Roar of Dragons

[Xander – 12 years]

"Remember to be back by eleven, Xander," Ms. Johnson tells me as I reach the door.

"Yes, ma'am," I respond, then leave the home.

It's Tuesday, and that means I can go to the bowling alley if the weather is good and I'm allowed to leave and all of the other conditions are met. Most of the other boys don't get to stay out as late as I do for my Tuesday activity. They don't like that I have this special permission but I think the only reason Ms. Johnson lets me do it is so that she doesn't have to deal with me during the normal period of time where the staff is trying to get everyone to bed. I always try to behave and go to bed even without being told to, but I probably still screw things up.

The bowling alley isn't too far from the Wolf's Dragon so it takes me a lot of time to get there and then more to return to the home. Without permission to leave and stay out this late, I would likely struggle to rent a lane if I'm there by myself. But the alley is mostly empty after eight-thirty on Tuesdays so arriving at nine almost always guarantees me a lane.

When I arrive, I find the bowling alley as cool as always. Only two of its twenty lanes are in use right now, so I'm more than able to rent one. I go up to the counter and find an unfamiliar face behind it. He's pretty pimply and looks to be around eighteen or nineteen.

"Can I help you?" He asks after a few moments.

Oh, crap. I didn't say anything. What was I doing? Crap, crap, crap. I can't remember!

"Did you need something?" The pimply teen asks.

What did I do wrong? Why is his tone really rude? I screwed up again! I'm so stupid that I forgot what I was doing just because I saw a new face and now he's mad at me. He's even glaring at me now.

"Oh, hey, Xander!" A friendly voice greets me and I look over to see a worker coming out of the back. "Erik, stop being rude, you're scaring the kid."

The other worker is Lena, a girl in her early twenties with more caramel-colored skin, her dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail. I'm used to seeing her when I come in and I've never seen Erik before.

"Wanting to rent a lane for an hour again?" Lena asks.

"Y-yes," I nod.

"Awesome," she says. "That'll be ten dollars like usual, buddy."

I hand her the ten.

"Same shoe size?" She asks as she puts the money in the register.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright," she says. "Give me just a sec and I'll grab those for you."

Lena finishing putting the money away, then goes to the wall of shoe cubbies and grabs a pair of shoes. I pull off my sneakers while waiting for that, then trade them to her. We're supposed to do that here as a precaution, so that people are more likely to return the rented shoes. I don't like to steal but I think it's a good policy so I always do it.

"They're doing a discount at the concessions stand tonight," Lena tells me. "All week, actually. Half off of all combos. And if you want to play in the arcade, you get ten percent more tokens if you buy in multiples of five dollars."

I've never played in the arcade here, but I will already receive ten percent more tokens if I played. I'm not sure how the special works with that.

"Okay," I say. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she tells me. "You're on Lane 20, by the way, and you can have it until ten. Have fun."

"Thank you," I say, then move off to the side so that I can put on the bowling shoes.

Once those are on, I make my way over to the concessions stand and examine their goods. All of the combos are normally ten dollars which means they're all five dollars today. If I wanted, I could buy two combos rather than the just the one I normally do.

All combos come with a drink and fries, and the main part can be nachos (with or without cheese), a burger (with or without cheese), a pair of hot dogs (with or without cheese), or a pair of large soft pretzels (with or without cheese). Extras cost extra. They also have some sides for an extra five dollars, so I could buy a combo and one of those.

"Hey, Xander," the worker behind the counter greets me as I approach. "What do you want today?"

"Could I please get a burger with cheese, onion, pickle, and ketchup," I ask. "As a combo? And I can get lemonade instead of a soft drink, right?"

"Always," he says.

"Alright," I say. "Then I would please like a lemonade for my drink. And… could I please get a side of mozzarella sticks and marinara with that?"

"Ooh, shaking things up a bit," he says. "Extra money means extra food, huh?"

Extra money. That's right, I have an extra ten dollars still from the expanded allowance Ms. Johnson gave me. She refused to take it back when I remembered to try and return it to her, telling me that it was a reward. Then I got my allowance again this week. It's based on what grade we're in (or have finished), so I have thirty-five dollars since I haven't started the eighth grade yet.

I normally spend twenty dollars here to rent a lane for an hour on Tuesdays and then buy a combo, and another five dollars on Saturdays to buy a slice of cheesecake. The other ten dollars usually gets put into an emergency fund I have hidden. I was so stupid for forgetting that on Saturday. It's rare for me to spend it on anything else.

