The Heartwood

Chapter 5

Running back home from Heart Wood takes longer than Asher would like. Mrs. Atwood does not use the gift of additional free days wisely. She arrives unexpectedly, just as the boy is stepping into the parlor to give his mother a kiss before he performs another secret escape. As his teacher proudly drops a bag full of books down, Asher quietly wishes that he had made time to fetch a handful of spiders.

It takes the rest of the afternoon to come to terms with the work. More importantly, it takes that much time for the young Asher to gauge how much of the new content his teacher knows and how intimately. He does not have time to spare for learning the entirety of the new content, but Asher can appear to know more than he knows.

Adults, after all, do it all of the time.

It requires a whole sacrificed day, though, to properly convince Mrs. Atwood that her efforts are not enough. The days are an investment, he tells himself. If he can prove himself that much more advanced, than instead of one extra day of freedom - which has been aggravatingly stolen from him - he could gain a week. But as the temperature climbs with the humidity, Asher's mind keeps slipping from his dedicated push through the new material, turning up the hill and many miles away. He tries to memorize passages as he waves about one of his mother's fans. Enough regurgitated phrases from specific places are all that it will take, yet by the hour his teacher leaves him, Asher wonders if he is not the one who has been tricked.

He lies on the cool floor of the parlor with the hated books around him, no longer missing the sun and the trees. Would the black caverns of Heart Wood be an oven within the enclosures of those shut, veiled windows? As the night bugs begin with their choruses, Asher redoubles his efforts on the work that Mrs. Atwood leaves him until, exhausted, he sleeps without dreams. He wakes later than he would like, and the following morning brings rain on the heels of the returning Mrs. Atwood.

Asher brilliantly outsmarts her. It is an acceptable revenge, answering all of her questions with certainty and posing clever counters of his own that she is unprepared for. He watches her face fall and her brows knit together. To make matters more substantial, his parents sit in on the encounter. Asher knows that it would be kind of him to pass on some of his accolades to the woman who had made such a show of knowledge possible, but the boy has not forgiven her for his lost time and so he credits only himself in this moment. He deserves the rewards that come of this.

"I am frankly amazed at, well, Asher's progress!"

"Perhaps he needs more of a challenge?" bellows Asher's father, as red as his hair. It is often hard to tell if the man is pleased but Asher reads pride behind the man's mood.

"Of course, yes. I shall strive to find more...uh, interesting subjects."

Asher wordlessly sits at the table, partially listening while he takes inventory of what will keep him dry and comfortable on a more muddy foray up the road. Perhaps arriving wet and disheveled, the staff at Heart Wood will have to admit him. Mr. Fry would certainly share a warm drink with the boy, saying things about Sprites and water.

Mrs. Atwood finally absconds and Asher expects his parents to follow, taking their leave to visit inner-London for an afternoon show at the new Oxford Music Hall. He is sidelined by his mother's announcement that one of her friends is unable to attend due to a fever. How wonderful for her smart little boy, that such an opportunity would present itself and that he may join them.

Asher contemplates feigning a sudden fever himself, but his father picks up the books that Mrs. Atwood had left behind in her hasty departure. He wears a rare glow of warmth about him as he confides in his son that it is just as well that he have at least one sensible male to suffer beside during the performance. Asher is trapped by their honor.