Date: Thu, 10 Jul 2014 08:44:08 -0700
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Puget Posse  Chapter 17

Welcome back. School has finally started and the first day upsets the
twins' sense of justice and fairness.

Please donate to the Nifty Archive to keep the stories coming.

Let me know how you're enjoying the story. All emails are answered.

Douglas. thehakaanen@hotmail.com


CHAPTER 17
FIFTH GRADE—THE BOTTOM RUNG

Three members of the Puget Posse caught school buses on the first morning
of school. The twins were driven to school by their parents, at least to
start the year, because they lived farther out than the Academy ran its
buses. Mr. John Carter was the transportation director as well as the
lunchroom supervisor. The administration felt that the few students who
lived in the outlying areas could sleep in longer if their parents drove
them to school. Because they had to cover a lot of territory, it would take
the buses much longer to drive the distance than the student's parents
would take. In fact, most of the students were driven to school by their
parents or in car pools. Except for scholarship students, the school
charged a fee for riding the regular buses.

The three Academy buses were about three-quarters the size of a standard
school bus. The academy also had one full-sized bus which was used for
those students who stayed for after school activities or managed to find
their way into after school detention. After school detention was a rare
occurrence, since most detention that was meted out took place during
lunch. While misbehavior was not common at the academy, the school did have
four grades of intelligent, strong-willed, independent thinking boys who
could sometimes let things go too far. There was no fee for using the
activity bus.

Misha and Neville were picked up by the same bus. Because the bus was a
private school bus scheduled to pick up specific students, it came right to
the boys' houses. Misha looked out of the window with anticipation. Lois
Larson thought her son looked incredibly handsome in his powder blue shirt,
dark slacks, and red and dark blue striped necktie.

The Puget Academy dress code was a variable one, governed by the
calendar. All of the boys were required to have a school uniform, but some
Fridays would be no uniform days. Even on uniform days there was
variation. Students and parents learned very quickly to have the monthly
school calendar posted in an obvious place to not only keep track of the
activities, but to check the dress code for the day as well. The first day
of school was one of those that required the full uniform, including
necktie.

Misha looked at the clock. This was going to be his first day of school in
America, and he was almost giddy with anticipation. Lois smiled and
reminded him to calm himself, but that was asking too much of the
ten-year-old.

The night before had been hard on everybody. Misha couldn't sleep, so he
donned a pair of briefs and went to his parents' bedroom. This usually
wasn't an issue since he generally fell right to sleep once he felt the
safe love and warmth of their presence. But, this time he tossed and turned
with nervousness, keeping Ryan and Lois awake most of the night. They were
tempted to send him back to his own bed, but their counselor had told them
there would be nights like this and the worst thing they could do would be
to reject him because of his restlessness. So, they lived with their bouncy
boy in bed, figuring to make up the sleep the next night.

It was now five minutes later than the time the bus had been scheduled to
arrive. The parents had all been informed that the schedule was tentative,
based not only on traffic, but on the drivers learning their new
routes. Even though he knew the bus might be late (or even a bit early for
that matter), Misha was afraid he was going to be forgotten, missing the
first day of school. The fact that his mother was right there to drive him
to school didn't alleviate his fears. Finally, Misha walked out of the
front door and stood on the sidewalk looking down the street for an
oncoming yellow bus. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a bus turn the
corner and head away from his house. Right then, he could tell the school
really didn't want him.

He fought back tears and turned to return to the house and tell his mother,
when he saw her standing on the front porch. "That was the public school
bus, honey, not your bus," she said, knowing what he was thinking as only a
mother could know.

Misha heard the sound of another engine. He broke into a huge smile when
the smaller yellow bus stopped in front of his house. He gave his mother a
wave and climbed on board the bus.

The business of catching the bus was not as traumatic for Neville. He was
an old hand at riding buses. If he could negotiate the ride on a Metro bus,
he could certainly handle a school bus.  Besides, Dylan would be riding
with him. The weather was sunny as he waited in front of the house with
Dylan for the bus to arrive.

Neville noticed Misha as soon has he got on. There were a few other boys on
board and quite a few empty seats. Dylan saw a friend of his and sat next
to him, so Neville sat next to Misha, the only boy on board whom he knew.

"Hello, Neville," Misha said, pleased to see a familiar face, even if it
belonged to Neville, whom he found to be somewhat rude and snobby.

"Good morning, Misha," Neville said. Although he wouldn't completely admit
it to himself, he, too, was happy to see somebody he knew. The quiet,
likeable Russian had become his favorite Posse member.

