Chapter 32: Kiss You All Over

The Labatt’s Limousine, Approaching Bryanston

6:48pm, Saturday, February 24, 1979

Samantha was cuddling up against my best friend, Paul. I was enjoying some peace and tranquility with my arm around Cathy’s shoulders as she was nuzzled up to my chest. We all were relaxing in the limousine after our incredible meal at the London Armouries’ Hotel Restaurant.

As the limo passed through Ballymote, several miles south of Bryanston, I felt Cathy’s head turn up towards mine and she softly whispered so only I could hear, “Are you ... are we, going to tell Lynette about what we did earlier before dinner?”

“Hmmm,” I softly breathed out at her delicate question. After letting it percolate in my head for a couple of seconds, I looked down into her hazel, goldish-brown eyes and said, “Yeah, I’ll probably tell her what we did ... if she asks what we did after her volleyball game and hospital visit. Don’t you think she deserves to know the truth?”

“Yeah, probably,” she whispered back up towards my face. “If you don’t mind, do you think I can tell her? She might take it better coming from me, especially after hurting her shoulder and not being able to be with you like she had planned.”

“She made plans to get together with me ... after her volleyball game?” I inquired of my ex.

“Oh yeah,” Cathy softly said as she nodded her head against my chest. “She was going to get you to ride back to her house after the game with her parents. Then, she had plans to take you out parking behind her old elementary school to, and I quote, ‘Kiss You All Over.’”

“Really! I was gonna get kissed all over, was I?”

“Yes, really. So, uh, if you don’t mind, I think it might come off better if I tell Lynette what happened between us. She, uh ... has seemed alright when we’ve shared tit-bits of info about our times with you. Sooo ... hopefully she’ll take it for what it was.”

“And what exactly ‘was’ it?” I asked the raven haired beauty as she stared up at me.

“It ‘was’ ... just two friends acting in a playful mood, and things, like you hand, simply went down an unintended path. I don’t believe either you or I intended for my concluding, wonderfully, awesome event to happen. It JUST did.”

I smiled at Cathy and nodded my head in agreement, which in addition to our soft conversation caught Sam’s eye. She smiled over at us with her head still resting on Paul’s chest and lazily asked, “So, what are you two scheming or planning on doing when we get to your houses?”

“We’re not scheming anything,” Cathy replied as she lifted her head off my chest. “We were determining whether or not to tell Lynette about our earlier ... little episode in the limo.”

“And?” Sam succinctly asked.

“We’re going to tell her what happened,” I offered to which Cathy interjected,

“I’m going to talk with her about it when I see her at school on Monday. I, we, hope she’ll be okay with it, because it really wasn’t planned or intended to lead to any additional activities.”

“You might want to get a read on her current state of mind before you bring that up,” Sam offered up as a suggestion. “If she’s still pretty bummed about the volleyball results or her injured arm, you may want to hold off telling her, right then.”

“You may be right on that, Sam,” Cathy said as I alternated looking down at Cathy and over to Sammy and Paul.

“Just what should I say to her if she asks about our trip back to London when I talk to her later this evening or tomorrow?” I solemnly inquired of my two young female friends.

“Well, uh,” Sam stammered out before she suggested, “I’d just tell her about these two guys’ vocal performance on Wish You Were Here, and then about meeting up with Jennifer and Miss Colleen at dinner. You might mention there’s something else, but that you’ll get back with her on it at school next week.”

“I wouldn’t add that unless she specifically asks if something else happened,” Cathy interjected her thoughts on that question. “Because Mike, if you say ‘you’ll get with her,’ then she might wonder why you haven’t, or why I’m the one explaining the ‘something else‘. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yeah ... thanks, Sam, Cath,” I forced out as I realized how ‘marvelous’ a pickle I created between me and my new girlfriend with my still attractive and frisky, ex-girlfriend.

When I sensed Paul was about to chime in with one of his semi-humorous anecdotes, I held up my hand and simply asked, “Please, not now?”

“No probs, Cuda,” Paul offered out with a soft smile. I was pleased that he picked up on my meaning and decided to let this issue rest. After ten seconds of silence, he then asked, “Do you want to come in with us?” He gave Sam a good squeeze and nodded to his sister before he added, “And maybe shoot a game of pool or something?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I replied. “I’m kinda tired now and I think I’m just going to relax in front of the heating vent, and watch the Leafs take on the Rangers.”

