Dad did go to Mr. Cardinale. The principal, who had already heard rumors from the other teachers that Leatherlungs was a burnt-out case two bricks shy of a load, decided that the time I'd spent away from school was enough. No apology was necessary.

I returned to find I was a conquering hero. In years to come, no astronaut home from the moon would feel as welcome as I did. Leatherlungs was cowed but surly, Mr. Cardinale's shrill admonitions ringing in her brain like Noel bells. But I had done my share of wrong, too, and I realized I ought to admit it. So, on that day I returned, which was also the last day of school before Christmas vacation, I raised my hand right after roll call and Leatherlungs snapped, "What is it?"

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