Richie flopped down on his bed after dinner and turned on his TV. Things had been very awkward that day at the store. All of a sudden Tessa had decided to leave all the 'heavy lifting' to Duncan. Richie had been stuck with more mundane tasks like collapsing boxes, sweeping, dusting and filing. Tessa checked in on him every hour or so and insisted on making lunch. All he had been planning on was a sandwich, but he ended up with a grilled cheese, tomato soup, and a freshly baked brownie. He flipped the channels until he found a sitcom re-run and settled down to watch it. Half way into the show there was a knock at his door.

"Uh," he grunted permission to enter.

Duncan opened the door and stepped in. "Bed," he said.

Richie looked at the clock and back at Duncan. "Its not even ten thirty."

"And you're not even seventeen."

"So?"

"So it's time for bed."

"Mac, you have got to be kidding me."

"Nope." Duncan walked over and turned off the TV. Richie rolled his eyes and turned it back on with the remote controller.

"No."

"Richie, bed." Duncan turned to TV off again.

"Mac, no." Richie turned it back on.

Smiling Duncan reached down and unplugged the TV. "You can have this back later. Right now, it's time for bed." Richie's jaw dropped as Duncan picked up the small TV and headed for the door. "Good night, Richie."

Richie watched him leave. After a second he got up to follow. "Mac, what the hell is up with you? You never cared how late I stayed up before as long as I was up in time to open the store."

"Things are different now."

"No they're not," Richie insisted. "I am the same guy. There is nothing different about me. The only difference is what you know about me."

"And now that I know, things are different."

Richie set his jaw and crossed his arms. "You're being unreasonable."

"You're being immature," Duncan responded.

"Mac, c'mon."

"Richie, don't fight me on this, just go to bed. We'll talk in the morning."

Richie's eyes narrowed. "Talk about bed times in the morning? I don't think so. We settle this now."

"Fine, you need to start going to bed at a reasonable hour for when you start school next week."

Richie's eyes widened. "Ex-ex-excuse me?" he stuttered.

"You heard me."

"Mac, no. I'm not going to school."

"Of course you are, don't be ridiculous," Tessa said from the hallway apparently having heard the argument. "Now, its time for bed," she added with a smile.

Richie looked from Tessa to Duncan and slumped his shoulder in defeat. "I can't believe this," he grumbled turning to go to his room.

As soon as his door closed Tessa wagged her finger at Duncan. "You said we would tell him together," she said accusingly.

"He didn't give me a choice," Duncan insisted.

"Now he's going to think we're conspiring against him and it's going to be even harder to get him to cooperate."

"He'll give in, he always does. He's too young to put together a tangible argument," Duncan said with a smile.

Tessa laughed. "Shh, he'll hear you and you'll make it worse," she whispered.

Duncan got up and went to Richie's door. "I bet he's found something to do in there," he said.

"Probably," Tessa agreed.

Duncan opened the door and looked in. To his surprise, Richie was in bed facing away from the door. "Night, Richie," he said softly.

Richie sat up and looked at him. "They're gonna make me move, you know," he said.

"We'll talk about it in the morning," Tessa assured him.

"They always do," he continued. "And if they find out I'm sixteen, I'm in huge trouble. You can't do this."

"Richie, go to sleep. We'll figure something out."

. . . . . .

The next morning Richie entered the kitchen with a scowl on his face. Without a word he grabbed a bowl pored some cereal and settled down to eat it.

"Are you still mad?" Duncan asked with a laugh. Richie didn't say anything, or even look up from his bowl. "This is a real good way to convince us that you shouldn't be treated like the kid you are," he said sarcastically.

Richie looked up. "I'm not a kid."

"Well, whatever you are, you need to go to school. So you need to make a decision." Duncan pulled out a couple brochures and put them in front of Richie.

Richie nearly choked on his cereal. "Private school?"

"Tessa and I were talking about it yesterday and last night. I called around to see who was accepting mid-semester transfers. These are your options."

"One, I'm not going to school. And two, if I was private school is out of the question," Richie informed him.

"One, you're going to school. You want to work; you go. Two, these are your options," Duncan told him forcefully.

Richie looked to Tessa for help. "We can help you decide if you like," she offered.

"You guys, no," Richie begged.

"You're going. You don't pick a school, I'll pick one for you," Duncan said. Richie just looked at him. "Fine," Duncan collected the brochures. "I'll tell you tonight."

"Mac," Richie started to protest.

"Richie be quiet. This is our compromise. We won't mention to anyone how old you are for real, but you go to school and graduate. You don't do that; we call the judge, set up a hearing, go to court, and they can force you to go. Face facts, you're going back to school no matter what you say."

. . . . . .