“You’re more than welcome to come and watch it in the rec-room,” Cathy offered as she squeezed my right thigh with her hand.

“Nah, I’m going home,” I softly said, “And that will give these two a little ‘alone time’, before Jason gives Sam a ride back to her place.”

Paul’s eyebrows shot up as I mentioned providing him and Sam some alone time and he then mouthed, “Thanks, dude,” at me.

When we felt the limousine slowing down, I noticed that Paul gave a little extra attention to the corner variety store as we drove past the well-lit corner. A small smirk appeared on his face as his head followed the store as the car slowed. My best friend’s smile returned to full wattage when he glanced back down at the beautiful redhead snuggled up tight to his torso.

As the rear door opened, Jason extended his right hand out and helped, first Cathy and then Sam out of the limo. He then stepped away to let me, and then Paul exit the stretched out vehicle.

After I said my good-byes to my three friends, I heard Jason ask, “Miss Samantha, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit in the back here, and turn on the hockey game and have a cold Coke.”

“You know that is fine with me, Jason. What time would you like me to be back out here?”

“Samantha, I’m at YOUR service,” the thirty-something year-old chauffeur replied. “You can stay here as long as you want ... except that I need to have you home by your midnight curfew. If you would, just knock on the windows before you open the door. I don’t need to have a heart attack out here in metro-Bryanston.”

“Okay, Jason, thanks,” Samantha said as she took Paul’s hand and walked across his lightly snow covered front yard.

As I walked the short distance to my front porch, I heard a chorus of, “Later, Cuda!” from my three friends.

“Have a good evening, Time Bandits,” I replied as I ran up the four steps to our front door.

My mom barely looked up from the Saturday, London Free Press newspaper as I walked through our den into the kitchen. “You’re home earlier than I thought. I’m guessing the girls didn’t win their game this morning, huh.”

I then proceeded to give my mom the details of my very interesting Saturday, minus my little Cathy episode. My mom only asked a few questions during my revelation, so when I finished up telling her that I was kinda tired and looking forward to simply relaxing with the Leafs’ game on TV, she suggested,

“You better give your honey a call before it gets too late. If that pain pill has worn off, she might be up and about.”

“I will, Mom, thanks,” I replied as I replaced the water pitcher in the fridge. I grabbed my large plastic tumbler of H2O and proceeded back across the den to our rotary phone. As I picked up the receiver to dial, I wished I could just go upstairs and make this call in private with my computer. However, that option went down the tubes when my mom suggested I call Lynette.

Mr. Robertson answered their phone on the second ring and told me that Lynette slept the whole way home. He said that Lynette ate a large bowl of Frosted Flakes cereal for dinner, and then took another Percocet which once more made her journey into La-la-land, pain free and quick.

Just as I was about to say good-bye to him, he said, “Hold on a sec, Mike. My wife wants to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I replied and quickly wondered what this would be about.

“Here she is. Bye, Mike,” Lynette’s dad said and then he handed their telephone to his wife.

“Good evening, Mike,” Mrs. R said over the phone. “I just wanted to thank you and your friends for coming by the hospital this afternoon to keep Lynette company. She mentioned as she ate her cereal that she really appreciated that.”

“It wasn’t a problem at all for me or my friends. They all said they were happy to learn that Lynette wasn’t seriously hurt.”

“You know you could have ridden home with us, this afternoon,” she replied.

“Yes, Ma’am, I figured you’d have done that for me” I said. “But Lynette needed to get her rest, and she might not have wanted to take it if I was there with her. PLUS, you or Mr. Robertson would have had to spend another hour or so driving me home after our trip back from Sarnia.”

“Still,” she said, which conveyed a lot more information than that one word normally held. After a brief moment of silence, Lynette’s mother then softly said, “I’m real sorry about teasing you like I did in the ER room. I should never have gotten down to my bra, and I’m super sorry about unintentionally flashing you.”

“Mrs. R,” I said in a low voice as my dad was sitting about ten feet away in his recliner. “I survived seeing a little more of your lady charms than either you wanted to show or I expected to see. All I’m going to add based on what I saw is, ‘Your husband is a VERY lucky man.’”

