Liberty or...?

A link to the challenge:

It was an easy decision, so he knew what he had to do.

The boy was brought to his office in the middle of recess, and Mr. Daniels wanted to give himself a half-day. This was one of the kids that he never thought he would have to deal with, a kind-tempered boy he had seen delivering the greeting to several visitors when they bothered to consider his school important. And the name was…?

“Sir?”

The monitor, a Ms. Simpson (birthday was coming up; must get her something nice), was pushing the boy ahead of her. He was dirtied with what he recognized with the plowed snow and gravel from the yard. Some blood was on his face and he had tried to clear his nose very unsuccessfully (no handshaking needed).

“Ah, Ms. Simp…”

“He was in the middle of a fight with another boy yelling at him to shut up about his…whatever it was. Not sure what to make of these kids…”

“Yes, well, thank you. I’ll take it from here.”

She stomped down the hallway with a quick glare down at the boy (what would she like for her birthday?).

“So, young man, what is this all about?”

“Freedom of speech, sir!”

How much time was left before the bell? Ten minutes…?

“Freedom…”

“Of speech, sir!” The boy was smiling, and Mr. Daniels could see that there was some blood in-between those bright white teeth. No dental damage; no need for the school nurse, he hoped.

“Could you explain this to me, son? I don’t have all details…” Or any real interest, he thought.

“Well, I was in the yard and I was talking about my favourite books, and one of the older kids came over and said, ‘You shouldn’t be reading that cause you’re too young,’ and I said, ‘I read what I want,’ and he said that I couldn’t read it cause it was ‘too mature for his grade, so it must be too mature for you,’ and I said doing his times tables was probably too mature for him, and he hit me and then I kicked him in the b…”

He knew when to halt the film.

“Okay, look. I don’t know why the other kid isn’t here.”

“Oh, he’s down, sir.”

He looked over the boy carefully.

“Down?”

“Yeah, down. He needs the ice and snow.”

He did not even have the kid’s name, and he was already impressed.

“Okay, I’m sure that this isn’t over. You’re going to have to apol…”

And then, as sometimes happens, he was offered a way out of this mess.

“Give me liberty, or give me death!”

Mr. Daniels was staring at his desk as the boy spoke, and quickly found his seat as the boy stood in front of him.

“You really believe that, young man?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And…what is your name again?”

The boy kept his smile up through the blood.

“James Matters.”

“James…” Mr. Daniels was actually happy to hear this. “We accept your kind offer.”

A trapdoor opened up underneath the boy, right between the two chairs that were used for interviews with all the various parents who came in to congratulate him and the staff. It was a good thing that he had fixed the hinges and that the pit was stocked with fresh reptiles. At least the parents would understand that there had been a problem that needed to be solved…

And who was that older boy?

He would wait for the bell to ring and find out...

*

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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