Bruce Alexander

'Is there something you want to tell me?'We were eating dinner and talking about something else and out of nowhere Mom had slipped in perhaps the most dangerous question in the world.

I knew what she was doing; it was that trick they always used in those cop shows: Offer the bad guy a deal if he comes clean. I pointed to my mouth- she'd taught me not to talk with my mouth full.

I chewed, swallowed, wiped my mouth with the napkin, took a sip of lemonade, and then said, 'Nope, don't know what you're talking about.'

Mom gave me that look she put on when she wanted me to know she wasn't buying it.

I went back to my plate of string beans and fried chicken. I hated the vegetables, but I wasn't going to complain tonight. I could feel her eyes boring into me, and it was hard not to look up, but I knew I was dead if I did.

And honestly, she had the wrong guy. I couldn't think of anything I might've done that she could've found out about. Not since Teddy left the lane. I ate as fast as I could, expecting that at any moment Mom would bring it up again.

After dinner, she left me to my chores, like she had forgotten all about it. I wasn't fooled. I took my time washing the pots, pans, dishes and cutlery. I knew that the deal was off the table, as the cops always said. I was going to get it, sooner or later.

Then, as I took my time drying, a weird feeling came over me. I was hurt because I couldn't believe that she was still treating me like a kid; and at the same time I felt ashamed that I'd behaved like I was still a kid. I should've just told her something and got it over with.

I didn't sleep well that night. When I woke up, I felt a little stupid about the night before. Sometimes Mom wins, sometimes I win - that's life. I showered and dressed and went out to the kitchen. Mom was making our lunches, as usual, and she was talking back to the radio as usual.

Mom waited with me at the bus stop. As the bus was slowing down, she handed me my foil-wrapped sardine sandwich, kissed me on the cheek, and then took hold of my head with both hands.

'I have a meeting with your principal during my lunch break. I'll see you when I get home, Walter.'

And she turned me around and kind of pushed me on to the bus.

The doors closed and the bus pulled away from the sidewalk. Mom stood at the stop, waving but not smiling. Then she turned and walked back down the lane.

As I found a seat near the back of the bus, a bad word came to mind. It was a word Teddy had taught me and had warned me never to repeat in front of women, and never ever in front of my mom. Teddy never explained why it was so bad to women. I don't think he knew.

School was horrible. I couldn't concentrate. All I could think about was Mom, the principal, and the lashing I was going to get. It's bad enough when you know you're going to get it, but when you don't know why you're going to get it, that's just plain evil.

It was the longest day of school ever, and I kept watching the clock and the door. I managed to make it through the day without any real trouble from my teachers, except for Father Roberts, who yelled at me in religious education but then everyone got yelled at in R.E.

I was sitting on the porch reading my literature book when Mom got home. I had bathed the dog, tidied up my room, showered, and put on my Sunday church outfit.

Mom kicked the gate open, and then the most amazing thing happened. The gate hit the post and started coming back at Mom. She saw it but she had her hands full with plastic bags. At the last moment, Mom kicked out a foot, the gate hit it, and she dropped the bags, spilling groceries on the ground. The gate trembled.

But that wasn't the amazing part. Suddenly Mom let out a stream of bad words. My mouth dropped open. It was like an essay on bad words, including the never-to-be-said one and some similar-sounding ones and some I had never heard before.

She looked like the mad woman who walked the lane yelling at no one. Finally, she stopped, and looked around her, and then she rubbed her foot and gathered up the groceries. I put down the book and got up to do something; I didn't know what. Mom walked right past me into the house without saying a word.

Later, I overheard Mom on the phone. She was talking to her man friend, Fat Frank, and she was not happy.

It turned out that Principal Matthews had made her skip lunch, take an expensive taxi ride, and had got her in trouble with her boss for getting back to work late -all because he wanted to talk to her in person because he thought I might need glasses. One of my teachers had noticed that I was squinting a lot when I was reading off the blackboard.

Game over. I was off the hook.

Then, slowly, I realised what this meant. When Teddy was around, I wasn't the only strange kid on the lane. And it was worse at school: I read too much and got too many good grades.

I begged and begged but I couldn't win this one. The glasses would make me see far things, Mom said. She didn't care that I was going to get beaten up every day for the rest of my life.

'That's life,' Mom said; and that was the end of it.

I never wore them on the lane; I always kept them hidden in my backpack. But one day I was wearing them on the bus when Chris, from the CREW, got in at a stop and saw me with the glasses on. He chuckled to himself but he couldn't get to me and he took a seat near the front of the bus. He kept looking back with that evil-looking grin he had.

Chris was one of the first guys on the lane to get an earring and he was the leader of the CREW.

When I got off the bus, they were waiting for me: Chris, Ray, and Eric. If things had been different I would have been the perfect addition to the CREW.

As it was, it wasn't like those fights you see on TV. They had a fun time chucking me around and calling me names, trying to make me cry. The only thing I could do was hold back the tears, and wait for them to get bored. No one on the lane came to my rescue.

Finally, they let me go. But as I was walking away, Mongoose-face Eric grabbed my backpack, spun it around his head, and launched it down the lane.

We were sitting on the couch watching TV when I told Mom about the glasses.

Mom stared at me and opened her mouth but nothing came out. While I was still trying to explain, she got up and went to the kitchen.

It wasn't my fault. Mom stood at the sink and stared out of the window, but there was nothing out there, just the same old yard. I felt horrible about the glasses, but I didn't understand what the big deal was. It wasn't my fault.

I got the new glasses and, around the same time, Fat Frank started spending a lot of time at the house.

He was always bringing me gifts and I tried to be nice to him, but he made me feel weird, especially at dinner time.

I just felt like I couldn't talk as easily as I used to. I'd answer questions and eat and then excuse myself from the table. I felt like I didn't belong in my own house.

I think Mom felt the weirdness too. I don't know how to describe it, but she just wasn't the same person she was before. Sometimes, he stayed the whole night, but I don't like to think about that.

It was on one of those nights that I found the old glasses' case in a dresser drawer. I was about to throw it away, but something made me change my mind. I'm not sure why. I think I still have it somewhere.

- Bruce Alexander