Chapter 2

I had spent most of the summer on the playground near our home. I used the overhead bars an awful lot. Also I did lots of pull-ups. I was up to 25 of them at a time, the day school started. Odd, in my prior life, I could have hardly done one, to save my life.

The day school started came. This time, I let my mom take me into the school on the first day. Playing the shy kid, had its advantages. Mom was a strong willed woman, so she was going to make sure I was settled in, 'proper like'. I was in the hall. It was the same place that it had happened the first time through. Mom and my teacher were standing in the door talking. Randy and his friends came up, just like before.

"Hey, look it's a new wimpy boy." Randy said.

I thought, 'Same as before, the exact same words, even.'

This time, though, I replied differently with, "Hay is for horses. Save it. You might marry one some day."

All right, it was worn out in my day. But not back 'here and now'. This had gotten my mom's attention as well as the new teachers.

Randy yelled, "You little asshole, now you die."

With that he swung at me. I was not where his fist tried to hit. The concrete block wall was, however. I knew it must have smarted. His friends grabbed my arms, just like before. But this time I had the strength to break free. I put my fist right on Randy's jaw, just as he readied up for another swing. That's when I learned that he had a glass jaw. I also dislocated my pinky finger with the strike. The teacher and my mom had descended on the group. The teacher had Randy's friends by their ears, and Mom was smothering me. Randy was out cold on the floor. I got suspended for two weeks, despite this. Fighting was not tolerated in the school! Right! I remembered getting beat up all the time, and nothing happened to Randy and his gang.

My new teacher apologized to my mother about the suspension, she said something about Randy being the principal's nephew, and that she thought it was unfair for him not to be suspended as well. She was miffed that the principal didn't even pay attention to her.

I got one of those 'thousand watt smiles', at this news. It explained a lot about my plight the first time through school. Suing the school system was not unheard-of in this day and age; though mostly it was still a novel idea. After getting the hospital to set my finger, I asked the doctor to call the police so that a report could be taken.

When the two officers arrived at the hospital, they took the details from my mom and me. She was not sure what I was up to, as I had not said anything about a lawsuit to her. But she did not like that I was suspended, and that Randy was not. Randy was actually in one of the Operating rooms at the time. He was getting his jaw wired back together. The police were not happy that the school had not called them in on such a severe case. They said they would be talking with the teacher, and the school's principal. Mom also voiced her concern that the school had taken no action against the boys that attacked me, but had suspended me for protecting myself.

Needless to say, the three boy's stories did not match the events relayed to the police by mom, the teachers, and me. The principal's story was even more outrageous. In the end the three boys were place under arrest for assault. I was cleared because it was self-defense. Oh, what wonderful days those were! The cops actually had common sense, and used it. I wondered at what point that went by the way side.

The principal stopped by the house the next day with my expulsion papers. My mom was beside herself. She called Dad and he came home from work early. She asked, what now? It was time to make my suggestion, so I did.

I said, "Well, could we call a lawyer and ask him what we can do?"

Dad got the biggest grin on his face at the idea. Mom thought that the lawyer would be too expensive, but she agreed with Dad to talk to him. The short version was, that the next morning two lawsuits were filed, one against the school system, and one against the principal. By weeks end, the school had a new principal, and my medical bills were covered by the school system. The suit against the school system was dropped, once they agreed to pay my medical bills, to pay the lawyer's fees, and to let me return to school without any penalty for the missed week. As a side note here, I never did see Randy or his goon squad in that school again, though we did collect a nice little sum from the ex-principal.

By the time I was ten, I not only had an envious coin collection for a 10 year old; but I had over 80 pounds in bullion silver coin. Not bad, I thought. My mother's parents became a problem with this. They always believed that money should be put in the bank and draw interest. Fortunately for me, that was also around the time that silver change dried up. So I opened a banking account, and faithfully put every dollar bill I ever got for a gift into it. That was also when my allowance started... Every week, I added at least one dollar to the bank account from that, as well.

My Great-Grandfather passed away when I was age eleven. I got a big surprise. I was actually in his will. He gave me his whole coin collection. I was surprised by the controversy that it caused among my grandparents on his side. Not so much from them, as from their brothers and sisters. They felt shafted by his act. Not that he was a poor man, by any means; because they got to split the farm and all of his money. I guess I was only aware of it this time, because I was actually in the will, and had to be present at its reading. I finally understood why my grandparents and the rest of the family didn't have anything to do with that side of the family the rest of my life. I did get his collection, though, despite their objections. His son, my actual grandfather wanted me to sell it and put the money in the bank. After all, inflation was on the rise, and banks were paying up to 7% interest on the money. With my parents prodding I relented on some of the coins being sold. But I was going to keep some of them as well. I actually had to get the books for the last 10 years, and show the dumb bozos that the coins I was keeping tended to grow by more then 7%, before they relented that I could pick out the best ones to save.

I did pull a fast one on them. Or I should say, Great-grandfather had. When I was nine, he had gotten me a safety deposit box at the bank. The industrial sized one, if you know what I mean. It was full of the pick of the lot before he died. Fact was, he had to take me to the bank, to get into the box, for what he wanted to keep in it, himself. Good thing all the gold coins were stored under my name. He paid for the box by the year.