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I pulled out the barbecue and put in new charcoal. While it started to burn, I went into the house. I raced to the kitchen and saw Laura at the wood stove cooking. Her tight bun of hair was fraying in the humid environment. I came close to her, and with clean hands held the back of her arms and got close, "Hmm, smells nice. I will be back in a minute and cook the steaks."

My bath was fast, but if we had a shower, then it would be even quicker. In the mirror was the boy I used to be. The dark brown hair was getting to be a bit long. The face was cute, and I wondered why I never had as much action as I should. The cheek, though, had a small bruise that should take a week or more to clear up. Young bodies seemed to repair themselves so quickly.

Instead of taking my best clothes, I just picked ones for comfort. I did not want to frighten Laura.

Laura was still at the stove, but now the table was set. Again, I got behind her and smelled her body. She even pushed back a bit. "That is beautiful," leaving unsaid what I was referring to.

The charcoal needed to be placed correctly, and in a moment the steaks were cooking. The wine was in the fridge, as was some of dad's steak sauce. It was spicy, but not that much. "Laura," I called aloud. "Do you like a slightly spicy steak sauce?"

"Sounds great," I got in return.

"How do you like your steak?"

"Medium."

I took a large platter from the cupboard and took it outside with the sauce, fork, and small brush.

When the steaks were done, I brought in the full platter and put it on the table. The steak sauce went beside it. Laura put the hot vegetables on the table and I pulled back her seat. She nodded her head in thanks and I pushed the chair in. With my head again by her neck I quietly took a deep draught of air. She really did smell nice.

I fetched two glasses and opened the French wine. I stood beside Laura and poured like a highly paid waiter. A small amount was poured in the bottom of the glass, without a drop running down the neck of the bottle. She took a sip and nodded to tell me that the vintage was suitable. I poured the rest of her glass and another for me.

I noticed that she had put the settings close and not at the ends of the table. She must have had an appetite, for the meat disappeared along with the vegetables. I poured her another glass of wine, while I nursed my own.

Between bites, we talked about school. I let her know about the fight, but started from when school began, and how I'd let all this happen because I was too shy. The fight itself was glossed over, and she only knew that there was more than one antagonist.

I would have loved to sit with her after dinner and talk more, or to dance to the music from the radio. I did not want to push her, though, and both of us did the dishes. She tried to push me away, but it was easy to see that she liked me being with her.

She came with me to finish her car. Putting on the coveralls to keep from getting dirty I just checked the plugs. They were dirty and needed to be gapped. The gas mixture had been too rich, but that must have been because of the dirty oil. This compensated for the air leak that would cause the fuel to burn too lean. This way the plugs were not burnt or pitted.

I put the plugs back in and tightened down the distributor. The filter was filled with clean oil and I asked Laura to start the car. It started first time and ran much smoother. My reward was to see her smile widely at me. "Oh Alex, it runs great."

I closed the hood and wiped off any prints and said, "Take it down the driveway and back." She did, like a child, and spit up a few stones that flew into the field. She was back in a few minutes and I did not think the smile ever left her. I had hung up the coveralls while she took another turn and washed my hands again.

After parking the car she opened the door and ran to me. Just as she came to my arms, she stopped. I carefully took one hand and guided her lips to mine. Her kiss was short and she pulled back. "We shouldn't, Alex."

I kissed her one more time. "As your doctor, I think that you need this treatment all the time. Six to twelve times a day. Now, kiss me to let me know you have gotten the idea, and then we will go for a walk."

She seemed to think on this idea and did kiss me of her own volition. She was slow at first, and perhaps even timid. As it progressed, she was more demanding. When she pulled back for air, I allowed her to gain her breath then used my tongue to lick her lips. Soon she was allowing me in, and I traced her teeth and played with her tongue.

She slowly pulled back and it took her a moment to open her eyes. "Where did you learn to do that? I didn't think people would do that."

"It is an instinctual thing with all Polish men. You are only getting the mild treatment. I do not have a defibrillator to rescue either of us, if you were going to get even the usual treatment."

We soon pulled away and I walked hand in hand with her around our farm. I showed her the wood lot, the pond and the fair sized stream that was still flowing, though in diminished quantities now that summer was approaching. The mosquitoes were coming out for their meal, so we headed back to the house. When we got there, Laura said, "I don't know what it is about you. I should be running as fast as I can to get away from you, but I am not doing that. I feel drawn to you as if you were a man."

She put her hand up to her mouth at the last sentence as if she had not meant for that to slip out. I could guess at many things in her troubled past. There was trouble, for nobody else would go to that much effort to hide their beautiful features. She was introverted; it seemed, to everybody but me. Perhaps my size and age did not represent a threat like an adult would.