“I think all four of us, Lynette and you, and my husband and I are very fortunate to have each other. With that said, I’m still sorry for causing any unneeded grief or discomfort for my actions.”

“If you really need me to accept your apology, I will. However, I just don’t see the need for it.”

“You’re a good kid, Mike. I’ll tell Lynette that you called. If she feels up to it, I’ll have her call you sometime tomorrow afternoon or evening, okay?”

“That works for me, Mrs. R,” I replied and we shared another short period of silence, before I said, “I hope y’all have a good evening, and that Lynette gets some good, pain free sleep. Good night.”

“Have a good evening, as well, Mike. Good night.”

After I hung up the phone and laid down with my feet on the heating vent, my mom asked from the kitchen, “How’s Lynette doing?”

“She was out like a light ... her dad told me,” I replied back to my mom. “She took a Percocet after eating, and quickly zonked out.”

“That’s no surprise. How are her mom and dad doing with their injured baby?”

“They both seemed okay when I talked with them. I’m glad I didn’t ride back with them and then have one of them give me a ride home. I bet they’re nearly as tired as I am, right now.”

“Maybe more,” my dad chimed in for the first time since I arrived home. “How old are Lynette’s parents?”

“Her mom is thirty-seven, and, uh, I’m guessing her dad is between thirty-eight and forty-years-old.”

“They’re just babies,” my dad chuckled.

“They probably could have given you a ride home, and THEN hit the Komoka Community Center to cut a rug,” my mom immediately added to my dad’s fun description of my girlfriend’s parents. I picked up on their off-handed humor because both of my parents were at least as old as Lynette’s mom, when I was born in 1963. My dad was fifty-four and my mom was fifty-eight years old when I was at the ripe old age of sixteen.

I only made it through the first period of the Leafs’ game before I said my good nights and headed upstairs. During my long, hot shower, I took care of my ‘manly business’ twice, as multiple images of Lynette, Cathy and Colleen’s distinctive, naked hard-bodies ran through my mind.

As I got ready for bed, my major 50 to 1 odds wager on tonight’s hockey games flashed into my working memory. After lying down in my bottom bunk, I rolled over and tuned my portable radio to the CBC’s Hockey Night in Canada broadcast. Even though I was ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine percent sure of winning that wager, the sudden adrenaline rush I felt over winning six grand made any thought of sleep nearly impossible.

I soon realized how mistaken that belief was. I barely made it to the end of the second period of the Leafs-Rangers’ game before I joined Lynette in my own wonderful La-la-land.

Homeroom, Medway High School

8:20am, Monday, February 26, 1979

“So, how are you feeling this morning, Volcano?” I asked as I walked into our homeroom and sat down beside Lynette.

“I’m doing a lot better. I’m almost to the point of ditching this sling and just being extra careful with my arm.”

“You’re not taking any more pain pills?”

“Not those Percocets,” Lynette replied with a smile. “I’d be under the table, right now, if I took one of those little gems. I’m only taking extra strength Tylenols, when I think I need to take the edge off.” When she really looked at me, she asked, “What is different with you, this morning?”

“I think I grew another half inch to an inch over the weekend,” I replied. I then couldn’t help myself and raised my arms above my head and proudly exclaimed, “I’m darn near six feet tall, now.”

“That’s it! I’ve got to look up at you now, even when we’re sitting down.” Lynette then whispered to me, “You weren’t but five-nine, tops, last time ... right?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied with a silly grin plastered over my face. “If I tell you this, you can’t tell anyone else ... I’m going to be about six- three and about two-hundred and twenty pounds, when all is said and done this time.”

“The Energists told you that?”

“No, but they let me decide on how I wanted my body to change,” I quietly related to Lynette. “I thought about coming back as a six-five, six-six monster of a kid, but then I figured that would be way outside the realm of possibility for me based on my family’s size. So, I figured being six-two or three, and about two-hundred and twenty pounds would be a great body size.”

“Oh lord, my man, here,” and she slapped me on my shoulder with her left hand, “is going to become a big strong, He-man, isn’t he?”

“I’m not one, already?” I chuckled.

“Yes, Mike, you are definitely a He-man in my books,” Lynette replied and then we leaned together to share a quick peck of our lips.

“Enough of that, you two,” Mr. Connors said as he walked past us on his way to his desk. He then stopped mid-stride, turned towards us and asked, “And just what did you do to this pretty young lady, Mr. Nevins?”

