Tested

It turned out that Raylan didn't have to pick up Nate the next day as his English teacher dropped him by so they could talk. She had called him earlier that day sounding exasperated so he agreed to meeting in person while Nate was relaying what he witnessed with Art.

Nate led the way off the elevator towards the marshal's office, Mrs. Simon trailing behind him. He pushed open the glass door and looked over at this father's empty desk and sighed; his teacher looking around at the glass bearing the five pointed marshal's star.

"Hey Tim have you seen my dad?" Nate asked.

"He stepped out for a minute but will be back shortly. Who's your friend?"

"This is Mrs. Simon, my English teacher."

"Tim Gutterson," he said standing up. "I'm guessing this isn't good?"

"A bit of both good and bad," she said smiling. "Nate is your father a marshal?" she asked continuing to take in the scene around her.

"Yep," he said looking over at Art who was giving him the 'here we go again' stare.

Finally Raylan's familiar gait appeared from the hallway. "Mr….Marshal Givens," the teacher began.

"Raylan or Mr. is fine."

"Well I'm Sonya Simon, Nate's English teacher. I'm sorry to bother you but I think it best we meet face to face."

"No problem, besides you saved me a trip. Have a seat," he said pulling up an extra chair. Before they could begin to discuss the issue at hand Art called out for Nate. "You have fun in there." Raylan called out as Nate departed.

"Did you already talk to him?" Nate turned and asked.

"Yes, earlier today, now it is your turn."

"Am I in trouble?"

"With me yes, with Art, well I would imagine that might come up in your conversation."

"But I didn't even shoot anybody," Nate argued.

Raylan just smiled and shrugged, "go on git," he ordered.

Nate turned and walked towards the inner-sanctum looking back a few times. He crammed his hands in his pockets and suddenly looked so small. Raylan had visions of Nate as a toddler laughing while playing with Boyd and it instantly made his smile fade.

"Um what did he mean he didn't shoot anybody?" Mrs. Simon asked.

Raylan refocused his gaze on the teacher who looked to be in her late thirty's long brown hair and serious look etched on her face that came from years of teaching. "Long story, but he speaks the truth, he didn't shoot anybody."

Tim tried not to laugh but couldn't quite pull it off.

"So young Raylan and I mean that with all sincerity," Art began as Nate took a seat. "Did I tell you to sit down?" Nate returned to his feet. "Okay you can sit. Do you have a problem with authority?"

"I suspect you already know the answer to that."

"Well enlighten me anyway."

"Sometimes," he replied quietly. "But he said he was at a friend's house, how was I supposed to know."

"How many of your father's friends have you met? Raylan marches to the beat of his own drummer but you my boy have your own band. You've been in Kentucky a short time yet here you are again. I'm just grateful you don't have a sidearm. Do you shoot?"

Nate nodded yes. "My dad takes me a couple times a month."

"Fantastic," Art answered dryly. "Who is she," he tossed his head towards the meeting outside.

"My English teacher, I was a bit cranky from lack of sleep."

"More trouble for you then I take it."

"Not my day."

"Well son, I like you, and I think you have a great future in front of you if you manage to live long enough, but I can't have you keep popping up in the middle of disaster."

"Now the whole pedophile thing wasn't my fault we scheduled that," Nate argued.

"True enough so we go back to having you in the woods when you weren't supposed to be and being involved in another shooting."

"At a friend's house after my dad picked me up, it was more of a personal deal."

"A deal, where you were told to stay in the car, per your father and your disregard to his request now pulled me into the middle of this mess, because when your father is in a mess I'm in a mess. And Nathaniel; I don't like being in the middle of a mess."

"Sorry," Nate said as he hung head which was his common response to hearing his full name.

"I think it would benefit us all if you could just listen to your daddy."

"And if he listened to you as well."

Art slowly blew out a mouthful of air amazed at how insightful this kid was. "That would be a miracle son."

**Back at Raylan's desk**

"Now Mr. Givens, Nate is very bright and I think that might be leading to some problems."

"Being smart is a problem?" Raylan asked.

"He gets his work done very quickly and then has nothing to do. I had all the kids pick out books from the shelf in my classroom for silent reading. Usually these books take a week or more for the kids to get through but Nate was done in two days. So I tested him on the story he read because I figured he didn't really read or absorb it; he got a hundred percent. So I had our reading teacher test him; it wasn't a state test so we didn't need to get your permission or advise you of it taking place."

"That's fine, what were the results?" Raylan asked leaning back in his chair having a good idea of what the answer would be.

"He was off the charts; the scale only goes up to the twelfth grade and Nate maxed that out. Had he ever been tested before?"

"Yes in Florida he was placed in a higher reading group after first grade and tested every year. It should have been in his records."

