Free Aim by Joyce Moyer Hostetter

borrow a bucket and mop from the janitor. “Fill it with water and soap,” she said. When I came back, Dudley had cleaned the blackboards and Miss Hinkle had him moving all the desks so I could wash the floor.
    â€œDon’t you boys dare say a word to each other,” said Miss Hinkle. “If you do, you’ll find yourselves out of this classroom for the rest of the week. I might just let you sit in the principal’s office to do your work.”
    I mopped every inch of the floor that wasn’t covered with heavy furniture. Seemed like she gave me the hard work, mopping and rinsing and wringing the mop out over and over.
    But I got some satisfaction out of her sending Dudley outside to dust off the chalkboard erasers. That was almost a girl’s job. I could see him smacking them together and sending clouds of dust into the air. Looked like he was talking to himself the whole time. Probably cussing up a blue streak.
    When Miss Hinkle was ready to leave, she took us home in her car. We sat in the back seat crowded up against the doors, staring out opposite windows. I wasn’t all that mad anymore, so I guessed mopping had worked some of it out of my system. But I was starting to worry about what this would do to Momma.
    Miss Hinkle dropped Dudley off first. I had an ideawhere he lived, but I hadn’t actually ever seen his house. I didn’t expect it to be such a shack. I could have made a comment or two about his daddy not fixing the broken-down porch, but I kept my mouth shut. He hopped out of the car and started to walk away.
    Miss Hinkle stopped him in his tracks. “Come back here, Dudley.”
    He turned and came back.
    â€œI believe you forgot to thank me for the ride home.”
    Dudley squinted at her like his ears couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Then he looked away. He rubbed the toe of his shoe in the dirt and stared at the ground. I could tell he didn’t want to say thank you. But he finally did. “Thank you, Miss Hinkle.”
    â€œThat’s better.”
    I told Miss Hinkle I could walk from her house, but no, she wouldn’t have that. “I am responsible for you and I will see you to your door.” So she drove up our lane and of course Jesse and Butch came out and howled like always until they saw me get out of the car. “Thank you for the ride home, Miss Hinkle,” I said.
    Momma was waiting for me in the kitchen. “Ann Fay dropped by with a note from Miss Pauline. How could you, Junior? What has gotten into you?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou were fighting?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThat’s what the note said.”
    â€œWe swapped a few words, that’s all. Dudley Walker was insulting Pop in front of the class.”
    â€œIn front of the class?” Momma’s eyes narrowed and her voice went from accusing me to disliking Dudley. “What did he say?”
    I shouldn’t have told her that. Momma didn’t need more public shaming. I shrugged. “Nothing, Momma. I’m just hotheaded. That’s all.”
    Momma didn’t ask more questions. She probably didn’t want to know. I was starting to think I was too much for her to handle. She was used to having Pop there to straighten me out whenever I was ornery.
    I never was much of a troublemaker, but if I did cause her grief, Pop would say, “You go outside and leave your momma alone.” He’d put me to work hoeing weeds or chopping firewood until I was good and sorry for how I’d acted and ready to tell her so.
    Granddaddy was standing at the bedroom door listening to me and Momma. Of course he had to throw in his two cents. “Acorn sure don’t fall far from the tree.”
    I knew what he meant. Pop was the tree and I was the acorn that was turning out to be just like him.
    Granddaddy shook his finger at Momma. “I’ll tell you what’s the God’s honest truth. Whenever Axel got in trouble at