimers. Or, if you have a really good memory
and/or don't care about legal technicalities, then just keep reading. Many
many thanks to everyone who offered feedback for the first chapter, hope
the second is met with an equal amount of enthusiasm.
Trial By Responsibility
*
Chapter Two
"Theodore J. Detweiller!" The piercing shrill of his mother's voice broke into TJ's thoughts, wrenching him out of a pleasant dream and forcing him to open his eyes and face the wan dawn sunlight. "You have ten minutes to get out of bed and ready for school. Move it, Mister!"
"Lea' me 'lone..." he mumbled, still groggy from sleep and more than a little aggressive due to this rude awakening. "S'not even light out, go 'way..." Pulling the pillow over his head to block out any additional intrusion from the Queen of Sleep-Slaying, he closed his eyes once again; ok, so he was now hideously uncomfortable and couldn't breathe... but hey, at least it was quiet.
For several blissful moments, it seemed like he was safe, drifting slowly back into the happy refuge known as sleep. Sighing contentedly, he tried to remember where exactly his dream had been interrupted. "Oh yeah... Señor Fusion leaps to the rescue, aided by his cute, and oh-so-heroic sidekick, TJ Detwei--HEY!" This last was uttered as a protest to his mother, who had chosen that moment to yank the pillow from her son's head, gazing down at him with mild reprimand.
"Saving the world is going to have to wait, Señor TJ," she chided gently. "Eight minutes and counting. I want you dressed and ready for breakfast by 6AM sharp. No straggling."
"But Mooooooooom--"
"Now, Theodore," she said, scowling with mock-seriousness.
TJ scowled as she left the room, and for a few precious moments, seriously considered crawling back into bed and forgetting the damned field trip... but the knowledge of what his parents would do if he was caught falling asleep again after specifically being told to get up struck him with a fear rivalled only by the thought of Miss Finster's sinister glare if he was late.
"All right!" he cried, unable to mask his disgust as he carefully picked his most comfortable pair of jeans from the piles of clothing that littered the floor. He dressed with his usual carelessness, not even pausing to straighten the creases out of his tee-shirt, before plucking his beloved baseball cap from the bedside table and placing it upon his head with loving relish; the rest of his appearance meant nothing to him, but that hat... that hat was his identity, his most trusted friend, a *part* of him.
Strolling into the kitchen, TJ masked a yawn. "Wha's fo' breakfast?" Tired as he was, he wouldn't have noticed if he was being fed dog-food, as he sat at the table and stared dumbly down at the enormous plate of food that his mother pushed in front of him.
"Eat up," she said, lifting his cap to playfully muss his hair. "Chances are, you won't be getting real food for a week, so enjoy this breakfast while you can." She grinned, and even in his half-sleeping state, TJ raised his head to frown at her, a noncommittally puzzled grunt escaping his lips as he returned his focus to the delicious-looking cooked breakfast that sat on the table in front of him.
The food was good, and, thinking back, TJ supposed that he should have figured out then that something what up; when did his mother ever fix him a proper cooked breakfast on a school-day? Was she really that worried about this upcoming field trip... and if she was, should he be that worried too? Shrugging it off, he yawned through a mouthful of toast, and pushed the plate away. "Thanks, Mom," he said, offering a weary smile. "Still don' see why I gotta go on this stupid thing..."
"We've been through this," she said, rolling her eyes as she half-guided, half-yanked him out of his seat. "You're going on this 'stupid thing' because your teachers are right. You're not going to be in the Fourth Grade forever, and you need to learn how to be responsible. This is going to be a great experience for you and your little friends." She ignored her son's mutterings as she picked up his suitcase from where he had left it by the front door the night before after he had finally finished packing.
TJ sat sulkily in the passenger seat as he waited for his mother to dump his suitcase and backpack into the trunk, and offered only a savage glare as she climbed into the driver's seat beside him, trying not to grin too widely as she started the engine. "You'll have a good time," she assured him, placing a tender kiss on his cheek before concentrating on the road. "I promise."
"Yeah, yeah." he muttered sarcastically, before lapsing into a silence that endured the entire journey to school. True, he had played the part of the optimist for his friends, assuring them that they would have a good time and enjoy themselves, and that being away from home wouldn't matter as long as they were with each other... but looking back now, he had known even then that it was just a façade, an attempt by the group's leader to restore peace to their divided souls. Here, in the company of none but his mother, his true feelings showed through with perfect clarity: he was too young to fly solo!
Arrival at the gates of Third Street forced upon TJ a renewed enthusiasm for that which simultaneously filled him with hopeful anticipation and unrivalled terror. The entire Fourth Grade, with but a handful of exceptions, stood uneasily beside various carryalls, suitcases, backpacks, and trunks. Every face--each one familiar in its own way to the unsuspecting Detweiller--bore a similar expression of discomfiture upon it... and it struck TJ as especially comforting to lay eyes upon Vince and Spinelli, both of whom looked just as uncomfortable as any other of the assembled students.
"Hey guys!" he yelled, scarcely waiting until he had climbed out of the car. In the time it took for him to disentangle himself from his seatbelt and begin the dash towards where his five friends stood, he realised with no small amount of relief that for every child standing upon the blacktop, there was at least one adult; it seemed that his mother was not the only one wishing to see her son off.
The irritation upon the combined faces of his companions was enough to suggest to TJ that, similarly, he was not alone in his reluctance to accept his parents' decision to ensure his participation in this accursed field trip. "Hey guys," he repeated, forcing a streetwise grin as he strolled with feigned casualness into the centre of the group circle. "Guess your folks wouldn't let ya back out, either, huh?" There. He'd said it; finally, he had admitted that he, the great TJ Detweiller, was afraid.
"Nope," Gus said, striving for self-confidence even as he nervously eyed his father's tall form--which stood out even among the countless other parents standing and chatting a short distance away, waiting to bid their children a fond farewell. "It's going to be a great learning experience, and it's gonna build character, and... and... and stuff!" The slight tremor in his voice spoke volumes about his opinion on the matter, and TJ smiled in spite of himself as he watched his friend raise his chin and force a grin.