Before I could stammer out an answer as to how Lynette came to be wearing a sling, we heard Mr. Williamson say over the PA system, “Good morning everyone. I hope you all had a good weekend and that you’re ready, once more for a good week of school.”

A few groans and whines went up at his last few words, which earned us a quick ‘calm down’ hand sign from our homeroom teacher.

After the relatively useless announcements, Mr. Williamson gave a brief summary of the weekend’s athletic events. After he announced the thrashing of Strathroy, our main rivals on Friday night, he specifically mentioned the fine performances of Andrew Werring and me. He then finished up on the basketball game by saying, “Our team is playing some of the best basketball in the school’s thirty year history, and our future is even brighter because of the quality tenth and eleventh grade players on the varsity and JV teams.”

“You two played great,” Mr. Connors said to Andrew and me in a brief lull in Mr. Williamson’s announcements. A few of our classmates gave us a small round of applause after Mr. C’s compliment.

“Unfortunately,” Mr. Williamson sternly announced and paused before he added, “our girls’ volleyball team came up two points shy of earning a spot in the Ontario, double ‘A’ championships over in Sarnia this weekend. Our girls defeated Wingham-Madill in two straight games on Friday night, and then had the province’s top ranked team, Sarnia Northern on the ropes when a key injury impacted that game’s outcome. It was unfortunate when Lynette Robertson broke her collar bone making a diving pass, with our girls’ only two points from earning a spot in the finals. However, injuries are a part of all sports, and Northern capitalized on that injury and ran off six straight points to defeat our girls, 15-13 in the third and deciding game.”

In another brief lull in our vice-principal’s announcements, Mr. Connors chuckled, “So, you and our basketball star didn’t get into it this weekend, huh?”

Lynette and I just grinned at our homeroom teacher, and I saw Lynette shake her head negatively in response to his humorous inquiry.

“Now, before we get on with our Monday,” Mr. Williamson said, “I have on the telephone, Ms. Tracy Daymond, Sarnia Northern’s volleyball coach. She called early this morning to ask if she could make a special announcement to our students, which I’m going to allow. Whenever you’re ready, Coach Daymond.”

“Good morning, Medway students and faculty. It is my pleasure as the convener of the WOSSA Volleyball tournament, to make this announcement to you. One of your volleyball players earned All-Ontario Honors based on her performance, and the coaches’ recommendations from the tournament this past weekend in Sarnia.” I became antsy in my seat as I listened to this amazing and totally unexpected announcement from Sarnia Northern’s volleyball coach.

After a pregnant pause, Coach Daymond added, “Please join me in congratulating, Lynette Robertson on becoming the first tenth grade student in the last seven years to earn All-Ontario Volleyball Honors.”

When I heard Lynette’s name being called, I thought, ‘To hell with school rules‘ and immediately leaned over her desk and planted a humongous kiss on her quivering lips. Our classmates and Mr. Connors all let out a loud shout of joy, and called out their congratulations to my thoroughly surprised and suddenly weepy girlfriend. “Way to go, Cano!” I exclaimed after I pulled away from her lips and gave her an extra careful hug.

Lynette simply smiled and nodded at her recognition through her weepy eyes, and then tried to bury her tear-stained face in her left hand. Before I could pull out a towel from her gym bag, Mr. Connors carried over the box of Kleenex tissues for her. When she saw that box on her desk, she looked up at Mr. C and said, “Thank you ... Thanks, everybody.”

Fortunately Coach Daymond knew that she needed to give a few moments for that exciting news to sink in before she finished her awesome announcement with, “I would like to say this to all of the girls on your volleyball team, and to your school ... Without Lynette’s unfortunate injury, I have no doubt that your girls’ team would be representing WOSSA at the Ontario Championships next weekend instead of my girls’ team. I honestly think they would have earned the number one seeding there, as well. However, as Coach Williamson just said, injuries are an unfortunate part of sport. Still, I just feel like congratulating your whole team on an outstanding season, in addition to honoring Lynette this morning ... Thank you, Mr. Williamson for allowing me the privilege of sharing this with your student body.”

“It was my,” Mr. Williamson replied and then corrected himself with, “it was our pleasure to have you make that wonderful announcement, and to offer up those heart-felt words for our girls’ volleyball performance. Have a great day at Northern, Coach Daymond, and good luck in Ottawa this weekend.”

