The morning passed, for the most part, uneventfully. It was a matter of following the other children to put away his hat and luncheon, and following a girl dressed entirely in yellow when she shyly asked him if he wanted to put his milk by hers, because she knew where to put it where it would stay cold. These were old, almost rusted actions and words and feelings and impulses that surfaced.

At his old school, before his Mama and Papa had died, he would have been trying to think of something to do—a trick during class, perhaps—to make this girl smile.

Now, the thought of doing anything to cross the already-cross Miss Taylor…was repellant, to him. His impulses now were more along the lines of doing whatever was asked of him. To follow the rules, so he wouldn't get in trouble. Because getting in trouble…meant something to him now, that it hadn't, before. Getting in trouble meant punishments he didn't think he could stand, if administered by Lampie, or Nora.

Pete was sure to 'mind his Ps and Qs,' like Mama used to say. He stood until the teacher seated him, he paid rapt attention, and made sure to do his writing with the correct hand, because writing with his left had gotten him in trouble, before.

He was instructed to sit in the front row, and it made his heart beat harder. Troublemakers sat in the front row, where the teacher could see them. Troublemakers who got their knuckles rapped, and who had to take notes home for their parents to sign.

Pete hadn't parents, anymore. He had the Gogans. And Lampie and Nora, who weren't kin to him in the slightest.

Elliot had seemed content to continue playing out-of-doors when Pete had gone into the school building, and he had been scarce the last few days anyway, Pete realized. Playing in the cave, he thought, but didn't know.

When Pete had met Elliot, the dragon had hardly left him alone. When Pete toiled in the sun to do his chores, Elliot had been there. And when Pete had huddled under the porch after being visited by Mr. Gogan's belt, Elliot had been there. Offering food and antics to try and make Pete smile. Up until Pete had met Nora.

Pete paused his writing—copying a story from a workbook to improve penmanship, Miss Taylor had informed them— when he made the realization: Did Elliot trust Nora? And Lampie?

A ruler slapped on his desk, making Pete jump.

"Mind you do your work," Miss Taylor said sternly. "I won't warn you again. I don't tolerate dilly-dalliers and daydreamers in my classroom."

"Y-Yes, ma'am," Pete said obediently, returning to his penmanship, carefully dipping his pen in his inkwell and tracing over a line he'd botched in his surprise.

Satisfied that her pupils were on task, Miss Taylor took a seat at her desk, right in front of Pete.

Not a minute later, the school bell started ringing, and the class looked up in surprise, Miss Taylor included.

"Why is the bell ringing? There's no one out there," Miss Taylor said, and her tone was curious, not angry.

"I'll stop it," Pete said hurriedly. He had a suspicion just who was out there. Hopefully he would be able to convince Elliot to stop, and then everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, as Pete hurried to the door, he heard his classmates standing, too.

"Elliot, stop it!" he said immediately upon crossing the threshold. He heard Elliot chuckling in amusement, and the bell continued to ring. Pete clambered over the railing and leaped to the ground, taking hold of the rope for the bell, gripping right at one of the knots firmly. "The bell isn't supposed to ring 'till recess!"

Elliot didn't seem to be listening. Instead, he seemed pleased to have Pete as a playmate, and continued ringing the bell, which hoisted Pete off his feet because he was still holding on to the rope. It wasn't pleasant, either; it pulled at the skin around his shoulder muscles, which was still healing from Mr. Gogan's belt.

"Stop that!"

Pete turned toward Miss Taylor's voice, seeing that she had come out of the schoolhouse with the other students. She looked very cross.

"I'm not doing it," Pete tried to explain. Elliot kept ringing the bell, and Pete just held on to the rope.

But Elliot was invisible. And Miss Taylor, it seemed, didn't believe Pete.

"Liar," she said angrily, and she made her way down the steps. "Liar, liar. It's the knuckle-cracker for you," she huffed, taking hold of Pete's shoulders and forcing his arms down.

Pete flinched. His palms didn't appreciate being pulled from the rope, and he didn't want his back being touched.

"Three for lying," Miss Taylor said, and she seemed flustered almost speechless, "and three—f-for whom the bell tolls. Come."