"I did not know we would be riding the same bus. I wonder if anybody else
on the Posse will be riding." The boys had not shared their bus schedules
during orientation.

"The only ones left are the twins and Patrick, and I hope they are not on
this bus," Neville said, showing his disdain for his fellow team members.

"I think they are all very nice," Misha said. Misha had an innate ability
to like people, at least until they showed him they were not worthy of the
effort. He had made friends with some pretty tough boys at the
orphanage. He was enamored with the rambunctious twins, and wanted Patrick
to become his friend.

"You like Mark and Matthew? Why? They are noisy and rude."

"They voted for my name."

"Because they knew they were going to lose and they wanted to look good."

"I don't think that is true. I think they liked my name the best," Misha
insisted. He was beginning to feel some of the confidence he had felt at
the orphanage. It was the kind of confidence he had to have when he knew
that backing down to certain boys could almost make him their
slave. Neville was impressed by the quiet boy's assertiveness. The Russian
might be the silent type, but he was not a pussy.

For Misha, ever since he stood up for his team name, change had come over
him. While he wasn't brimming over with self-assurance, he was also no
longer being completely governed by his fears.

"And you like Patrick as well?" Neville asked.

"Yes I do. He is very nice." Of course he wasn't going to mention the
strange occurrence in the Wild Waves changing room on Saturday.

"But he is a scholarship boy, which makes him from the lower class."

"So?" As far as Misha was concerned it was hard to be any lower than living
in an orphanage. He might live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood now,
but that was not how he had spent almost all of his boyhood.

Neville remained silent, electing to not bring up his Irish prejudice. Even
if Patrick wasn't really from Ireland, he had made a big deal about his
Irish heritage, and for Neville that was enough because his father had told
him he wasn't supposed to like the Irish.

Misha looked out of the window of the bus. He recognized where they were as
the bus turned into a tree-lined street. This was the street that led to
the Academy. He looked at the older mansions, sitting on large wooded
lots. The houses spoke of money and power. The ones on the right had a view
of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains across the water. They passed the
Annie Fuller Girls' Day School, which was bustling with activity. Then they
passed more mansions and some wooded area when the castle-like building
that was the Puget Sound Academy loomed to their right.

The bus pulled into school grounds on the landscaped driveway. It stopped
in front of the grand front entrance with the wide stone stairway leading
from the sidewalk to the doors. For most of the boys on the bus, the ride
was already routine. For the fifth graders arriving, the scene was awesome
and even a bit frightening. Orientation had prepared them well, but nothing
could prepare them for the flurry of activity associated with the start of
the first day of school.

++++++++++++

Patrick took a different bus. Brian, his father, had taken the day off to
get his young son ready for his big adventure at his new school. He was
tempted to drive him to school on the first day, worried that the little
nine-year-old would get lost in a maze of tweens. But he knew that his son
was a very independent minded preteen. He didn't want his son to think he
had no confidence in him. Nervous as Patrick probably was, Brian figured
that orientation had given him enough confidence to do the first day on his
own.

Just as he had done in third grade, Patrick rose to his own alarm and
showered. And just as he had done since he'd started school, he came to
breakfast wearing just a pair of socks. He would sometimes concede to the
drafty old house in the winter by wearing a long t-shirt, but he ate in the
nude as much as he could.

After eating the eggs, bacon, and toast that Grannana had cooked up ("A
growing boy needs a proper breakfast to make it through the day," was her
watchword), Patrick put on his school uniform for the tenth time. He had
practiced donning it all day Sunday, including getting lessons on tying his
necktie from his Uncle Ted. He checked himself in the mirror, thinking he
looked pretty good.  He went to the living room for final inspection from
Grannana and his father. Uncle Ted had long ago left for work.

"You look great," Brian said. "If your school had girls, you'd knock them
off their feet."

"Dad, girls are gross."

"I didn't say you had to like them, I just said you'd knock them off their
feet."

"Is my necktie tied right?"

"You being a boy it won't make much difference how it's tied," Grannana
said. "By the time lunch comes around, you will probably be wearing it
backwards."

Patrick grabbed his backpack, hugged his Grannana and his father, and went
out to the sidewalk.

"He's growing up fast," Maxine told Brian.

"Too fast. Skipping a grade. Going to a new school with high
expectations. He's even wearing a necktie to school." Brian took a deep
breath. The day seemed to be more emotional for him than it was for his
son. "I just hope we haven't dumped too much on him all at once and he ends
up becoming overwhelmed."