"You okay, buddy?" Chris, the worker at the concessions counter, asks, and I realize I got side-tracked in my thoughts again.

"Sorry," I say.

"It's cool, man," he says. "So your usual burger combo, plus a side of mozza sticks?"

"Could I please get a second combo, too?" I ask. "O-or am I only allowed one?"

"You can get two," he says. "What'll it be? A second burger?"

"Could I please get a pretzel combo, with cheese?" I ask.

"Sure thing," Chris says. "Ringing that up now aaaaaaaaaaaaaand fifteen dollars!"

I hand him the money and he puts it in the register.

"You on Lane 20 again?" He asks, and I nod. "Want to wait here or want us to bring it over to you?"

"I would like it brought over to me, if that's okay."

When they bring it over to me, it makes me feel special. That's really stupid, I know, especially since they offer that to most customers. It doesn't change that it makes me feel special to have someone bring me my food instead of me needing to pick it up at the counter.

"It sure is," Chris tells me. "You go have fun now, yeah?"

"Thank you."

I go to the bowling ball stands and look for a ball that works for me, then head over to Lane 20 and put in my name for the player. They let us put in whatever we want but I always put in my name so that I don't get into trouble for trying to claim something I'm not.

Now that the lane is set up, I start bowling. I don't really understand how this activity works other than that I'm supposed to hit the pins with the ball and that I'm not supposed to cross the line at the start of the lane. Also that I'm supposed to roll the ball and not throw it. Despite that, I find this activity agreeable so I like coming here to do it ever since I discovered it about a year and a half ago.

The scoring system doesn't make much sense to me. I always knock down all of the pins and always get a 300 for my score now, but some other kids I usually see get happy if they manage to get a score that's 250-275 so I think that we're supposed to get spares in addition to strikes. Not knocking down all of the pins on the first try bothers me, though, so I don't try to mess up. It bothered me that I couldn't hit them all with one hit when I started because it made me feel like a failure and I like feeling like I can do something.

That's why I like bowling. As long as I don't learn the rest of the rules and don't know what the proper score range should be, I can't know for sure that I'm screwing up.

A few minutes into my first game, the group of boys I usually see show up. They include the black-haired boy I saw playing at the park on Saturday and three of the guys he was playing with. Their whole group were the shirtless ones during the game.

Unlike me, they all have duffel bags with them, which carry their own bowling shoes and their own bowling balls. Not needing a ball or pair of shoes from the bowling alley means they get cheaper rent on the lane, too.

The black-haired boy and his friends are on Lane 18, so two lanes away from me, but that's close enough that I'll probably hear them a lot. I have really good ears and they tend to be a bit rambunctious. Even now, the black-haired boy is being his usual goofball self and is pretending one of his friends' bowling shoes is a hat.

They're usually here before I am, so I'm a bit curious about why they showed up so late. I can't just go and ask them that, though, so I keep bowling on my own. Chris eventually brings me the food I ordered, apologizing about it taking so long.

"The goofballs on 18 spent awhile figuring out their orders," he whispers to me. "And they ordered a lot, too, so it's taking some time to make and the idiot in the back forgot to put yours on."

I don't know how to respond to that because I don't think it's fine but the expected answer is "it's fine". If I say that it'd be a lie and then I'd get into trouble for lying and maybe even banned from here and I don't want to get banned because I like this place.

"Thank you," I tell him.

That should be a safer answer. It seems to be a good one, too, based on Chris's response.

"Have fun with your bowling," Chris tells me, then heads back to the concessions area.

Now that I have my food, I eat a little while I play as well. I do make sure that my hands are clean before I handle the bowling ball again as I don't want to get into trouble for not doing that. The pretzels are tastier than I expected they would be but I have to pull off some of the salt on them as they're too salty for me. When the other boys get their food, it takes up their entire table. They really did order a lot.

Now I want nachos.

[Sig – 13 years] → Starts during Xander's PoV

"Hi, Mr. Thompson!" I greet my best friend's dad as I get into the back seat of his car.

Connor is already back here of course. His bowling bag is sitting on the middle seat, and I plop mine onto it as I close the door, then buckle up.

"Sorry I wasn't ready," I say. "My parents wanted me to do some extra chores."

