Pete awoke before Lampie, next morning, and edged cautiously into the kitchen, unsure of how the change in routine would affect Nora.
If she were tired…did she get mean?
"Morning, Pete," she said brightly, startling him when she came from behind him, carrying a small blue luncheon basket with her. She was wearing a smart patterned dress with a creamy yellow tie under the collar like sailors did. Her boots clacked on the floor wherever she went. She looked awful sharp.
Pete nodded a greeting, placing his hands on the back of a chair. Surely chores needed doing; he wasn't sure he was allowed to go up to the lighthouse by himself, though, and he wasn't sure what other chores there were to do; a lighthouse kept odd hours. Not like a farm.
"Sit down! Do you like bacon?" Nora said over her shoulder, depositing the luncheon basket in the sink and procuring a cooking pan from a cupboard in the same movement.
Pete sat. "Yes, ma'am," he croaked, and then cleared his throat.
Nora eyed him critically. He was wearing his suit from yesterday, sans the coat and hat. And his boots were by the door. And he wore no tie. He couldn't tie it. "Wash up for breakfast. Comb your hair. And I'll make you something hot. Deal?"
Pete smiled. "Deal," he replied, and went up to the little bathroom to wash up.
He was reminded, again, of his mother. She used to return him to the pump to wash again if there ever remained dirt under his fingernails, though she never did so crossly. Nora was like that. Never cross.
Yet.
Pete combed his hair, washed his face and teeth, and thoroughly inspected his fingernails for stray dirt before returning to the table.
"Wonderful. Much better," Nora praised him, and Pete grinned, happy to please her. "I have apples; do you want me to cut it for your luncheon, or would you like to share it with me, now?"
"Now, please," Pete said certainly. It was looking to be a tradition; breakfasting on apples in Passamaquoddy. He wondered what he'd need a luncheon for; perhaps she was going to send him to work somewhere? It was awful nice of her to pack him a luncheon, to be sure, but he didn't strictly need it. Not after a generous breakfast like this. He knew he wouldn't be aching for food until the evening.
He wished he knew what to expect.
Pete's breakfast plate was a beauty of bacon, eggs, and toast, with the apple slices on the side.
Nora took no food, saying she'd eaten already, and instead sipped at her coffee. She had the rest of the apple slices in front of her, too, sharing with Pete, but he swore he saw her slip one onto his plate when he wasn't looking.
After his plate was cleared, and she handed him a towel so he could dry the dishes as she washed them, and the thing was done in no time at all.
"Okay," Nora said then, nodding at him. "I need you to get your coat and hat, get your shoes on, and bring me your tie to put on you. I'm going to make you a luncheon, and you are going to school," she said certainly.
Pete's face fell. He'd met the schoolmaster already. She'd threatened to send for a policeman. "Do I have to?" he said before he could stop himself.
Nora, though, wasn't cross. She just smiled. "That's the plan, yes," she said certainly. And then she turned him around and steered him towards the stairs.
Pete sought for a clock, then, to know how long he had before he'd be tardy. His old schoolmaster had given ten knuckle-wraps for being tardy, and it wasn't how he wanted to begin his day.
Instead of sending him by himself, though, it seemed Nora was willing to accompany him on the walk to school, though she insisted he hold his own lunch-pail.
"A sandwich, thermos of milk, and some carrots," she said simply, holding it out to him.
He didn't double check. It was more luncheon than he'd had regularly for…months. He remembered the sour cucumbers and green tomatoes that usually made up his lunch, and was even more grateful. He didn't care much for carrots, but they were a sight better than sour cucumbers, anyway.
Rounding the bend, seeing the schoolhouse in the distance, though, Pete lost his nerve.
He didn't want to go to school. Thanks to Elliot, he'd made an awful first impression on the schoolmaster. She'd give him a hard time, for sure. He wondered if Elliot had left, yet, to go find Paul. Part of him hoped not. It would be nice to know that he had someone in his corner, if things went poorly.
He glanced up at Nora, whose boots clacked smartly on the wooden walkway before they stepped back onto the dirt road.
"Nine and nine are eighteen," he tried.
"Really?" she said brightly, as though the information was entirely new to her.
Pete took a breath. "Nine times nine are eighty-one."