"He doesn't look overwhelmed so far."

"Let's see if you can say the same thing a month from now, or even a day
from now."

Just then a yellow school bus showed up with "The Puget Academy" written
along the letter board on the side. The door opened and the bus swallowed
up the small boy. Brian fought back tears, hoping he wasn't sending his
innocent little boy into the lion's den.

The bus started its route in the working class neighborhood in which
Patrick's family resided. There were three other Academy students who lived
in that area, all of them scholarship students.  Only one of them was a
fifth grader. There was one other rider on the bus, a seventh grader named
Steve. He was sitting two seats from the rear.

The lady driver gave Patrick a friendly smile. "Welcome aboard, Patrick."

Patrick was surprised and pleased that she knew his name. He smiled back
and gave her a friendly "hello".

"I'm Mrs. Deaver and I will be your bus driver for the year. It's always
nice to meet new students coming to the Puget Academy." Mrs. Deaver was in
her fifteenth year as a driver and teaching aide at the Academy. She took
her job seriously and did everything she could to make her charges welcome,
especially the incoming fifth graders, who always looked so awestruck when
they first stepped on her bus. The little boy getting on the bus was no
exception. She noted what a contrast he was to some of the big
thirteen-year-olds she would be picking up on the way to the school.  Both
the parents and the students loved her for her stern, but even-handed way
of dealing with her charges.

With virtually every seat on the bus empty, Patrick wasn't sure where to
sit.

Mrs. Deaver recognized his dilemma. "The back of the bus is the private
empire of the seventh and eighth graders," she told him as he froze with
indecisiveness. "Take one of the front seats and you can't go wrong."

Patrick thanked her and took a seat in the second row.

"The fifth graders sure are little runts these days," Steve said loudly
from the back as the bus pulled away.

"Steve Franks, that little ass of yours barely moved the bathroom scale
when you were ten years old, so you have nothing to say to this boy about
his size."

"Sorry, ma'am." Beneath the smiling exterior of Mrs. Deaver was a tough
broad who had raised three boys as a single mother. She not only was liked
by her riders, she was totally respected and sometimes a bit feared by
them.

"Why not make the boy feel like he is a welcome Pelican."

The Puget Academy's nickname was the Pelicans even though there wasn't a
pelican within hundreds of miles of the school. "It could be worse," the
twins' father had commented. "They could have been the Penguins."

"It could be the Pumas," Mark had countered. "Pumas would be way cool."

"So, welcome to the best school bus at the Puget Pelican school," Steve
said. "And your name is Patrick?"

"Yeah, my name is Patrick."

"Good job, Steve. Good job, Patrick," Mrs. Deaver called out. "If you two
behave like this every morning you will start my morning just fine."

The third stop saw a lanky eighth grader board the bus. He ignored Patrick
as he walked to the back seat. He and Steve exchanged a complicated
handshake—they were riding the bus together for the fourth year and had
developed their own morning routine.

Patrick was surprised that he knew the boy who boarded the bus at the
fourth stop. "Hello, Will," Mrs. Deaver said. She knew the names of each
rider on her bus, having learned the new fifth graders from the printout of
names and addresses she received from the school. Will Vaughn was one of
the boys who sat at table 10, now known as the Fantastic Five.

Will saw Patrick and sat next to him. "You're in my class with
Mr. Jackson," Will said, pleased to see a familiar face.

"Yep. And you're with the Fantastic Five," Patrick said.

"And you're with the Posse team, but I forgot your name."

"It's Patrick, but it's okay if you call me Pat. I know your name is Will."

"You're good to remember that."

"I just heard the bus driver call you Will."

"I'm like you. I have a long first name—William. But you can call me
Will."

"Like you can call me Pat." Patrick repeated. He would soon find out he
much preferred being called Patrick to Pat.

"I think we have a pretty good team," Will said. "We really get along
good. How about you?"

"I guess. I don't know if we get along real great, but I guess we're doing
okay."

"You guess? You guys won the scavenger hunt. My brother says that's a
really big deal."

Patrick didn't see anybody get on the bus with Will. "Your brother goes to
Puget?"

"He did. He's a ninth grader now."

"Oh. But, yeah, it was pretty cool to win the scavenger hunt. I guess we
did get along pretty well to do that."

"We'll work hard to beat you at the next contest. Mr. Jackson said he'd be
giving us a lot of them."

"We kind of have one already. The challenge our eighth grade guides made
for us."

