On the Sunday night before family home evening, Alan spent a lot of the evening downstairs in his room, writing.

  “What are you writing?” Dad asked.

  “Things,” Alan answered, “for the family home evening lesson.”

  As soon as he got home from school on Monday afternoon, Alan put a sign on the basement door. It said, PLEASE DO NOT ENTER! FAMILY HOME EVENING LESSON UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

  His second oldest brother Harry knocked on the basement door. “Alan,” he said. “I want to watch television.”

  “Sorry,” Alan called. “You can’t come down right now.”

  Harry became upset. “I’m warning you, Alan, this better be a mighty good family home evening!”

  “Don’t worry,” Alan said.

  After a while his sister Alice knocked on the door. “Alan,” she said, “all my sewing stuff is in the basement. Can I come down?”

  “I’m sorry, sis, not now,” Alan replied. “Can’t you crochet for a while instead?”

  “I want to sew, Alan,” she said, sounding cross.

  “Sorry,” Alan repeated. “But if I let you come down it would ruin my family home evening lesson.”

  “It better be good,” Alice threatened.

  “It’ll be one of the most interesting family home evenings we’ve had,” Alan promised.

  Finally it was dinnertime and Alan came upstairs, closing the basement door carefully behind him. When dinner was over, the family gathered together in the living room for family home evening.

  After the song and the prayer, Alan stood up and said, “Tonight the lesson is on how family members shouldn’t yell or talk unkindly to each other even when they’re upset. When someone yells at another person it makes that person feel bad, and that isn’t the way we’re supposed to make people feel.”

  Everyone agreed that Alan was right. Then he passed out pieces of paper to everyone. Dad read his first: “If you came home from work and you set down your briefcase and then some of us got into it and made paper airplanes out of the papers, what would you do?”

  Dad thought for a minute. “I would probably get angry.”

  “But what would you do about it?” Alan asked.

  Dad smiled. “I’d call in the ones who made the paper airplanes and explain to them that these were important papers that other people were depending on, and I would ask them to unfold the paper airplanes and flatten out the pages as best they could.”

  “You wouldn’t yell?” Alan asked.

  “I wouldn’t yell,” Dad promised.

  Mom read, “If you were making a cake and one of your children came in and jumped real hard in front of the oven and the cake fell, what would you do?”

  “Well, I would feel just awful,” said Mom. “I’d explain to that child how his jumping made the cake fall and ruined the family’s dessert and that I felt really bad about it.”

  “But you wouldn’t say anything mean?” Alan asked.

  “Not if I were acting the way I should,” said Mom, smiling.

  Soon all the family promised that they would not be cross or unkind to other family members anymore even when they had cause to be angry.

  “Is that the whole lesson?” asked Ryan.

  “No,” Alan said. “Now we’ll go downstairs to the family room.”

  Everyone went downstairs, Alan first. He watched them very carefully as they saw what the family room looked like.

  Everything was in the wrong place. All the books were out of the bookshelves. Alice’s sewing things were scattered everywhere. The boxes from the storage room were piled up around the bottom of the stairs. There were little pieces of wadded up newspaper on the floor. And facedown on the Ping-Pong table was what looked like an expensive picture that Mom was going to frame, ripped right in half. It was the worst sight any of them had ever seen.

  “What a terrible mess!” said his mother, irritably.

  “I know it, Mom,” said Alan. “But you can’t yell at me. All of you promised you wouldn’t be cross no matter how upset you got.”

  Dad looked at Mom. Mom looked at Ryan. Ryan looked at Harry. Harry looked at Alice. Alice looked at Alan.

  “Alan,” Alice said, “if we can’t yell, can we at least whisper that we want to knock somebody’s block off?”

  “No,” Alan said.

  Alan gave them all a little time to think. Then he asked, “Is anybody here going to be cross at anyone else, namely me?”

  After a while they all said, “No, we won’t.”

