• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Without even deciding to, I was on my feet and in Abercrombie’s face. “What did you do that for?” I asked furiously.

Abercrombie squinted down his nose at me. “I’m just admiring my friend Fish Boy’s breath control. He doesn’t mind, do you, Fish Boy?” The boy stared straight ahead, breathless and pop-eyed. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Wild Child?”

“Why don’t you?” I said.

“You going to make me?” Abercrombie sneered.

“Sure. I’m from Central Park, remember? I know Folk who would eat your head if I told them to.”

“Of course you do,” Abercrombie sneered.

Espresso appeared beside me. “You wanna bet on that, Jack?”

Abercrombie hesitated, then shrugged. “Betting’s against the rules. But you wouldn’t care about that, would you, Wild Child?”

He sauntered off. I turned to the kid he’d called Fish Boy. “It’s okay. He’s gone now.”

Heavy-lidded dark eyes glanced at me and away.

The lunchroom had gotten very quiet. I didn’t have to look around to know that everyone was staring at us. Whatever had made me take on Abercrombie drained away, leaving only embarrassment.

Stonewall came up. “He holds his breath when he’s startled,” he said. “Better hit him on the back, or he’ll pass out.”

I whacked Fish Boy sharply between the shoulder blades. He whooshed out the breath he’d been holding, then dragged in a new one.

“Everything copacetic?” Espresso asked kindly.

Fish Boy didn’t answer. Somebody behind me made a smart crack. There was a ripple of laughter and everybody started talking again. I shrugged and turned away.

Stonewall stopped me. “Where are my manners? Airboy, this is Neef of Central Park. Neef, this is Airboy of New York Harbor.”

Now I was really embarrassed.

I’d been to New York Harbor last summer, to get the Magic Magnifying Mirror of the Mermaid Queen for the Green Lady. It had not been fun. I’d been imprisoned in a magic bubble full of air and towed through murky water by mermaids with spiked hair and pierced fins. Who’d almost drowned me. Twice. The Mermaid Queen was a sore loser.

Which wasn’t Airboy’s fault.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” I said, showing off my basic manners.

Airboy picked up a piece of raw fish, popped it into his mouth, and chewed. Stonewall rolled his eyes and led us back to the table.

As we sat down, Espresso punched my arm.

“Ow,” I said. “What was that for?”

“Isabel met a horrible jerk, Isabel, Isabel didn’t lurk.

Isabel faced him, Isabel spaced him,

Isabel turned him to grass and grazed him.”

It took me a minute to figure out that she was talking about Abercrombie and another to realize she was being complimentary. I felt my ears burn. “He’d have grazed me if you hadn’t backed me up.”

Espresso shrugged. “You’re the front man, I play bass. Everything’s copacetic.”

This must have been a good thing, because she was grinning.

Over the next few days, I learned how Miss Van Loon’s worked.

The gold stars, for instance. When you did anything really smart in class, you earned a gold star point. When you did something really stupid, you lost one. Once you’d earned enough points, you got an actual gold star to sew on your Inside Sweater and could stop going to that lesson.

When you’d earned enough gold stars, you could leave Miss Van Loon’s. Starting as late as I was, I’d probably be there until I was as old as the Diplomat.

There were one or two lessons every day, with a lunch break in the middle. Every day was different. Sometimes a whole day would be devoted to Talismans or History of New York Between, sometimes just a half. Sometimes Diplomacy for Ambassadors came two days in a row, but never on the same day as Basic Manners.

Every morning, we checked a board in the front hall for our schedules. The Schooljuffrouw announced any changes in assembly, after the school song and a reading from Miss Van Loon’s Big Book of Rules. She read five rules a day. Fortran, Number Man, calculated that it would take about a year to read through the whole book, with days off for full moons, Solstices and Equinoxes, Hallowe’en, and weekends.

Weekends fell whenever the Schooljuffrouw