He knew how to lie to adults, but he
was out of practice. "Cancer," he said, thinking of Marci's mother.
"Cancer?" Mr. Davenport said, staring hard at him.
"But she's better now," Alan said.
"I see. You boys, why don't you get to class? Alan, please wait here a
moment."
His brothers filed out of the room. and Alan shuffled nervously, looking
at the class ring on Mr. Davenport's hairy finger, remembering the time
that Davey had kicked him. He'd never asked Alan where Davey was after
that, and Alan had never offered, and it had been as though they shared
a secret.
"Are you all right, Alan?" he asked, settling down behind his desk,
taking off his glasses.
"Yes, sir," Alan said.
"You're getting enough to eat at home? There's a quiet place where you
can work?"
"Yes," Alan said, squirming. "It's fine, now that Mom is home."
"I see," Mr. Davenport said. "Listen to me, son," he said, putting his
hands flat on the desk. "The school district has some resources
available: clothes, lunch vouchers, Big Brother programs. They're not
anything you have to be ashamed of. It's not charity, it's just a little
booster. A bit of help. The other children, their parents are well and
they live in town and have lots of advantages that you and your brothers
lack. This is just how we level the playing field. You're a very bright
lad, and your brothers are growing up well, but it's no sin to accept a
little help.
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