You want me to play with what … in public?

I would like to thank my dear friends,
Angel O’Hare, Karen Page, Joni W., Annette MacGregor and Holly H Heart
for their kindness, help, support, and input.

Education in the Hills
Chapter 28

By Penny Reed Cardon

I figured I should wake up Mary Beth around 1:00, hoping to have her ready to sing by 2:00, but she obviously had other ideas. The usual tickling of her nose didn't rouse her from a very sound slumber; neither did the unforgivable kisses on her nose. Throwing off of the blankets and rolling her from side to side gained me one eyelid cracked opening and a sorta gruff, "Oh, go away!"

By 1:30 I was getting desperate. I took a little ice out of the drink I'd brought for her and dropped it into her partly open lips. That did bring about a reaction of sorts; she started sucking on the ice. Actually, she looked more like a baby, sucking on a bottle in their sleep. If only I had a video camera, that could have been some good blackmail material. As almost the last resort, I took some of the roast beef, from her sandwich, and carefully slipped it past her lips.

The animal instinct in her took over and chewing commenced, followed by her eyes fluttering and finally opening.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I greeted her.

"What did you put in my mouth?"

"Roast beef. Want some more?"

"Oh yes,” she said, with a yawn. “I'm starving."

Pushing herself up, she swung her feet over the side of the bed. Once she was sitting up she declared, "Okay, I'm ready for lunch, let's have it."

"Nothing doing," I said, keeping the plate away from her.

"Matilda! Give me that sandwich."

"Nope, you go shower first. You can eat on the way to choir practice."

"Choir practice? What time is it?"

"It’s 1:40, so you better hurry and get in that shower. You've only got five minutes, before we need to leave."

"Oh good heavens, girl, why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

With an exasperated sigh, I went through the interconnecting door, rolling my eyes and shaking my head.

"What?" Mary Beth asked.

"Just go shower," I groaned.

I don't know how we were able to manage it, but we were only two minutes late getting to choir practice. Fortunately for us, Mrs. T was three minutes late. Unfortunately, Mr. Peterson wasn't late at all.

"Good afternoon ladies," he greeted us as we scurried into our places. "As I was saying, I want to congratulate everyone for their outstanding performances. Even though this was our first performance in Quebec, it was so well received that we've been invited to return as soon as our schedule allows. This was our second performance in Toronto and we've been invited to return for a festival in the spring, although I don't think that will work with our current schedule. Aside from that, I wanted to tell you personally that we're proud of each one of you. You have once again upheld our school’s fine reputation. I congratulate you all." That said, Mr. Peterson applauded us, accompanied by Mrs. T. After Mr. Peterson left, Mrs. T added her congratulations.

After we'd sung a couple of warm-up songs, Mrs. T started dividing us into groups, sixteen to eighteen to a group, and assigned each group a practice room. Some of the orchestra members were told to take their instruments; others were not. She was getting down to the last few groups and my name hadn’t been called. I was beginning to wonder if Mrs. T would really want me to sing in public, especially as part of such a small group. I was sorta hiding behind everyone else as I tried to sneak off stage. It didn't work though.

"Matilda. Come here please."

'Dang. I screwed up again.'

"Matilda, am I to assume from the way you were trying to sneak away, that you'd rather not be assigned a singing part?" Mrs. T asked with a smile.

"Well ... I wouldn't want to make the others sound bad," I shyly confessed. "I mean I know I'm really good at lots of stuff, it’s just that singing isn't one of them."

Mary Beth came to my aid about then. Standing behind me, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

"You aren't trying to put yourself down are you, Matilda?" Mrs. T asked outright.

"No. I'm just being honest. Without the magic of Marshal's magical sound system, it's a well-known fact that I can't carry a tune in a bucket."

"Well, Marshal and his magic sound system, won't be going on these outings. For these caroling trips we’ll be presenting the music that's within each of us."

"I guess that lets me out. I'm afraid the music that's within me sounds more like the croaking of a bullfrog."

"Maybe, and maybe not. Perhaps we just haven't found you the right form of expression, something that fits with your other talents. I've been thinking about this for a while, Matilda. If you're willing, I'd like for you to try something a little different."

"As long as I only use my mouth for talking, I'll try anything once."

"That's my girl." Mrs. T smiled at me and then she turned to the orchestra. "Darryl, would you come here please?"

Darryl was a large boy. I guess actually, he would be considered a good size man, being that he is in year H and will be leaving the school in June. As he came up onto the stage and approached us I got nervous again. It's a good thing Mary Beth had her arms around my shoulders because my survival instincts were telling me to run and hide.

"You're going to fix the problem with my voice by having him break me in half?" I asked teasingly, trying to pretend I wasn't afraid.

"Oh Matilda, don't be so silly. Darryl wouldn't hurt a fly. Well, maybe a fly, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t hurt anything larger than a fly. At least I don't think so." Mrs. T chastised and teased me at the same time.