"Oh yeah, that. We all figure on our team there is no way we'll ever do
that. There's no place for us to...um...," Will glanced over at
Mrs. Deaver. His brother had told him that Mrs. Deaver knew everything that
happens on her bus, "...for us to do what we have to do."

"You're probably right. I'm not worried about it." Patrick took a deep
breath and said," Are you nervous about school and all? It's supposed to be
really hard there."

"So far it's been pretty fun, but orientation wasn't really school. But if
my dumb brother can make it all the way through I'm not too scared."

The bus had entered an area of bigger and nicer homes. Patrick and Will
both looked at the faces of the boys getting on, but they only recognized
two, and Patrick's spirits dropped when he saw who one of them was.

Jeremiah and another fifth grader Patrick and Will recognized from
orientation got on at the stop in front of Jeremiah's house. "Hello,
Jeremiah," Mrs. Deaver said. "Who is your friend?"

"This is Tony and he's going to be riding with us," Jeremiah said.

"I don't seem to see him on my list."

"My dad said it was okay because he's in my class."

Mrs. Deaver was experienced enough to not make waves for the boy in front
of other students. That could wait until after they arrived at school.

"I am sure it is okay for today," the bus driver said.

Jeremiah saw Patrick and Will as he started for the back of the bus. "Oh
look," he said to Tony. "It's two dweebs from Mr. Jackson's class."

"I expect the riders of my bus to be civil to each other," Mrs. Deaver
said.

"Whatever," Jeremiah mumbled as he and Tony passed two empty seats and kept
walking to the back. "Fifth and sixth graders sit to the front of the bus,"
Mrs. Deaver told them.

"Whatever," he mumbled again, already in a sassy young adolescent mode at
age ten that was fueled by his sense of entitlement. He and Tony found the
last two empty spots in the back third of the bus and sat down.

"These seats are for the upstairs kids, the seventh and eighth graders,"
one of the eighth graders told him. "You best move at the next stop if you
don't want to start fifth grade with some bruises."

"And how do you know we're fifth graders?" Jeremiah asked.

"Because you're little kids and because I never saw you before and because
you're both stupid."

"I don't plan on moving," Jeremiah said with more confidence than he felt.

"If you don't move," another eighth grader said, "it will prove you not
only look stupid, but that you really are stupid."

Another eighth grader got on the bus at the next stop, dashing out of his
house with his tie still untied, obviously running late. Mrs. Deaver opened
the door and he virtually leaped up the steps.  "Late as usual are we
Curtis?" The boy was Curt, who was the guide for the Fantastic Five.

"You would be, too, if you had two sisters in high school hogging the
bathrooms," he said. "I gotta get my tie on right before we get to school."

"Hi, Curt," Will said as his guide started down the aisle.

"Hey, Will." He looked at Patrick, whom he recognized. "And we're going to
beat your team in the challenge, because I know who has a big one." He
didn't wait for an answer and passed the two sets of empty seats to get to
the back section of the bus. Mrs. Deaver smiled to herself thinking of
Curt's comment. "Boys are so transparent," she thought. She waited for Curt
to sit down before pulling away, knowing he couldn't sit where he wanted
because all of the back seats were occupied.

"What's this?" he asked. "Fifth graders in the back of the bus?" He
recognized Jeremiah as the boy who was cheating at the scavenger hunt.

"We have the right to sit here," Jeremiah said lamely.

"Says who?"

"Says us," he said, pointing to Tony.

Three boys stood up and stared down at the two ten-year-olds. "Well, WE say
you have no right to sit there until you earned it, which is done by
growing up," the tallest boy said. "Remember what we said, so move now or
learn what being at the bottom is all about."

Mrs. Deaver said nothing. She wanted to see how this played out. They were
on a residential street where there were no cars waiting, so she let the
bus sit with the red lights flashing.

Jeremiah looked up at the standing eighth graders and said nothing, but
Tony stood up to move. As big as his ego was, Jeremiah could see that
without Tony this was a battle he wasn't going to win. He and Tony left the
seat and moved up to one of the empty pair of seats towards the front. He
quickly learned that as a fifth grader he was not the alpha male of the
school. But, as he sat in the row behind Will and Patrick, he knew there
was no reason he couldn't be the boss of the fifth grade, unless the twins
stood in his way.

No other students were picked up to fill the three empty seats. The bus was
soon making its way up the tree-lined street towards Puget Sound and the
Puget Academy. They were the second bus to arrive.

++++++++++++

When Neville and Misha got off of their bus, they headed directly for the
wide stairway to the front door, but were stopped before they could get
there by three big boys they took to be eighth graders.