"I am drawn to you. You are a beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful woman, and you now have great taste in men. You see a boy before you, but you should know that my mind is much older than you realize. I have an adult's viewpoint, but my body is sadly that of a boy. If you will wait for that part of me to mature, you will find that I will be all the man you will ever need."

She shied at this statement. Perhaps it was asking her to commit herself to a boy that she was unnaturally drawn to. "Laura," her eyes were far away and I moved her jaw so that she looked at me. "There is no obligation on your part. I hope we will always be friends, at the very least. One day we may be much more, but that is for the future."

"I am so confused, Alex. You are a boy and I am a grown woman. What can we see in each other?"

"There is much to see in you. I see a dedicated but frail woman trying to make something out of her life. She has some heavy emotional baggage to bear. Something has happened to you, perhaps more than once. You would like to have a rich social life, but you have been burnt. I also see that one day you will make a good mother and wife, and perhaps even a career if you can juggle all the responsibilities."

"How do you know all this?"

"I have good eyes and ears, along with an adult's perspective. Doctors also have to be diagnosticians and detectives. I see you acting much like others have; others who have been hurt. Some of my knowledge is from books, but the majority of it is from dealing with people on a one-to-one basis. Some, I might add, do not function nearly as well as you do."

"Are you a psychiatrist now?"

"No, never took that correspondence course, but I am a person that cares a lot about you."

She left within minutes with her groceries and a smile. I wondered, as she travelled down the driveway, how much she had grown in my heart. She, at least, was a woman and all the girls at school were simply that, girls. Maybe when my hormones started to flow I would think differently.

Homework took only a short time. A composition, though, took much longer, and it dealt with analogies and their use. With Laura in mind I made a short story of a man's love for a woman of great beauty.

There was no limitation on size, but I kept it to only two pages. This was at least twice the usual length. For good measure, I threw in a metaphor or two. Our English teacher was a young woman and I slanted the work to reflect more of what a woman would want. This, surprisingly, took much longer than I thought. I ended up writing the story eight times. There was no WordPerfect and there was no laser printer. I was quite tired when I finally finished the work.

Chores had not been done, and I worked to get them completed before I crawled into bed close to midnight. The next morning I woke up very sleepy. Teenagers always complained of this, and now I had to go through it one more time. I had to speed myself up to get to school on time. Luckily, the bike tires only needed new valves. There were three in a box, and this left one for an emergency.

I stopped off at the nursing station and held Laura's hand for a moment as I stared moonstruck into her eyes. She massaged my shoulders and sent me off with a swat to my butt.

Homeroom was Math, even if we had to leave sometimes right after the bell. Mr. Ross looked at me funny, but the subject material was little different. There were four vacant chairs at the back of the room, and the students looked at me and whispered. Mike and Jason were the only two who had been able to make it in. It almost made me want to feel my head to see if I had grown something or that I had left my fly open.

I did manage to make a few drawings of important features I would need to make. One was the design of a double-wall stainless steel tube to take away wood smoke. The mine was my present concern, but once I got enough money I was going to start on many of my other projects. One was to build the needed housing units. There was nobody who could do this without guidance. I would have to be there to assist, as well as perhaps even to start the company from scratch.

English Comp was next, and we all handed our work in. This subject was like the rest. I had university courses in this subject, and now it was as if I had stepped back into grade one. More homework was assigned and we trooped to Phys Ed.

This class was a double, and I put on my gym clothes. Some of the classmates saw my back and started to whisper. The majority of the red had gone, but there were large streaks of bruised tissue. The ripped flesh, though, would take quite a bit longer to heal.

We ran out to the gym and lined up with both grade nine classes. The girls were segregated and exercised with the female members of this class behind a wall-to-wall partition that went up to the trusses. Mr. Richardson called me aside and sent the rest to running around the gym a few times to warm up.

"What are your restrictions, Kramer?"

"To not get hurt till I heal."

He just looked at me with one eye more than the other. He was a very physically fit man of forty to forty-five. I knew he was married and had one boy about ten and a girl a bit younger. The way he treated the weaklings and the jocks could easily be seen. The jocks could play sports and win, while the younger group were of no use to him.

"What can you do to keep busy without bothering me?"

"Lift weights and callisthenics. That also means that I get to use the showers. I am not going to class smelling like a dumb jock who cannot smell his own body odour."

"Pretty big words from such a little guy."

"Let's just say our thresholds of personal hygiene are different. Sometimes it is just a matter of how sensitive a nose is."

