"Okay, hand it over," Aaron demanded as he sat down to lunch with Natalie and Richie. Due to the need to run all the way across the school Richie and Aaron had not had a chance to exchange schedules after Sister Patricia threatened to paddle Richie in front of the class as the bell rang. Richie pulled out his new schedule as did Natalie and they all leaned over the table with their heads bowed in the center to see if they had any classes together.

"Oh! English!" Natalie exclaimed. "All three of us share sixth period."

"Wonder who made that mistake?" Richie snickered.

"Who's the teach? M. Colazano?" Aaron retook his seat and pondered the mystery.

"You okay, Joel?" Natalie asked. "You look pale."

"It's nothing," Richie told her. "Head rush." Richie swallowed hard and concentrated on his steak fingers. He had once known a M. Colazano. as a matter of fact he had known him quite intimately. 'There's no way it's him,' Richie told himself. 'What would he be doing teaching at a private Catholic school? And even if it is him, you're nearly eighteen and Joel MacLeod; not nine and Richie Ryan; he won't recognize you.'

"Don't you think, Mac? Mac?" Aaron waved his hand in front of Richie's face. "Earth to Mac, come in, Mac."

"Huh!" Richie grunted in surprise. "Sorry, what?"

"The sarge was way out of line threatening you like that."

"Who?"

"Sister Patricia, you know the whole paddling thing?"

"Can she still do that?" Natalie asked.

"Apparently she can," Aaron shrugged. "Cause she was ready to let Mac have it, but the bell rang and she lost jurisdiction."

Natalie grinned. "I would so pay to see that little thing try to chase Joel down. She better have the angels on her side 'cause otherwise it's not happening."

"Ah, I might let her get a shot in, you know, to let her feel good about herself," Richie allowed trying to soften the uneatable steak finger in the goopy gravy. "Did they get a new cook or something? This stuff is worse than hospital food." He pushed the tray away and decided to wait until he got home to eat.

By fifth period Richie was regretting his decision to forgo lunch and clutched his stomach with one hand as he filled out his twelve millionth 'Getting to know you' survey that day. Luckily Duncan had coached him on exactly what to put when it came to the important stuff.

'Full Name: Joel Richard MacLeod

Parents: Duncan and Tessa MacLeod

Address: 23 Westbrook Av.

Telephone Number: 867-5309

Age: 17

Birthday: September 20, 1975

Place of Birth: Paris, France

Previous schools attended: Princeton Boy's School of London

Hobbies: Cars and Motorcycles

Job (if applicable): MacLeod Antiques

Hours you work: Whenever my parents let me (they own it)

Do you like to read?: No

Do you consider yourself a good student?: Depends on your definition of good

Do you drive?: Yes

Do you have your own vehicle?: Yes

If so what is it?: the only motorcycle in the parking lot

What other classes are you taking?: the ones I was given because they changed my schedule and I got no say

Are you looking forward to another year at St. Matthew's Academy?: Not particularly. but I don't have a choice now do I?

How are your math skills now?: cruddy

What do you hope to learn in this math class?: Pre-Calc stuff?'

Richie put his pencil down and sighed deeply. The first day was almost over all he had to do was sit through this class, English, and Study Hall and he could go home and eat. That wouldn't be so bad. After going through the tedious task of getting books assigned, Mr. Johnson gave them the rest of the period to goof off as long as they didn't get to loud. Richie chatted with the kids sitting around him about their summers until the bell rang. On his way out the door Mr. Johnson stopped him.

"You're Joel, right?"

"Uh-huh. I mean, yes."

He smiled. "I've heard rumor that you're quite the little wise guy."

"Quite possibly," Richie answered with a slight nod. He could tell that he had landed in the right class; Mr. Johnson was going to be a cool teacher.

"Well, I'm warning you. I was too and look where I ended up. Change you hooligan ways before you end up in school for the rest of your life."

This time Richie smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Oh, and just so you know," Mr. Johnson added as Richie began to leave. "I fully intend to teach you 'Pre-Calc stuff' this year, so don't worry your wise ass little head about that."

"You do realize you just cussed in school, right?" Richie pointed out.

"Our little secret."

"Until you give me a bad grade, then I might have to report you to the headmaster for disrupting my learning environment."

"Mr. MacLeod, are you black mailing me?" the teacher laughed.

"No," Richie told him with an exaggerated innocent grin. "I'm just giving you a heads--" The bell rang. "Aw, man! Late on the first day!" He turned and prepared to run past the hall monitors.