"I'll have to look more closely; I admit I didn't even pull his file. I was aware after his first few days that he has great command of the language but his reading comprehension is beyond mine. I had him read the same paragraph that I was and he was done first and could summarize it clearly and went on to tell me how the emotions of the characters might play out in the story."

"He knew all of his sight words before Kindergarten and was reading by the middle of the year. He can't do a lot physically so he reads all the time. He doesn't care if it is the back of a cereal box or an instruction manual if it has words he will be scanning them."

"Well I can't continue to keep things as they are. We aren't really equipped to have him in any special classes so one thing I will do is borrow other books specifically for him that are at a higher grade level and he can bring in some if he wants but I will have to approve them. Also, I discovered another boy, Tommy Morton happens to live just a few doors down from you and he could use some extra help. Tommy is nearly thirteen and has already been held back once; he is a great kid and really tries but it all comes so hard for him. I thought that maybe Nate could work with him, Tommy might respond better to a classmate than a teacher. Do you think Nate would be up for that?"

"I think Nate will be up for whatever I tell him," Raylan stated as Nate came out of Art's office and headed his way.

While Nate walked his teacher to her car Raylan sat back in his chair and sighed. He was still grasping this full time father thing. The part time role suited him well, he could work all the hours he needed without the guilt that he was ignoring his son plus he didn't have to worry about all the daily issues that he was beginning to discover were important. First thing he had come to realize was that he couldn't work late into the evening or all weekend long, nor could he jet off to other locales on a regular basis. He did have the one trip to Los Angeles, but he found that much of his attention was still focused on his son and how he was faring with the Mullen's. His whole life had shifted from focusing solely on the job to incorporating his career with full time parenting. Now he not only focused on warrants and fugitives, but homework and field trips. He feared he was lacking in both areas.

The next day at lunch Tommy Morton and Nate were summoned to Mrs. Simon's classroom. The sixth graders were grouped into several classes and each class changed rooms and teachers with each period but remained together as a group so both Tommy and Nate were together from homeroom till study group at the end of the day.

"Now boys I'm going to try something new with the two of you and I believe if you try hard it will benefit you both. Tommy, you and Nate live just down the block from each other did you know that?"

Tommy shook his head no that he didn't. "Well it is a stroke of good luck because I'm going have the both of you work on your homework and projects together. Now I've spoken to each of your parents and your other teachers who all think it's a great idea. You can spend you study group together as well as a few nights a week at your houses. It's a great chance to learn and become good friends. Now why don't you guys take your lunches and have a seat over there and get to know each other." Mrs. Simon said with a big smile.

Tommy and Nate looked each other over and headed to the seating indicated. Tommy was quite a bit bigger than Nate with shaggy brown hair and a perpetual look of confusion on his face. He wore jeans and a blue polo shirt. Nate's dark eyes were as intense as ever his stature smaller than his counterpart but that was pretty typical. He wore jeans as well and a light blue striped shirt that his mother had bought him the day she had died.

They ate in silence; Tommy his selection from the cafeteria and Nate his brown bagged choices from home. Finally Tommy spoke. "How come you don't buy your lunch?"

"Cause it looks like that," he said nodding his head toward Tommy's tray which held a variety of piles, none of which looked like any of the food groups.

"Yeah, that is true."

"So you live with your parents?" Nate asked.

"Yeah my dad works on an assembly line at a factory just outside town and my mom works part time as a receptionist at a doctor's office. She gets off in time to be at home for me after school. What about you?"

"I live with my dad," Nate said, it still sounding odd. There hadn't been much time set aside for adjusting as he and Raylan had been catapulted into a partnership as suddenly as it took that bullet to kill Nadine.

"What happened to your mom?"

"She died," he said quietly looking down at his shirt.

"Oh sorry. I know your new here, where did you move from?" Tommy asked pushing his food aside as planted his elbows on the table and looked at Nate.

"Florida."

"How come?"

Images swept through Nate's brain. He wanted to say; my mother was caught in a hail of bullets between the cartel and some thugs and she died instantly on her way to pick me up; guilt which will never let me go. My dad, bent on justice or perhaps it was just simply revenge, ordered the one he felt responsible out of Miami but he was forced to shoot said man when he didn't leave and that didn't go over well with his boss so he was transferred here. It was obviously a punishment as this was the very last place in the world his father wanted to be and since arriving back to the old stomping grounds things haven't gone all that smoothly and the body count was rising rapidly. But in the end he simply smiled and said, "job transfer."

"What does your dad do?"

Nate wanted to say anything but the truth because it seemed once he shared that knowledge it somehow got out of control. He opened his mouth unsure of what would come out of it when Mrs. Simon came to the rescue. "How's it going boys?"

"Fine," they answered returning to their lunches.