Pete obeyed. And then Miss Taylor pinched his ear firmly and hurried him quicker, all but pushing him through the crowd of students who moved out of the way. He heard her shoes on the steps behind him, and the shuffling of the other students as they filed in, again, returning to their desks.

Miss Taylor took his collar in her fist, then, and guided him to the side of her desk, immediately picking up a thin switch from her desk. It was clear he'd put her in a temper, and he felt his eyes heat, but willed the tears not to fall. Her hands were fisted, one planted firmly on her hip. "Put your hands out," she ordered. Pete obeyed, showing her his red palms—red, but not raw with a rope burn. "Palms down, knuckles up," she snapped, then. Her tone was annoyed.

Ah. She had already decided he was a troublemaker, then. He flipped his hands, and she wasted no time administering his knuckle raps.

"One! Two! Three!" She counted loudly, and Pete flinched with each strike.

But the bell wasn't ringing. Pete couldn't see Elliot—he was still invisible—but he knew that Elliot wasn't pleased. Elliot didn't like it when people hurt Pete. "I-it doesn't hurt much, Elliot," he addressed the window, and his voice was calm. Not upset.

"Four! Whom are you talking to? Five! Six!"

"Elliot!" Pete told her, and she glanced behind her, looking out the window.

"Whom?"

"My dragon," Pete answered. Lying was wicked. He didn't like lying. But the other students, having returned to their seats, heard the answer and laughed.

"Your dragon, wagon," Miss Taylor said, in a manner of…correcting herself. Like she'd maybe misheard him. "Nothing but a network of lies!" And then she scowled harder than she was already. "Three more for your imagination!"

The switch came down vehemently on Pete's knuckles, still stretched out to her, and he flinched, again, with each strike.

"Seven! Eight! And a great big nine!"

Oh, the ninth strike was cruel. Pete bit his lip to keep from crying out, and massaged his knuckles when she turned away. He didn't sit. He didn't dare do anything she didn't ask. She was so cross. Would she tell Nora? Would Pete be punished?

She retrieved a cone of paper, and Pete wanted to sob. He was going to get an awful report, and be branded a troublemaker always. Nora would be so disappointed. And Lampie. Oh, he hoped they wouldn't be mad.

Miss Taylor plopped the cone on his head. It was something like two feet long, on his head, and he knew something was written on it—Dunce, probably—and he couldn't look Miss Taylor in the eye.

"Go stand in the corner," she barked, pointing to the corner behind her desk, next to the window.

Pete did, and Miss Taylor turned her wrath on the rest of the students. "Work, work, work, everyone!"

Pete heard the window beside him open. He turned, seeing nothing. But it was a large window. Not large enough that Elliot could crawl through—he was too big—but…certainly large enough for an invisible dragon to reach his head and arms through. Large enough for said dragon to take hold of Miss Taylor's chair and pull it away from her desk.

"All this nonsense about a dragon," Miss Taylor fumed. And made to sit in her chair, which wasn't where she thought it was.

Elliot hummed at his joke. Miss Taylor missed her chair, crashing on her behind, onto the floor.

"No, Elliot!" Pete exclaimed, looking at the window in horror. And he took the chair in his hands.

"You did it!" Miss Taylor accused, pointing her finger at Pete. "You pulled the chair out from under me!"

"…it was Elliot," Pete told her. And he knew it was no good. She was furious.

Would…would she hurt him? Like Mr. Gogan or Willie hurt him?

"That does it," Miss Taylor growled, using her desk to help hoist herself up from the floor. She took Pete's arm and wrenched him out of the corner. "You've had a taste of the knuckle-cracker. Now you'll have a dose of the behind-breaker!" She released Pete to retrieve her ruler from its place on the wall. "Bend over!"

Pete was reticent to bear his back to her.

(Since the first time he'd gotten a real awful beating, Pete hadn't been keen to turn his back for anyone. That's why Grover usually had to tie him down. (Willie held him down, probably just because he liked it when Pete struggled.))

Elliot's enraged growling carried through the open window. It was so loud, Miss Taylor paused, and the students jumped from their desks, crowding the corner opposite with terror-stricken screams.

Pete was calm.

(He had seen Elliot's rage on his behalf, before.)

Until that wall exploded inward.

The force threw Miss Taylor's desk forward ten feet, and littered the area surrounding with broken boards, nails, plywood, and what was left of the chalkboard. A cloud of dust filled the air, and Pete alone walked toward the invisible force he knew was his friend.

