|
Willy stared at his slate and chalk sullenly. The children's various parents and guardians had not kept the teacher busy nearly long enough. Loath he had been to put away his marbles and pick up a slate instead. And it seemed they would be starting soon; the teacher seemed about finished talking with the tall man. Letters and numbers for this morning, he had heard the teacher say. Boring. Well, perhaps he might make it interesting. Perhaps. He eyed the teacher carefully. She didn't look very tough... how much might he get away with? He would have to see.
For the moment he sat down near the other boys with whom he had been playing marbles. They were friendly enough, he supposed, but they all seemed to know each other. Willy felt very much the outsider. He listened to what the other boys were saying, hoping he might join the conversation. "...Miz Bella is an Elf. You don't believe me, do you? I know she doesn't look like an Elf. But that's the only possible explanation. No one can sail to the West and live on an island over the Seas unless they are an Elf. Just ask my dad. He knows everything."
Willy tried to keep an incredulous look off his face. This elf, Neviel, sure didn't seem very smart. He hadn't even played marbles before! You're right cracked, Neviel, he thought. She's no more an elf than you are a hobbit. He could not of course say that, so he gave up on this conversation.
With a sigh, he turned back to his slate. Hm... maybe it had more use than one. Sometimes, if he got bored, he drew pictures in the dirt. Maybe the chalk could be used the same way? He tested out the chalk in his hand. It was uncomfortable to hold, but it drew easily on the slate. Gripping it tightly (his lower arm muscles hurt a little), he began to doodle aimlessly. There was a hobbit... it looked kind of like his brother Nick, if he squinted. And there was a dragon... a great big one, with fire coming out its nostrils. And there was the tall man across the room... Willy didn't know anything about him, so he gave him a sword and a horse. Then he didn't have any more space. Was there supposed to be some kind of eraser? He had tried smudging it with his hand, but it turned his fingers white. Dirt was much easier... and more fun. He looked out the window mournfully. It was a beautiful day, but here he was, stuck inside of a school. Boring.
|