Nora didn't slow her gait. She offered a small smile. "Amazing," she said, as if highly impressed.
"2,000 pounds make a ton," Pete's heart was starting to go harder.
"Wow," Nora said in pretend surprise, again.
Pete pointed at the sign wishing you a fond farewell from the town. "That sign says 'Passamaquoddy.'"
He stopped walking, and Nora did, too, looking at the sign he was pointing at.
"You still have to go to school," she said, almost impatiently.
It was the closest Pete had heard to her sounding cross.
Two things happened, then: First, Pete noticed the familiar feeling settle in him of when he knew he was being followed—Elliot was being discreet, today, so it had taken a long time for Pete to notice, but now, he did, and it was nice to know that he wasn't alone.
Second, he noticed that Nora had put back that determined look on her face, and she turned and started walking, again. And there was no crossness whatever in her face. No grudge. No anger shown. No impatience.
Pete stopped her, touching her shoulder, but then pulling back. "Do…I have to like it?" he asked, downcast.
Nora seemed sympathetic to him, at last. "Like it or hate it, you have to go," she said in a pleading way. Then she put her hands on her hips. "Do you wanna be stupid when you grow up? Like the Gogans?"
Pete hadn't been expecting that. "Okay, I like it. I like it," he said placatingly, and Nora smiled at him, again, nodding.
And they continued walking.
Presently, though, Pete could see other children walking with them. Nora seemed to distance herself, then, to give him space as his potential school-mates crowded around him.
He'd forgotten this. Being paid attention to by other children. And not for something bad.
"Are you the boy with the dragon?"
Oh, that was easy. "Yep," Pete said certainly.
He'd been afraid he would be dressed too smart for school. But his suit looked just like another boy's, only lighter. He blended in perfectly.
It was a girl with a green dress talking to him. Her hair had been curled in those ringlets the girls at his old school had always worn. She had several books in her arms, and her dress had a sailor's collar. "Is it a he-dragon or a she-dragon?" she continued to press him.
"You don't name girls Elliot," Pete said by way of answer, and she seemed satisfied.
"Where is he?" asked another girl. Her dress was lilac, and she had ribbons at the bottoms of her braids.
"Following me," Pete said promptly. Then he wondered if he shouldn't have said anything. He had no claim, here. They could denounce him as a liar.
But then something interesting happened…
"Elliot the dragon is walking right there?"
"I can't seem to make out his color."
And…the comments weren't pointed. They weren't accusatory.
"Mostly green," Pete said, looking back to where Elliot was standing, as if to make sure.
Of course, he was invisible.
"He's not too big, is he?" asked a boy whose hat was a match for Pete's, though brown, instead of white.
"Regular dragon size," Pete answered him.
"Wow," said someone else, and together, they all looked where Pete was looking.
As though they could see him, too.
A tap at his shoulder. "Pete?"
He turned, and it was Nora.
"School," she said simply, eyes widening.
He followed sheepishly behind her.
He did feel a little better about the whole thing, though.
These kids hadn't acted like they didn't want anything to do with him. They hadn't acted like he was a liar or a jinx.
They were…friendly.
Nora seemed to sense the kids still trailing after them, and commented, laughing, that she felt like a duck, with a gaggle of ducklings behind her.
A few of the kids tittered, and Nora spread out her arms, as if to lead a game of 'follow the leader.'
The other kids formed a line gamely behind them, and Nora led them in a wavy line, in a tight circle, and then around a building to come up to a water channel, built into the shore, where the fishermen usually gathered.
A lot more of them were there than was probably normal, but Pete didn't give it a second thought, until he heard his name.
"There's the cause of it! That kid Pete! From the day he come to town, the fishing turned sour!"
The voice carried from across the channel, because the man speaking was yelling.
Pete stopped walking.
Nora didn't. She marched right up to the edge of the waterway. "Don't be ridiculous," she snapped.
"It's that crazy dragon talk of his," the same man shouted.
"That kid's been nothing but bad luck wherever he goes," chimed in another fisherman, this one on their side of the channel He looked grizzled and mean, and strong, from a life of hefting fish. Pete walked toward him to stay close to Nora, who'd immediately marched in his direction, angry.