Gretchen nodded sombrely. "My parents too thought that it would be a valuable educational pursuit that begs my participation," she admitted, and there was no questioning the contempt in her voice. "Though I must confess, I would sooner have spent the time in the company of the Fifth-Graders, seeking to better my real education." Masking a weary yawn, she dismissed the issue.
Nodding--and finding himself mimicking Gretchen's yawn as he suddenly remembered how tired he was--TJ lowered himself to the ground, sitting unsteadily upon his suitcase. He could only imagine how terrible he looked, having received little sleep the night before, and been woken up before dawn, but it struck him as markedly amusing that he was not alone in his fatigue; Gretchen and Spinelli looked almost ready to fall asleep on the spot, and Mikey looked as though he already had fallen asleep. With the exception of Vince and Gus--both of whom, TJ supposed, were well- experienced in having to get up early--every single one of the assembled Fourth-Graders looked dead on their feet.
With this reassuring realisation firmly planted in his mind, TJ struggled to avert his gaze from where his mother stood, standing out in his eyes among the seemingly countless other parents, as she too tried to keep from eyeing her son with obvious consternation. 'No!' he told himself, forcing his attention upon his friends as he felt his eyelids growing heavier. 'She's your mother. It's her job to worry. You're just a kid. Worrying is bad for you... so chill out. The sun's almost up and it's gonna be a nice sunny day, so try and relax, look forward to this trip, and just have fun!'
"Attention, Fourth Grade..."
TJ snapped sharply to attention at the familiar voice of Principal Peter Prickly as the tall moustachioed man stepped forwards--seemingly from out of nowhere--to address the assembled students. Sighing with relish of the aggravation held within the sound, the boy pushed himself to his feet by way of showing his respect for the authority figure that now spoke to he and his companions.
"Annoying do-gooder PTA demanding we try and 'make something' out of these miscreants instead of just letting them do what they want and leaving the rest of us to get a full night's sleep for a change..." the Principal muttered under his breath, loudly enough to be heard by all assembled, before he caught himself and returned to full professionalism. "Ahem... greetings, Fourth Grade. Today, you begin the first week of the rest of your lives. You have many challenges ahead of you, most of which will test your responsibility to their very limits, and I expect you all to give 110% or more. Just because you're not at school does not mean that you won't be assessed for this."
Pausing for a moment, he allowed his gaze to flick briefly to where the kids' parents stood together, still waiting to bid farewell to their offspring. "I trust your parents have lectured you thoroughly in the importance of this week," he continued after a moment, eyes piercing each and every parent as if to say 'you'd *better* have told the little worms', "and just remember this: bad grades reflect badly upon the entire school. I don't want you miscreants screwing up my chances of a promotio--" He broke off quickly, straightening his tie with obvious discomfiture, "Uh... I mean... I expect your performances on this trip to reflect your abilities. Get out there, do well, and don't mess up."
Prickly waited politely for the chatter to die down before retreating covertly into the shadows from which he had ventured. TJ shook his head slightly, and looked to his friends, each of which were voicing their own opinions on the Principal's speech in increasingly loud tones.
"Typical Prickly," muttered Vince, bouncing on the balls of his feet; TJ watched him through half-lidded eyes and wondered how he could be so perky at such an ungodly hour. "Cares about his rep more than the kids. They could put us through torture out there, and if we came back with less than perfect scores, it'd be all *our* fault for bein' lousy students."
"I hear ya, man..." TJ heard himself mumbling through his forty-seventh yawn that morning. "But we're gonna spend a whole week away from him... so that's good..."
Gretchen flopped down next to him; looking at the bags under her eyes, TJ realised that she was almost as exhausted as he was. Maybe *her* parents had decided to wake her an hour before they'd needed to as well... "I concur wholeheartedly," she said sleepily. "Despite my qualms about spending an extended period away from my parents, and my concerns regarding Butch's tale from Friday, I must admit that this field trip does posses that one perk, if nothing else."
"All right, children, settle down..." This latter voice belonged to Miss Grotke, who had stepped forwards in the aftermath to Prickly's retreat, and stood now, quietly waiting to address her charges. "The bus will be arriving within a few minutes, so I would like you all to focus your Inner Peace, take a few deep and cleansing breaths, then form orderly lines by class." She offered the assembled students a characteristic warm smile, and began meandering between them in an attempt to help them organise themselves. TJ rolled his eyes and, with no small amount of reluctance, climbed to his feet.
The sound of irate mumblings filled the air before Miss Grotke had even finished speaking. Shaking his head as he and his friends struggled to shift themselves into something resembling a line, TJ decided that she--and the rest of the teachers at Third Street whose brilliant idea this whole 'trip' had been--*really* should have known better than to expect the entire Fourth Grade to make sense of instructions given at 6:30am, having gotten little-to-no sleep the previous night.
In forming the required queue, TJ and his group were forced to move the whole of ten feet to the left, a fact that struck the tired boy as markedly annoying, having stumbled numbly to his feet only to discover that the microscopic distance he needed to move was not even worth acknowledging. Yep, this trip was off to a flying start, and TJ couldn't quite keep silent the harsh "Man, this whomps!" that escaped his lips--incidentally at exactly the same moment as Miss Grotke paused a few feet away.
"Is there a problem?" she asked, turning away from where she had been helping Jimmy The Guru Kid with his over-stuffed suitcase, and moving to approach TJ and his friends, an expression of mild concern tainting her features as her eyes wandered between them.
TJ snapped to attention. "No, Miss Grotke," he said. "No problems here." He mustered a weary smile in her general direction, though he knew from the slightly puzzled frown that touched her expression, that she was not fooled by it. "We're just lookin' forward this this excitin' trip, is all." He nodded with perfectly-feigned enthusiasm, even as he covertly nudged his friends and forced to his lips the most charismatic smile imaginable. "Can't wait to start this great learning experience..."