"Hold on just a minute guys, we need to talk to you," a tall dark-haired
boy with a bit of a paunch said.

"We have nothing to say to you," Neville said.

"Will you listen to him," the dark-haired boys said to one of his
buddies. "He sounds like he has some kind of an accent."

"I do not have an accent," Neville said with more than a touch of
annoyance.

"Before you go into the school, we just want to remind you that you will
need an elevator ticket in order to go up to the second and third
floors. We can sell you one for only ten credits. You should get one now."

"Nobody told us there was an elevator in the school," Misha said, wondering
how he missed that fact in orientation.

"That is because there are no elevators," Neville told Misha. "This is what
is called a scam."

"No, it was just a test to see how smart you were," the eighth grader said
with exaggerated graciousness. "But, to get to any upstairs classes you
will need a stair pass or you will be sent back down to the first
floor. There are also bathrooms upstairs, and we can provide you with a
pass for an extra ten credits."

Neville looked right up to the eighth graders, his eyes flashing through
his glasses. "Bite me," he said. He tugged at Misha and they started up the
stairs.

"Were the stair and bathroom passes a scam thing, too?" Misha asked.

"Yes."

"You were really smart."

"It helps having an older brother here, even if he is only a
step-brother. He told me exactly what to expect."

"Why did he not come with us?"

"He said the older kids would respect us more if we stood up to them on our
own. They cannot do much to us because they are being watched."

"Should we tell on them?" Misha asked.

"Dylan said they get caught almost every year and nobody ever ends up
paying anybody anything. It is how the big kids show us who the boss is."

"So this is what is called a tradition," Misha stated.

"Yes, it is a tradition."

Misha understood traditions—the orphanage had been full of them. The
selling of the tickets seemed to be harmless, unlike some of the traditions
of the orphanage.

"I would wager that when we are in the eighth grade the crazy twins will be
right there at the bottom of the steps selling elevator tickets," Neville
mused. "They are stupid enough to do things like that."

"What does `bite me' mean?" Misha asked, not wanting to be part of
Neville's tirade against the twins.

"It means what you think it means," Neville said. He wasn't entirely sure
what it meant, but he'd heard Dylan use it often. His step-brother had told
him it was the perfect thing to say when turning down his elevator ticket
and stair pass, so he said it.

"Oh," was all Misha could think to say. He knew as little as he had before
he asked. But he was impressed with how coolly Neville had handled the
situation at the bottom of the stairs.

++++++++++++

Will and Patrick got up to leave the bus, but quickly found out one more
rule of bus riding. While the fifth and sixth graders might have to sit in
the front seats, the seventh and eighth graders were the first to leave the
bus. The younger boys had to wait until the older ones passed. That fact
was made abundantly clear when Jeremiah got pushed back into his seat by
one of the eighth graders.

Mrs. Deaver gave the departing boys a friendly good-bye until the boy who
had shoved Jeremiah came by. She held up her hand to slow him
down. "Richard, if you want to physically show him who's boss, do it
someplace other than my bus. I'm the only boss here."

"Sorry, Mrs. Deaver," the surprisingly contrite thirteen-year-old said.

"Enjoy the first day of school," she told him with a smile, indicating the
incident was over unless he decided to keep things going.

Jeremiah made sure he was the first of the lower grade boys to the door,
but he, too, was stopped.

"Jeremiah, take note that the boss on this bus is me. Not you, not your
father, not the eighth graders. That said, if the eighth graders say they
sit in the back of the bus, they sit in the back. If they say they get off
the bus first, they get off the bus first. That is just how it is,
understand me?"

"Whatever." Jeremiah started to move, but found the big buxom woman
suddenly standing in front of him.

"Young man, I asked you a question and I expect a civil answer to that
question. Do you understand everything I just said?"

"Yes, I understand," Jeremiah said with ill-disguised contempt.

"Very good. If you remember all of what I just told you we will have some
very pleasant rides on my bus."

She moved out of his way and Jeremiah was off of the bus in a hurry, not
looking to see if Tony was behind him. The sixth graders on the bus held
back their smiles. They'd seen Mrs. Deaver in action before and knew that
she always won. Will and Patrick sat in awe of what they'd just seen, both
resolving never to cause any kind of problem for anybody on the bus.

When Will and Patrick got off of the bus, they saw the eighth graders from
the bus talking to Jeremiah and Tony about something, with both of the
fifth graders nodding and saying nothing. Will and Patrick got half-way up
the steps and were stopped by the eighth graders who had just been put in
their place by Neville and Misha.