"Ah!" Mr. Johnson stopped him. "Here." He scribbled on a piece of paper. "You were helping me with the books, now get to class."

Richie looked down at the hall pass in his hands and grinned. "Thanks."

"Well, it is partly my fault. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Mr. Johnson!" Richie sauntered down the halls to his next class, lazily waving his pass in Farther Parker's face as the priest approached him about being in the hall while class was in session.

"On your way then, Mr. MacLeod."

"Of course, Farther. Nice weather we're having isn't it?" Richie continued his non-too-hurried walk to his next class. 'Full Name: Joel Richard MacLeod.' he recited the questionnaire to himself. By the time he opened the door he was at 'Do you have a vehicle?' Casting a lazy grin at the class, Richie didn't even look at the teacher as he put the pass their desk on his way to the one Aaron and Natalie had saved for him.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. MacLeod," the teacher remarked dryly.

"Anytime," Richie assured him as he began to fill out the paper on his desk.

"A little cocky for the first day aren't we?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Richie looked up and spoke to the teacher as they wrote their name on the blackboard. "I hadn't realized that being late for helping another teacher was considered cocky. It won't happen again."

"You'll do well to mind your manners, young man."

"My apologies again." Richie had made it his duty in every class to test out the teachers and see who would and wouldn't allow a little fun. This guy was obviously not up for fun. After today, Richie would do his best to behave in class.

"Well," the teacher started turning around. "My name is Mitch Colazano. You can call me Mr. Colazano." Richie took a sharp breath and sunk down in his chair trying to become invisible.

"Are you okay, Joel?" Natalie asked. "You're pale again."

"I, uh. don't um. I think it was the steak," he whispered back. "Don't worry about it."

"As I was saying," Mitch interrupted them. "If you two," he got a good look at Richie. "If you two don't mind me interrupting your flirting." Richie could tell he was trying to place his face. "This year we will cover Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, To Kill a Mockingbird, Huckleberry Finn, and Author Miller's play The Crucible. You will each be responsible for getting your own copies of each book that you can write in. I will give you ample warning before you need each book. So by next Monday I want you all to have Romeo and Juliet ready to go. I have a class schedule that I will be sticking to, so you will have your assignments handed out to you on a monthly basis. They will also be on that bulletin board weekly. So there is no excuse to not get your work done. Now, Mr. Tardy Pants," he looked at Richie. "Why don't you hand out these for me?" He held up a stack of papers. Slowly Richie stood and went to the front of the room. "What's your name?"

"Joel MacLeod," Richie answered hoarsely.

"Are you always this moody?"

"No, sir," Richie shook his head and kept his eyes down. Mitch always talked about how much he liked his eyes.

"Are you feeling alright?" Mitch reached out and put his hand on Richie's shoulder. "You don't look so good."

"I think I just ate something bad," Richie mumbled taking the papers and going to the far side of the class to hand them out. He couldn't understand anything that was being said as he felt Mitch's eyes flicker toward him every few seconds.

"These, too." Mitch handed Richie another stack of papers when he tried to go back to his seat. Richie took them with the sinking realization that even if Mitch couldn't place him, he still liked him. Richie quickly finished and shoved the papers back into Mitch's hands as he squeezed past him to get to his desk. "I'll make up a seating chart tonight, be prepared to hate your seat tomorrow!" Mitch yelled as the class began to file out of the room after the bell rang. "You," he smiled at Richie. "I have a feeling I'm going to need you within swatting range."

Richie gulped and went straight to the office before heading home.

. . . . . .

"Hey, how'd it go?" Duncan asked as Richie came into view in the office door.

"Can you sign this?" Richie shoved a very official looking paper across the desk.

"What is it?"

"A thing saying it's okay with you for me to change classes."

"I thought you liked you schedule?"

"They changed them and I got stuck with a cruddy English teacher. The rest of my classes are fine, it's just English I need to change."

"Won't changing one class disrupt your whole schedule?"

"No," Richie told him. "See the teacher I want has a sixth period class too. And I already asked her if she had room for me, which she does. So I just need you and Mom to sign that."

"I'll talk to Tessa," Duncan told him. "And we'll discuss it at dinner."

That night at dinner Richie barely picked at his food. He had been starving when he showed up for English; by the time he left he didn't think he'd eat for a week.

"I thought you liked Barbecue chicken," Tessa said in slight concern as he stabbed a piece with his fork then let it plop down onto his plate for the third time.

"I do, just. big snack," he lied.

"Tessa and I have been talking," Duncan started in is new fatherly tone that he had perfected over the summer. "And as long as you have a good, valid reason, you can change classes."