  Then Alan smiled. “All right, you passed the test. Now I’ll tell you about this mess. Actually I didn’t just scatter these things around even though it looks that way. I set them all very carefully where they are so that nothing would be damaged. And see, Mom, I cut out some paper the same size as your picture and you just thought I’d ripped up the original one. I’ll have everything back in place in a couple of hours.”

  Then everybody laughed, because Alan had really made them realize how they had been behaving toward each other. They decided that Alan shouldn’t have to put everything back alone, so they all worked together, and soon everything was back in place.

  When it was all cleaned up, Alan said, “Well, I guess my lesson’s over. Thanks for helping.”

  “It was a good lesson, son,” Dad said. “And if we could keep from yelling about the way this family room looked a few minutes ago, I think we can keep from being upset about anything.”

  “It was a good lesson,” Ryan said, “but I hope you never make the family room look like that again.”

  “You must be kidding!” Alan replied. “I’ll never make a mess like that again in my whole life. It took hours! You guys may think being a messy kid is easy, but I can tell you it is really hard work!”

  Billy’s Box

  The box was in the living room when Billy came home from school. “What’s in the box?” he asked. “You’ll see,” said Mom, “as soon as Dad comes home from work.”

  When Dad came home, he opened the box. Inside was a television set. All of Billy’s older brothers and sisters were happy to see the television, but Billy was more interested in the box. It was as tall as Billy, and so wide he couldn’t touch both ends at the same time. Billy thought the empty box would be a lot more fun than the TV.

  “Dad,” said Billy, “can I have the box?”

  “Sure,” answered Dad.

  The next day Billy hunted all over the house for things to put in his box. He found an empty toothpaste tube in the bathroom, and an empty cereal box in the kitchen. He found a whole box full of old buttons. He found a shoe that didn’t have a mate. And he put them all in his box in the living room.

  When his sister Annie came home from school, she said, “What is that box still doing in the living room?”

  When his brother Todd came home from school, he said, “Does Mom know you have all that stuff in here?”

  When his sister Dora came home from school, she said, “Can’t you play without making a mess?”

  And after dinner they all said, “What is all that stuff for, Billy?”

  Billy didn’t say anything. He just sat inside his box, putting the cereal box, the toothpaste tube, the buttons, and the shoe right out in front.

  Dad smiled. “Why, it’s a store, of course,” he said. “How much are those buttons selling for?”

  Billy thought for a minute. “A hundred dollars,” he said.

  “Oh,” said Dad. “I’m a little short this month, I can’t afford that. Don’t you have any bargains today?”

  “Oh yes!” agreed Billy. “They’re on sale for two cents each.”

  “That’s a real bargain,” Dad said. “I’ll take three buttons.”

  Then he handed Billy six cents, and Billy handed him three buttons.

  “Oh,” said Billy’s brother and sisters admiringly. “What a neat store!”

  The next day Billy hunted for things again. This time he found a yardstick, and Mom gave him some string. He tied the ends of the string through the holes in the ends of the yardstick. He pulled back on the string and the yardstick bent a little. Then he let go of the string with a twang.

  “SWICK!” he said. “SWISH! ZIP.”

  When Annie came home from school, she said, “Is that box still in the living room?”

  Billy was hiding down inside the box. When she said that he stood up and held the yardstick out, and twanged the string. “SWICK!” he said. Annie left the room, laughing.

  Todd came home and said, “Does Mom know you’ve got the yardstick in your store?”

  Billy twanged the string at Todd and said, “ZIP! No she doesn’t, cause it isn’t a store!”

  Todd left the room, saying, “I thought it was a store.”

  When Dora came in she said, “What’s all this twanging and zipping and swicking? Can’t you play without making noise?”

  But Billy only twanged the string at her and whispered, “SWICK! ZIP! SWISH! TWANG!”

  And after dinner they all asked, “What are you doing, Billy?”

  Billy didn’t say anything. He ducked down inside the box where no one could see him. Then he stood up and twanged and zipped them all.

  Dad smiled. “Why, that’s a castle, of course!” he declared. “Are you a knight?”