Mrs. T stepped aside and talked quietly with Darryl. I don't know what she was saying, but his comments didn't fill me with confidence or make me feel any better.

"You want me to teach her what?"

"You're joking, right?"

"That's impossible."

"Nobody can learn that in two days."

"All right, all right, I’ll do it."

"If you say so …"

Turning back to the group I was with, Mrs. T asked me to join them. "Matilda, I'd like you to go with Darryl. He has kindly offered to teach you something new."

"Kindly offered?" I quietly asked.

"All right, he's willing to teach you. Is that better?" she asked.

"More accurate," Darryl added.

"Thank you Darryl," Mrs. T said.

"Come with me Matilda," Darryl commanded, as he turned and walked towards the orchestra pit.

Reluctantly, I left the safety of Mary Beth's protective arms. I slowly followed Darryl across the stage, right up to the point where he hopped off the edge of the stage; dropping about five feet to the floor below. Darryl didn’t stop until someone else from the orchestra pointed out to him that I was no longer following. I was just standing on the edge of the stage wondering where the closest stairs were, when Darryl stopped and came back to where I was standing.

"Sorry about that, I kind of forgot about you being smaller than I am," Darryl apologized. Then to my shock, he reached up with both hands and grabbed me around the waist. With a slight moan of discomfort from me, he effortlessly lifted me down. "Come this way."

He led the way to the far side of the orchestra pit, to where the drums, symbols, and the rest of the stuff I didn't know the names of, were. He stopped in front of two racks of metal bars that were laying in a large case.

"Have you ever played a glockenspiel before?" Darryl asked.

"A ‘What O Spill’?" I asked. My chin was just about level with the metal bars.

Darryl shook his head and groaned, "This is never going to work."

"What's never going to work?" I wondered aloud, turning to look at Darryl.

"Teaching you to play the glockenspiel, it's never going to work.”

“And why’s that?” I asked.

“Two reasons; first, the glockenspiel isn’t that easy, you have to want to learn how to play it. Second, you have to be able to see it in order to play it," Darryl grumbled.

'Now he's done it. Just who does this big oaf think he is, telling me I can't learn his precious glockenspiel? Does he even know who he's talking to?'

With fire in my eyes, and probably some anger in my voice, I figuratively crawled up the front of the giant oaf, standing before me, and jumped down his throat.

"About wanting to learn to play this ‘what o spill’; what I don't want to do is sing in public, especially when it comes to singing in a small group," I spat back. "And if you can learn to make music with a bunch of shiny silver bars, it can't be that hard. As for being able to see this ‘what o spill’, is there something that I can stand on?"

"Look out Darryl, I think you've got an angry tiger by its tail," someone called out.

"Hey man, if I were you, I wouldn't let go, it’s the other end that has the teeth," someone else added.

Putting my hands on my hips, I looked up at him, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What is there for me to stand on?"

It didn't take Darryl and some of the other orchestra members, very long to produce several nine-inch risers that looked like big Lego blocks. Three of them gave me just the right amount of elevation, although I couldn't move very far from side to side. After I could see the glockenspiel properly, Darryl introduced me to the different types of mallets and explained why there were so many. Next came an introduction to the sheet music. It was different from what I was used to from singing with the choir, but somehow familiar. As he explained how each note represented a specific key, or bar, it all made sense and brought back some pleasant memories. During his explanation and instructions, I started to relax and once again enjoyed learning to play.

Darryl left me alone to tinker for a bit, while he dug through some stuff somewhere. He came back with a beginner’s book for the glockenspiel. He helped me work through a couple of scales and a few practice pieces. Because I couldn't move very far, my timing was off on the end keys. After we'd been working at it for about an hour, my PDA started vibrating.

I reset the alarm and asked, "Darryl, can we take a short break?"

"Yeah, I guess. You need an alarm to tell you to take a break?"

I'm afraid I was a little sharp with him as I replied, "It's a personal matter between Kimberley and me, so don't ask."

While I was in the restroom, I was figuratively kicking myself this time. I realized Darryl wasn't trying to be mean, he’d just seen something odd and asked a simple question. I was almost certain that almost everyone in year A knew I had some kind of problem, and there was probably some very wild speculating going on about what my problem might be.

When I returned I apologized, "I'm sorry Darryl, I really shouldn't have snapped at you the way I did."

"That's OK Matilda; I was just a little surprised. Then when you mentioned Kimberley you piqued my curiosity, knowing who she is. I did send her a note asking about you."

'I guess the older years know a bit more about what's going on around here. I wonder just how much they know.'

"What did she say?" I was almost afraid of what she might have said.

"She just said that you are a special person, and that you've been through a lot of heavy stuff lately. She also said it wasn’t anything she could discuss, but that if I were any kind of gentleman, I would cut you a little slack."

"She's a good friend," I thought aloud, with a sigh.

"That she is," Darryl confirmed. "Shall we continue?"

