Luke Nelson was growing bored with just beating up Ben Dover. He needed a new game plan, something to add a little more humiliation to the taunting and beatings that he already gave Ben.
He decided to step up his one boy crusade of harassment to a higher level, a greater public humiliation. The only question was how? Being rather dull and easily distracted, it was not easy for Luke to break his pattern of bullying Ben.
The answer came to Luke one day while helping his father, Red Nelson, pick out several cans of new brown paint for their house.
There in Owens Farm hardware store, Red Nelson, was talking to the store’s owner Henry O’Day about paint. Red never really talked to anyone, at least in a friendly manner, unless it was in his best interest and today, he was talking with Henry and pretending to be interested in the hope of striking a better deal on the paint he intended to buy.
Normally, just as unpleasant a character as his son Luke, today Red was more than friendly. Luke had no desire to be in the hardware store since once the paint was purchased, he was sure that he would be the one to paint the house.
Grunting “morning” to Mr. O’Day, Luke received a quick jab in the ribs from his dad. “Be nice and maybe we’ll get a deal”, threatened his dad, quietly in Luke’s ear.
“Need some paint Henry”, said Mr. Nelson with an obvious fake smile, “Oh and how’s that lovely wife of yours?” Knowing that Mr. O’Day loved his wife more than anything, Red Nelson knew that this would immediately get Henry O’Day in a good mood and of course lead to about twenty boring minutes of the latest news on Mrs. O’Day but Red figured that he could use this to get several dollars off of the cost of the paint.
With Red Nelson off with Mr. O’Day listening to tales of Mrs. O’Day and trying to choose just the right shade of brown for their house, Luke was left to wander around the rest of the store. “last thing I need to hear is how Old Lady O’Day’s volunteer work at the hospital is goin”, grumbled Luke below his breath.
He glanced back quickly and saw his dad still grinning that fake grin and Mr. O’Day still going on and on.
Turning up an aisle, Luke came to a place in the hardware store that he and most likely no resident of Owens Farm had ever visited. It was a short aisle, used mainly for storage, lined with boxes of nails, shingles and other items generally found in hardware stores, but there on the shelf was an item that gave him the idea he needed to carry out his plan to humiliate Ben Dover.
There was a single gallon can of bright, yellow paint. Dusty and dirty from years of just sitting on the shelf, Luke knew that this must be his. How? His dad would never agree to buy yellow paint. Luke could hear him bellowing know, “For God’s sake Luke, the whole town is brown and gray, why would I do waste my money on that yellow”.
With it purchase out of the question, Luke decided to simply steal the can but just walking out of the hardware store with it was out of the question. He knew that Mr. O’Day didn’t trust him and would watch him leave the store, all the while looking to see if he had stolen anything.
“So how to get the can of yellow paint”, thought Luke and then the answer appeared before his eyes.
Mr. O’Day and Red Nelson had just completed loading several gallons of dark brown paint into a large box, their deal was about complete. There it was just sitting on the floor amid all the other shades of browns and grays, the chance Luke was looking for.
Henry O’Day was ringing up the tab for the paint at the front counter with Red Nelson gentling reminding, “Remember Henry, that’s two dollars off per can.” He grinned his fake grin again.
Turning now to his son, Red Nelson growled, “Go get that box boy, you’ve got a lot of work to do”.
Perhaps Mr. Nelson should have noticed that Luke went to get the box of paint more cheerfully than he usually would have, but he didn’t.
Off went Luke, realizing that the first part of his plan was working. Picking up the box, Luke took his time, watching his father and Mr. O’Day complete their transaction. With the two of them distracted, Luke quickly ducked down the short aisle where the yellow paint was to be found and quickly placed it at the bottom of the box, under the cans of brown paint.
Joining his father at the checkout counter, Luke gave an almost cheerful, “Got the box father, ready to go”. Then he quickly realized that he might have made a mistake, he was never cheerful with his father or anyone.
Red Nelson turned and stared at his son. Even Mr. O’Day stopped. Luke decided that he must say something mean and say it quickly. Their suspicions were aroused.
“Dad”, he whined, “I don’t want to paint the stupid house and you can’t make me do it”.