"Have you kids bought your elevator tickets yet?" the bigger one asked.

"There aren't any elevators here," Patrick said.

"That's what you think, but they are there. If you buy a ticket for 25
credits you can ride them instead of using the stairs."

"The stairs are free," Will said, "so no thanks."

"Oh, you still have to pay to go up the stairs," the boy said, "unless
you're in seventh or eighth like us. Otherwise it's 10 credits. And it's
another 10 credits to use the upstairs bathrooms."

As the small confrontations were taking place, an SUV that had been waiting
its turn pulled up to the curb at the unloading zone. The back door opened
and two identical boys clambered out, the shirts of their uniforms
untucked, their ties askew, and their hair a tangle. "Bye, mom," they
yelled out in unison as they slung their backpacks over their shoulders.

"Good bye, boys. You two be good now," she said hopefully, wondering how
two boys could get into the back seat of an SUV with their hair neatly
combed and nattily dressed in their uniforms, and get out a half-hour later
looking like they'd been standing out in hurricane force winds. Mark closed
the sliding door and Kristy drove off hoping at least a week would go by
before she and Scott received their first phone call from the school.

The twins saw Jeremiah and another boy they recognized, but didn't know,
handing money over to a couple of bigger boys, each receiving a piece of
paper in return. They headed for stairs and saw Patrick and Will from their
class halfway up the stairs. They brushed off the advances of a trio of
eighth graders as they took the stairs two at a time to catch up.

Patrick and Will were also talking to some older kids. They caught the end
of the conversation as one of the eighth graders said. "Look, we know you
don't have credits, so we'll take money. It will be like a deposit. You pay
us the credits when you get them and we give you your money back."

"Sorry," Will said, "I'm not paying to go to the upper floors. I only have
one class up there." Having had a big brother attend the Academy, Will knew
the whole ticket thing was a hazing scam.

"If you don't pay you'll always be late because you don't have a stair
pass."

"Come on, Will," Patrick said, "this is dumb."

One of the eighth graders grabbed Patrick's arm as he started away. "Who
are you calling dumb?"

Before Patrick could say anything, Matthew stepped in front of him and
looked up at the teenager who stood six inches taller than him. "He's
calling you dumb, because you're so stupid you think fifth graders are so
stupid they'll pay you money you don't deserve," Matthew said.

"How about you butting out," the eighth grader, whose name was Brad, said.

"How about you letting go of my friend."

Brad wasn't about to be pushed around by a fifth grader. He looked down at
the unloading area to see if either of the aides working along the sidewalk
was watching. Satisfied that he had a couple of moments, he decided to
escalate the standoff to show the little kid that messing with an eighth
grader was not advisable. Instead of letting go of Patrick's arm, he
squeezed it tighter, eliciting a quick squeal of pain.

Because Matthew's dominant right hand was blocked by the presence of
Patrick, he balled his left hand into a fist and rammed an upper cut under
the right eye of the taller boy. Stunned, Brad stumbled back, letting go of
Patrick. One of his buddies started to move in on Matthew, but found his
path blocked by Mark. The older boy could see that the fracas had attracted
some attention and froze into a pose of innocence. While fights were rare
at the academy, the almost unfettered testosterone flowing through the
veins of the tweens attending the school led to occasional scuffles, which
were harshly dealt with.

"We won't forget you little punks," Brad said, holding his hand over his
aching eye.

"Nobody messes with our friends," Matthew told him. "And I mean nobody. We
don't care who they are. Come on Will and Patrick, let's get away from
these losers."

"Elevator tickets and stair passes and bathroom passes," Will said. "That
really is dumb, like I was going to fall for it. I mean my brother went
here."

At that point Jeremiah came by with Tony. They were both clutching their
tickets as they headed up the stairs.

"You're going to have a black eye, Brad," one of his friends told him as
the two passed. "That little fifth grader got you good."

"Fuck you. I ran into a door, and nobody better say anything different."

It didn't matter what anybody said, there had been plenty of witnesses to
Matthew's punch. It was the first day of school and the word had already
started that the fifth grade twins were not to be taken lightly.

++++++++++++

Neville noticed that the other two fifth grade classrooms had the desks
arranged in neat rows. He was disappointed to find the desks in
Mr. Jackson's class still in the team arrangement. That meant he would have
to sit with the twins and with Patrick. He found himself liking Misha and
was glad they would be riding the same bus.

