Charles
Shirey Jackson
The day my son Laurie started kindergarten he renounced corduroy overalls with bibs and began wearing blue jeans with a belt; I watched him go off the first morning with the older girl next door, seeing clearly that an era of my life was ended, my sweet-voiced nursery-school tot replaced by a long-trousered, swaggering character who forgot to stop at the corner and wave good-by to me.
He came home the same way, the front door slamming open, his cap on the floor, and the voice suddenly become raucus shouting, "Isn't anybody here?"
At lunch he spoke insolently to his father, spilled his baby sister's milk, and remarked that his teacher said we were not to take the name of the Lord in vain.
" How was school today?" I asked, elaborately casual.
"All right," he said.
"Did you learn anything?" his father asked.
Laurie regarded his father coldly. "I didn't leran nothing," he said.
"Anything," I said. " Didn't learn anything."
" the teacher spanked a boy, though," Laurie said, addressing his bread and butter. " for being fresh." He added, with his mouth full.
"What did he do?" I asked, "who was it?"
Laurie thought. " it was Charles," he said. " he was fresh. The teacher spanked him and made him stand in a corner. He was awfully fresh."
" What did he do?" I asked again, but Laurie slid off his chair, took a cookie, and left, while his was still saying, " see here young man."
From/ The short story and you by John S. Simmons/ Mal colm E. Stern
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