He didn't like me. I did not take it personal. It was just that I was of no use to him. "Do what you want, but clean up after yourself. I am not your mother. You screw up, and I will have you sitting through the rest of the year."

I smiled and stuck out my hand, "A deal." He was stuck or he would be seen as unjust. He did shake hands but had to give me a squeeze.

The weight room was small and poorly equipped. I had no towel, or change of clothes, so I just did isometrics so I would not work up a sweat. When the next period started, Richardson threw in a clean towel and left.

I yelled my thanks but he may not have heard. Now I went to the weights and tried to fall into a pattern that I could keep. I was very tired when I went into the shower. I was the only one there and did a quick job. I came out later to dress and found the rest of the class putting on their clothes over their gym shorts. They looked at me funny. They sometimes got to their underwear, or changed in the toilet cubicles. They never seemed to have seen another naked male. I just ignored them and got dressed. At least they would know that I was not shy as I used to be.

Lunch this time was different again. My lunch went on our table and I got my large milk and salad. While walking in line to pay I noticed that Rita was behind me. "Hi, Rita," she was better dressed today than I remembered. It was mostly her usual clothes, but she wore them better and walked much straighter. This made her much more desirable to any red blooded male, especially those in puberty.

I thought of my gender. Sometimes, I saw some boys pick their noses and scrape off the booger under their desks and go back for more. Other times, I saw them say nasty things to those who were overweight or not as good looking. They were typical boys; it was just that they were two legged pigs.

The girls were different, but only in the ways they attacked each other. All was done with an air of being conciliatory or even diplomatic. I think that women, because of their hormones, are even nastier than males.

The genders knew little about the other or even about themselves. That is why there were so many unwed mothers and the stigma that was attached to both the mother and the baby. Most learned from their peers in the schoolyard, and those knew no more than those they taught. Maybe I could help these children over some of the rough spots. In the process I would find some responsible adults emerging from these piles of uncoordinated flesh.

"Hi, Alex. Ah... did you do what the others said you did?"

"Depends on what they said."

"That you beat up Nick and four others, then Nick's older brother. I know him, he is big and going to play hockey professionally."

"They bothered me since I started school. After my accident I knew that I was acting foolish by staying shy. Nick will think twice before he tries something again. His brother, though, was just stupid and got what he deserved."

"Weren't you scared?"

"Not with Nick or his friends. His brother terrified me, though."

I continued, "I would like to try an experiment. The boys in grade nine are afraid of those strange creatures called girls. Will you do me the honour of dining with me at the table where I usually sit?" She looked trapped, but she had never known me to be cruel or malicious.

I bent over to be close to her ear. "All the girls will ask you questions. This will not end for days. This will help you as well as some uneducated young males. What do you say?"

"What do I have to do?"

"Rita, I want you to act like a proper lady, and I will act as your escort. I, of course, will be a perfect gentleman."

She looked serious and didn't trust her voice, so she just nodded her head. We went with our trays to her table and she told her friends that she had to talk to me for a while. With her lunch now on her tray she walked back with me. I whispered as we walked, "Keep your head up. You are proud."

At my usual table I said, "Gentlemen, I plan on making each of you more of a social animal. To do this, I am going to act as a gentleman. If, at any time, you find this unsightly or abhorrent you are free to leave." I set my tray down and then took Rita's and did the same. "Gentlemen; this charming young lady is Rita Leone. She is my dining companion today." I introduced each of our classmates as if they were new to her.

Andrew was first and did not know how to respond. "Say hello, and then use Rita's name and say you are very pleased to meet her."

He did hesitantly. I was sure that if I had not beaten the bullies up yesterday he would have refused. Three others did a similar job but were very unsure of themselves. The chairs were independent of the tables and I sat Rita down. I whispered, "Thank me."

"Thank you, Alex."

"You are very welcome, my lady."

I walked around the table and everyone within earshot was watching us. I took a paper napkin and placed it on my lap and tried to discuss local sports, for this would be the only thing we could discuss. I asked what Rita's feelings were on a local sports hero. I had heard his name mentioned often within her group of girls.

She risked something of herself when she initiated a question to Mark, one of our classmates. His reply was tense, but would have been very easy if one of us had asked him.

By the end of the period the boys were talking casually with Rita as if she were a real human. The warning bell sounded, and it actually felt like there was more sorrow than usual at the end of this period.

I brought up my finger as Rita was going to get up. I casually wiped my mouth and neatly folded the napkin and placed it on the tray. I stood and replaced my chair before walking around and helping Rita to stand.

This time the table was cleaned of rubbish, and we all dumped our trays. I escorted Rita to her friends after she said goodbye to her new table companions. The girls almost jumped on Rita as soon as I turned to leave.