Four days later, Monday, Richie once again set his face in a scowl as he went into the kitchen for breakfast.

"My, don't you look nice," Tessa said as he slumped into his chair at the table.

Richie glared up at her. "Shut up."

"Is that anyway to talk to your mother?" Duncan teased putting a glass of juice in front of him.

"This is stupid," Richie answered. "Nobody's going to believe this. It's all going to blow up in our faces and I'm going to get shipped off to military school and it's all going to be your fault."

"Is it my fault you forged your records?"

"And I suppose just making me into a whole 'nother person and lying to nuns and priests is going to make it all better."

"Eat," Tessa instructed putting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. "You don't want to be late on your first day."

"Seeing as not going would count as being late, yeah I do," Richie assured her.

. . . . . .

Duncan pulled to a stop in front of St. Matthew's Academy and looked over at Richie, slumped in the seat next to him. He smiled; Richie did look awkward in the school uniform. A blazer and tie seemed wrong on a boy whose favorite pair of jeans were full of holes and stained.

"Better get going," Duncan told him gently.

Richie looked at him with an expression that would reduce any mother to tears. "Mac, c'mon, please?" he begged pitifully one last time fully aware that it wasn't going to work.

"Sorry, you have to go," Duncan assured him. Richie's eyes fell. "Hey, it's not going to be all that bad. I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends."

"Yeah, I'm sure me and those guys have a lot in common," Richie mumbled looking at the circle of boys standing on the stairs.

"Sure you do. I know you're not the only kid in Seacouver who likes basketball, roller-blading, girls, and Baywatch. Just because those kids grew up with more money than you doesn't make you any different," Duncan assured him becoming aware of Richie's true fear. "You're just like them: a guy whose parents are making him go to school because it will make him a better person. And that girl's already staring at you," he added spotting a brunette trying to nonchalantly get a better view of Richie around her friends. "You better get in there, class is about to start and you still need to meet with the headmaster. You remember how to get to his office?" Tessa and Richie had met with him the Friday before to get Richie enrolled.

Richie sighed heavily and opened the door. "Yeah, I remember."

"I'll see you when you get home, okay?"

"Yeah, see ya," Richie said softly getting out.

"Are you sure you don't want someone to pick you up?" Duncan asked finding very difficult all of a sudden to force Richie to go to school.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Richie's pitiful tone, face, and slumped shoulder weren't helping.

"Okay, bye."

"Bye." Richie closed the door and walked past the boys up the steps and into the building. He navigated his way through the halls and into the office.

"May I help you?" A nun asked.

"Uh, yeah. I'm Joel MacLeod, I'm supposed to pick up my schedule," Richie said awkwardly, he could lie to anyone, but nuns made him nervous.

"Oh, yes, Mr. MacLeod, I have it right here. If you will wait just a minute Aaron will be here to help you get your books," she said handing Richie a couple papers. "That's you locker and your gym locker combinations and you schedule." She pointed everything out. Richie nodded and looked it all over. "You can take a seat right over there." Richie nodded again and sat down.

A couple minutes later another boy walked in wearing the same maroon blazer with the school crest on the pocket and tie Richie was. He walked straight to Richie and stuck out his hand.

"I'm Aaron Travis," he said with a smile.

"Ric- - Joel MacLeod," Richie answered giving Aaron's hand a half-hearted shake.

"Well, c'mon lets get this over with," Aaron said enthusiastically gesturing for Richie to follow him. "First days suck. I've been going here for five years and I still hate the first day," Aaron continued leading Richie down the hall. "But don't worry, St. Matt's isn't that bad, it's one of the better schools around here." Richie didn't answer. "So, you a military brat?" he asked indicating the Army messenger bag Richie had slung on his left shoulder and across his chest.

"No, just liked it. If I'm gonna be stuck in this get-up I want something that's a little more me."

"I hear ya. Some of the jerks around here. . . well, with uniforms you can really tell a guy by his shoes and back-pack." He stopped and examined Richie's scuffed boots. "For instance, you are not one of those Richie Rich types. You are a fun loving trouble oriented guy, aren't ya?"

"Yeah, I guess," Richie answered with a grin starting to warm up to this Aaron Travis guy. "What about you?"

"I'm your type of guy," Aaron said returning Richie's grin. "You stick with me, I'll tell you who to stay away from." They rounded the corner and were confronted with a large group of upper classmen crowding around a bulletin board. "Be calm, they can smell fear," Aaron whispered skirting the gathering. Richie followed accidentally bumping into a girl who seemed to have re-hemmed her school shirt.

"Hey!" she squealed turning to face him.

"Excuse me," he said politely and started to walk away, a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

"Watch where you're going," a large senior spat at him.

"I'll be more careful next time," Richie assured him smugly trying to leave again.