"So why do you want to change?" Tessa asked.

"I, uh. um, you see it's. it's because." Richie stammered as his mind raced for a reason. "It's cause I'm dyslexic," he admitted.

"What?"

"Ms. Walters was a student teacher last year in my English class. She says I'm dyslexic and that's why I have trouble reading and understanding stuff." It was all true, Richie wasn't lying. For some reason he just couldn't bring himself to give the real reason. He guessed it was because he just wanted to move on with his life and not have to face everything that happened to him for a third time. "And she helped me a lot last year. In the mornings and during class. Junior year is lots of reading and I just want a teacher who I know can help me understand."

"Sounds like a good reason to me. You can change classes. We'll sign it after dinner," Duncan decided. "But I think we have something more important to talk about now. Why didn't you tell us?"

Richie looked at this plate. "Tell you what?"

"That you have a learning disability."

"Don't call it that," Richie insisted. "It makes me sound like some kind of retard or something."

"Richie, you're not retarded, you just learn differently," Tessa told him.

"That explains why you had so much trouble in your classes. If you had told us we wouldn't have been so hard on you about your grades. We could have helped you."

"Mac, you guys always got so mad at me. I wasn't going to bring that up too."

"You should have," Duncan told him. "You don't need to keep secrets from us. Finding out your little quirks isn't going to change how we feel about you."

"My quirks? Yeah, some quirks. I'm so quirky I had to go to a shrink."

"Richie." Tessa reached across the table and put her hand on his arm. "There is no shame in needing to talk to Karen every now and then. It's perfectly normal. You shouldn't feel bad about it. And you shouldn't feel bad about your dyslexia, either. It's very easy to work with. I did."

Richie looked up. "You're snowing me, right? You're dyslexic?"

"You are?" Duncan added.

"Yes, although I found out at much younger age than seventeen. I can teach you what my tutor taught me. I'm a very good reader now. There are all sorts of tricks. Like take your notes in a fine tip marker. The colors will catch your eyes and help you to concentrate. Read out loud when you can. Like when your doing your homework, your brain will start memorizing what words look like. And after a couple years it won't be so hard for you anymore."

"Ms. Walters mentioned the color thing."

"I know lots of tricks to help."

. . . . . .

The next morning Richie went to school early because he had to get both teachers to sign the form and then submit it to the office then wait for an official schedule change. Mitch's door was open so he just walked in a slapped the paper down on his desk.

"Can you sign that?" he asked.

"Why?" Mitch asked looking up.

"Cause I wanna change classes."

"Because I want to change classes," Mitch corrected.

"Will you sign it, or not?" Richie was beginning to get irritable.

"Not. You will remain in my class."

"Why?" Richie demanded. "What do you care? One less paper to grade."

"You're not leaving my class because I want you."

"Because you want me in your class," Richie tried to clarify.

"I mean what I said."

"Fine. But I'm telling you, you better take it back," he warned. "Or you won't have any classes."

"Are you going to report me?"

"Yeah." Richie turned to leave happy to find his way out without having to tell anyone who he really was.

"You're not going to do that, Richie."

Richie stopped and turned back around. "Why not? And the names Joel, check the paper," he tried not to rise to the bait.

"I think we both know it's not." Mitch got up. "Take a seat."

"No, I'm going to the head-"

"Take a seat," Mitch repeated. Richie sat. Mitch closed the door.

"I don't think your name is Joel. I think it's Richie."

"Well, you're wrong. I've been Joel my whole life."

"I know you forged your school records." Mitch didn't falter from his mission. "But don't worry I won't tell anybody, Richie."

Richie knew he wasn't fooling anyone with his act, so he gave in. "You won't?"

"Of course, not. But since you're getting what you want, I think it's only fair I get what I want." Mitch stood behind Richie and began rubbing his shoulders. "I still love you, Richie."

Richie pulled away. "Don't feed me that line. I know it's a load of crap."

Mitch pulled Richie back towards him and put his arms around the boy's shoulders. "I love you and I want to make love to you. Just like we did all those years ago. And you're not going to tell anyone. Because if you tell my secret, I'll tell yours."

"What makes you so sure I won't tell?" Richie asked.

"Because I know you couldn't have done it yourself. My guess is the people posing as your parents did it for you. You don't want them to get into trouble, now do you?" Richie didn't say anything. If people started investigating Duncan then his secret would be in jeopardy. "So do we have a deal?"

Richie wanted to cry as he heard his own voice seal his fate. "Deal."