They popped the chores on me last-minute, so I had to text Connor and let him know that I was going to be late to the bowling alley. Rather than all of them starting without me and then one of the dads coming to pick me up, they decided to push it back until after I finished.

"It's fine," Mr. Thompson says. "You'll be coming over for the sleepover after, right? I don't need to take you back home once you boys finish?"

"Heck yeah!" I answer.

"Hey, you didn't say hi to me!" Connor protests.

"Oh, you were in here?" I ask. "Didn't notice you."

"Hey!" Connor pokes at my side.

"Oi!" I poke him back.

"Boys!" Mr. Thompson laughs as he starts driving. "Save it for after we get to the house. The last thing we need to night is for one of you to accidentally crack a skull on the very hard and heavy bowling balls between you."

"How hard do you think we'd have to hit them to break something?" I ask Connor.

"Please don't test to find out," Mr. Thompson chuckles. "Here, at the alley, at the house, or anywhere."

"Does the ocean count?"

"We are nowhere near an ocean," Mr. Thompson tells me. "How much sugar have you had in the last few hours?"

"None!" I answer. "So I'm looking forward to gorging myself on ice cream 'till I pop!"

"How much ice cream would it take to make a person explode?" Connor asks.

"You boys are not going to try and test that."

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" I bounce in my seat. "Did you hear, did you hear, did you hear? Apparently, some little kid convinced a bomb squad to let him observe them doing some bomb blowing-ups! I heard he tried convincing them to put balloons on the bombs, too! Not any special balloons, just ones like you'd buy at the store to blow up for a birthday party!"

"No, I didn't hear about that," Mr. Thompson says. "I think that's just one of those weird rumors that float around. You had your magic lesson yesterday, right?"

"Yeah!" I answer. "But this is way more interesting! I don't think it's a rumor! The post was from one of my classmates and she said that her dad was one of the bomb squad guys who was trying to wrangle the kid. She says her dad said that he kept blowing up balloons in the bomb shelter. He was doing it with wind magics, too!"

"Let's get back to your magics," Mr. Thompson chuckles. "How did the lesson go?"

I take lessons in wind magics every two weeks if I can afford it. I was able to this time so I spent two hours learning more about wind magics. My first lesson in them was last July so it's been almost a year now and I'm approaching the middle of beginner-level. I think. My teacher says that I'm learning quickly.

Magic isn't something just anyone can learn as someone without a magical bloodline usually struggles. My family is rather ordinary, but I'm putting in a lot of work and making sure to do training exercises even outside of the lessons. Every little bit helps to build up skill, power, and magical energy – all of which are needed to become truly proficient in magic.

Since I'm just starting out, it's better for me to focus on one area until I'm more familiar with magic. That's why I'm focusing on wind magics right now, though the idea of one day getting to fly using it also factored in to this.

"Yesterday's lesson was all about how to make small objects float using manipulation of the air," I say. "It's a basic application of it but it still takes a lot of focus and effort."

"Flight magic?" Connor asks. "I thought that was advanced!"

"Wasn't flight," I shake my head. "But it's one of the basics used for flight magics. This was more like levitation, and I can only manage a small object for about five minutes before I run out of juice. The trick is beginner-level and is used in proper flight, but its main purpose is actually control."

"How so?" Connor asks.

"You have to create and manipulate wind for it," I say. "Nonstop. Rather than the normal exercises she's been having me do, I have to maintain an object in a steady position throughout. This means adjusting the wind's flow to avoid even bobbing. I can't do that yet but will manage it one day if I practice enough."

That's one of the reasons it's so draining for me. Well, and also because I don't have much magical energy of my own. Even with me doubling my capacity for it over the last year of training, it's still a rather small amount.

We continue talking about my magic lessons on the way to the bowling alley, where we meet up with our other core friends, Sam and Isaac. Their dads are here as well, and the three dads rent their own lane to bowl in while the four of us boys get our own lane, Lane 18. Super Striker is probably already here since he usually shows up a few minutes before nine and it's a little past that, but we're going to order our food before heading to our lane.

To my delight, the combo meals are half-off, which results in the four of us taking longer to order as we try to decide what to eat. Once that's done, we finally head over to our lane. Just as I expected, Super Striker is here.

Well, I think his name's Xander since that's what he always puts as his name for the computer, but we usually call him Super Striker because he always scores a strike. Always.

