"He's such a retard," Geoff Conway scoffed loudly in Richie's direction two weeks later during lunch at school. Richie turned in his chair to glare at him before going back to his hamburger. "Have you heard him read?" Geoff continued to the group of boys sitting around him. "Th-th-th-the." he imitated.

"Shut up," Aaron groaned shooting a sympathetic look at Richie. "Give the guy a break."

"Oh, so the teacher's pet is defending the retard, how cute," Geoff cooed.

"I swear if his nose was any higher in the air he'd poke God in the butt," Aaron mumbled.

"Don't listen to him, Joel," Natalie, the girl Duncan had noticed staring at Richie when he dropped him off the first day, said patting his arm. "I think it's cute."

"Did you hear that?" Geoff chortled. "She thinks it's cute that the 'tard can't read!" all his friends started laughing. Geoff, Natalie and Richie were all in the same English class. The week before Richie had been called on to read aloud; he wasn't very good at it. Geoff had been making fun of him ever since.

"He just stutters," Natalie shot back.

"Nat, shut up," Richie groaned. "You're just making it worse."

"You better listen to your retard boyfriend," Geoff advised her. "I don't wanna have to mention about how you got your period all over yourself last year in theology."

Natalie turned bright red and looked like she was about to cry. "Lay off, man," Richie said turning around again. "You wanna make fun of me, fine. Leave her alone."

"S-s-s-sorry!" Geoff laughed.

Richie started to stand up, but Aaron stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Let it go, Joel."

"Joel MacLeod, what the hell kinda name is that?" the bully asked.

Richie rolled his eyes. "It's not like I picked it," he shot back. "My parents did."

"Are they 'tards, too? Do you just belong to a whole family of them? A whole family of retards?"

Before Geoff knew what hit him, Richie did. "What did you say about my parents?"

Geoff got up and glared down at Richie. "You heard me, it m-m-m-must be ge- gen-ge-genetic. You got a loser gene from your loser mom."

Richie's eyes flashed and his fist flew up connecting hard with Geoff's jaw. "Shut the hell up about my mom."

"Don't touch me, man," the bully warned.

"Like this?" Richie asked shoving him lightly. "Or this?" He kicked him in the shin. By this time the entire cafeteria of maroon blazered boys and plaid skirted girls were staring intently at them and whispering. "Or maybe you meant this," he offered throwing his arms around Geoff's shoulders and wrestling the much bigger boy to the ground.

"Fight!" a freshman yelled excitedly. And the entire cafeteria went into chaos. All the kids got up and rushed to surround the wrestling seventeen- year-olds cheering them on loudly.

"Joel stop!" Natalie pleaded.

"Kill 'em, Geoff!"

"Kick his ass, Joel!"

"Get him for me, Mac!" Richie had to think for a second before he realized that this time he was Mac. Geoff took advantage of Richie's momentary distraction to push him into a table leg sending the trays of food splattering all over the ground and both of them.

"Get 'em!"

"Oh! Right in the nose!" Excited chatter rippled through the crowd to the unfortunate kids in the back that the first blood of the fight had been spilled.

"Stop this right now!" a short nun demanded elbowing her way to the center of the ring of students. "Everyone go to your classes! Anyone left in the cafeteria will be punished!" she warned. The crowd quickly began to scatter in all directions as students rushed for their bags before running into the halls.

"Joel, come on!" Aaron called grabbing Richie's books as well as his own. "Let's get out of here!" he grabbed Natalie by the arm and began to drag her away.

Richie and Geoff were still fighting on the floor ignoring Sister Katherine's orders to 'cease this hooliganism' when Father Parker, the algebra teacher, and Mr. Killen, the gym coach, came in.

"All right, son," Mr. Killen grunted pulling Richie up by the back of his collar. Father Parker reached down to haul up Geoff.

"What's this all about?" he demanded.

"He started it," Geoff spat glaring fiercely at Richie.

"Did not!" Richie yelled back trying to pull out of the coach's grip.

"You hit me!"

"I told you to shut up, you got fair warning!"

"You still started it!"

"I don't care who started it," Mr. Killen growled. "We're calling both of your parents."