"Oh *yeah*," muttered Spinelli, not even trying to mask the sarcasm in her voice and expression. "Nothin' beats spendin' a whole week learnin' how to peel pota--"
She never had the chance to finish her sentence, as a sharp elbow from Vince cut off her words. "Yep. Can't wait. Fun, fun, fun. That's what we're gonna be havin' this week..."
"What inspiring enthusiasm!" Grotke cried, features practically glowing with delight. "If only your friends and classmates were as willing to rise to the challenge as you people! I know I can count on you six, at least, to make this week a successful excursion!" This uttered, and reassured in confidence that TJ and his friends were perfectly settled, she left them alone once again.
TJ breathed a sigh of relief. "Whew. Thought she'd be hanging around us for hours, tryin' to make us more 'comfortable' about leavin' home and all that junk. Nice cover, Vince." He exchanged a brief high-five with the athlete, before moving to sit back down upon his suitcase.
His legs had scarcely begun to bend, however, before he was hauled to his feet *again* by the voice of a teacher demanding attention. This time it was none other than the epitome of evil herself... Miss Finster. Grumbling, TJ pushed himself into a slouch, and struggled to focus his attention upon the frightening form of The Finster as she took a breath and began to speak.
*
The resounding fingernails-on-chalkboard grind of Miss Finster's cold voice was Spinelli's cue to zone out completely. Pausing only to ask Gretchen to nudge her awake if, through some bizarre miracle, Finster's speech contained something worth hearing, she leaned against the nearest solid surface--namely Mikey Blumberg--and closed her eyes with the intention of catching a few minutes' sleep.
Sleeping while standing up and simultaneously pretending to pay attention was a skill that her brother Joey had taught her during his last Bail, and in the time since, it had come in rather handy for situations like this. Tuning out the irritating whine, she allowed her mind to wander, and in that semiconscious haze, she dreamed of the week that lay ahead of her.
The images that flashed through her sleep-deprived mind were terrifying, and in her mind's eye, Spinelli saw herself screaming in response to them, cowering before the sinister nature of the tasks that she was becoming ever more certain she and her companions would be forced to undertake. Not only peeling potatoes... but worse! Cooking, cleaning, embroidery, ironing clothes, making their own beds... The list was endless. Endless and horrible, and it was all she could do to keep from snapping her eyes open and howling her lungs out. "Responsibility? This ain't Responsibility! It's slave-labour!"
Vince's elbow slamming into her ribs jolted her quickly back to reality, and as her eyelids flickered up, washing away the remnants of her, the sight that met her eyes was one so hideous as to make her forget instantly her quasi-nightmare. "Muh... Muh... Miss Finster!"
The woman's sinister features floated before her field of vision, mere inches from her own face, and Spinelli recoiled nervously as Finster's voice broke into her thoughts. "Well, well. I should have known it'd be one of you *six* that started the hooliganism early. Slave labour, you say? Well then, Missy, just you wait till we arrive. I'll show you slave labour and *more*. Now get on the bus."
"Uh... yes Ma'am..." Spinelli mumbled, straightening up and hefting her suitcase obediently. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Finster nodded curtly and grudgingly left the six of them alone. "Dammit, Teej! Why didn't one of you guys *warn* me I was yellin' out loud?"
TJ grinned a little sheepishly. "Well... uh..." He glanced briefly to the others for some sort of support, and received only indifferent shrugs in response; shaking his head in disgust, he dismissed the issue with a well- timed change of subject. "Hey, Finster told us to get on the bus... don't wanna get in trouble twice in less than five minutes, do we? At least, not b'fore we get there." Using this as the perfect way of dodging her question, he grabbed his own case and made a dash for the bus.
Not wanting to be left alone with an aggravated Spinelli, the others quickly followed TJ's example, and, muttering violent expletives under her breath, she moved to catch up with them, lugging her suitcase impatiently behind her. "They can run, but they ain't gonna be able ta hide," she fumed to herself, in between curses. "I'll get 'em while they're sleepin'..."
Tossing her suitcase carelessly into the little luggage compartment underneath the hideous yellow bus, Spinelli paused to shake off the remnants of her lingering grogginess, before moving to join the queue that stood waiting to board. Waiting to sign their lives away to a week of glorified Home Economics... or so she thought. "When did the heap o'junk show up anyway?" she asked Mikey--who happened to be in front of her in the queue. "While Finster was talkin'? I didn't see it get here."
Mikey nodded, and was about to articulate a crudely poetic response, when the line shifted, allowing the two of them to climb on board; Spinelli paused only to thank her lucky stars that at least *one* thing was going her way this morning--if she was going to be exposed to Death by Housework, at least she'd be able to do it without hearing another one of those stupid poems.
Spotting the others already taking their seats towards the back of the bus, Spinelli and Mikey fought their way through a mass of loitering Fourth- Graders to rejoin them. Muttering as she sank into a seat beside Gretchen, Spinelli watched Mikey slide into the seat in front, next to Gus and across from where TJ and Vince had already gotten a head-start in their 'background reading' for the upcoming field trip--namely, that most informative and useful of reference texts, "Señor Fusion On Vacation".
"So how long we gonna be stuck on this gravy train, Gretch?" Spinelli asked, looking to the lanky genuis, who stifled yet another a yawn as she quickly calculated.
"Well," Gretchen said, speaking almost to herself as she calculated seemingly random numbers on her fingers at the speed of light. "According to the research I undertook over the weekend, Velgon's Baudry is approximately 200 miles away from here. Given that the bus should be capable of averaging fifty miles per hour for almost the entire journey, I would estimate that we shou--"
"Spit it out, will ya?" snapped Spinelli. "Great whompin' Bobula! It'll take the whole journey just ta hear the answer." She shook her head in acute disgust. "How long?"
"I would estimate," Gretchen repeated impatiently, "that we should arrive within four hours." She paused, trying not to smirk too obviously at the other girl's horrified expression. "Provided we don't hit traffic... and, of course, assuming that we don't take more than one *short* rest-stop."