"What did you say?" the senior said keeping his grip.

"Lego," Richie demanded putting his hand on the senior's.

"Or what? You gonna call daddy's lawyer?"

Richie thrust out his chin and fixed a cold glare on him. "Not quite."

"Are you threatening me?"

"You first," Richie offered.

"Teacher!" someone warned and the senior immediately let go of Richie.

"You better watch your back, kid," he warned walking away.

"Joel, come on," Aaron pulled on Richie's arm and dragged him away. "You need to steer clear of that guy. He's nothing but trouble."

"He's nothing but an ass," Richie corrected following Aaron into the book room.

"A very large ass," Aaron reminded him. "Let me see your schedule."

. . . . . .

"Hey! How did the first day go?" Tessa asked excitedly as Richie shuffled in through the back door to her workshop.

"Excruciating."

"That bad, huh?" Tessa asked with a laugh. Richie scowled at her. "Don't worry, I'm sure tomorrow will be better."

"Tomorrow? You can't honestly expect me to go back tomorrow," Richie groaned.

"Of course I can. We made a deal."

"No, you guys made a deal. I'm got blackmailed."

"Either way, you're going tomorrow and the next day and so on and so forth until you graduate."

Richie made a face. "We'll see."

"Hey, you're back!" Duncan greeted him entering the workshop. "How'd it go?"

"Excruciating," Tessa answered dramatically for Richie flashing Duncan a grin.

"This isn't funny you guys," Richie whined. "You can't do this to me!"

"Of course we can. As far as the school is concerned, Joel, we are your parents. We've earned the right to torture you. There's nothing you can do about it," Duncan assured him with a grin. "Do you have any homework?"

"No," Richie lied.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Iduno, you never believe me," he shrugged. Duncan fixed him with a calculating stare. "What? I don't." Duncan continued the look and Tessa raised her eyebrows.

"The headmaster said that sophomores have homework every night," she reminded him.

Richie thought for a minute. The headmaster was Father Perry, a priest; priests don't lie. "Fine, I have a little, alright?" he sighed.

"Then you better get at it," Duncan told him.

"Can't I do something down here first? I'll do homework after dinner, I swear."

"You want to work?" Tessa asked.

"Not really, but it beats history."

"No deal," Duncan told him. "Homework first, then you can work."

"But you'll be closed by the time I get done," Richie insisted.

"That's the great thing about living upstairs, it doesn't matter what time it is when you get done. You can clean everything up after dinner."

Seeing that once again he had been defeated, Richie sighed heavily and went upstairs to do his homework.

"We need to discuss these things before one of us takes over," Tessa said. "Homework right after school? I think he should get at least an hour to relax first. You've never been to school, you don't know how stressful it can be."

"Fine," Duncan consented. "But no working until all his homework is done, Saturdays included."

"Okay," Tessa nodded. "In bed by ten thirty school nights."

"Of course."

"Midnight weekends."

"Eleven," Duncan challenged.

"Eleven thirty, unless we both agree to an exception."

"Okay. . . did we miss anything?"

"Consequences," Tessa added. "Can we ground him?"

"Why not? But what for?"

"Not doing his homework?" she offered. "Staying up late. . . skipping, which will happen."

"No doubt. Grades? What are the standards? A's?"

"Nothing below a C. Some classes are hard. As long as he's doing the work he should be okay."

"C+."

Tessa nodded. "Deal. Now, is that everything?"

"How about what I think?" Richie asked bitterly from the top of the stairs. "Or does that not matter?"

"Richie, calm down we were going to tell you," Duncan said.

"Yeah, tell me. What happened to checking before you made decisions involving me? You used to. Am I too young for that, too?"

"No," Tessa interjected. "We just needed to have an idea of what we wanted before we brought it up."

"What you wanted. Right, got it," Richie answered obviously not happy with their view on the situation.

"Richie- -"

"I have homework, apparently I gotta be done before ten-thirty," Richie interrupted turning and disappearing back into the apartment forgetting what he had gone back out to ask.

. . . . . .

Over the next week a new set of rules were set. After school Richie had an hour to do whatever he wanted, go out, watch TV, talk on the phone, work in the store. . . but at 5:30 he had to drop whatever he was doing to do his homework. He would take over the kitchen table until he was done or dinner was ready, whichever came first. After dinner he would finish his homework, or if he was already done do some kind of work down in the store. He was in bed at 10:30 weekdays an hour later weekends. Richie slowly and begrudgingly settled into the new routine. The one thing that bothered him most was they began restricting what he ate: no sodas, less sugar more fruit, and they were more insistent that he ate his vegetables. He felt like he was eight all over again. Nobody had ever really told him what to do for a long time; he didn't like that it was starting again now.