Date: Sun, 13 Dec 2009 23:28:49 -0500
From: perti@live.com
Subject: Dermot II, Chapter 4

This story is fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is
purely coincidental.  These stories have as their main character a sexually
active gay teenager.  If this is offensive to you, or if it is illegal in
your area, or if you are under age, please leave now.

There is a religious element in these stories.  If you don't like that,
maybe now is a good time to leave.

Constructive criticism is welcome on my e-mail at perti@live.com.

____________________________________________________________________


Dermot II
Chapter 4, Baltimore

     Dermot was roused on Monday morning by a grinning Lando, who came
bopping into his room.
     "No more laying around in bed all day, boyfriend.  Today you start
back to school just like the rest of us."
     Dermot groaned.  "Well, if I have to get up, the least you could do is
give me a hand.  I'll need some help with these casts after my shower."
     "You know you can always count on me to fool around with your body
... casts," Lando teased.
     After negociating their way through dressing and breakfast, Lando and
Dermot sped off to the campus of Lord Baltimore High School, located on an
extensive tract to the east of them.  The main building was constructed at
about the same time as the neighborhood in which the Lyles lived, late in
the nineteenth century, but had been added to several times over the years.
Fortunately, the original planners envisioned considerable growth, and
provided adequate grounds for buildings and athletic facilities.
     "There it is, our home away from home," Lando quipped, as he parked
his car in the student parking lot and gestured towards a large brick
structure on a slight rise.  "We're supposed to meet Dad and Emily at the
Counseling Center.  That's where they will work out a schedule for you.
Don't forget to insist that you are entirely dependent on me to get around
in your weakened condition, so you have to be in all the same classes I
am."
     Dermot chuckled.  He appreciated Lando's enthusiasm, and he wanted the
same outcome.  To be frank, he was just a little intimidated.  True, he had
always been a good student, and loved reading, but Baltimore was something
different from the public schools he attended, and he had been out of
school for most of what should be his sophomore year.  As they made their
way up the steps and into the foyer, they were met on the outside by a
bigger than life sized statue of Lord Baltimore, and on the inside by a
large portrait of the same man, a copy of the original by Daniel Mytens in
the Enoch Pratt Public Library in Baltimore, Maryland.  Dermot understood
why someone attending here would not mistake the name of the school for a
reference to the city.  He almost felt that he knew the man from having
read about him while in the hospital.  Lando was greeted by scores of
students as they made their way, Lando running interference.  Across the
entrance hall, which was teeming with students, there was a side corridor
off which opened several doors.  One had a sign saying Counseling Center.
Lando steered Dermot in that direction, and entered.  Inside, there was a
woman behind a counter, several chairs making up a waiting area, and
another door leading, presumably, to the offices of the counselors.  Dermot
noted a list of six names on a board behind the receptionist or secretary.
     "Are those the counselors?" he asked Lando, indicating the list.
     "Yeah.  I don't know which one you'll see this morning."  He then
addressed the receptionist.  "This is Dermot Barry.  I believe my father,
Walter Lyle, arranged for his admission."
     The woman checked a list.  "Oh, yes.  Dr. Schlegel will see you in
just a few minutes, Dermot.  I see Mr. Lyle is supposed to be here with
you."  Turning to Lando, she asked, "That's not you, is it?"
     Lando laughed.  "No, that's my father.  He'll be along shortly."
     The boys took seats, and waited only a few minutes before Walt Lyle
appeared.  "Sorry to make you wait.  I had trouble finding parking," he
explained.  "Emily has gone on to her first class, and, Lando, you had
better do the same.  And I do have your schedule of classes, so you don't
have to linger here to make sure Dermot gets into the right ones.  Off you
go," his father insisted, playfully scooting him towards the door.
     "I'm going, I'm going," Lando insisted, as he reluctantly left his
boyfriend to the care of others.
     The receptionist, meanwhile, had announced the arrival of Dermot and
Mr. Lyle on an inter-office phone line, resulting in the appearance of a
professional looking woman through the inner door.
     "Good morning, Mr. Lyle, Dermot.  "I'm Dr. Schlegel.  Won't you come
on back to my office, and we'll see what we can do about getting Dermot
settled."
