Free Leon and the Spitting Image by Allen Kurzweil Page B

teaching methods that are under review. It’s the quality of your son’s work.”
    Principal Birdwhistle said, “I don’t mean to interfere, Ms. Zeisel, but your son does look a little tired.”
    Emma Zeisel tensed. Suddenly she felt attacked from two sides. “Look, I work afternoons
and
nights to keep us going. That means I can’t sing my son lullabies, and I can’t have cupcakes baking in the oven when he returns home from school. Heck, I don’t even
have
an oven—just a hot plate we barely use.” She looked at her watch. “Case in point. I’m expected at the reception desk in twenty minutes.”
    Miss Hagmeyer said, “However sympathetic I might be to your circumstances, Ms. Zeisel, the fact remains—your son is lagging behind. His reports and my stitch counts make that only too clear.”
    “As far as I’m concerned, Miss Hagmeyer, it’s the teachers who should be getting the reports, not my son.”
    Now
there’s
an idea, Leon thought. While the three women argued, he distracted himself by composing report cards in his head.

    Naturally, Leon lavished most of his mental energy on …

    “Ladies, please!” pleaded Principal Birdwhistle. “Let’s try to end this meeting on a positive note.”
    “I wish that were possible,” said Miss Hagmeyer. “But even putting aside the unicorn incident, consider this. If Leon has had so much trouble with animiles one and two, how will he finish number three—the unicorn—before the upcoming field trip to the Cloisters?”
    “Is that necessary?” Emma Zeisel asked.
    “It is,” Miss Hagmeyer said adamantly. “And taking the longer view, how will Leon handle the final project of the year—the master piece? How, in short, will he acquire the skills needed to enter fifth grade?”
    Leon’s cheeks started to burn. Where was
this
going?
    “What are you saying, Miss Hagmeyer?” Emma Zeisel asked.
    “Isn’t it obvious? I’m
saying
there’s a chance Leon and I may be reunited next year. Isn’t that right, Principal Birdwhistle?”
    The proposition seemed to catch the head of the school by surprise. “Yes, well, that could be beneficial, I suppose. It often proves helpful for the struggling student to repeat a year.”
    Leon broke his self-imposed silence. “No way!” he shouted angrily. “I’m not getting flunked! Forget it!”
    “Don’t worry, sweetie,” said Emma Zeisel. “They’re only saying it’s a possibility.”
    “A very distinct possibility,” Miss Hagmeyer muttered.
    Principal Birdwhistle smiled at Leon and his mother. Neither of them smiled back.
    “We’ve got to go,” said Emma Zeisel, frowning at her watch.
    “Okay, then,” said Principal Birdwhistle, visibly relieved to put the meeting behind her. “I’ve made a note to myself to send you an update on Leon’s progress.”
    As mother and son were leaving, Miss Hagmeyer said, “So long, Ms. Zeisel. So long, Leon.” Her words would have seemed harmless enough if she hadn’t ended the good-bye with a stitching motion, to clarify that what she
really
meant was “S-E-W long.”

E LEVEN
The Ice Queen
    N apoleon hadn’t expected to see
two
Zeisels exiting the school. He broke into a broad grin the moment he noted the family resemblance. “Is this your mother, Monsieur Leon? Bonjour, Madame!”
    Emma Zeisel forced herself to smile, but Napoleon was sharp enough to sense she was in no mood to chat. He returned his attentions to Leon. “So, my friend, did you have a nine-and-three-quarters day?”
    Leon jabbed his thumb downward.
    “Seven?” Napoleon said optimistically.
    Leon repeated the gesture.
    “Five?”
    “Lower,” Leon said bitterly.
    Napoleon shook his head. “No, we had better stop there.”
    During the drive to the Trimore, Napoleon resisted the impulse to talk. And when he pulled up to the hotel, he skipped his usual door-opening theatrics. He ended the ride with a simple, heartfelt good-bye.
    “Au revoir, Monsieur Leon. Au revoir, Madame.
Bon