He used to not, back when he first started coming here a year and a half ago. We think his parents forced him into bowling competitively or something and he was coming here on his own time to try and get better. Then once he got better (at an absurd pace), we think he continued coming here just to relax and bowl without pressure.

Whatever his reason for coming, Xander tends to be really jumpy around other people. That's part of why we haven't tried to make friends with him. We've seen what happens when other kids have attempted to talk with him.

I really want to talk to him and ask him if he wants to bowl with us, but we stay way later than he does and I think our energy would scare him away from this place if we actually did try that.

Connor, Sam, Isaac, and I switch into our bowling shoes once we're at the lane, then get started on our game of bowling. We don't play professionally or as part of a club or anything, we only play it because we find it fun. Despite that, we're all really good at it. Isaac and I usually score around 235-245 while Connor and Sam usually manage 230-240. None of us got as good as this as fast as Xander managed, though. It's almost like he was using magic – which isn't really possible since the balls and bowling area are enchanted specifically to prevent that.

My instructor also told me that it would be obvious if someone was using magic to cheat here for a variety of reasons. That means that Xander really did get this good on his own. Though I suppose he could be psychic, but I doubt that. He just seems too genuine.

When our food comes, we notice that Xander keeps glancing over at us for some reason. He ordered plenty of food, himself, and has been eating between strikes. While I'm bowling my third game, Xander suddenly hurries over to the food area. That's unusual, he never leaves his lane once he starts. Not until it's time for him to leave.

Then the Super Striker returns with a nachos combo and it seems like he's hurriedly shoving them in his mouth as if he's scared someone's going to steal them. That kind of makes me giggle a little.

"What's funny?" Connor gives me a playful shove.

"Super Striker," I say. "He went and got nachos and looks like he's trying to make sure no one else gets them."

Connor looks over, then giggles at the brown-haired master bowler. A bunch of nacho cheese is covering the area around Xander's lips and he looks a bit confused as to how to get it all off. At the moment, he's trying to lick it off.

"He does know that napkins exist, right?" Connor whispers to me.

"Who does?" Isaac asks.

"Super Striker," I point over while giggling.

Isaac looks over, then starts giggling as well. Soon, all four of us are laughing and it takes us a few minutes to calm down. I don't know why that's funny but it is. Not in a bad kind of funny. That's the sort of thing we'd tease each other about in good fun if we saw one of us doing it.

Once we calm down, we return to our game, though Isaac also busts out some cards so we can play Go Fish between turns. With four of us here and all four of us being goofballs, it usually takes us close to two hours to finish playing a single game.

Xander finishes playing about ten minutes to ten, then gathers up his trash and throws it away before putting the ball away and leaving.

"You should talk to him," Connor gives me a light shove.

"He's already almost to the desk," I say.

"No," Connor says. "I mean next week. He probably won't be able to play a game with us, but he might be interested in chatting or something."

"The only person he talks to are the staff," I remind him. "And why me? You're more social."

"Yeah, but you're less weird."

"He's got a point," Isaac says.

"About what?" Sam joins us, having just finished his turn.

"That I'm the least weird member of our friend group."

"Oh, please," Sam rolls his eyes. "You're not even in the same league of weirdness as us."

"None of us are in the same league as Super Striker," I say. "Yet you guys want me to be the one to chat with him?"

"He'd probably be more friendly with you," Connor says. "He'd probably 'feel our energy' or something like that and nope out. You're more calm. More chill."

"I wore a shoe as a hat."

"Still the least-weird one of us."

"Fair enough."

It's my turn to bowl, so I take my turn before eating a little bit more. Our game ends up finishing close to eleven. When we compare our scores, I come out in second place at 243 while Isaac managed 244, just one point ahead of me. That's pretty close.

We change our shoes and put our bowling balls back into our bags, then meet with the dads who are a few lanes over.

"You all coming over in Mr. Thompson's car?" Mr. Michaels, Isaac's dad, asks.

"Cram us in like sardines in a can!" Connor pumps a fist up into the air.

"We're going with your dad regardless," I snort.

The decision ends up being that, though, so we say goodbye to Isaac's and Sam's dads after we exit the building. Cramming us into the car isn't something we have an issue with, especially since the ride isn't too long and it lets us all chat more on the way. Our bags do have to go into the trunk, though.