"No, no, Elliot! Get out!" Pete's hands came up, knuckles red, palms forward, and he felt them press against Elliot's scales.

Elliot didn't advance further. But Pete heard angry grumbles, still. He felt the dunce cap being snatched from his head, and then saw Miss Taylor's ruler pulled forcefully out of her hand and thrown into the air.

"No, Elliot! You're going about this the wrong way!" Pete pleaded, stepping backwards, cognizant of the debris, so he wouldn't trip. But Elliot had to understand.

Miss Taylor was squinting her eyes, looking at the hole in the wall, and the pile of debris. She looked like she couldn't understand why her classroom was suddenly in shambles.

"Go back to the cave!" Pete ordered, pointing. "Go on!"

Elliot seemed to finally hear what Pete was saying. Pete heard him grumbling angrily, walking in the direction Pete was pointing. The school bell had tangled itself in his tail, and dragged across the floor, now.

Pete realized too late what was going to happen, and was mute when, taking Pete at his direction, Elliot literally crashed through the opposite wall of the schoolhouse, the bell dragging behind him.

Pete knew a moment's indecision, watching the bell being dragged away, through the hole.

Then he jumped through the hole and ran after Elliot, several of the other students following his lead and exiting the school through the hole.

Pete, though, ran doggedly after Elliot, intent on removing the bell…and then what?

He wasn't sure. But running away from the school—away from Miss Taylor, who had been so cross, and away from her ruler and her switch, which made him itch with discomfort—felt like the best decision he'd made, today.

Pete wasn't sure if Elliot just didn't notice Pete trailing after him, or if he did, and thought it was a game, but Pete didn't catch up with the burdened dragon until they had already come to the edge of town, near the surf, the cave, and the lighthouse.

Then Elliot became visible, and Pete didn't say anything. Just started to untangle the bell from Elliot's tail.

Elliot hindered him, after a moment, and took Pete's hands, which had been shaking too hard to make any headway with his task.

Pete's breath was coming in hard, from the running, and Elliot bent down to examine Pete's knuckles, clicking his tongue in a sympathetic sort of way.

"It…it didn't even hurt, really," Pete said, wincing, nonetheless, when Elliot pressed an offending knuckle with the pad-like underside of one of his fingers. One of his knuckles had split under strike nine, and had apparently been bleeding lightly. "Not like…not like with…the Gogans," Pete continued. "But…she was so…mad. And I didn't…I didn't know what to do."

Elliot hunkered down, plopping right in the sand and indicating his large belly. An invitation for Pete to sit with him.

Pete kicked off his shoes and obeyed happily—the scales on Elliot's belly weren't hard, and sitting on a dragon was warm, in the chilly air by the sea.

Elliot swung his tail up over himself, and it came to rest in front of Pete, who started working on de-tangling the bell, again, so he'd have something to do with his hands.

"Should…should we leave?" Pete asked softly, looking at his hands and the large rope, not at Elliot. "It'll be more than the fishermen, soon. More than a few people who remember that first day. Everyone is gonna be…so mad. What if…Will there be a punishment? I don't…I don't wanna go to jail. Or—or back to the orphan home. Or—or the G-Gogans. They'll chain me up and work me to death. And then they'll beat me 'till I'm bruises all over. And Willie'll try and hurt me again, when everyone's sleeping."

Pete was crying, now—the tears he hadn't let fall before. His arms rested on Elliot's tail, and he leaned down to rest his head on them.

"But…I really like Nora," he whispered. "She's real nice. She reminds me of my Mama." Pete cried into his arms, feeling like he was a little baby. Crying about his Mama.

Elliot, for his part, crooned in his unintelligible way, and it was comforting.

After a time, and despite the cozy feeling of sitting on top of Elliot's internal furnace, Pete's conscience prickled him.

"We need to give the bell back," he said blankly. "And after that…um…maybe we should l-leave."

Elliot vocalized questioningly. And Pete looked at him.

"They don't want us here. The town's not big enough for us, remember what that fisherman said?"

Elliot's clicks and warbles gained additional help from hand signals, pantomiming actions, even as Pete steadied himself on Elliot's belly as it meant he moved more. And gradually Pete understood.