Overhearing the conversation, TJ and Vince glanced across from their respite. "You're kiddin', Gretch," the capped boy asked, eyes pleading with her to say that she was. "Five *hours*? I can't even sit in a car for five *minutes* without getting' bored!" Turning away briefly, he began rhythmically slamming his head against the window. "I'll go crazy... *crazy* I tell you!"
"Calm down, TJ," Gretchen replied coolly. "By setting out at 6AM, I believe the plan is that we spend the bulk of the journey sleeping, so as to be refreshed when we arrive, and--"
The hiss of the bus doors closing noisily cut off any continuation that Gretchen may have attempted, and as all eyes moved to the front of the vehicle as the last person to step up-- Miss Grotke--paused, cleared her throat, and spoke once again. "All right, students!" she chirped as the engine of the bus began to rev, even as the 'students' in question appeared far more interested in the act of waving out the windows to their parents. "Once we're on our way, I'm going to be passing around a list of all your names. The list is divided into groups. These are your work groups. You will share sleeping quarters with the others in your group, and all chores assigned to your group will be undertaken by the *whole* group. Teamwork is a part of good Karma, you know, and so is learning to work with people you might not usually get along with..." She paused for a moment, and Spinelli was certain she was looking directly at *her* as she went on, "so no complaining about who you're teamed up with."
'Oh boy,' the tough girl thought to herself, even as she refused to offer her parents the slightest wave as the bus began to move off. 'She's probably got me teamed up with Kurst the Worst or one of the Ashleys or somethin'...' Even as the thought entered her mind, she shook it off; knowing Grotke's tendency to be kind and empathic, she doubted anything so cruel, and she was certain that--at the very least--she would be grouped with Gretchen, if not with the boys from the gang as well.
"No complaining," Grotke was murmuring to various students as she made her way down the bus towards them, bearing their fate for the week in her hands. "No, Randall, I can't put you in another group. Don't look so miserable, Laura, it's not the end of the world... Ah, my intrepid team of enthusiasts!" This latter was aimed at TJ and his group as she paused before them, handing them each a slip of paper with names grouped selectively on either side. "I hope you find your group designations to your liking... and don't forget: *No Complaining*!" This uttered, she moved swiftly along.
The six of them perused their sheets in silence for a few long minutes, gazing down at the neatly-printed names in front of them--the names that determined exactly who and where they would spend the entire week. Mikey spoke first, voice--as always--filled with dramatic song. "Oh joy and rapture!" he chanted, arms outstretched. "Noble TJ, we have been chosen to be team-mates!"
"Yeah," TJ muttered, looking far less content, "but look who *else* we got stuck with." He thrust the paper beneath the poet's nose. "Randall. The Snitch! So much for having fun and hatchin' Tender plans. Man, this Whomps!" He sighed, looking over the list again.
"You guys got the Guru Kid too!" Gus piped up enthusiastically, "and Butch! So you can be sure of getting' some great scary bedtime stories!" He paused, frowning slightly. "Hey! I thought Butch said he was gonna try and get out of going on this trip, cos of all that Mary Chewitt stuff!"
TJ shrugged, clearly still annoyed about being grouped with Randall 'the snitch' Weems. "Guess his folks forced him to. Who did you get stuck with?"
"Gus an' me gotcha covered," Vince said with a triumphant smirk. "You may be stuck with the Snitch, but we got *Menlo*, Phil the do-gooder Scout AND that know-it-all Digger Dave. At least Butch is cool! Man, this is gonna be the worst week *ever*. Gretch, Spin? Who'd you guys get?"
Spinelli didn't answer; in fact, she was scarcely even aware that the others were there. Her mind was blank, her expression void of emotion. The words printed in front of her seemed to leap out of the page, screaming words in some incomprehensible alien language. Gretchen's voice broke into her thoughts, but try as she might, she couldn't pull free from the tidal wave that threatened to inundate her as she strove to hear the words escaping her friend's lips.
"Unlike you boys, Spinelli and I were not grouped together. I believe I have both of your groups beaten for bad luck... I have been teamed-up, not only with Kurst the proverbial Worst... but also with Third Street's other Fourth Grade bully... Sue-Bob Murphy." A collective shudder ran through the group at the misfortune that had befallen the genius. "However, I am also fortunate enough to be grouped with the Swinger Kid, and Upside-Down-Girl, whom I have bonded with over the year..."
TJ nodded. "That's great, Gretch. Looks like Grotke got it right... OK, so we've all got our little problems we're gonna have to take care of... but at least we've all got someone cool to hang around with as well. This ain't gonna be so bad. Who'd you get, Spinelli?"
"Muh... guh... nuh..." Hard as she tried, the words simply would not form upon her lips, even as she felt the eyes of all five of her companions focusing upon her. "Guh... guuuuuuh..."
Gretchen leaned over her shoulder, squinting through her glasses at the small print that marched across the paper hanging limp in Spinelli's cold hand. "I believe what she is trying to say," she explained quietly, voice filled with nothing but a sympathy that Spinelli neither wanted nor needed, "that she has been put into a group with the Ashleys." She paused. "All four of them."
The others went deathly silent for about two seconds, before erupting into simultaneous speech; Vince and TJ attempting to offer a 'bright side' to her predicament--"At least you'll be able to put spiders into their make-up kits without any problems"--while the rest offered nothing but condolences. Returning sharply to her senses, Spinelli turned and glared furiously at all five of them.
"Shove it!" she heard herself yelling. "Ya think I care? Those powder-puffs ain't gonna wreck this for me. An' I don't want you feelin' sorry for me, either. It ain't worth it." Muttering harshly, she sank back against her seat, and occupied her time by glaring sulkily out the window.
Clearly hearing the word "denial" escaping Gretchen's lips, she somehow kept herself from responding. It didn't matter. She was gonna have a good time on this trip if it killed her! She was gonna be away from her parents for a week... she was *gonna* spend time with her friends... and she was not about to let the Ashleys, or nightmare images of Home Economics ruin that. No! She was Ashley Spinelli, and she always came out on top! Still, as she watched the old red-brick Third Street building disappearing against a dusty horizon, she couldn't help wishing--just for a moment--that she was back there still. Back on the old familiar blacktop... in the old familiar classroom... Back where she was safe.