“Thank you. Have a great day as well. Good-bye.”

“Okay, I know the announcements were a little long this morning,” Mr. Williamson said after we heard the distinctive ‘click’ of the phone being disconnected, “but they were definitely exciting. Before we proceed to the first period, I need to say that Miss Auzins is teacher out sick, today. Therefore, her classes will be excused. Have a great Monday!”

When we walked out of our homeroom and headed towards the back stairwell on our way to Math, the hallways were buzzing for a Monday morning. If we didn’t hear, “Congrats, Lynette,” or “Way to go, Mike,” at least twenty five times on our walk to Math, we didn’t hear it one single time.

I did my best to shield Lynette’s injured shoulder from the well-wishers, but as we started down the stairs, she suddenly cried out in pain after Candice Jones, a ninth grade, JV cheerleader from Lynette’s old elementary, put her hand on her right shoulder and gave it a normally routine shake.

“Oh, God, Lynette, what did I do?” Candice shrieked out after hearing Lynette’s painful yelp.

“It’s okay, Candice,” Lynette struggled to get out as I steadied her on the crowded stairs. “You, uh, just jerked my injured shoulder a little too hard. You didn’t know, so, all’s good, girl.”

“Jeezes, Lynette, I’m so, so sorry,” Candice offered as she almost came to tears for hurting her friend.

“She’ll be fine, Candice,” I replied as I helped Lynette position herself against the wall at the half-way landing area of the stairs. “It was an accident, so you’ve no need for tears. You sure don’t want to mess up your pretty eyes first thing in the morning, so put away those tears. Okay?”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Lynette?” she asked after a small smile appeared on her saddened face.

“I’ll be fine, Candice,” Lynette said as she straightened her body up tall. “That little pain wave has passed, and I’m good to go.”

“Okay, I’m still sorry,” the slightly top-heavy brunette said as she rejoined the traffic heading up the stairs.

Lynette and I waited for the mad rush of students on the stairs to lessen before I helped her with the final ten steps to the first floor. As we entered the short back hallway, Lynette turned to look up at me and softly said, “That really, REALLY hurt ... almost as much as when I broke my damn collar bone.”

“Are you sure that those Tylenols will work on your pain, Baby?”

“They’ll have to. I don’t have anything stronger with me. Besides, if I took a Perc, I’d be less than useless in school, today.”

“Okay. Let’s hit that water fountain, so you can take a couple of Tylenols before class,” I suggested to her as we walked past our expected right turn for Math, and went to the water fountain between the PE locker room doors.

“And just what are you popping into your mouth, young lady?” Mr. Chidley asked as he walked past us. “I hope it’s nothing you’ll get in trouble for.”

“Lynette got her injured shoulder jostled coming down the stairs, Mr. Chidley. She’s taking a couple of Tylenols to deal with her pain. Is that okay?”

“Have you cleared it with the main office?”

“No, sir,” Lynette said. “I didn’t think we needed to do that for regular pain medicines.”

“I’m afraid you do,” Mr. Chidley said in his non-emotional tone of voice. “Mr. Nevins, why don’t you accompany Miss Lynette to the main office, and I’m sure everything will be taken care of in short order.”

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Chidley, and thanks for not busting her chops over this,” I replied to my future physics and trigonometry teacher.

“I wouldn’t be a very popular person if I busted our school’s newest All-Ontario athlete, now would I, Mr. Nevins?” Mr. Chidley deadpanned and then broke into the first smile I had ever recalled seeing on his stoic face.

“You’re a good man, Mr. Chidley,” I responded and then added, “Regardless of what others have said about you.”

“Just don’t go bragging on me, now,” the tall, thin teacher said with a small sparkle in his steel gray eyes. “I have my reputation to maintain in the school.”

Lynette and I both smiled and nodded our heads at Mr. Chidley, and then proceeded around the side hallway to the main office.

“My God!” I softly exclaimed as we turned the corner and were out of view of Mr. Chidley. “That man actually has a soul or some human-like characteristics within his stick-thin body.”

“I haven’t had a class with him, yet. He only teaches upper level classes. How do you know him?”