"Wow, you should have seen Matthew," Patrick said as he sat at his
desk. "He plowed his fist right into the eye of this eighth grade dude who
was, like, way bigger than Matthew. That kid is going to have a shiner all
day."

"Just why did he do that?" Neville asked.

"Because me and Will wouldn't buy any passes."

"We didn't to it either," Neville said, "but nobody got a black eye."

"It's called hazing," Matthew said as he took his place. "My dad said it
happens all the time to the new kids in schools."

"Yeah, and nobody hazes our friends," Mark said as he took his place next
to his brother.

"You hit him because he was selling tickets?" Neville asked. "How crass."

"I don't know what crass means, but I do know he was grabbing Patrick and
hurting him and that was wrong. So, I punched him since he wouldn't let
go." Matthew looked around the table to check on the reactions of his
teammates.

"Thank you for standing up for me," Patrick said. "I don't think he would
have hurt me. Nobody wants to get in trouble on the first day of
school. But, he did grab me pretty hard." He showed them the mark that had
been left on his arm.

"Well, everybody is going to know that the Puget Posse is a team that won't
be messed with."

"Because you will punch anybody who doesn't agree?"

"No, because we are the best. We got you, Misha, and Pat, and us who are
all smart."

"Everybody in this school is smart," Neville said.

"But some of them are smart and stupid," Mark said. "Jeremiah and his buddy
bought tickets, and nobody on this team is that stupid."

"Yeah, but our fists are good to have, too," Matthew said.

"Nothing wrong with smart fists," Mark said.

Patrick and Misha could not disagree with the twins, although Neville
wanted to disagree simply because he detested the twins and therefore their
somewhat crude mannerisms.

"How do you know they bought tickets?" Misha asked.

"Because we saw them do it," Mark said.

"Who bought tickets?" came the man's voice from behind the
twins. Mr. Jackson had somehow floated to their desks without being seen,
as he had a way of doing.

"Two kids in Mrs. McCann's room," Mark said. Even though he detested
Jeremiah, he was careful to follow "the code" and not reveal names.

"You may want to let them know that if they talk to their eighth grade team
guide they will probably get their money back. And, it is Ms. McCann, not
Mrs. McCann. She will be sure to inform you of that should you ever
forget." He gave the group a look of amusement. "It's nice to know they
weren't two boys in this class. I figured we were all smarter than that."

"Why didn't you tell us about the whole elevator ticket thing?" Patrick
asked.

"Some things need to be learned on their own."

"That's really dumb," Matthew said as he shook his sore left hand.

"Yeah, that already messed up our first day of school," Mark said.

"I thought none of you bought tickets," Mr. Jackson said.

"That doesn't mean it didn't mess up our morning," Matthew said, shaking
his hand again.

"Yeah, instead of peeps making us feel all welcome, we gotta put up with
hazing. That's a stupid way to start," Mark said.

"It's the way it's been here for a long time. It's the older boys' way of
making you feel welcome. At least you weren't ignored."

"Being ignored would be better," Neville put in. As much as he disliked the
twins, he agreed with them totally. And he was impressed by how they stood
up to Mr. Jackson and to the whole elevator ticket scam. "They wanted us to
feel dumb."

"But were you dumb?" Mr. Jackson asked.

"No, but a lot of kids were, probably some in this class," Patrick
said. "But that doesn't make it right."

"Do you agree with your teammates, Misha?" Mr. Jackson asked.

"Yes. I believe they are correct. Even if people who paid get their money
back, you should not allow a scam from older students."

"We all know there is no elevator," Patrick said. "But I bet some guys paid
to use the stairs and the bathrooms."

"Oh, there is an elevator," Mr. Jackson said.

"There is?" Mark asked.

"And we don't have to pay for it?" Matthew asked.

"You don't have to pay because you can't use it. It is for hauling desks,
books, supplies to the second and third floor as well as for handicapped
students if we have any who need it."

"Where is it?"

"It goes up from the office to the library on the second floor and to the
science room on the third floor." The five members of the Posse resolved to
learn how they had missed seeing any sign of an elevator during the
scavenger hunt.

"Well, the morning bell rings in a minute; it's time for life to get
serious." As he headed to the front of the room, he thought how the Posse
was going to be a team to be reckoned with.

The bell rang and fifth grade started officially. The Puget Academy school
day had a 15 minute home room, seven 45 minute periods plus a 45 minute
lunch break. There were two lunch periods, the first being for grades five
and six, and the second for the two upper grades. First lunch came after
third period and second lunch came after fourth period. With time to change
classes, that made for a school day that went from eight in the morning to
three-ten in the afternoon.