With just the boys, Andrew asked, "Why did you do that to us?"

"First, most of you are socially inept. You have no grace or charm. You each act as if you are drugged and see none of the world around you. At least now you can act formally with one of those weird creatures with those things on their chests. Later, you will be able to talk to them as easily as we do now. Before school ends, all of you will be on your way of becoming gentlemen."

Mark stated, "We don't have to do this."

"Sure you don't. The ones who do stay will get to talk to more girls, and one day they will be able to play with them instead of their own dicks." This didn't shock them, because we always talked this way. Since I had not entered puberty yet, my repertoire of original salacious comments was severely limited.

French was our first subject of the afternoon. Mademoiselle Bouchard taught her lesson, but for the most part kept her eyes on me as if she could find out something with her eyes alone. She asked us to make a short story in French having to do with a girlfriend or a boyfriend. This was far beyond most in the class. It clicked; she must have talked to Miss Forester from English.

It would be fun to take this further, but most of the students would get lost in what had to be said. One way that might be fun, was to get new vocabulary introduced. When Mademoiselle Bouchard paused I raised my hand.

She said, "Yes, Alex."

"Your idea of a story has many merits. I do see a problem with the limited vocabulary most of us sadly have. Might I suggest that we state things in English and the closest translation be placed on the blackboard? At least, this way there will be few groans when asked to copy the work."

"That is a very good idea. Will you come up here and write what you can on the board?"

"I will; because you ask, but I have to warn you that I do not have my teacher's licence yet."

She smiled and stretched out her long pretty arm and handed me the chalk. I started as high as I could reach and wrote, 'I held both of xxxx's hands and stared into her beautiful eyes.' There was no sense putting one of the names of the girls in the class. They would find it too difficult to continue.

Rita was good at French because her family spoke Italian. "Rita, what is your contribution?"

"AHH... He brushed his hand across my cheek"

"That is good. Andrew, you are next." I wrote Rita's words on the board under mine.

Turning to Andrew I waited. "She... held my hand."

"Good, Andrew. Nancy is next."

Again I wrote Andrew's comments. Before I finished, Nancy said simply, "He kissed me on the cheek." There were a few giggles to that, and I wrote the words in French.

"Mark."

I had to turn, because he had no reply. One of his friends kicked his desk and he said in English, "She kicked my leg." This brought gales of laughter and I laughed with them.

This continued till the entire class was asked. Even Nick's erstwhile clique members contributed some fine answers.

"Class, copy the sentences down quickly before the end of the class. Rita, give me another, but the rest of you keep writing."

Blackboard space came to an end. I tipped the wastebasket onto the floor, took the sturdy container to the start again, and wrote much nearer to the top of the board. Andrew did not have to be asked, but called out his next answer. Mark gave his next and this time it was in French. Most of the replies were similar, because they did not want to get into the more erotic phrases.

When the board was as full as I could get it, I jumped down and said, "Enough; if you get carried away, the Vice Principal will be in here wanting to know about all this talk." I saw Mademoiselle Bouchard blanched at my comment, and I could see that I must have hit a nerve of some sort. The bell rang just then and most of the people scrambled to complete the last of the sentences. I replaced the pail and picked up what I had unceremoniously dumped earlier.

Before I got to my desk, Mademoiselle Bouchard dismissed the class and said to me, "Alex, you did a find job. Your grammar and spelling were perfect."

"Thank you, Mademoiselle, and I'm sorry to have made you feel frightened. I did not know he was that much of a cad. I am even more sorry to have you put up with this." I left then without looking back.

Next class was Geography. Mr. Armstrong was true to form and I just wrote out a preliminary draft of the French assignment. As a twist, I made this much different. The story went where a man took out a girl. One looked like an older me, and the other had features similar to Laura. They had a nice meal where the man even fed the girl by hand as if she was unable to do so. The man even wiped the girl's lips and got a smile for his efforts.

'She picked up her arms and the man clung to the girl and danced around the room to the music coming from the radio. He talked incessantly to the girl, but she only used gestures in reply, if she made any at all.'

The possibility was hinted that the girl was mute.

'On the shag flooring, the man began to kiss each of her fingers in turn and the girl pulled her hand away, but soon put it back. When the digits had each been caressed, the man seductively removed the stockings and kissed each of the toes. The same thing happened as with the fingers.

The girl got very excited by this and wanted up. With one more dance, the man saw that his girl was sleepy. He carried her in his strong arms to the bedroom and placed her in her own bed. With a final kiss the girl closed her eyes and the man tucked his baby daughter into the crib.'