     They entered a short corridor, off which were six offices and some
kind of conference room.  Dr. Schlegel directed them to a small room which
had her name on the door.  Inside was a desk, a desk chair, a bookshelf, a
file cabinet, and two visitor's chairs.  It was a small office, barely
managing to contain this amount of furniture.  Dr. Schlegel took her seat
behind the desk, and invited Dermot and Mr. Lyle to take the other two
chairs.  She had a dossier open on her desk, but there appeared to be only
a single sheet of paper in it.
     "We have nothing on you, Dermot," she confirmed, "so you're starting
off here with a blank slate.  Where have you been in school up til now?"
     "I was at Western last year," Dermot replied.
     "Here are copies of his records.  I know you will want official
copies, but this should help us in setting things up today," Mr. Lyle said,
handing over a sheaf of papers.
     Dr. Schlegel quickly scanned the papers.  "Your grades from last year
look good, Dermot.  But there's nothing for this year.  Care to tell me
why?"
     "Care to?  Not really," Dermot replied, "but I guess that was a
rhetorical question.  In May I got kicked out of my uncle's place, where I
was living.  I was homeless and on the streets until I got beat up and
ended up in University Hospital, where Mr. Lyle found me and rescued me."
     "That's quite a story," Dr. Schlegel said, looking to Walt Lyle for
confirmation.
     "What Dermot said is absolutely correct," the lawyer responded to the
unasked question.  "In fact, there is an on-going legal case against the
uncle, so I cannot discuss details, but what Dermot said is verified."
     "In that case, maybe you'll need more than academic advisement.  The
Counseling Center also helps with personal problems, and I have my degree
in psychology."
     "Thank you," Dermot responded.  "I may need your services at some
time, but, thanks to Mr. Lyle, I am seeing someone, a Dr. Lanier, once a
week."
     "Oh, yes.  I am acquainted with Dr. Lanier.  I'm sure she'll be a
great help," Dr. Schlegel replied.  "Now, that means you have had no
schooling since the beginning of the school year.  That will make it
difficult to place you in any class which builds on previous lessons, like
math or a foreign language.  I also note on this transcript that math was
your worst subject last year."
     "I hate math," Dermot pronounced, "but I was doing some home schooling
type stuff with the books Mrs. Harper, from Social Services, provided.
Mr. Lyle's son, Mark was tutoring me in geometry, but we did not get very
far.  I'm better at history and English."
     Dr. Schlegel considered for a moment, then picked up a Baltimore
catalogue.  "Here, take this, and study it carefully.  It contains all the
graduation requirements.  You may have to put in an extra year, after being
out so much this year."
     Dermot did not like that at all.  "I can make up some classes.  What
about summer school?"
     "That's a possibility.  But there are other requirements ...."
     "Mr. Lyle gave me a copy of this catalogue on Saturday.  I've looked
it over pretty well.  Is there any chance of examining out of some things?"
     "Possibly.  What do you have in mind?"
     "Well, like I said, I'm pretty good at history and English.  I think I
could catch up on things that only require reading.  Besides, I'm tied down
with these crutches for a few more weeks, so I won't be getting out much.
Reading is something I can do now," Dermot pled.
     "That's admirable, Dermot.  The suggestion shows that you came
prepared, and that you have thought about your situation," Dr. Schlegel
said.  "What else have you thought about?"
     "Well," Dermot grinned, "I'm friends with Lando Lyle.  I'd like to be
in the same classes he's in, so he could help me around until I'm off the
crutches, and also help me catch up in class."
     "That's another excellent suggestion.  Let's see what we can work
out," the counselor agreed.
     After about another half hour, it had been agreed that Dermot would
take only four courses rather than the normal six in order to allow him
time to catch up.  He would be in American History, American Literature,
Jesus in the Gospels, and Current Events, as well as home room and lunch,
all with Lando except the Current Events class.  Dr. Schlegel would speak
with the teachers in the history and English courses about the possibility
of credit by exam for the first semester of those courses, but the other
two were one semester courses.  Dermot would attend summer school, where he
would take Geometry and the first year of a Foreign Language.  Somewhere
along the line, he would have to make up for other missed credits, but, if
all went well, he would graduate with his age cohort.  Dermot's schedule
looked like this: first period - American History; second period - Jesus in
the Gospels; third period - study hall; fourth period - Current Events;
then home room for fifteen minutes followed by lunch, together making up
the fifth period; sixth period - American Literature; and finally another
study hall.  During the periods when Dermot was not with Lando, his
boyfriend was in Geometry, Biology, and French.  But Lando would help
Dermot get from place to place, especially these first days, even when he
was not in the same class.