  “No,” answered Billy. “I’m the king. And if you come any closer, I’ll get you with my bow and arrow.” And then Billy pulled back on the string with all his might to make a huge twang. But the string didn’t twang at all. Instead, the yardstick broke right in half.

  “Oops,” said Billy, “I’m sorry.”

  Billy’s brother and sisters were about to say, “I told you this would happen,” but just in time Mom said, “Well, looks like without a bow you’re not a king anymore, are you?”

  Billy looked at the broken bow. “Nope,” he agreed.

  “Now it’s just a yardstick,” Dad said.

  Billy looked at the two pieces in his hand. “I think it’s two half-yardsticks,” he said.

  “Well then,” Dad said, “it looks like that box isn’t a castle anymore. What can it be now?”

  Billy thought and thought. Then he got an idea. “it’s a repair shop!”

  “Good idea,” said Dad. Billy, Dad and Mom hunted through the house. Mom found glue and tape, and Dad found two straight sticks. Then Billy set the yardstick on top of the box, and he put glue on the broken place and pushed the two pieces together. Dad helped Billy tape on the two straight sticks so the yardstick would dry straight.

  “And now,” said Dad, “let’s leave the yardstick in the repair shop overnight.”

  That’s what they did. Mom turned on the television set and Billy sat down between Mom and Dad and watched the show with the rest of the family. “I’m sorry I broke the yardstick,” he whispered.

  “You didn’t mean to,” Dad said.

  “And tomorrow it will be good as new, thanks to your repair shop,” added Mom.

  Billy smiled. “I like my box,” he said.

  When he went to bed, he thought for a long time about what his box would be the next day.

  Maybe a zoo—if I can find a tiger, he decided at last—just before he went to sleep.

  Follower

  Even paranoids have enemies—and friends

  Reuben Ives decided on his twelfth birthday that this would be his lucky year. His dog and his doctor disagreed, but he ignored them. Maynard could hide under the bed with his paws over his eyes, but it wouldn’t stop Reuben. And the doctor—well, he was one of them, and Reuben had nothing but contempt for him. He showed his contempt by always arriving exactly fifteen minutes late for his appointments, which he knew threw off the doctor’s schedule for the rest of the day. And every time the doctor got used to it and scheduled someone else into Reuben’s half hour, Reuben would arrive on time. It was just Reuben’s way of letting them know that he didn’t care, the doctor whispered to the nurse. Ho hum, Reuben said to himself. And Maynard looked embarrassed and curled up under the chair looking more like a sheep than a sheepdog.

  In fact, Reuben thought, he looks kind of sheepish.

  “What are you laughing at?” the doctor asked.

  Reuben sneered at him. “You. You look terrible with bifocals.”

  “Thank you, Reuben,” said the doctor.

  “I turned twelve this morning at 9:37,” Reuben announced.

  “Happy birthday,” the doctor answered.

  “Suck rocks,” Reuben responded. “How do you manage it?”

  “Manage what?” asked the doctor, with imperturbable patience.

  “Being sincere, whether you mean it or not. I mean can’t you—”

  “But I mean it,” said the doctor. Reuben laughed.

  “How do you feel,” the doctor asked, “about being twelve?”

  “I’ve lived through a dozen years of being dumped on,” said Reuben.

  “Really?” asked the doctor. He looked a little more interested than usual.

  “Oh, doctor, yes!” cried Reuben frantically. “They’re all against me, they follow me everywhere! They’re out to get me, all of them. Protect me!”

  The doctor sighed and shuffled papers on his desk.

  Reuben fell to his knees on the floor. “You won’t help, then? You’re one of them. I can see it now. Maynard, protect me from them!” Reuben screamed, grabbing at the dog under his chair. Irritated, Maynard bit his hand.

  Reuben looked at the scratch marks on his skin. “Et tu, Maynard,” he murmured. “Doctor, look. Even Maynard.”

  “Paranoia isn’t a joke, Reuben,” the doctor said.

  “A joke he says,” Reuben said to Maynard, laughing bitterly.