With this an argument began between Red and Luke Nelson that continued out the door of the hardware store, down the street and finally finished as Luke place the box holding the cans of paint in the trunk. Mr. O’Day turning away and giving thanks that his family was not like that went back to work, never noticing that the can of yellow paint, down the short aisle used for storage was missing.
With his dad still angry behind the wheel of their car, Luke sat in the passenger’s seat, saying nothing but thinking “First step… complete”.
# # #
Finally after a long day of painting, Luke Nelson was back in his room and could continue his plan of humiliation for Ben Dover.
Luke’s room was filled with clutter of all types and this was just how he liked it. Boxes and clothes filled every nook and cranny. Under his bed, amid thickening dust and more than just a few small squirmy creatures was more boxes and bags. Usually, there was just a small path, only partially cleared from the door of his room to his bed.
Years ago his mother stopped coming in to clean, leaving it up to Luke. She would dutifully place clean sheets, pillow cases and towels out side his door for him to use. Sometimes he would take them and sometimes they sat there for a long time gathering dust.
Luke’s father also never entered his room, not because of the dirt and mess but because of disinterest, he simply didn’t care what Luke did.
And all of this suited Luke just fine since in the room were not just his personal items but also boxes and bags of items that Luke had stolen over the years. Yes, there sat the can of yellow paint, Luke most recent bit of thievery, but this was not what he needed now.
Digging through pile of goods and papers he finally found what he needed, blank, official letterhead of the
Originally looking for the chemistry lab and things that he could sell, he got lost in the school. Deciding it was time to leave, he headed for the principal’s office, a place he knew very well. “The window is always easy to open there” he thought. Reaching the office, there outside the door sat a delivery of school letterhead that was not yet put away.
Luke knew that he couldn’t sell but he didn’t want to leave empty handed. He had to take something, so Luke Nelson, climbed out the principal’s window with a pack of
Opening the paper now, Luke slipped the Owens Farm School System letterhead into his printers and he began to compose a letter. “Phase two begins”, he thought.
# # #
Eleanor Dover sat waiting on the porch, as she always did at about noon, for the daily mail to arrive. Rocking back and forth, she often thought how her husband Albert joked when he bought her that rocking chair several years ago. “It’ll make you old before your time”, he chortled, “Now you can join the elderly ladies for canasta and tea”.
But Eleanor, would just smile, sit back in the rocking chair and relax, knowing that her husband was just joking with her.
So her she sat every day, at just about noon, gently rocking, eyes closed and dreaming, waiting for the daily mail.
“How yer doin Mrs. Dover”, said Johnny Quinn the mailman. “Don’t got much fer you but yer son Ben’s got a little something today”. And with this Mr. Quinn handed the mail over to the rocking Mr. Dover who stood, walked into the house and sorted the mail into several piles.
First pile bills, second pile junk mail and the third pile, well that was usually for everything else, but today, there was a fourth pile, a pile for Ben.
Ben usually got home from school at about three o’clock unless he went over to Mary’s house or, and here Mr. Dover cringed, met up with that awful Luke Nelson again. Sure enough, at three o’clock Ben came through the back door, shouted hello to anyone who might be in the house and headed for the refrigerator for an after school snack.
This time though he mother stood there smiling and greeted him. “Good to have you home son. Any homework? By the way”, she paused, ”You’ve got a letter over there, very official looking and addressed to you”.
Nothing important had ever come through the mail before, except maybe for a birthday card or two from aunts and uncles. Reaching the table Ben saw that it was from the
“Took all I could do not to open it”, said his mother smiling, “but it was addressed to you. Thought it best to give you a little privacy, after all you are growing up, besides, I’ll find out what’s in it soon enough”.
Ben knew this was true. His mother had connections to school through the PTA, the Library Guild and of course the usual network of mothers who share gossip about everything and anything going on in school.
Ben opened the envelope, carefully so as to not rip the materials inside.
“Read it”, said his mother excitedly.
“Mom, I don’t even have it out of the envelope yet, give me a chance”, said Ben.