There were lots of improvements that could be made, and that would be done tonight. There would be a cover page, seemingly addressed to the man's girlfriend.

At the end of the class I looked on the blackboard and saw the homework assignments. The page numbers were listed and I just searched my memory for what was written and wrote the answers out without ever opening a textbook.

History was our next destination. Our homework was taken up verbally and the students compared their answers against what Mr. Lockhart said as correct. I didn't have any problem with their simplistic and even biased results compared to a more rigorous and honest approach. Schools, at the time, played some things as too black and white, when a more uniform coat of gray should have been applied.

Science was our last class of the day. It was more of a general approach designed to expose the students to a wide variety of subjects and perhaps spark a fire in one of them. Today we were asked to demonstrate how individual atoms "live" forever and can become part of many living and nonliving materials. From the way it was said, I knew that soon this would be on a quiz.

Half way through the class the speakers came alive throughout the school. Mr. Summers' voice came on with a bit of feedback till he turned down his own speaker. "Will Alex Kramer please come to the office? Alex Kramer, come to the office." I could only think of one reason for this call. Summers must really be an asshole. On the wall beside the door was a telephone-type intercom that could have been used. All that would have to have been done was to consult one of the three grade nine period charts.

The class was quiet and everybody was looking at me. "I am sorry for disturbing your class, sir, and it seems the entire school. It would have taken too much work to just talk to you on the phone, I guess."

I hurried to the gym and put a dime in the public phone and made a very quick call. When I got to the office I found an angry Mr. Summers outside his office. "It took you long enough."

The comment did not need a reply and I just looked at him.

"Get in my office," he said as he stood to one side.

I walked in to see another man sitting in a chair and glaring at me. The VP came in and closed the door behind him. He said without preamble, "Do you know who this man is?"

"Is that a rhetorical question, or would you really want me to answer?"

This threw him. "Answer if you can."

"Without fear of repercussions?"

He thought for a second and said, "Sure."

"First thing is that he is a friend of yours whom you intend to impress." This got Summers to sputter, and I continued, "He is the father of two bullies who should have been disciplined long before they had arrived at this school."

"How dare you talk like that to me? You insolent..."

"Going back on your word so soon? Do you lie to your students all the time? What about their parents?"

He was about to strike me, but I stayed as I was and tried not to flinch. Summers stopped part way to my face and pulled his hand back. "You are in deep trouble, Kramer. This man's sons had to go to the hospital because of the beating you gave them. I am told there are many witnesses, too."

He continued, "Do you know that each of his sons has a broken nose? Three other boys have suffered severe damage at your hands. This is a very serious case."

I had looked calmly at Summers as he ranted and then began to say the same thing again in different words. When he wound down, I turned to Nick's father and said, "What did your sons tell you, sir?"

Both men sputtered that I was not cringing before them. The father said finally, "You attacked them when their backs were turned as they walked home."

"I attacked all five people in such a way that I was able to beat them single-handedly? Every person was at least two years older than me. The young man who was in the fight, I believe, is close to 18 years old and twice my weight. It also looks like he and his younger brother play football and hockey. These are the boys that you think a 13-year-old boy, who would normally be in grade seven, has beaten?"

"I don't know how you did it. You could have used a club."

"Our Vice Principal has said that there were many witnesses. Instead of condemning me before hearing my side, why don't a dozen or so witnesses come forth and tell what they saw?"

"You are being expelled, Kramer. I will not have a bully like you in my school."

"Are you sure you want to do that? You have not heard my side of the story, nor do I think that you have asked for any impartial witnesses."

"I know the truth and that is enough. Now get out of here."

"Would you give me the expulsion papers first? It would be something for my family to read." The man turned red. But then thought that it would be a good idea and have me punished by my father too.

He left the room and called for the correct form. A frightened secretary brought it to him and he began to fill it out in pen. In a few minutes it was done, and he signed it with flourish. He took out his copy and gave me a carbon copy of the document.

Just then a flushed Derrick MacNeil came into the main office. I walked over to him and handed him my copy of the form and said, "Protect this." He looked at the paper and then the back before opening his briefcase and putting it safely inside.

"What would you like me to do?"

I said in a normal voice, "Start legal proceedings against the North Bay School Board. Name as defendants Mr. Summers, Vice Principal, our Principal, James Corfu, and the superintendent of this area. I will seek one million dollars in punitive damages as well as full court costs. Further, I want you to call the police and have this man's sons," I said as I pointed to the father, "arrested for assault and attempted assault. Mr. Summers says that there are many witnesses, and I want them subpoenaed for both the criminal and the civil case."