* TBC.
Trial By Responsibility
*
Chapter Two
"Theodore J. Detweiller!" The piercing shrill of his mother's voice broke into TJ's thoughts, wrenching him out of a pleasant dream and forcing him to open his eyes and face the wan dawn sunlight. "You have ten minutes to get out of bed and ready for school. Move it, Mister!"
"Lea' me 'lone..." he mumbled, still groggy from sleep and more than a little aggressive due to this rude awakening. "S'not even light out, go 'way..." Pulling the pillow over his head to block out any additional intrusion from the Queen of Sleep-Slaying, he closed his eyes once again; ok, so he was now hideously uncomfortable and couldn't breathe... but hey, at least it was quiet.
For several blissful moments, it seemed like he was safe, drifting slowly back into the happy refuge known as sleep. Sighing contentedly, he tried to remember where exactly his dream had been interrupted. "Oh yeah... Señor Fusion leaps to the rescue, aided by his cute, and oh-so-heroic sidekick, TJ Detwei--HEY!" This last was uttered as a protest to his mother, who had chosen that moment to yank the pillow from her son's head, gazing down at him with mild reprimand.
"Saving the world is going to have to wait, Señor TJ," she chided gently. "Eight minutes and counting. I want you dressed and ready for breakfast by 6AM sharp. No straggling."
"But Mooooooooom--"
"Now, Theodore," she said, scowling with mock-seriousness.
TJ scowled as she left the room, and for a few precious moments, seriously considered crawling back into bed and forgetting the damned field trip... but the knowledge of what his parents would do if he was caught falling asleep again after specifically being told to get up struck him with a fear rivalled only by the thought of Miss Finster's sinister glare if he was late.
"All right!" he cried, unable to mask his disgust as he carefully picked his most comfortable pair of jeans from the piles of clothing that littered the floor. He dressed with his usual carelessness, not even pausing to straighten the creases out of his tee-shirt, before plucking his beloved baseball cap from the bedside table and placing it upon his head with loving relish; the rest of his appearance meant nothing to him, but that hat... that hat was his identity, his most trusted friend, a *part* of him.
Strolling into the kitchen, TJ masked a yawn. "Wha's fo' breakfast?" Tired as he was, he wouldn't have noticed if he was being fed dog-food, as he sat at the table and stared dumbly down at the enormous plate of food that his mother pushed in front of him.
"Eat up," she said, lifting his cap to playfully muss his hair. "Chances are, you won't be getting real food for a week, so enjoy this breakfast while you can." She grinned, and even in his half-sleeping state, TJ raised his head to frown at her, a noncommittally puzzled grunt escaping his lips as he returned his focus to the delicious-looking cooked breakfast that sat on the table in front of him.
The food was good, and, thinking back, TJ supposed that he should have figured out then that something what up; when did his mother ever fix him a proper cooked breakfast on a school-day? Was she really that worried about this upcoming field trip... and if she was, should he be that worried too? Shrugging it off, he yawned through a mouthful of toast, and pushed the plate away. "Thanks, Mom," he said, offering a weary smile. "Still don' see why I gotta go on this stupid thing..."
"We've been through this," she said, rolling her eyes as she half-guided, half-yanked him out of his seat. "You're going on this 'stupid thing' because your teachers are right. You're not going to be in the Fourth Grade forever, and you need to learn how to be responsible. This is going to be a great experience for you and your little friends." She ignored her son's mutterings as she picked up his suitcase from where he had left it by the front door the night before after he had finally finished packing.
TJ sat sulkily in the passenger seat as he waited for his mother to dump his suitcase and backpack into the trunk, and offered only a savage glare as she climbed into the driver's seat beside him, trying not to grin too widely as she started the engine. "You'll have a good time," she assured him, placing a tender kiss on his cheek before concentrating on the road. "I promise."
"Yeah, yeah." he muttered sarcastically, before lapsing into a silence that endured the entire journey to school. True, he had played the part of the optimist for his friends, assuring them that they would have a good time and enjoy themselves, and that being away from home wouldn't matter as long as they were with each other... but looking back now, he had known even then that it was just a façade, an attempt by the group's leader to restore peace to their divided souls. Here, in the company of none but his mother, his true feelings showed through with perfect clarity: he was too young to fly solo!
Arrival at the gates of Third Street forced upon TJ a renewed enthusiasm for that which simultaneously filled him with hopeful anticipation and unrivalled terror. The entire Fourth Grade, with but a handful of exceptions, stood uneasily beside various carryalls, suitcases, backpacks, and trunks. Every face--each one familiar in its own way to the unsuspecting Detweiller--bore a similar expression of discomfiture upon it... and it struck TJ as especially comforting to lay eyes upon Vince and Spinelli, both of whom looked just as uncomfortable as any other of the assembled students.
"Hey guys!" he yelled, scarcely waiting until he had climbed out of the car. In the time it took for him to disentangle himself from his seatbelt and begin the dash towards where his five friends stood, he realised with no small amount of relief that for every child standing upon the blacktop, there was at least one adult; it seemed that his mother was not the only one wishing to see her son off.
The irritation upon the combined faces of his companions was enough to suggest to TJ that, similarly, he was not alone in his reluctance to accept his parents' decision to ensure his participation in this accursed field trip. "Hey guys," he repeated, forcing a streetwise grin as he strolled with feigned casualness into the centre of the group circle. "Guess your folks wouldn't let ya back out, either, huh?" There. He'd said it; finally, he had admitted that he, the great TJ Detweiller, was afraid.
"Nope," Gus said, striving for self-confidence even as he nervously eyed his father's tall form--which stood out even among the countless other parents standing and chatting a short distance away, waiting to bid their children a fond farewell. "It's going to be a great learning experience, and it's gonna build character, and... and... and stuff!" The slight tremor in his voice spoke volumes about his opinion on the matter, and TJ smiled in spite of himself as he watched his friend raise his chin and force a grin.
