Finders Keepers (6 page)

There was a clink of the pail, a faint click of a switch and they were plunged into pitch darkness as the door slammed.

“Hey, Danny, I can't see anything. How will we get out?” Joshua's voice had a distinct note of panic in it.

Danny stuck out his arm and waved it around until he hit Joshua's body. “It's OK, I know the way back. We'll just have to make sure we don't knock anything over.” He placed Joshua's hand on his shoulder. “Don't let go. We'll take small steps and feel our way past the displays, to the exit.”

They shuffled blindly in the darkness. Going past the display cases was fine, but brushing past the plaster models wearing clothes scared both of them.

“Yuk, they feel like dead bodies,” whispered Danny.

“Shut up, I don't want to know,” said Joshua. “Just get us out of here.” He tripped on a low riser, stumbled and fell heavily on his knees. Something rocked and fell.

“Darn it… I hope nothing's broken.” Danny helped Joshua up. “Come on.”

They twisted and turned uneasily through what seemed like an endless maze until a final corner brought them within the glow of the red exit light. Thankfully, both boys rushed for the door and flung it open.

Their nerve gone, they slammed it behind them and raced down the boardwalk.

“This way,” yelled Danny and he sped around a building, through a gap and onto a grassy field beside the fort. “Come on, over the fence.”

They raced across the grass and leaped up the fence, digging their toes into the chain links. Swinging across the top almost in unison, they dropped breathlessly down on the other side.

“Hey, what do you think you're doing?” The shout was
faint behind them. They dodged down a back alley and out onto a street beyond.

“Look cool,” Danny whispered out of the side of his mouth. Both boys slowed down to an easy walk and turned back into Main Street.

A truck stridently honking drew level. “Hey Joshua, move it. We've been looking all over for you,” called a young woman hanging out of the truck window. “Jump in the back, we've gotta go.”

Joshua ran to the truck and climbed over the tail gate. “See you next week,” he called as the truck accelerated off in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

Danny wandered happily back to the store. Now he had something to look forward to next weekend. All he had to do first was survive the week at school.

Monday mornings were always bad, but this was the worst ever. Danny's head ached, so did his stomach. His eyes felt gritty and his tongue tasted awful.

“Seven-thirty,” called his father, banging on the bedroom door.

“I don't feel good,” Danny protested and buried his head in the pillow.

His father opened the door and looked thoughtfully at him. “Bad night, eh?”

Danny grunted in agreement.

It hadn't been easy to fall asleep. He'd heard his parents talking late into the night and he knew they were discussing his problems. He'd tossed and turned, worrying about what they were saying. Then he worried about the kids at school and what they would say. “I wish other kids liked me,” Danny had muttered in the darkness as he tossed and turned. “Maybe Mom was right. I should see if Mike is interested in my den. I'll invite him over tomorrow.”

With a faint sense of having resolved something, Danny had finally drifted off to sleep, but then the dreams started. Not 'the chase' one, but dreams with twenty-foot-high principals and teachers all yelling at him. Even the lance
point under his pillow hadn't helped stop those.

Now, being awake was worse. He had to go and see the principal for real. His stomach muscles clenched painfully. He groaned and curled up on his side.

“You'll feel better when you've faced up to the situation, son,” said his father patting his feet clumsily. “Be a man. Explain to Mr. Hubner. He is trying to help.”

Danny rolled over and gazed miserably at his father. “Oh yeah, and what about Mr. Berg?”

“Danny, we all have teachers we don't like, you just have to get along with them. Running away doesn't solve anything, it just prolongs it.”

Danny wished his father would shut up. He quit listening and tried to concentrate on how he was going to make himself get out of bed, face breakfast, walk out of the house and climb into the school bus.

His father looked questioningly at Danny. “Well? Will that help?”

Danny guiltily realized his father had finished talking and he didn't have a clue about the question. He rubbed his eyes. “I'm still not awake Dad, run that by me again.”

“Would a ride to school help?”

Danny nodded, relieved. A ride would postpone the barrage of questions from the other kids until recess.

They arrived at school early. The almost empty playground seemed endless. Danny, head down against the wind, concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other and counting how many steps it took to cross to the school door.

“Hey. Save it!” A distant yell from a group of early morning hockey players made him swing round.

A puck shot over the ground towards him. He hopefully stuck out his foot but missed. The puck skittered past and plopped into a large puddle of dirty water.

There was a chorus of derisive groans.

“Gee, might have known. Dummy Danny! Can't you even stop a puck?” The pack of frustrated players charged over, elbowed Danny out of the way and started fishing
for the puck with their sticks.

Danny ignored them and headed into the school. His stomach clenched again.

Slowly and painfully Danny bent over, took off his boots and laced on his runners. Even his extra long glow-in-the-dark laces didn't comfort him today. Carefully he stood upright and hung up his coat. He felt dead and disembodied so he concentrated on his feet. To the staccato accompaniment of his lace tips tapping on the polished floor, he watched his feet carry him down the corridor. He had never felt so small, so sick, so isolated. But no matter how slowly he walked, Mr. Hubner's office appeared to be approaching at the speed of light.