  With the enemy ships circling our planet and everybody we meet a possible traitor, the doctor said to himself, paranoia is normal. The sky is our enemy. The world is our enemy. The only escape from fear is to be buried. But Reuben was not paranoid.

  Reuben was chewing the leaves of the rubber plant.

  “Isn’t it bad enough that you’re crazy,” the doctor said to him, “without you acting crazier than you are?”

  “Uh uh uh,” Reuben said, getting back on the chair. “You must not express any negative emotions toward a disturbed person. Code Seven, paragraph three.”

  “I’m a doctor,” the doctor reminded him. “I can tell you to go to hell if I want to.”

  “Do you want to?” asked Reuben.

  “Go to hell,” answered the doctor.

  “I been there,” said Reuben in his backcountry voice, “and I ain’t goin’ back.”

  “How do you feel,” asked the doctor, “about being twelve?”

  “This,” said Reuben, “is my lucky year.”

  The doctor looked at him blankly. “What do you mean, lucky?”

  “Having luck,” Reuben answered. “Meeting with success; having good fortune. In other words, things is gonna go mah way.”

  “And how,” asked the doctor, “is this marvelous thing going to occur?”

  But Reuben sat quietly and did not answer. He just stroked Maynard for the rest of the half hour, until the doctor got up and opened the door and said, “Time’s up. Get lost, see you next week. Three-thirty. If you’re late, I’ll revoke your pass.”

  “If I’m late,” Reuben said, “you’ll see me when I come.”

  The doctor sighed as he watched Reuben go out the door. Reuben smiled. He never counted a visit as a success unless the doctor sighed as he went out the door.

  Reuben got on the overhead, getting his ticket punched at the machine. When he got off at the downtown station, he flashed his purple pass at the man who took money and credit cards. The man smiled cheerfully and waved Reuben through, but Reuben noticed that he stepped back and that his eyes were full of fear as he looked at the boy. Reuben was not surprised—most people reacted to him that way. He didn’t like it. But at least he got through free—fringe benefits of being a Disturbed Person.

  He walked out to the middle of the routing room, where the overhead train schedules flashed on large screens. A huge crowd was milling around. Reuben stopped and set Maynard down. (He always carried Maynard on the overhead because the vibrations made Maynard nervous and he would go to the bathroom on the floor.)

  “Crowd’s a little bigger than usual,” Reuben said to Maynard. Maynard coughed.

  Crowds were always big, Reuben thought. He wondered what it had been like back when it was legal to own your own car and people used to drive all over. How would the overhead stay in business then? It gave lousy service. There was always gum on the seats. Nobody would use the overhead unless they had to.

  But they had to.

  Reuben closed his eyes and counted to two hundred. People stared, but then they noticed the purple card in his hand and looked away. It was illegal to stare at disturbed persons.

  Then Reuben opened his eyes. The first person he saw was a tall man in a business suit. The man was walking away, and Reuben stepped out to follow him. Then he realized that the man looked like his father, and he stopped dead. No, it wasn’t his father. But Reuben decided not to follow him anyway.

  Reuben remembered the last time he had seen his father. It was his birthday, and his father had—his birthday. Father would be coming to visit him again today. Reuben felt very dark and somehow vaguely afraid.

  Father would visit him and Mother would stay home. Reuben spat on the ground. The people around him did not look disgusted. It was illegal to look disgusted at the antisocial acts of disturbed persons.

  Reuben closed his eyes and counted again. This time when he looked up he saw a short dumpy man in an expensive suit. He seemed uncomfortably hot, even in the air-conditioned station, and Reuben thought this one might be fun. So he put his purple card in his pocket and walked out of the station right behind the man.

  Following was easy for the first few blocks, because the man was walking through crowds, and Reuben could stay ten feet behind without the man ever seeing him. Because Reuben was shorter than the adults in the crowd, staying out of sight was simple. It was one of the few times Reuben was glad he was not yet grown up.

  But then the man left the crowds and went down a long alley. The only people were a few workmen unloading a truck. The man walked by and waved. The workmen waved back.