Gretchen nodded sombrely. "My parents too thought that it would be a valuable educational pursuit that begs my participation," she admitted, and there was no questioning the contempt in her voice. "Though I must confess, I would sooner have spent the time in the company of the Fifth-Graders, seeking to better my real education." Masking a weary yawn, she dismissed the issue.
Nodding--and finding himself mimicking Gretchen's yawn as he suddenly remembered how tired he was--TJ lowered himself to the ground, sitting unsteadily upon his suitcase. He could only imagine how terrible he looked, having received little sleep the night before, and been woken up before dawn, but it struck him as markedly amusing that he was not alone in his fatigue; Gretchen and Spinelli looked almost ready to fall asleep on the spot, and Mikey looked as though he already had fallen asleep. With the exception of Vince and Gus--both of whom, TJ supposed, were well- experienced in having to get up early--every single one of the assembled Fourth-Graders looked dead on their feet.
With this reassuring realisation firmly planted in his mind, TJ struggled to avert his gaze from where his mother stood, standing out in his eyes among the seemingly countless other parents, as she too tried to keep from eyeing her son with obvious consternation. 'No!' he told himself, forcing his attention upon his friends as he felt his eyelids growing heavier. 'She's your mother. It's her job to worry. You're just a kid. Worrying is bad for you... so chill out. The sun's almost up and it's gonna be a nice sunny day, so try and relax, look forward to this trip, and just have fun!'
"Attention, Fourth Grade..."
TJ snapped sharply to attention at the familiar voice of Principal Peter Prickly as the tall moustachioed man stepped forwards--seemingly from out of nowhere--to address the assembled students. Sighing with relish of the aggravation held within the sound, the boy pushed himself to his feet by way of showing his respect for the authority figure that now spoke to he and his companions.
"Annoying do-gooder PTA demanding we try and 'make something' out of these miscreants instead of just letting them do what they want and leaving the rest of us to get a full night's sleep for a change..." the Principal muttered under his breath, loudly enough to be heard by all assembled, before he caught himself and returned to full professionalism. "Ahem... greetings, Fourth Grade. Today, you begin the first week of the rest of your lives. You have many challenges ahead of you, most of which will test your responsibility to their very limits, and I expect you all to give 110% or more. Just because you're not at school does not mean that you won't be assessed for this."
Pausing for a moment, he allowed his gaze to flick briefly to where the kids' parents stood together, still waiting to bid farewell to their offspring. "I trust your parents have lectured you thoroughly in the importance of this week," he continued after a moment, eyes piercing each and every parent as if to say 'you'd *better* have told the little worms', "and just remember this: bad grades reflect badly upon the entire school. I don't want you miscreants screwing up my chances of a promotio--" He broke off quickly, straightening his tie with obvious discomfiture, "Uh... I mean... I expect your performances on this trip to reflect your abilities. Get out there, do well, and don't mess up."
Prickly waited politely for the chatter to die down before retreating covertly into the shadows from which he had ventured. TJ shook his head slightly, and looked to his friends, each of which were voicing their own opinions on the Principal's speech in increasingly loud tones.
"Typical Prickly," muttered Vince, bouncing on the balls of his feet; TJ watched him through half-lidded eyes and wondered how he could be so perky at such an ungodly hour. "Cares about his rep more than the kids. They could put us through torture out there, and if we came back with less than perfect scores, it'd be all *our* fault for bein' lousy students."
"I hear ya, man..." TJ heard himself mumbling through his forty-seventh yawn that morning. "But we're gonna spend a whole week away from him... so that's good..."
Gretchen flopped down next to him; looking at the bags under her eyes, TJ realised that she was almost as exhausted as he was. Maybe *her* parents had decided to wake her an hour before they'd needed to as well... "I concur wholeheartedly," she said sleepily. "Despite my qualms about spending an extended period away from my parents, and my concerns regarding Butch's tale from Friday, I must admit that this field trip does posses that one perk, if nothing else."
"All right, children, settle down..." This latter voice belonged to Miss Grotke, who had stepped forwards in the aftermath to Prickly's retreat, and stood now, quietly waiting to address her charges. "The bus will be arriving within a few minutes, so I would like you all to focus your Inner Peace, take a few deep and cleansing breaths, then form orderly lines by class." She offered the assembled students a characteristic warm smile, and began meandering between them in an attempt to help them organise themselves. TJ rolled his eyes and, with no small amount of reluctance, climbed to his feet.
The sound of irate mumblings filled the air before Miss Grotke had even finished speaking. Shaking his head as he and his friends struggled to shift themselves into something resembling a line, TJ decided that she--and the rest of the teachers at Third Street whose brilliant idea this whole 'trip' had been--*really* should have known better than to expect the entire Fourth Grade to make sense of instructions given at 6:30am, having gotten little-to-no sleep the previous night.
In forming the required queue, TJ and his group were forced to move the whole of ten feet to the left, a fact that struck the tired boy as markedly annoying, having stumbled numbly to his feet only to discover that the microscopic distance he needed to move was not even worth acknowledging. Yep, this trip was off to a flying start, and TJ couldn't quite keep silent the harsh "Man, this whomps!" that escaped his lips--incidentally at exactly the same moment as Miss Grotke paused a few feet away.
"Is there a problem?" she asked, turning away from where she had been helping Jimmy The Guru Kid with his over-stuffed suitcase, and moving to approach TJ and his friends, an expression of mild concern tainting her features as her eyes wandered between them.
TJ snapped to attention. "No, Miss Grotke," he said. "No problems here." He mustered a weary smile in her general direction, though he knew from the slightly puzzled frown that touched her expression, that she was not fooled by it. "We're just lookin' forward this this excitin' trip, is all." He nodded with perfectly-feigned enthusiasm, even as he covertly nudged his friends and forced to his lips the most charismatic smile imaginable. "Can't wait to start this great learning experience..."
"Oh *yeah*," muttered Spinelli, not even trying to mask the sarcasm in her voice and expression. "Nothin' beats spendin' a whole week learnin' how to peel pota--"
She never had the chance to finish her sentence, as a sharp elbow from Vince cut off her words. "Yep. Can't wait. Fun, fun, fun. That's what we're gonna be havin' this week..."