“Remember, Cano,” I said as I held her left hand. “This is my second time at Medway. Me and ‘Chid’ didn’t have a ‘touchy-feely’ go of it my first time through high school. Matter of fact, I bet the Star Trek creators could have patterned The Borg, after him.”

“Ah, okay,” she replied but then stopped dead in her tracks and offered up this two word question, “The Borg?”

I chuckled at her confused state and said, “The Borg WILL be a future Star Trek alien species. They were, or will be emotionless, and very, very nasty, powerful beings.” Then, in a cold, emotionless Low-Q-tist-like voice said, “The Borg’s key phrase will be, ‘We are the Borg. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.‘“ I then added in my normal voice after Lynette looked at me like I was indeed a heartless ‘Borg-like’ machine, “You really didn’t want to run into these half-human, half-machine guys and gals if you were journeying across the universe.”

“You really had me going with your Borg voice,” Lynette excitedly said. “I loved Star Trek, and I can’t wait to have them back on television and making movies from that series.”

“The original Star Trek won’t make a TV comeback, but Kirk, Spock and the gang will do a few movies, and will appear on several of the new Star Trek TV series. If I remember right, Star Trek: The Motion Picture will come out in theatres around Christmas time.”

“That is so freckin’ awesome!” Lynette said as we passed the library doors. “We’ll have to go to it the first night of its release, okay?”

“Sure thing, Cano,” I replied and thought, ‘How cool is it that my new girlfriend is a Star Trek lover!’

“What are those newer shows or movies about?” Lynette asked

“Star Trek: The Next Generation is set one-hundred years after the original Star Trek. Instead of Captain Kirk, Bones, Scotty and Spock, there is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Commander Riker, and Lieutenant Commander Data, an android being, who...” I started to relate this show to Lynette but had to suddenly stop when Miss Stone, one of the secretaries asked, “So what brings our two young sport stars into the main office this morning?”

“Mr. Chidley sent us here,” Lynette started to answer and we both saw a look of ‘what now‘ come across the young secretary’s face.

Lynette paused at her disgusted look, so I added, “Lynette got her broken collar bone jostled on the back stairs, and she was in major pain. When I lead her to the water fountain, Mr. Chidley saw her take two Tylenols and said we had to get the ‘okay’ from either Mr. Matherson or Williamson for her to take those pain pills.”

“He didn’t string you up by your toe-nails for that?” Miss Stone surprised us by chortling that amusing question to us. She then added, “Please forget I ever said that. That wasn’t very nice or professional of me.”

“And just what did you say, Miss Stone?” I rhetorically replied to let her know we got her point and wouldn’t repeat it to anyone.

Miss Stone smiled and nodded at us, and then turned towards Mr. Williamson’s office. “It will be just a sec, okay,” we heard her say as she walked the short distance to his corner office.

After fifteen seconds, Lynette and I heard a loud, “Caught popping pills was she? I can’t believe that our All-Ontario athlete would do such a crazy thing.” Just then the owner of that booming voice, Mr. Williamson, appeared with Miss Stone at his office door. With a smile he asked Lynette, “Are they just Aspirin or some similar type pain pills?”

Lynette quickly dug into her gym bag, which I was holding and pulled out the red bottle, and said, “Yes, Sir. I’ve only got these Extra-Strength Tylenols with me. I left my stronger pills at home because if I took one, I’d be out like a light within ten minutes.”

“Okay,” Mr. Williamson said as he reached under the counter for a small notepad. “I’m giving you this note, which gives you permission to take those pain pills. If another teacher or adult sees you with them, just show them this and you should be fine.”

“Thanks, Mr. Williamson,” Lynette said as she put the pill bottle back in her gym bag.

“Miss Stone, can you get these two trouble-makers a late slip, please,” he asked his young secretary.

“Are you both in the same class, or do you each need a separate slip?”

“We’re in the same Math class, Miss Stone,” I replied.

“One note for you, Lynette,” Mr. Williamson said as he handed her, her medical permission slip.

“And one late slip for both of you,” Miss Stone added a few seconds later, and handed it to me.

“Do you, two, think you can stay out of trouble for the rest of the day?” Mr. Williamson sternly said, before he broke into a grin and fired off, “Be gone!”

“No, Sir,” I replied as we turned to walk out. I then chuckled back over my shoulder towards him and Miss Stone, “You should know by now that our middle names are ‘Trouble’ and ‘Double-Trouble.’”