     Mr. Lyle guaranteed tuition, and gave his address and phone number as
Dermot's contact information.  They all left the Counseling Office, passing
first to the Bursar's Office, where Mr.  Lyle wrote a check for Dermot's
tuition for the remainder of the school year, and Dermot was assigned a
locker.  A brief stop at the book store resulted in an armload for Dermot,
who, foresightfully, had come with his book bag.  Walt Lyle then departed
to his office.  Dr. Schlegel accompanied Dermot to a classroom, where a
history lesson was in progress.  Knocking, she attracted the attention of
the teacher, who came to the door.  Dr. Schlegel introduced Dermot to the
history teacher, Mr. Carlyle.  With his permission, she called Lando to the
door as well, and told him he was to escort Dermot to the next class, which
would be the Religion class.  Lando's eyes lit up, and he knocked fists
with Dermot, who was also grinning.  Then, Lando and Dermot took their
seats, and Mr. Carlyle resumed his discussion of the American involvement
in the Korean War.
     Sitting next to Lando, towards the back of the class, Dermot was too
overwhelmed by his new situation to pay close attention to the teacher.  He
grinned at Lando a lot.  Mostly, he allowed his mind to wander.  Suddenly,
his attention was caught by another student who was making a statement.
     "My grandfather was killed by the Communists.  He didn't do anything
except help a Korean soldier who was hurt.  He didn't even know which side
the soldier was on.  But the Red Army came through our village, and
bayoneted the soldier and my grandfather without even asking what was going
on.  As soon as they left, my grandmother and my mother and my aunts and
uncles got together everything they could carry, and fled to the south.  We
were lucky to get to come to this country, before I was even born, but I
know this is true, because my grandmother and my mother told me."
     "That's very moving, Jerry.  A first hand account always fleshes out
the bare facts," Mr.  Carlyle said.
     "Yeah, but that doesn't change anything," another student insisted.
"We were still invading another country.  It's all part of American
imperialism."
     "No!" the student called Jerry insisted.  "It was the Chinese who were
invading.  The Americans came to our rescue.  The Chinese always wanted to
dominate Korea."
     At that point, the bell rang, ending the period.  Dermot leaned over
to Lando.  "Are there always discussions like this in class?"
     "Not always, but quite often.  Mr. Carlyle encourages us to express
our opinions, provided, he said, we have something to base them on, not
just whim," Lando responded.
     As they prepared to leave, Mr. Carlyle called Dermot and Lando to his
desk.  "I understand you will be wanting to make up the earlier tests and
quizzes, Dermot, and Lando will be helping you."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Here's a syllabus.  Here are the points where we had tests.  When you
think you're prepared for the first one, let me know.  There is also a term
paper, as outlined here on the syllabus.  You should get a topic approved
by me right away, and get working on that.  The other students have been
working on it for weeks now."  Mr. Carlyle paused, and smiled.  "Well,
they've had the assignment for weeks.  Whether they've been working remains
to be seen.  What are you working on, Lando?"
     "American entrance into World War I," Lando replied.
     "Oh, yes.  And how's that coming?"
     "Very well, sir.  I'll have my paper done in plenty of time to help
Dermot."
     "Help.  But he must do the work himself," the teacher reminded them.
     "Understood," Dermot responded.
     They left, entering the stream of students making their way from one
class to another.  Lando steered Dermot down the hall to an elevator, which
had a sign on it: Faculty and Handicapped Students Only.
     "You go up to the third floor.  I'll meet you there," Lando said.
     With some trepidation, Dermot entered the elevator.  Before the doors
closed, a harried female teacher hopped on, looked at Dermot's crutches,
nodded, and said nothing.  Together, they got off on the third floor, as
Lando came up, puffing a bit from having run up two flights of stairs.  He
guided Dermot to another classroom, and got settled just in time for the
entrance of the teacher at 9:10 on the dot.
     A young man came in carrying an armload of papers, deposited them on
the desk, and looked around.  Espying Dermot, he called, "Dermot Barry?"
     "Yes, sir," Dermot responded.
     "Come up here, please."
     Dermot gathered his crutches and approached the desk.
     "It's awkward having someone join the class this late, but we will
work with you as much as possible.  Please see me when the class is over to
get your assignments."
     Dermot thought that was kind of cold, after the more welcoming
attitude of Mr. Carlyle, but he returned to his seat, prepared to make the
best of it.  The teacher handed back the papers, evidently the last test.