"What inspiring enthusiasm!" Grotke cried, features practically glowing with delight. "If only your friends and classmates were as willing to rise to the challenge as you people! I know I can count on you six, at least, to make this week a successful excursion!" This uttered, and reassured in confidence that TJ and his friends were perfectly settled, she left them alone once again.
TJ breathed a sigh of relief. "Whew. Thought she'd be hanging around us for hours, tryin' to make us more 'comfortable' about leavin' home and all that junk. Nice cover, Vince." He exchanged a brief high-five with the athlete, before moving to sit back down upon his suitcase.
His legs had scarcely begun to bend, however, before he was hauled to his feet *again* by the voice of a teacher demanding attention. This time it was none other than the epitome of evil herself... Miss Finster. Grumbling, TJ pushed himself into a slouch, and struggled to focus his attention upon the frightening form of The Finster as she took a breath and began to speak.
*
The resounding fingernails-on-chalkboard grind of Miss Finster's cold voice was Spinelli's cue to zone out completely. Pausing only to ask Gretchen to nudge her awake if, through some bizarre miracle, Finster's speech contained something worth hearing, she leaned against the nearest solid surface--namely Mikey Blumberg--and closed her eyes with the intention of catching a few minutes' sleep.
Sleeping while standing up and simultaneously pretending to pay attention was a skill that her brother Joey had taught her during his last Bail, and in the time since, it had come in rather handy for situations like this. Tuning out the irritating whine, she allowed her mind to wander, and in that semiconscious haze, she dreamed of the week that lay ahead of her.
The images that flashed through her sleep-deprived mind were terrifying, and in her mind's eye, Spinelli saw herself screaming in response to them, cowering before the sinister nature of the tasks that she was becoming ever more certain she and her companions would be forced to undertake. Not only peeling potatoes... but worse! Cooking, cleaning, embroidery, ironing clothes, making their own beds... The list was endless. Endless and horrible, and it was all she could do to keep from snapping her eyes open and howling her lungs out. "Responsibility? This ain't Responsibility! It's slave-labour!"
Vince's elbow slamming into her ribs jolted her quickly back to reality, and as her eyelids flickered up, washing away the remnants of her, the sight that met her eyes was one so hideous as to make her forget instantly her quasi-nightmare. "Muh... Muh... Miss Finster!"
The woman's sinister features floated before her field of vision, mere inches from her own face, and Spinelli recoiled nervously as Finster's voice broke into her thoughts. "Well, well. I should have known it'd be one of you *six* that started the hooliganism early. Slave labour, you say? Well then, Missy, just you wait till we arrive. I'll show you slave labour and *more*. Now get on the bus."
"Uh... yes Ma'am..." Spinelli mumbled, straightening up and hefting her suitcase obediently. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Finster nodded curtly and grudgingly left the six of them alone. "Dammit, Teej! Why didn't one of you guys *warn* me I was yellin' out loud?"
TJ grinned a little sheepishly. "Well... uh..." He glanced briefly to the others for some sort of support, and received only indifferent shrugs in response; shaking his head in disgust, he dismissed the issue with a well- timed change of subject. "Hey, Finster told us to get on the bus... don't wanna get in trouble twice in less than five minutes, do we? At least, not b'fore we get there." Using this as the perfect way of dodging her question, he grabbed his own case and made a dash for the bus.
Not wanting to be left alone with an aggravated Spinelli, the others quickly followed TJ's example, and, muttering violent expletives under her breath, she moved to catch up with them, lugging her suitcase impatiently behind her. "They can run, but they ain't gonna be able ta hide," she fumed to herself, in between curses. "I'll get 'em while they're sleepin'..."
Tossing her suitcase carelessly into the little luggage compartment underneath the hideous yellow bus, Spinelli paused to shake off the remnants of her lingering grogginess, before moving to join the queue that stood waiting to board. Waiting to sign their lives away to a week of glorified Home Economics... or so she thought. "When did the heap o'junk show up anyway?" she asked Mikey--who happened to be in front of her in the queue. "While Finster was talkin'? I didn't see it get here."
Mikey nodded, and was about to articulate a crudely poetic response, when the line shifted, allowing the two of them to climb on board; Spinelli paused only to thank her lucky stars that at least *one* thing was going her way this morning--if she was going to be exposed to Death by Housework, at least she'd be able to do it without hearing another one of those stupid poems.
Spotting the others already taking their seats towards the back of the bus, Spinelli and Mikey fought their way through a mass of loitering Fourth- Graders to rejoin them. Muttering as she sank into a seat beside Gretchen, Spinelli watched Mikey slide into the seat in front, next to Gus and across from where TJ and Vince had already gotten a head-start in their 'background reading' for the upcoming field trip--namely, that most informative and useful of reference texts, "Señor Fusion On Vacation".
"So how long we gonna be stuck on this gravy train, Gretch?" Spinelli asked, looking to the lanky genuis, who stifled yet another a yawn as she quickly calculated.
"Well," Gretchen said, speaking almost to herself as she calculated seemingly random numbers on her fingers at the speed of light. "According to the research I undertook over the weekend, Velgon's Baudry is approximately 200 miles away from here. Given that the bus should be capable of averaging fifty miles per hour for almost the entire journey, I would estimate that we shou--"
"Spit it out, will ya?" snapped Spinelli. "Great whompin' Bobula! It'll take the whole journey just ta hear the answer." She shook her head in acute disgust. "How long?"
"I would estimate," Gretchen repeated impatiently, "that we should arrive within four hours." She paused, trying not to smirk too obviously at the other girl's horrified expression. "Provided we don't hit traffic... and, of course, assuming that we don't take more than one *short* rest-stop."
Overhearing the conversation, TJ and Vince glanced across from their respite. "You're kiddin', Gretch," the capped boy asked, eyes pleading with her to say that she was. "Five *hours*? I can't even sit in a car for five *minutes* without getting' bored!" Turning away briefly, he began rhythmically slamming his head against the window. "I'll go crazy... *crazy* I tell you!"