“Come in Danny,” boomed Mr. Hubner. “Let's see if we can make some sense of all this.”

Frozen but fascinated, Danny gazed earthward and watched his feet walk him through the principal's door and lead his body to a chair. That was when he noticed an extra set of feet. He looked up. They belonged to Mr. Berg.

Danny threw up.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Somehow he was propelled into the staff washroom and his head held over the toilet bowl. When he'd finished retching, burly but gentle hands wiped his face with a damp cloth. His shivering body was wrapped in a blanket and he was led to a chair in the sick room.

“Feel better?” asked a voice he knew only too well.

Danny nodded, though his thoughts were in turmoil. He still felt scared and shaky but Mr. Berg… Mr. Berg had helped him. Danny looked up and for the first time in weeks, met his teacher's eyes. “Thanks,” he said.

Mr. Berg drew up another chair and sat down opposite him. “Danny, you and I have to talk.”

Danny nodded.

“You threw up because you were scared?”

“I dunno.” Danny shifted uncomfortably. “I guess so. I couldn't help it though,” he added anxiously.

Mr. Berg nodded. “You ran away because you were
scared of the mental arithmetic test, and the Social Studies project,” he continued.

Danny looked at his feet again.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

Danny eyes widened and flew up with amazement. “About what?”

“What are you going to do about being scared of me and school?”

Danny hunched resentfully back into the blanket. What could he do about anything?

Mr. Berg got up and and paced around the room. Danny watched surreptitiously. Somehow Mr. Berg trying to be nice was almost worse than Mr. Berg yelling in class. It made him feel guilty.

Mr. Berg took a deep breath and swung around. “Look Danny, there's no need to be scared. I yell and tease everyone don't I? Do I treat you any differently than the other students?”

Danny shook his head but he wasn't sure. He didn't know how many times Mr. Berg yelled at the other kids, only the times he yelled at him.

“And I only yell when you do dumb things, right?” Danny huddled miserably on the chair, hope fading. Everything he did at school someone called dumb.

Mr. Berg patted him on the shoulder. “So come on Danny, face things with courage. You're a real bright kid in some ways. You know plenty, you've got some great ideas and can express them well when you're talking. If you concentrate on your handwriting, spelling and math there is no reason why you shouldn't be in the top group. Lots of people panic in math. No big deal. Just make sure you practise your tables so that they become second nature. As for the socials project, you've got six weeks to do it. Even a grade 2 could produce it in that time. Pull yourself together and work steadily, and you and I will get along just fine.”

Danny tuned out. Here was just the same old stuff. “Pull yourself together, concentrate, practice your tables and learn your spellings!” He'd heard it all before. Why did no one
understand that he tried to learn all those things and it still didn't make a difference?

Danny switched over to fantasy.

Astronaut Daniel Budzynski of the Canadian Moon Base comes back to visit his school. “You're our hero,” the kids yell as he strides across the school grounds. Then they cheer as he towers over Mr. Berg saying, “And I still don't know my multiplication tables.”

Danny came back to the present with a jolt to find Mr. Berg towering thoughtfully over him.

“Do you find it difficult to tell me if you don't understand things?”

Danny almost laughed. Did he find it difficult? He found it impossible! What kid is going to admit he doesn't understand, to a teacher who then uses the problem as an example of how not to do things? Danny would rather die.

“Well, do you?” insisted Mr. Berg.

“You go too fast in math,” mumbled Danny desperately screwing his courage to the sticking place. “I don't get it.”

“Well in future come and see me at recess and I'll go over it with you. OK?”

“OK,” Danny agreed uncomfortably. He'd give that a try. Being dumped on at recess was better than being dumped on in class.

The morning buzzer interrupted them. It was instantly followed by the dull roar of feet pounding through the hallways.

Mr. Hubner appeared at the office door. “All finished?” he asked brightly. “Think you can handle class, Danny?”

Danny stood up with a small sigh. He dragged off the blanket, folded it carefully and handed it to Mr. Berg. “Thanks” he said. “I'll try.” And straightening his shoulders and stepping out like an astronaut, he walked determinedly down the long corridor towards the classroom door. Maybe a miracle would happen. Maybe things would be different.

The classroom noise level was worse than usual. Brett Gibson had rigged up a model helicopter hanging by a string from a stick. He was manipulating it to dive bomb the girls. They were yelling at him and covering their hair with text books.

Danny tried to sneak through to his desk unnoticed.

“Hey, the Dummy's back,” announced Brett loudly and sent the helicopter swinging over Danny's head.

Stoically Danny ignored it, sat down and turned to the desk beside him. “Mike, do you want to come over tonight? I've something to show you.”

“Sure.” Mike looked over at Danny. “Did the IceBerg get you this morning?”

Brett Gibson gleefully dropped the helicopter so it swung between the two boy's faces.

“Come on Brett, get that thing out of here,” yelled Michael over his shoulder. He turned back to Danny and lowered his voice. “Did you get a licking?”

The helicopter hung between them, humming like a malevolent wasp.

Danny shook his head. “Just a talking to.” He looked at Michael and debated whether to tell him about throwing up.