Richie stopped struggling and twisted slightly to look at the teacher. "You're calling my parents?"

"Yes," Father Parker agreed. "To the headmaster's office, both of you." Geoff straightened his tie and turned to go checking his nose for blood then staring down at the red liquid on his hand. "We'll have the nurse check you out," Father Parker assured him.

"Get moving, MacLeod," Mr. Killen ordered giving Richie a push.

Richie slouched next to Geoff in the office and listened to him complain about his nose for twenty minutes before Duncan and Tessa arrived. Duncan looked sternly down at him and Tessa knelt down to inspect his face for any injury.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he answered not looking her in the eye.

"Good," she replied standing back up. She joined Duncan's glare and Richie slouched further down in the chair.

Geoff's parents came out of the office and Mrs. Conway rushed to her son's side to comfort him. "Are you okay, darling?" she soothed gently stroking his cheek. Tessa felt a pang of jealousy watching the other mother/son pair interact.

"Mr. and Mrs. MacLeod, the headmaster would like to speak with you," the secretary said leading Duncan and Tessa into the office. "Mr. and Mrs. Conway, Geoff, you may go home now." Mrs. Conway glared sternly at Richie for a brief moment before leading the still mortally wounded bully away.

Ten agonizing, excruciating, torturous, never ending minutes later the office door reopened and Richie's 'parents' came out.

"Come on, Joel, get your stuff," Duncan said.

"Uh, I um, kinda don't. have it?" Richie stammered.

"Where is it?"

"Aaron's got it."

"I'll have him bring it down," the secretary said looking up Aaron's schedule on the computer and calling his class. Less than five minutes later Aaron appeared carrying Richie's bag with a big grin on his face.

"Mac," he started apparently having given Richie a new nickname. "You are the talk of the sch- - Hello Mr. and Mrs. MacLeod," he greeted carefully forcing the smile from his face. "I'm Aaron Travis, it's nice to." with a simple shake of his head Richie silenced him. Aaron nodded and handed Richie his bag. "See you tomorrow."

"See ya," Richie replied glumly. "If I live that long."

"Come on, Joel," Duncan said again. Richie shouldered his bag and shot Aaron a 'pray for me' look before following them out of the school.

When they got to the loft Richie was sent to his room and he quietly went mumbling something about a test tomorrow. Duncan and Tessa talked in hushed voices about what to do with Richie. School wise they had talked the headmaster down from suspension to a week of detention before and after school; what Richie's punishment was going to be at home they didn't know yet.

"We should let him explain," Tessa insisted. "If he feels he was justified for what he did."

"That doesn't change the fact that he can't fight in school. If he was any other kid I'd feel the same way, sometimes that's the only option you feel you have, especially at his age. But he can't risk getting caught. I forged his records, used his same grades but I couldn't leave him at the same schools. So I 'enrolled' him at a private boarding school that some immortals fabricated to fake their credentials. If anyone starts to pry too deeply his cover could be blown, and then he'll get exposed, reported, and sent to juvie. We can't risk that. He can't risk that."

"But Duncan, that doesn't change who he is. We just have to explain it to him. He doesn't know."

"Just explaining it to him won't work, Tess," Duncan reminded her. "This is Richie we're talking about. All he's ever done is get in trouble and get out of it. That doesn't teach him anything. He needs to learn that he can't do this anymore. We can explain it to him," he assured her. "But he still needs to be punished."

"Fine, but you're the one to do it. and I don't support it," Tessa answered resolutely. "Whatever you decide happens, but I won't agree with you and I don't care if Richie knows."

"Tessa, we have to be a combined front here. You can't baby him. I understand if you don't agree, but don't say that in front of Richie. He'll try to find a way to use it to his advantage that we're divided. Raising a child doesn't work if the parents openly don't agree."

"What do you know about raising children?" Tessa shot back. "Richie is different. This is a very unique situation. He's obviously been through a lot to do what he did. There is something seriously wrong with him. The last thing he needs to think is that we don't love him. If that happens we wake up tomorrow and he's gone."

"He can't get away with it, Tessa," Duncan insisted. They stared at each other for a minute.