Once we reach Connor's house, we head down to the basement, which is mostly set up like a rec space. There's a utility room that has things like the main water heater in it and some storage, then there's also a bathroom with an attached shower room that has four heads in it, and the rest of the space is set up for hanging out and playing games and stuff. We quickly shower and change into our lounge clothes (shorts and tees) and hop onto the couch to play video games.

"You seemed a bit bummed earlier," Sam pokes me.

"What?" I ask. "No! I was as energetic as always while playing! And ha! You scored the least today!"

"Not then," he shakes his head. "Before, when we were chatting. Your parents were at work, right? But something was wrong."

"Oh, that," I sigh. "Mr. Greene said he doesn't want me mowing his lawn anymore, so I'm out that fifteen. Gonna see if I can find another yard to mow instead."

Fifteen dollars doesn't sound like much but it's a lot to me since doing stuff like mowing yards helps me pay for things like eating out with my friends, buying video games, replacing parts to my computer when needed, and so on.

"Hey!" Connor exclaims. "No depresso here! I'm gonna go get some ice cream and we're gonna build the biggest sundae we can!"

That sounds like the sort of terror we'd never get away with during the school year. Oh, wait, that's right, we've tried that and gotten in trouble. But we don't have school tomorrow so there's no reason for us to have to worry about getting hyped up on sugar this late!

[Xander – 12 years]

Being out of my room this late is bad. Really, really bad. Against the rules even if I can't sleep. I already took a shower and got changed into my pajamas and went to bed, so I need to be careful not to get caught. If I do, Ms. Johnson or one of the other staff members is going to beat me really bad.

But I forgot to do something and I don't want to get beaten for it if I get caught so I need to do this when no one else is awake. I really hope no one catches me because this is me being bad and I don't like being bad and I don't want to get beaten for breaking the rules.

"Xander?" Ms. Johnson startles me.

"I'M SORRY! PLEASE DON'T BEAT ME!"

Ms. Johnson doesn't say anything and that only makes me more scared. I'm in so much trouble for breaking the rules and I was just trying not to get caught for something else and now I'm gonna never get to go bowling again!

As I try to beg for forgiveness, something sort-of soft gets pressed into my arms. That kind of confuses me for a moment and then I realize that I'm curled up on the ground again. I was told it's called the fetal position but I'm not sure what that means. My hands were on the back of my head and neck but nothing hit them. The beating didn't start yet.

Moving my hands to the item, I quickly register its familiar texture. It's Trenton, my teddy bear. I was told that I was found with him as a baby. He's a medium-light brown teddy bear with a green-and-white checkered bowtie and is missing his right eye. His fur isn't really that soft or fluffy and is actually a little bit rough, but I curl up around him as I hug him tightly. Having him in my arms always makes me feel just a little bit safer.

"Xander?" Ms. Johnson softly says after a few minutes.

"I'm sorry," I sniffle.

"What were you doing out of your room?" She asks.

"I didn't want to get in trouble."

"You never want to," she says. "That's why I was surprised to see you breaking the rules, Xander. Why were you out of your room? It's nearly midnight."

"I didn't want to get into trouble. I'm sorry! Please don't beat me! I'll try to behave!"

"Trouble?" Ms. Johnson asks. "If you were trying to sneak somewhere so you could eat the gummy bears, it wasn't really necessary. Nick wouldn't have asked you for some if you wanted to sneak some in your room, though it's better you don't eat sweets during the night. That can make it hard to sleep."

"I wasn't gonna eat them, promise!"

"I'd hope not all of them," she says. "Not at once, anyway. That's a three-pound bag of them! You'd make yourself sick and be on the toilet for hours."

"No! At all!"

"At all? What were you planning with them?"

"I was gonna put them in the snacks cabinet. I'm sorry for breaking the rules! Please don't beat me!"

"The snacks cabinet?" Ms. Johnson asks. "Xander, you don't need to use your allowance to buy food for everyone."

"But you said buy food."

"That's not what I… Xander, I was suggesting that you buy food for yourself," Ms. Johnson says. "Not for the other boys. Let me try to understand this though, okay? I'm going to say a few things, and wait for me to finish before correcting anything that's wrong, alright?"

I'm not allowed to correct people. I'm stupid and don't know what's right or wrong, especially if I'm not looking in someone's eyes when they say stuff.

"You thought I was suggesting you buy food for everyone," Ms. Johnson says. "So you bought a three-pound bag of gummy bears. You snuck out of your room at midnight to put them in the snacks cabinet. Am I correct so far?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Why not wait until morning to put them in the cabinet?"