Then he began lecturing.  Dermot discovered that the class was at the point
in the life of Christ when he is just beginning the last days before the
crucifixion.  The topic today was the entry into Jerusalem, remembered on
Palm Sunday each year.  Dermot listened, saying nothing.  He found the
students were supposed to have read the accounts of this event in all four
Gospels, and the coverage of that topic in their textbook.  In class, they
compared the accounts, and discussed various background matters, like the
references to Old Testament verses, and what this kind of entry might mean
to the authorities of the day.  Despite himself, Dermot found it
interesting merely as a matter of human drama.
     When the class ended, Dermot approached the teacher's desk.  "You
asked to see me, sir."
     "Yes.  Well, as I said, this is kind of awkward.  I understand from
the note given me by Dr. Schlegel that you wish to be tested on all the
previous work we've done."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Very well.  Here's a syllabus.  Do the first set of readings in the
Gospels and the textbook, and I'll give you the test on Friday.  Do you
have a free period when you could take the test?"
     "Yes, sir.  The period after this I have study hall."
     "Good.  That's what we'll do, then."
     As Dermot and Lando left the classroom, Dermot commented, "Not very
friendly, is he.  I don't even know his name."
     "Naw.  He's kind of rigid.  I think this is his first year teaching,
so maybe he's a little unsure of himself.  Oh, and his name is
Mr. O'Brien."  Lando accompanied Dermot to a large room where many students
were settling into desks.  They approached the front, where a big black man
stood, watching everyone settle in.
     "Coach, this is Dermot Barry," Lando said.  "I'm supposed to deliver
him to you, and pick him up at the end of the period."
     "Oh, yes.  Dr. Schlegel told me she was sending me a new student.
Welcome aboard, Dermot.  I'm Coach Duvall.  All that," he indicated the
crutches, "a result of a sports injury?"
     "No, sir.  I got beat up," Dermot responded, liking the man already.
"I never played on a team."
     "You're missing a lot.  What about you?" he asked Lando.
     "I'm on the soccer team," Lando said, "but right now I have to get to
Geometry."
     "All right.  You come around to pick up your buddy at the end of the
period, then," Coach Duvall agreed.
     Lando departed, leaving Dermot feeling very much alone.  Fortunately,
he was standing in front of the welcoming Coach Duvall rather than the cold
Mr. O'Brien.  The Coach showed him to a vacant desk, and told him to get
busy with whatever work he had, and not to bother the other students.  For
the next fifty minutes, Dermot studied the syllabi of the two classes he
had attended thus far, and then read in his American History book.  He was
surprised at how quickly the period passed when the bell rang at eleven
o'clock.
     Dermot allowed the other students to clear out some, partly so he
would have less difficulty navigating with his crutches, but also in order
to allow Lando time to come fetch him.  He did not have to wait long, but
while he did, the Coach asked him about his injuries, sympathized with
them, and then suggested that, next year, Dermot consider going out for a
sport.  Looking at him a little askance, Coach Duvall said, "Maybe not
football though.  That's my sport."
     Dermot laughed at the idea of him on a football team.
     Lando arrived to pilot him to his Current Events class, which was on
another floor.  He apologized, but said he had to get to his Biology class,
and the teacher did not appreciate anyone coming in late, so he left Dermot
at the door, and fled.  Dermot entered, but found that the teacher had not
yet arrived.  He was standing, wondering what to do, when a voice behind
him said, "You must be the new student Dr. Schlegel mentioned."
     Dermot turned to see a middle aged woman smiling at him.  "Yes, ma'am.
I'm Dermot Barry.  I'm afraid I got dumped on you, but I'll try not to be
too much trouble."
     "Now that's no way to talk," the teacher said.  "I'm Mrs. Martinez.
In my class, you will do more than just not make trouble.  You will
participate."  She lifted her voice to be heard over the babble of arriving
students.  "We all participate, don't we, class?"
     There was a chorus of "Yes, Mrs. Martinez."
     "Come over to the desk.  Now, here's what we do.  Each student reads
at least one newspaper each day, and a news magazine each week.  We also
listen to at least two news broadcasts or news commentary programs each
day.  We look for articles on topics of current interest, and come prepared
to discuss them in class.  We may or may not get to your article each day,
but I'll make sure you don't go for many days without being called on.  The
idea is not only to be aware of what's going on, but also to handle the
news media critically.  I'm not sure yet what we'll do about your missed
weeks.  We'll talk about that later, okay?"