"Oh. You're right…what about…what about Paul?"

Pete had forgotten all about wanting Elliot to look for Paul. And he still wanted him to. Nora deserved that. And more. But…

"But what if…what if she gets mad?" Pete whispered, his last word coming out in a sob. "I don't—I don't want her to—or Lampie—to give me a p-punishment."

Elliot's head motioned toward the lighthouse, and Pete turned, seeing the miniscule figure of Nora exiting the door. And the blood rushed from Pete's face.

"No, I can't. I—I can't. I don't—I don't want—"

Elliot motioned again, and Pete slid shakily down from Elliot's belly. Elliot obligingly turned invisible.

"Pete!" Nora's voice drifted down to them.

Pete stared at the space Elliot occupied. "S-Stay. O-okay? P-Please? Don't leave to l-look for Paul. Until—until you can see she—she won't h-hurt me."

Elliot replied, though Pete took no comfort in it.

"Pete!"

Pete turned, then, seeing Nora waving. She had started walking toward him. Pete picked up his shoes and started walking toward her, too. Might as well get this over with.

Pete stopped walking when he was more than an arm's length away from her, but Nora quickly closed the distance, putting her hands gently on his shoulders, looking him over, as if for injuries.

"You didn't even make it an hour," Nora said, tilting her head questioningly. "What happened?"

"Elliot came and was ringing the school bell," Pete summed up quickly. "I tried to stop him, but Miss Taylor thought it was me, so she rapped my knuckles," Pete recited his list of wrongdoings to the sand, and flinched a little when Nora moved her hands from his shoulders to take his hands, like Elliot had, earlier, to examine his knuckles.

"Elliot reached through the window and moved her chair, too, which…she also thought was me," Pete continued monotonously. "Then Elliot got mad, because she was going to punish me, um, with the ruler." Pete licked his lips, and glanced up at Nora, whose face shifted back to him, lowering his hands softly.

Pete took a deep breath, and looked back at the sand. "So Elliot came in. Made a big hole in the wall. And I told him to come back here, to the cave," Pete pointed behind him, at the cave he meant, and Nora followed his finger with her eyes, and then looked at him, again. "And, um, he made a big hole in the other wall, and…and I followed him. He—he got his tail tangled in the—the school bell. So I helped him get it off. And…that's all."

Pete looked up at Nora, again, and a breeze stirred his hair. His hand clapped up to his head. "Oh, and, um, I left my—I left the hat you got me at the school," he added. "And the lunch pail."

Nora nodded, then, and Pete brought his hands together, twisting his fingers, and wincing, when it hurt. Nora looked behind Pete, down the beach. "Is…is that the bell?" she asked, and Pete turned, and nodded when he saw it in the distance.

"And where's Elliot?" she asked, and Pete swallowed.

"He's invisible. Or…or he might have left. To go…um…find P-Paul."

Nora's gaze shifted back to Pete quickly, at that, and he flinched, again, and wondered if she was mad.

"I see," was all she said. Then, "What say we take that bell back to where it belongs? I have a wagon it'll probably fit in. It looks heavy."

"It is," Pete said cautiously. "I couldn't lift it by myself, when I tried."

"Mmm," Nora said slowly, not really answering.

"Am I…in trouble?" Pete asked quietly.

Nora looked at him. "Should you be?"

"Will I be punished?" Pete blurted, instead of answering.

Nora's eyebrows furrowed. "I want to see the damage to the schoolhouse," she said slowly. "And then we can work out consequences. Fair?"

"F-Fair," Pete mumbled, looking at the ground again. Consequence was another word for 'punishment.'

"You put those shoes back on," Nora said, then. "I'm going to fetch the wagon we use for maintenance."

Pete nodded. And his heart thudded hard in his chest, uncomfortably loud in his ears.

Once they reached the bell, and hefted it into the wagon, and started walking back to the school, Nora handed the handle of the wagon to Pete, and he took over pulling it. It was pretty easy.

"When you made a mistake…with the Gogans," Nora started to say, and Pete looked at her with wide eyes. "What was your punishment?"