"So I don't get into trouble."

"For what?"

"For having sweets."

"Xander," Ms. Johnson says. "Who said you aren't allowed to have sweets?"

"The rule is that we aren't allowed to have sweets without permission."

"That's not…" Ms. Johnson sighs. I'm really in trouble, aren't I? "Xander, the rules is that you can't have a snack from here without permission. You're allowed to have snacks if you buy it with your allowance. Don't you get cheesecake every week?"

"No."

"…every week that the weather is nice enough for you to make the trip?"

"No."

"…and ones where you're allowed to leave?"

"No."

She's quiet for a few moments. I'm in a lot of trouble for correcting her, aren't I? But it's true! I don't want to get into trouble for lying but now I'm gonna get into trouble for saying she's wrong! Not only that, but I was doing it by saying 'no', which is a word I'm not supposed to say because only bad boys say it! Why am I such a horrible kid?

"Xander," Ms. Johnson says. "In the general sense of things, you go to get cheesecake every weekend. That doesn't mean literally every weekend, but essentially enough that it can be counted as every weekend. Does that make sense?"

"…no?"

"Xander," Ms. Johnson says. "Do you get permission when you go to get the cheesecake?"

"But I already have permission for that."

"You do?" She sounds surprised.

"I-I-I've been sneaking out and getting sweets without permission? I didn't know it I thought we had an agreement that let me I'm so sorry please don't beat me Ms. Johnson I'll try not to break the rules again I'm so sorry please forgive me I'll be a good boy I promise I'll do my best I'm really sorry-"

"Xander," Ms. Johnson says as I take a breath. "You're not sneaking out when you leave for your Saturday walks, we know you do it. What was the agreement you thought we had?"

"That-that as long as I had my chores done, my grades were good," she says 'oh' there for some reason and that makes me nervous. "I wasn't needed for anything," a second 'oh!' Oh, no! "The weather was nice, I had been on my best behavior," an 'ah'! No! What am I saying wrong? "And I didn't have any appointments or meets or anything like that," this one gets an 'oh right'! Noooo! "Then on Saturdays, I could go to the pet store to pet the dogs and buy a slice of cheesecake as a reward!"

"That's not… Xander, could you please sit up for me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I uncurl myself and sit up, but still hug Trenton to my chest as I sit with my legs crisscrossed.

"Xander," she says. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you freak out. I wasn't thinking of that as a special arrangement or agreement. You're free to do with your allowance as you wish as long as you aren't doing anything inappropriate or illegal. All of the boys here are, not just you. And all of you boys are allowed to spend your Saturday afternoons out if you want to as long as you've behaved, aren't needed for anything, aren't grounded, and so on. I don't see that as something you get permission to do but a privilege you have. Does that make sense."

This has me all sorts of confused now.

"Maybe?"

"It's okay to be uncertain," she says. "Now, regarding the gummy bears. You thought you had to buy sweets for the other boys so you bought a three-pound bag of gummy bears?"

"Yes."

"And…" she thinks for a few moments. "And you thought you weren't allowed to have them and that if you got caught with them, you'd get into trouble, so you were sneaking through the house to put them in the snack's cabinet before you got into trouble?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break the rules! I was trying really hard not to wake anyone! Please don't beat me, Ms. Johnson! I promise I'll try my best to stay in my room at night again! I'm really sorry!"

"Xander," she says. "Considering the circumstances, I'm going to let it pass. You're not in trouble, okay?"

"I-I'm not?"

"You were going to put them in the cabinet and then return straight to your room, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then in this case, I think we can give it a pass, alright?" She asks. "Why don't you go to your room and dry your tears, then get some sleep? Do you want the gummy bears?"

"I-I-I bought them for the others, though."

"It's okay to change your mind, Xander," she says. "You didn't know you misunderstood me. Do you want to take the bag back?"

That's the expensive brand. I spent some of the money I saved up to help cover the extra cost rather than the cheaper five-dollar bag. I'm not supposed to have expensive things to myself. If I try to, the other boys will get really mad at me and they're already going to be mad that I woke them up.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Ms. Johnson asks.

"Yeah."

"Alright," she says. "I'll put them away. Go on back to bed, alright? And remember that you don't need to get up early tomorrow since there's no school."

"Yes, ma'am."

At least the lack of school is a positive thing.