"Fine," Tessa relented. "He gets punished. But nothing too harsh. This is the first time we've done this, that should be clue enough that he did something wrong."

"Do we go talk him?" Duncan wondered looking down the hall at Richie's closed door.

Tessa got up and opened the door to ask Richie if he wanted anything.

"No, thank you," he answered quietly not lifting his eyes from his book.

"Where are your school clothes so I can wash them?"

"On the chair."

Tessa picked up his ketchup stained oxford shirt and khaki pants off the chair. "I'll call you when dinner's ready."

"Okay."

She left and went back into the living room. "We talk to him at dinner," she decided.

. . . . . .

Two and a half hours later Tessa called Richie from his room to eat. He sat down quietly at the table and stared at his plate. He didn't mention that they had served hamburgers at school that day. Duncan noticed that Richie was void of all his usual dinner time habits; he didn't complain about not being allowed a soda, gripe about school, tell vulgar jokes that had been shared that day at lunch, he didn't even make eye contact with anybody. He never spoke unless spoken to first and even then gave the shortest politest answers possible. When dinner was over he quietly went about helping Duncan clear the table as he always did, but his behavior made the usually enjoyable task unbelievably uncomfortable. He didn't loudly complain about Tessa's cooking or purposely forget to rinse dishes before he put them in the dishwasher so Duncan would have to pull them back out and give them to him. Instead he went about his chores as quickly and efficiently as possible before trying to go back to his room.

"Not yet, Richie," Duncan told him. "We need to talk first."

"I've got a test tomorrow," Richie tried desperately to make an excuse to leave.

"You'll have plenty of time to study," Tessa told him sitting at the table. Richie followed her example and studied a scratch on his hand carefully.

"What happened today at school?" Duncan asked.

"I got in a fight," Richie answered quietly.

"Who started it?"

"It depends on who you ask."

"Richie." Duncan warned.

"I threw the first punch, but he provoked me," the boy explained.

"What did he do to provoke you?"

"He was stayin' stuff."

"That's it. He was just talking?"

"About me."

"What about you?"

"He was making fun of me," Richie was becoming defensive.

Duncan paused. "About what?"

"The way I read," he answered after a second. "He said I was retarded."

"So you hit him?" Duncan looked at Tessa; Richie's excuse wasn't very justified.

"I told him to stop."

"And he kept going."

"And then he started talking about you guys, I got mad, and hit him," Richie admitted. "I know I shouldn't have. But he wouldn't stop, he's been doing it forever."

"Why didn't you tell someone?"

"This is high school, Mac," Richie answered. "That just would have made it worse."

"So you decided to take matters into your own hands?"

"I know I shouldn't have, okay?"

"No, that doesn't make it okay, Richie you still did it. And you can't do stuff like that," Duncan told him sternly. "Not just because it's wrong, but because attracting too much attention to yourself could make people curious. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"I could blow the whole operation," Richie answered.

"Exactly. You almost got suspended. As it is you're at school an hour early and an hour late for a week. And while you have detention. you're grounded. When you get home, you go to your room and do your homework. You stay in your room, no TV, no phone, no going out. Understand?"

"Mac are you serious?" Richie asked. "This has got to be a joke!"

"No joke, Richie. You have to learn, this is the only way how."

"Can't I do extra chores or something?"

"That's a good idea. You want out of your room, you're cleaning."

"What?"

"It's only a week, Richie," Tessa reminded him.

"So until Friday," Richie said hopefully. It was Tuesday, that wouldn't be too bad.

"Until next Tuesday," Duncan clarified. "Unless of course you do something to change that."

"Over the weekend, too?"

"Yes," Duncan said. "Any more questions or are you ready to study?"

Richie looked at Tessa. "Tessa," he whined. "C'mon."

Tessa took a deep breath. "Unless you have something important to say, go to your room," she told him.

Richie glanced between the two one last time before sighing and leaving the table.

"I can't do this, Duncan," Tessa sighed once Richie's door was slammed shut.

"Don't slam the door!" Duncan yelled before turning to Tessa. "We have to. It's only a week."