Pete swallowed, and looked at the ground, again. "G-Grover would—um—he'd tie me to the—the table. In the kitchen. So Mr. Gogan could, um, do licks. W-with his b-belt. If—if it was Willie, he wouldn't. Um. He wouldn't tie me. He'd just—he'd just hold me down himself. Mrs. Gogan did—um—she did licks, sometimes. W-with her c-cane."

Nora's face didn't change. She was really good at listening. "And…what did you…what were you punished for?"

Pete frowned, looking at her. "For—for being bad," he said. It should have been obvious. "W—when I didn't f-finish the w-weeding on time, or—or when I took f-food without asking. Or when—when I used the hoe to hack off the rope because they never called me in for supper, or—or when I k-kicked W-W-Willie in—in the—the b-bad place—um—because he was—because he was h-h-hurting me—" Pete's breathing had grown labored, and Nora held out her hand to take the wagon handle back, and Pete let her, and he breathed deep for a while, at her soft insistence.

And then she held out her hand. Like she wanted him to take it.

So he did.

"That sounds like a difficult way to live," Nora said at length, when Pete's breathing had eased, again. "Was it like that before? With your parents?"

Pete shook his head vehemently. "My Mama was hardly ever cross. And if I was bad, she made me do lines, or miss dessert, maybe." He shrugged. "I guess…the Gogans do it different."

"My Dad fought in the war with the South," Nora said, nodding. "It ended before I was even born, and he always said it spoiled him for violence. He never allowed that me or my brother were hit. Ever. Even by the schoolmasters."

Pete's eyebrows raised. "Never?"

Nora shook her head. "Never."

Pete wasn't sure what to say to that. "Grover told me getting licks was important. That you could learn to be humble, if you got hit regular."

Nora frowned. "I'm thinking me and Grover Gogan wouldn't get along," she said flatly.

Pete shook his head. "I don't think the Gogans get along with anybody."

They arrived at the school, and Nora called for help to put the bell back where it belonged, and told Pete to watch the wagon while they did.

At length she returned, toting the lunch pail and his thermos, and his hat. "The repairs on the school will last through the next month, probably," Nora informed him. "And I bet it would go a long way if you and Elliot were able to help out."

Pete nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"And I think, as a consequence for not being in school…" Nora continued, and Pete steeled himself for the worst: Consequence meant punishment. "…you are going to have to help out with extra chores around the lighthouse."

Pete nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said again.

Nora nodded, took the handle of the wagon, and held her hand out to Pete. "Let's go home, then," she said, simply.

Pete took her hand. "Is…what else? What…what else is my punishment?" he asked in confusion.

Nora frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You said 'consequence.' That means…the same as punishment. What's my punishment?"

Nora stopped walking, and crouched down, eye-level with Pete. "When we get home, I'm going to ask you to wash up before we eat lunch. And we're going to make sure your hair gets cleaned, and then, I'm going to ask respectfully to look at your back, to see if you need any ointment or bandages. And depending on what injuries I find; we will then discuss what chores you will be permitted to do around the lighthouse. That is what is going to happen. Understand?"

Pete nodded, swallowing. "Y-Yes, ma'am."

"What is not going to happen, ever, is any kind of punishment that has to do with violence towards you. I am going to discuss this with Lampie and with Miss Taylor and any other chowderhead in this town who might think otherwise, and we will reach an understanding. And Elliot or not, Gogans or not, I will protect you as long as I'm alive," Nora continued, and her tone was firm and unyielding.

Pete nodded again. "Y-Yes, ma'am," he choked, and Nora nodded back.

And she didn't seem surprised in the least when Pete launched himself into her arms, crying into her hair. She hugged him tight, but also gently, mindful of his back.

"You're so nice to me," Pete murmured at length, pulling away, and looking down. "I'm not…yours. So why are you…so nice to me?"

Nora stood up, took the wagon handle, and held out her hand for his.

He took it.

"Sometimes, you can't choose who your heart decides to love," she said as an answer. "Your dragon friend Elliot, or Paul, who is the love of my life." She jiggled Pete's hand in hers, until he looked up at her. "Or a scared boy in a cave playing Tic-Tac-Toe."


AUTHORS NOTE

And this one won, today!

Answering questions I had about the timeline as we go!

This one is juuuust a tad longer than some previous chapters. It wouldn't release me. So. Yeah.

Let me know! How you like it! Or I can keep! Throwing chapters into the void! :)

~Angeladex