Unfolding the letter, Ben began reading out loud:
Dear Mr. Benjamin Dover,
The
Should you win, you will join the winners of other classes on a special advisory committee to the
As a requirement, you must select an adult sponsor, to act as your mentor and guide during your one year term. It is also required that this mentor and guide be someone other than a parent.
You and your selected sponsor are required to attend a pre-award ceremony meeting at 3:00pm on May 28 at my office. Do not call. Do not reply, just be there.
Sincerely,
Charlie Biggs
“Kind of a rude ending”, said Ben’s mother. “Principal Biggs must have had a secretary write it, he never would have ended as harsh as that”. She took the letter from Ben and read it again. “And son, you’ve really been doing just average at school, haven’t you? I love you but I wouldn’t call your school performance outstanding.”
Rereading the letter several times, Ben’s mother finally said, ”Hmm… looks official enough but I’ll ask around at the PTA meeting”.
Ben ignored all his mother’s concerns. “Mom this is great”, beamed Ben, “I wonder who else is on the list. I’ll bet Mary, yes it’s got to be Mary”.
Then it hit Ben, who would be his sponsor? While he wished it could be his father, the letter said that it could not be a parent.
“You and Mr. Carlyle get along great. Why don’t you ask him, Ben”, said his mother. “If nothing else, Mr. Carlyle will sure shake up those old fuddy-duddies on the school board. I can just see him coming in with orange shoes, blue pants and a lime green jacket”, and she smiled a sly little smile.
“Mom”, said Ben with a rising panic in his voice, “this meeting is tomorrow, what if I can’t get Mr. Carlyle? What shall I do?”
Calmly, Mrs. Dover took the telephone, handed it to Ben and said, “You’ll never know until you ask. Call him now and see”.
Ben dialed and walked out onto the back porch to talk with Mr. Carlyle in privacy.
“He said yes, mom. He said yes”.
# # #
Luke could only hope that his plan was going to work and that Ben Dover would show up for the three o’clock meeting in the principal’s office. “This will be great”, he thought.
Directly above the main entrance to the
With a door set just slightly in from the main second floor corridor, it would be simple for someone to slip unnoticed into the room.
Luke knew the room well. With a set of keys he stole during an earlier break in at the school, he often went there to sleep while cutting classes or to hide after some incident he caused in the schoolyard or cafeteria brought the teachers, principal or police out.
The abandoned custodian’s office had a window overlooking the main sidewalk leading up to the school. The path Luke knew that Ben and his mentor would use to get into the school for that phony meeting he set up. Luke chuckled silently to himself as he hung out in the hallway pretending to be interested in this bulletin board or that poster, but all the while waiting for a chance to slip into the room unnoticed.
Pretending to read a recent posting about the chess club, Luke slowly moved his head, looking up and then down the hall. “The moment must be right”, he thought, “none of these school idiots must notice”.
Finally Luke’s chance came. A small fight broke out among some freshmen down the school corridor and everyone’s attention was drawn to it.
First slipping into the small alcove in front of the abandoned office, Luke gave one more quick glance up and down the hall. “Perfect”, he thought. Then he opened the door and jumped inside.
Silently closing the door behind him, Luke latched it from the inside. “No need for some fool to come into this room accidentally”, Luke thought. Then moving aside some boxes, he found the can of yellow paint he had hid there earlier in the week.
Grinning ever wider, Luke was pleased with the events that were about to occur. Prying off the top of the paint can Luke looked at the paint and for a second considered, mixing it to get a better color. “Nah, that would be like... work”, and he chuckled again and moved toward the window.
Prying open the window and Luke leaned slightly out, careful not to be seen by anyone outside. “Perfect, perfect”, he muttered “Ben won’t know what hit him”.
With the window open and the can of yellow paint sitting just inside the sill, Luke got a chair and sat staring out the window for his intended victim.
“This was going to be too good”, thought Luke very proud of himself and his plan. Students, teachers and some parents came and went but Luke continued to watch and wait, waiting for the one victim he wanted.
Then, after about ten minutes, Luke sat up with a start. There they were, that idiot Ben and that old fool Carlyle just coming up the school walkway. “This is too good”, thought Luke, “Not only do I get that jerk Ben but I get that colorful old fool too”.