     "Sure, Mrs. Martinez," Dermot responded.
     "Take a seat then.  It's about time to begin."
     It did not take five minutes for Dermot to decide he would like this
class.  Mrs. Martinez called on a student, who reported on the latest story
about the President's proposed health care program, and then there was
general discussion.  Several times, Mrs. Martinez asked students where they
got a particular piece of information or point of view, and whether there
was any evidence presented to back up something in the papers or on
television.  Dermot did not participate, as he had been out of things so
much he really did not know what was going on, but he definitely liked the
way the class was conducted.  Before he knew it, the period was over.
     He approached the desk, having to wait while other students had
something to say to the teacher.  When he was able to get her attention, he
said, "I didn't participate today because I did not know what to expect,
but I'll be prepared tomorrow."
     "Good enough, Dermot," Mrs. Martinez replied.
     Dermot turned to leave, but found Lando coming into the classroom.
     "No stairs or crowded corridors this time, Dermot," Lando said.
"Mrs. Martinez is also our home room teacher, so we're already here."
     "Good.  I've had enough pushing through crowds for a while."
     They settled down.  Mrs. Martinez assumed control of the class when
the bell rang.  She began, "Some of you may have noticed, we have a new
student with us today, Dermot Barry.  Dermot, how about saying a few words
to introduce yourself."
     Dermot rose, somewhat embarrassed.  "Hi, everyone.  As Mrs. Martinez
said, I'm Dermot Barry.  As you can also see from these things," he lifted
his crutches, "I've had some problems lately, and that's connected to me
coming here in the middle of the semester.  But, I'm hoping to get rid of
the extra legs soon, and to fit in here at Baltimore.  Lando, here, has
already been a great help, guiding me around on my first day."
     "Thank you, Dermot.  Now, as you know, class, we did a bang up job at
the basketball tournament.  Let's have a cheer for Robby van Hooser and the
rest of the team!"
     The classroom broke out in cheers, and a tall, good looking boy on the
other side of the room stood and took a bow.  There were several other
announcements, more talk about the team, and then the teacher declared that
the students could depart to the cafeteria.  There was a mass exodus as
teen hunger took precedence over all else.  Lando steered Dermot down to
the lunch room, and into the line to pick up food.  Some things looked
inviting, others not.  Lando advised Dermot to avoid what he called
"mystery meat," a concoction in gravy which did not look or smell like any
known variety of dead fauna.  He obtained a hamburger, fries, a banana, and
a large Coke, paying for these items as they exited the line.
     He and Lando then looked over the room, seeking a table.  Lando
noticed some guy waving, and led Dermot over to that table.  When they
arrived and deposited their food on the table, Lando introduced Dermot to
the boy already there.  "Dermot, this is Bob Lynch, who's also a sophomore.
Bob, this is my friend, Dermot Barry."
     The boys shook hands.  As he did, Dermot looked over the new boy.  He
was good looking, with black, curly hair, grey eyes, and a nice build.
Dermot could not help but wonder whether this was one of the boys Lando had
'fooled around' with in the past.  He felt a pang of jealousy, based on
absolutely nothing.  Bob mentioned that he had already seen Dermot that
morning.
     "When was that?" Dermot asked.
     "We're in the same Current Events class with Mrs. Martinez.  I'm
insulted that you didn't notice me," Bob said, acting as though it were a
joke, but it did not entirely come off that way.
     "Sorry," Dermot said.  "Everything is so new today that I'm going
around in a fog.  I'm surprised I haven't been entirely lost."
     "Hey, is that an aspersion cast on your guide?" Lando objected.
     "No way, boy ...."  Dermot stopped awkwardly.  He intended to say
'boyfriend,' but was not sure how that would go over in front of Bob.
     Bob gave him an appraising look, but said nothing at that time.  A
little later, however, when Lando got up to get a refill on his drink, Bob
asked, "You're the new boyfriend Lando has picked up aren't you?"  Before
Dermot could decide how to answer that, Bob continued.  "Getting any?" he
asked with a smirk.
     "That's kind of personal.  Besides, Lando said he did not do sex
during Lent," Dermot responded.
     "Yeah, he told me that too.  Dumbest idea I ever heard of," Bob
responded.  "I just figured Lando got tired of me."
     "I don't think he would lie about something like that," Dermot
defended his boyfriend.