Home room for the fifth graders was the same room as their core class,
which, for the Posse, was with Mr. Jackson. They would spend the first
three periods with Mr. Jackson, go to lunch, come back for fourth period,
go up to the third floor for science, come back again for sixth, and then
go to their elective classes for seventh period. The fifth graders only had
one period of electives.

Except for the boys taking chorus or instrumental music, all of the
students took "Exploration" as their elective, which gave them a sampling
of all of the electives being offered at the Academy. The music students
would have their chance to take the "Exploration" class in sixth grade when
two elective periods were offered.

Both Neville and Patrick passed their auditions and would be taking chorus
from Mrs. Bailey, except for the six week time period when they would be
taking physical education. They each had beautiful, clear, boy
sopranos. Neville had taken private voice lessons, but Patrick had a better
voice and sense of music. Mrs. Bailey knew that she had two talented voices
in the fifth grade and looked forward to working with them.

At lunch a question was answered for the Posse and the Fantastic Five. They
were met in the lunchroom by their guides, Paul and Curt.

"I thought you guys had second lunch," Will said.

"We told our teacher we needed to meet with our teams about something we
talked about at orientation," Curt said.

"Which is true," Paul said. "Okay, we have made a challenge, and all of us
agreed to it."

"Yeah, I suppose we did," Lucas said. "But I don't see how we can do it."

"Unless it's in the elevator nobody can ride because it really isn't
there," Patrick put in, "even though there is one that is really there."

"Just listen up and we'll tell you," Paul said. "We can't do it before or
after school because of buses and turnouts and clubs and stuff. So, we got
to do this during lunch. It will only take a little bit of time. We just
need to pick a day so me and Curt can get out of class again."

"Where will we do it?" Chase asked.

"We have a place because I am on the student council," Paul said.

"What place?" Mark asked.

"The basement," Curt told them. "Paul can get the keys to the basement."

"How?"

"We'll tell you as soon as we can get the day to do it. You're gonna have
to eat your lunch fast so we can do this in time."

"Why didn't you and Curt meet our teams this morning instead of the dorks
selling elevator tickets?" Mark asked. He was still hung up on the lack of
a friendly welcome that morning.

"That's not the way we do it here," Curt answered.

"That is totally stupid," Matthew said.

"Don't worry, anybody who paid anything will probably get their money
back." The twins both hoped that Jeremiah didn't know that.

"That does not keep it from being stupid," Neville said, once again
surprising himself by standing up for the twins.

"We gotta get back." Paul said. "We'll see you guys later."

The day seemed to fly by and before the Posse knew it, three of them were
boarding their bus while the twins found their mother in the
loading-unloading zone.

Jeremiah boarded his bus after Patrick. He was tempted to flick the little
boy's ear, but the watchful eye of Mrs. Deaver discouraged him—for
now. He sat in a window seat, saving the aisle seat for Tony. His first day
had been a disaster. He'd been put in his place on the bus by the eighth
graders and by Mrs. Deaver, he'd been humiliated by purchasing the phony
passes, and had managed to get into Ms. McCann's doghouse for passing a
note to Tony. To top it all off, he knew the twins had seen him buying the
pass, so they knew about him being stupid. He looked across the aisle at
Patrick. He hated the twins and their stupid friends. He knew he could rule
all of them. After all, hadn't he gotten the twins kicked off of the
baseball team?

Patrick grinned when Will got on board and sat next to him. His day, once
he got into the door of the school, had been a good one. On top of that, he
learned that the challenge was still on. In a week or so he would be seeing
the dicks of almost half of his classmates. He would even see Misha's
again. He didn't care who ended up winning the credits; he just wanted to
see the parade of boners.

That thought gave him momentary pause. If he was going to see their boners
as they got measured, then they would all be seeing his. Oh well, Misha saw
it and didn't say anything about it in school, so maybe nobody else would
mention anything. After all, from what he saw he and Randy were the two
smallest kids in the school, which meant he probably had one of the
smallest dicks in the school. I guess somebody's got to have the smallest
one, he thought to himself with an internal smile.

Patrick was completely unaware of the look of loathing he was getting from
Jeremiah. He had no idea that Jeremiah's humiliations on the first day of
school made him want to dominate and hate somebody. For Jeremiah that
somebody was going to be a group of kids he had taken a great dislike
towards: the five members of the Puget Posse.

Next: Finding a Routine.