Not suspecting that any was out of the ordinary, especially the plot that Luke was about to hatch, just above their heads, Ben and Mr. Carlyle walked up the path to the school’s entrance. Ben was slightly ahead of Mr. Carlyle who was fidgeting with his maroon tie and a too starched collar on his cyan blue shirt.
“Can’t get this tie just right, Ben”, said Mr. Carlyle, “Go on, I’ll catch up in a second”.
One floor above at the abandoned office window, Luke was increasingly anxious to push the yellow paint can out the window and then marvel at how well his plan worked.
“Wait, wait”, said Luke as he teetered the can of yellow paint on the ledge. “Not yet. Can’t let it go to soon?” He was nervously fingering the yellow can of paint as it inched ever closer to the end of the window sill.
Ben was now directly below the window as he stopped to check his watch to make sure they were on time for the meeting.
“Now”, said Luke silently to himself and he started to give the can a final shove to the end of the window.
Mr. Carlyle, still trailing Ben by a few feet, paused. “Something is not right”, he thought and gave a quick glance around looking for something, anything out of the ordinary.
Then a bit of movement in the window directly above the school entrance drew his attention. Mr. Carlyle slipped his hand into the pocket of his metallic blue and red jacket, he found what he was looking for.
Seconds seemed to pass but in reality it was far less.
Like Luke above, Mr. Carlyle was now also waiting for the right time to act to prevent mayhem not to cause it. “Wait, wait”, thought Mr. Carlyle, “Now”.
At that very moment, Luke Nelson gave a final shove and the can of yellow paint spilled out of the window, falling toward the unsuspecting Ben below.
Also in that moment, Mr. Carlyle, his hand still in his pocket, recited something and was gone but then, so was the falling can of yellow paint. Where Mr. Carlyle had once stood, just behind Ben was now empty space. Where the can of yellow paint was falling and spilling through the air was also empty space.
Ben turned to see why Mr. Carlyle was lagging behind him, but there was no Mr. Carlyle. Taking a few steps toward where he last thought Mr. Carlyle was, Ben started to yell out for him.
Then a voice from the school doorway called out calmly, “Ben, come on in, don’t lag behind”. It was Mr. Carlyle.
“But… How”, Ben was stuttering. “Mr. Carlyle weren’t you behind me? And now… there…How”.
“My dear Ben, “said Mr. Carlyle, “You really must pay more attention to what is going on around you. Bad news though, I just saw the principal, the Student Advisory Committee had to be cancelled. Not enough interest. I’m so sorry Ben”.
Still confused, Ben stammered, “Who? Where did… er… you see Mr. Biggs? You couldn’t have had enough time.”
“Ben”, said a calm Mr. Carlyle, “I’ve got all the time in the world. By the way, have I told you about the nice yellow paint I just bought to redo my kitchen?”
And he smiled. Ben, who was still confused, followed Mr. Carlyle down the path from the school, back to his car, just as Officer Vache was arriving.
“Good afternoon Officer Vache”, said Mr. Carlyle, “I think you’ll find Principal Biggs holding Luke Nelson up on the second floor. Apparently, he broke into a storage closet”.
“Thanks Carlyle”, said Officer Vache with just a touch of annoyance in his voice since this little school break-in would cut into his afternoon nap.
Driving Ben back home from school, Mr. Carlyle could see the obvious disappointment in Ben’s face. “You sure looked forward to the Student Advisory Panel, didn’t you Ben”, said Mr. Carlyle.
“Yeah, I’m, disappointed”, said Ben, “I really thought, no, I knew that I could make a difference”.
“Well Ben, I was going to mail this to you and Mary but I think that it’s best I give it to you now”, and he handed Ben an envelope.
Opening it, Ben read out loud, “You are cordially invited to join me for dinner…”
“Here’s an invite for Mary too”, Mr. Carlyle said” perhaps you could drop it at her house”?
Turning up the road to Ben’s house, Mr. Carlyle continued, “It was supposed to be a congratulations dinner on your new job at the school but well, now I guess it will just have to be a few friends getting together. Is steak good? How about four-thirty, next Saturday?”
__________________________
Next week...
The Travelors Log: 1832 AD - A Shirt of Brilliant Yellow
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