"You're a bunch of superstitious ding-dongs," she accused. She turned to address the first man, across the channel, to include him. "You know the fishing grounds shift from time to time."
"Elliot will make the fish come back," Pete called, not wanting them to think there was trouble.
"There he goes, talking dragons again," another fisherman said sarcastically from below. He was stacking lobster crates.
"Hey, kid! There ain't no room in this town for a dragon," called the first man, pointing a thick finger accusingly across the channel at Pete. "And there ain't no room in this town for jinxes like you, neither!"
Pete couldn't speak.
Nora could.
"Well, if there's enough room for a chowder-head like you, then there's more than enough room for a dragon," she called, and the children and a few fishermen laughed.
When it became clear that Nora wouldn't back down, nor that she'd let anything escalate further (if it wasn't clear enough by her blatant defense of Pete and Elliot, there was also the fact that she stayed within a few feet of him, and between him and the hostile fishermen), the children dispersed to play before the school bell rang.
To Pete's surprise, she didn't immediately head back to work at the lighthouse. She stayed behind with the children, and even took a turn to swing.
(She seemed surprised when Elliot offered her a push, but seemed to brush it off, thinking it was Pete.)
By the time the school bell rang, the children had lost track of time, and so the cross schoolmaster chastised their tardiness as she allowed them into the schoolhouse.
Pete wasn't sure what was going to happen.
Would she be on the side of the fishermen? Or the children?
"Good morning, Miss Taylor," Nora said brightly, walking up behind Pete as he approached her, the very last in the line.
"Good morning," the schoolmaster replied, not sounding at all like she meant it. "Thank you for making my students late, and for disrupting the entire schedule."
Pete looked at his feet. Late. Ten knuckle-wraps, if he was in his old school. And Miss Taylor was awful cross.
"You have a new student," Nora said by way of reply, ignoring the teacher's comment entirely.
Pete glanced at her, and then back at Miss Taylor, who seemed perplexed.
"I have?" she asked, though her face still looked cross. Maybe…it was just her face.
"This is Pete," Nora said, putting her hands on his shoulders, and…she sounded so proud, saying it.
Pete offered a small, not-quite smile.
"Oh, him," Miss Taylor said, and her face…went crosser. Her lips pursed together like she'd just tasted something sour, and she seemed to glower at nothing in particular, like she found the world lacking. She took a deep breath—her shoulders shifted back, and when next she spoke, she affected an imperious sort of tone Pete associated with lectures.
"Well, if he's a transfer, I'll have to have his records," she said matter-of-factly. And then she sort of…smiled in a not-happy way. Like…she knew that they hadn't brought the records with them.
Of course they hadn't.
Pete hadn't even told Nora his last name.
"Unfortunately, his old school burned down and his records were destroyed," Nora returned, sounding genuinely saddened at this turn of events.
Pete looked at her.
She had just…outright lied. Before God and everyone.
"Pete, give her nine times nine," Nora added hurriedly, and Pete turned back to Miss Taylor.
"Eighty-one," he recited certainly, back straight, speaking clearly. He knew what teachers liked, usually.
"Then I'll have to have his birth certificate," Miss Taylor rejoined.
"Tragically, the flames from the schoolhouse set fire to the city hall and his birth certificate went up with it," Nora said quickly.
She'd lied twice.
"Pete, give her a ton," Nora said quickly to Pete, again, and Pete turned back to Miss Taylor.
"2,000 pounds!" he chirped, offering a small smile, this time.
"Do you want him to spell Passamaquoddy?" Nora asked Miss Taylor, then, and the schoolmaster frowned.
"No, no, no! This is irregular, irregular, irregular!"
And then Nora's voice lost the bright cheeriness. She sounded almost like she had when she was defending Pete against the fishermen. "But he needs an education, education, education," she said evenly. "Surely you can't disagree with that?"
Pete twisted around to look at Miss Taylor, who sighed.
"I would if I could. But I can't," she said begrudgingly.
And that, it seemed, was that.
Nora put her hands on Pete's shoulders again, and squeezed them, and then pushed him slightly so he'd know it was all right to go into the schoolhouse.
So he did.
AUTHORS NOTE
Making the rounds!
Updating my WIPs!
Wearing out all of my shoes at the same rate!
It's how I roll!
~Angeladex