"Calm down, TJ," Gretchen replied coolly. "By setting out at 6AM, I believe the plan is that we spend the bulk of the journey sleeping, so as to be refreshed when we arrive, and--"
The hiss of the bus doors closing noisily cut off any continuation that Gretchen may have attempted, and as all eyes moved to the front of the vehicle as the last person to step up-- Miss Grotke--paused, cleared her throat, and spoke once again. "All right, students!" she chirped as the engine of the bus began to rev, even as the 'students' in question appeared far more interested in the act of waving out the windows to their parents. "Once we're on our way, I'm going to be passing around a list of all your names. The list is divided into groups. These are your work groups. You will share sleeping quarters with the others in your group, and all chores assigned to your group will be undertaken by the *whole* group. Teamwork is a part of good Karma, you know, and so is learning to work with people you might not usually get along with..." She paused for a moment, and Spinelli was certain she was looking directly at *her* as she went on, "so no complaining about who you're teamed up with."
'Oh boy,' the tough girl thought to herself, even as she refused to offer her parents the slightest wave as the bus began to move off. 'She's probably got me teamed up with Kurst the Worst or one of the Ashleys or somethin'...' Even as the thought entered her mind, she shook it off; knowing Grotke's tendency to be kind and empathic, she doubted anything so cruel, and she was certain that--at the very least--she would be grouped with Gretchen, if not with the boys from the gang as well.
"No complaining," Grotke was murmuring to various students as she made her way down the bus towards them, bearing their fate for the week in her hands. "No, Randall, I can't put you in another group. Don't look so miserable, Laura, it's not the end of the world... Ah, my intrepid team of enthusiasts!" This latter was aimed at TJ and his group as she paused before them, handing them each a slip of paper with names grouped selectively on either side. "I hope you find your group designations to your liking... and don't forget: *No Complaining*!" This uttered, she moved swiftly along.
The six of them perused their sheets in silence for a few long minutes, gazing down at the neatly-printed names in front of them--the names that determined exactly who and where they would spend the entire week. Mikey spoke first, voice--as always--filled with dramatic song. "Oh joy and rapture!" he chanted, arms outstretched. "Noble TJ, we have been chosen to be team-mates!"
"Yeah," TJ muttered, looking far less content, "but look who *else* we got stuck with." He thrust the paper beneath the poet's nose. "Randall. The Snitch! So much for having fun and hatchin' Tender plans. Man, this Whomps!" He sighed, looking over the list again.
"You guys got the Guru Kid too!" Gus piped up enthusiastically, "and Butch! So you can be sure of getting' some great scary bedtime stories!" He paused, frowning slightly. "Hey! I thought Butch said he was gonna try and get out of going on this trip, cos of all that Mary Chewitt stuff!"
TJ shrugged, clearly still annoyed about being grouped with Randall 'the snitch' Weems. "Guess his folks forced him to. Who did you get stuck with?"
"Gus an' me gotcha covered," Vince said with a triumphant smirk. "You may be stuck with the Snitch, but we got *Menlo*, Phil the do-gooder Scout AND that know-it-all Digger Dave. At least Butch is cool! Man, this is gonna be the worst week *ever*. Gretch, Spin? Who'd you guys get?"
Spinelli didn't answer; in fact, she was scarcely even aware that the others were there. Her mind was blank, her expression void of emotion. The words printed in front of her seemed to leap out of the page, screaming words in some incomprehensible alien language. Gretchen's voice broke into her thoughts, but try as she might, she couldn't pull free from the tidal wave that threatened to inundate her as she strove to hear the words escaping her friend's lips.
"Unlike you boys, Spinelli and I were not grouped together. I believe I have both of your groups beaten for bad luck... I have been teamed-up, not only with Kurst the proverbial Worst... but also with Third Street's other Fourth Grade bully... Sue-Bob Murphy." A collective shudder ran through the group at the misfortune that had befallen the genius. "However, I am also fortunate enough to be grouped with the Swinger Kid, and Upside-Down-Girl, whom I have bonded with over the year..."
TJ nodded. "That's great, Gretch. Looks like Grotke got it right... OK, so we've all got our little problems we're gonna have to take care of... but at least we've all got someone cool to hang around with as well. This ain't gonna be so bad. Who'd you get, Spinelli?"
"Muh... guh... nuh..." Hard as she tried, the words simply would not form upon her lips, even as she felt the eyes of all five of her companions focusing upon her. "Guh... guuuuuuh..."
Gretchen leaned over her shoulder, squinting through her glasses at the small print that marched across the paper hanging limp in Spinelli's cold hand. "I believe what she is trying to say," she explained quietly, voice filled with nothing but a sympathy that Spinelli neither wanted nor needed, "that she has been put into a group with the Ashleys." She paused. "All four of them."
The others went deathly silent for about two seconds, before erupting into simultaneous speech; Vince and TJ attempting to offer a 'bright side' to her predicament--"At least you'll be able to put spiders into their make-up kits without any problems"--while the rest offered nothing but condolences. Returning sharply to her senses, Spinelli turned and glared furiously at all five of them.
"Shove it!" she heard herself yelling. "Ya think I care? Those powder-puffs ain't gonna wreck this for me. An' I don't want you feelin' sorry for me, either. It ain't worth it." Muttering harshly, she sank back against her seat, and occupied her time by glaring sulkily out the window.
Clearly hearing the word "denial" escaping Gretchen's lips, she somehow kept herself from responding. It didn't matter. She was gonna have a good time on this trip if it killed her! She was gonna be away from her parents for a week... she was *gonna* spend time with her friends... and she was not about to let the Ashleys, or nightmare images of Home Economics ruin that. No! She was Ashley Spinelli, and she always came out on top! Still, as she watched the old red-brick Third Street building disappearing against a dusty horizon, she couldn't help wishing--just for a moment--that she was back there still. Back on the old familiar blacktop... in the old familiar classroom... Back where she was safe.
* TBC.