     "Hmmmm," was all Bob replied, as Lando was back with his drink.
     When the bell rang again signaling the end of the lunch period, Lando
escorted Dermot to still another classroom for their joint American
Literature class.  They went directly up to the teacher's desk, where Lando
introduced Dermot to a middle aged woman with her hair pulled up in a bun.
Dermot immediately thought this was going to be another difficult teacher,
and in one of his favorite classes, too.  Her name, it seems, was
Mrs. Mattingly.  She welcomed Dermot, handed him a syllabus, and said they
would talk about what to do to make up for lost time later.  She seemed
distracted.  When the bell rang to begin class, however, it was as though
there were a different person in front of the class.  Mrs. Mattingly
suddenly became animated.  She plunged into a discussion of
J. D. Sallinger's Catcher in the Rye.  They were just beginning to study
the novel, and after hearing Mrs. Mattingly's comments about the author,
and about how the work was first received, Dermot determined that he would
have to get to that right away.  One of the girls in the class objected to
reading a book with profanity in it, and even a prostitute.  But Mrs.
Mattingly asked whether there was any word anyone had come upon which they
did not understand, or had never heard before.  She also asked whether
there was anyone in the class who did not know, before reading the book,
that prostitutes existed or what they were.  She cautioned that this did
not constitute approval of profanity or prostitution, but young people
needed to know about such things in order to know how to deal with them
when they were encountered.  It was part of being prepared for life.  The
period came to a close before Dermot was ready to end the discussion, and
he admitted to Lando that his initial perception of Mrs. Mattingly was way
off.
     "Even if she doesn't care about me joining the class," he said, "she's
a good teacher."
     Before leaving the classroom, Dermot and Lando stopped at the
teacher's desk to enquire about making up for lost time.  Once again,
Mrs. Mattingly seemed distracted.
     "Oh, yes.  You're the new boy.  I'm not prepared to discuss that just
yet.  Just do the work for tomorrow, and we'll discuss it later."
     Both boys were uncertain how to handle that, but they departed, with
Lando leading Dermot to the room where his second study hall of the day
would take place.  On the way, he told Dermot that Mrs. Mattingly was not
usually that way, so something must be bothering her.  In any case, there
was nothing they could do about it.  In the study hall, as Dermot
approached the desk, the man there looked up and, seeing them, called out,
"What are you doing here, Lando?  I thought you were too busy to spend time
with your old coach."
     Lando laughed.  "Not too old to keep up with me in the work-outs,
Coach.  I'm here because I'm escorting Dermot around on his first day in
school."
     "Oh, yes.  I got the information that there'd be a new boy.  Hello,
Dermot.  I'm Coach Rockwood.  In the fall, I try to shape hooligans like
Lando into something resembling a soccer team."
     "We had a winning season last year," Lando objected.
     "But could have done even better.  I'll have to insist on more
practice sessions in the fall."
     Lando groaned.  "Well, I'm going to leave you to the doubtful mercies
of Coach Rocky, Dermot.  I have to get to my French class," he said.
     "Go ahead and parlez vous," Coach Rockwood said.  "Dermot and I will
get along just fine."  After Lando left, and one or two other matters had
been settled, the Coach turned back to Dermot.  "Are you in here because of
your injuries?"
     "No, sir.  I'm in here because I'm just coming back to school after
being out for the whole time since last summer.  It was the best
Dr. Schlegel could do working out a schedule for me."
     "Oh, so I'm second best?" the coach teased, leaving Dermot uncertain
how to respond to that.  Before he could make up his mind, Coach yelled,
"O'Malley!  Sit down and quit harassing Borders!"  Then he turned his
attention back to Dermot.  "I'm sure there's an interesting story behind
all that, but for now, just have a seat over there, where there are several
vacant desks, and get on with whatever work you have.  Maybe we can talk
later, if you want."
     Dermot got settled.  Energized by his English class, he pulled out
Catcher in the Rye, a copy of which he had received that morning, and
plunged into the angst of Holden Caulfield.  He was completely captured by
the story, and again found the period, and with it the school day, coming
to a close much quicker than he expected.
     Lando appeared shortly after the bell ended the class period, and led
Dermot to where his locker was located.  They worked the combination to
make sure everything was in good order, and that nothing had been left in
there by a previous owner, but Dermot felt he needed to take all his books
home.  There was so much to catch up.  "But," he grinned at Lando, "I made
it through the first day back, so I guess I can make it for the rest of the
year."