Author's Note -- Hmm... It's three in the morning, I have 400 pages of reading left to do before my final tomorrow afternoon, and I can't remember the difference between xylem and phloem... But it's been seven days, so it's time to update! (Can you tell I'm excited about the study break?)
Thanks to everyone that's reviewed! The feedback is very much appreciated and aside from that, it's nice to know that I'm not the only Mulcahy fan out there.
Scientia – Leviticus
The sun shone down cheerfully on the schoolyard as groups of children gathered, laughing and talking as they waited for the bell to ring, signaling the start of another school year. The black-robed sisters mingled among them, chatting with the returning students and being introduced to their newest charges. Most of these new students had been placed in the care of older siblings.
Long practice helped the sisters pick out personalities based on how those youngest children held the hands of their older siblings. A few were shy, clinging protectively to not only hands, but also trousers and skirts. Some were more adventurous, being held in place only by the firm grasps of their keepers. And then there were those being dragged forcibly into the yard, reluctant to begin school for their various reasons.
"I don't want to go to school," one of the latter declared firmly, kicking up dust as his oldest sister pulled him toward the school doors.
"Yes, you do," she told him impatiently. "And don't drag your feet. You'll scuff your new shoes."
"Don't care," he replied petulantly as the bell rang.
"School was all you could talk about last week," she snapped, watching the other students scurry toward the doors, shepherded along by the sisters.
"I changed my mind."
She rolled her eyes and tugged harder on his arm. "You don't have a choice. You have to go. Now hurry up or we'll be late."
"I don't like school," he asserted, planting his feet firmly and refusing to take another step.
"You haven't tried it," she retorted, bracing herself to yank on his arm again.
"Just leave him, Mary," another girl said, pausing as she rushed past the pair. "You got him this far; the sisters will round him up sooner or later. But if you don't hurry, we'll be late, and we've got Sister Augustine this year."
"Come on, John," Mary hissed, using both hands in a final attempt to forcibly bring him the last few yards up to the building. The obstinate six-year-old responded by plopping down to the ground, thwarting any further efforts.
"I had to give up on Jamie," the other girl told Mary, gesturing out into the schoolyard where another boy sat staring up at the sky. "If you leave him, we can still make it inside before the tardy bell."
With a disgusted look, Mary dropped John's hand and declared, "You'll really get it now, John, and just see if I care."
He didn't reply, instead looking up at her defiantly. After a second, she broke away with a sigh, running toward the building with her friend. She left him sitting in the dust, his gaze turning to the group of black-robed women waiting just outside the school doors.
The two girls hurried past the sisters, issuing breathless apologies as the tardy bell rang. The sisters scattered into the school toward their waiting students, and the two boys were left unaccompanied for the moment. The second boy scuttled closer to John, announcing, "I'm Jamie."
"I'm John," he answered, looking critically at his disheveled companion. "Why don't you want to go to school?" he questioned after a moment.
"I don't like inside," Jamie revealed, sifting a handful of dirt through his fingers and squinting up at the sun.
"I don't like the sisters," John reported matter-of-factly. "My brothers said they're mean."
"Maybe that's because your brothers don't behave themselves," a voice interjected from behind them. The two boys spun around to stare with round eyes. "What do your sisters say, Mr Mulcahy?" the sister asked, arching an eyebrow delicately beneath her black veil.
"Kathy doesn't like having to sit with the other girls," John told her, regarding her with the same critical gaze.
"Well, Katherine would rather play baseball with the boys," the sister answered cheerfully. "What about Mary and Bridget?"
John shrugged and folded his arms over his chest. His two oldest sisters loved school, but he wasn't about to admit that. He knew that it would have proved the sister right, and experience with his own siblings had taught him the disadvantage of doing that.
"And you, Mr. Connell?" she questioned. "Why don't you want to go to school?"
"I don't like inside," he repeated, poking holes in the dirt with his fingers. "Ma don't let me bring bugs inside."
"We don't have any bugs," the sister told him, bending down to look him in the eye, "but we do have a fish in the classroom to study. What if I let you feed the fish every morning?" As she asked, she reached out to pull his hand out of the dirt.
Jamie thought about it for a minute, squinting up at the sun and then looking back toward the sister. "Some fish eat bugs," he conceded. "And one time I seen a big fish eat some little fishes."
"Saw," John corrected. "And there's no such word as 'fishes.'"
"That's not quite true," the sister replied briskly. "We have two fish if they're both the same kind. We have two fishes if they're different kinds." She stood up, Jamie's hand in hers.
"But you only have one fish," John remarked critically.
"Why don't you go inside, Mr. Connell?" the sister suggested, releasing his hand and giving him a nudge in the direction of the building. "Sister Benedict will show you the fish."
Jamie took off eagerly toward the building, waving back over his shoulder at John. John watched him go before turning back to look up at the sister standing over him. He stared up at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something else. But she didn't, instead smiling at him and folding her own arms over her chest, echoing his pose back to him.
The two regarded one another curiously for a few moments, each waiting for the other to be the first to break the silence. "Why are yours so big?" he asked after a moment, unable to restrain his curiosity.
"Why are what so big?" she countered.
"Your beads," he answered. "They're really big. Bigger than my mom's."
"Well," she replied, lifting her rosary up and away from her cincture, "they're not just beads." She held it out toward him, and John stretched his hand up toward it, but she held it up just out of his reach, even as he climbed to his feet. "Why don't you come inside, and I'll show you?" she suggested.