During the next hour and a half, we worked through several sets of scales along with some other basics. I was doing so well that Darryl when had me play some simple Christmas carols, somehow I managed to make them sound almost like they should. Mary Beth had joined us about a half an hour before we decided to called it a night. Everyone else had finished their rehearsal, and she and I were now missing our dinner hour.

"Matilda, I have to tell you, I'm impressed. You have picked this up a lot faster than I would have thought would be remotely possible," Darryl complimented.

"Thanks Darryl. I have to tell you, this has been lots of fun and I think it’s pretty easy.”

“If you call playing the glockenspiel easy, what do you think is hard?”

“Hard? You should try getting into the US Marshal's computer network without being detected; now that's hard."

"Into whose computer?" Darryl asked.

"Umm, never mind. Darryl, is this the only ‘what o spill’ at the school?" I asked, as we were putting the mallets away.

Darryl shook his head each time I referred to the glockenspiel as a ‘what oh spill’. "No, there are four others, they're in some of the practice rooms."

"So who do I have to see about some practice time on one of them?"

"You can forget about that, Mrs. T has all the rooms booked solid for the next two days. She'll be working with the different singing groups, right up until they leave for their performances."

"Humm, is there any way to have one of the ‘what o spills’ moved into my room for a few days?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"With music?"

"What good would it be without music? Now you two better get going, if you don't hurry, you'll be eating dinner with the older years," Darryl commented.

"Is that a bad thing?" Mary Beth asked.

"Is what a bad thing?" Darryl asked.

"Eating with the older years?" I answered.

"Oh. No, it's not a bad thing; it’s just not normally done, that's all. I'm sure there wouldn’t be any problem and that you'd be more than welcome."

As Mary Beth and I were about to leave the administration building, we decided that rushing to catch up with the rest of our year really wasn't worth it because there was only ten minutes remaining of our scheduled dinnertime. So, we went back to our rooms to freshen up a bit before we joined the older years. We knew our year wouldn't worry about us, because Mary Beth had sent Jenny and Aaron, a note while she was waiting for Darryl and me to finish with the glockenspiel.

We didn't want to be the first to arrive, so we talked a bit about the events that took place in Quebec and Chicago; nothing heavy, just an overview to set the stage for more discussion later. I also sent a note to Mr. Peterson announcing our intention to join the older years for dinner, why, and where I planned to sit; knowing from past experience how crowded the cafeteria would be.

Not wanting there to be too many surprises, I copied Ellen on the note I sent to Mr. Peterson. I felt Ellen should know our plans and she could make any necessary changes in the seating arrangements she deemed appropriate.

When we arrived in the cafeteria, about half of the students were already seated. Being that I had eaten with the older years before, although it was a long time ago, I led the way as we got our food and then went looking for our requested dining companions.

'If my memory is correct … yes, there they are.'

"Mind if we join you?" I asked Beca.

Beca was startled for a moment, "Matilda, Mary Beth, what are you two doing here?"

"Nothing much," I started.

"Just enjoying a late dinner," Mary Beth finished.

"It's good to see you two again." Lizy said, with a smile.

"So are these two seats available?" I asked politely.

"Oh, yes. By all means, please sit down," Beca replied.

Having Mary Beth sitting across the table, instead of next to me, felt a little funny. It wasn't as funny a feeling as the feeling I got from sitting next to Beca as I raised a fork full of beef stroganoff to my mouth. I paused, holding my fork about six inches from my mouth, my mouth gapping open.

"Matilda, what's the matter?" I heard someone ask.

I looked around the table, then at the noodles and gravy on my fork. Slowly lowering my fork back to the plate, I asked, "You ever have the feeling that you've done something before? Like you are exactly reliving a moment in time that you've lived before?"

"What are you talking about?" Angel asked.

"I’ve done this before. This exact moment, same table, same people, even the same food, only something's wrong. Something is out of place; I just can't put my finger on what's wrong."

"I think they call it déjá  vu," Frank added.

"Matilda, you're scaring me," Mary Beth complained.

Thinking forward another moment, or was it thinking backwards, and it came to me, "That's it, Mary Beth. You don't belong here," I concluded.

"What do you mean, I don't belong here?" she demanded.

"I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. I don’t mean that you don’t belong here. Of course, you belong here now, but you weren't here then."

"When?" Mary Beth asked.

"Before," Beca answered.

"You figured it out?" I asked Beca.

"Of course, but how long are you going to leave Mary Beth guessing?" Beca wanted to know.

"Mary Beth, you remember me telling you about being here before, and learning how to present myself as a girl?" Mary Beth nodded. "It was exactly four months and seven days ago that I first sat in this chair. I had requested beef stroganoff for my lunch. Sitting where you are now, Rachael was eating spaghetti."

Mary Beth looked at her plate of spaghetti and slowly pushed it to the center of the table, mumbling, "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Don't be silly," said Kate. "The spaghetti here is some of the best you'll find anywhere."

"Yeah, don't go hungry just because Matilda is taking a trip down memory lane," Frank added.

"Careful, girls. Having Matilda take a trip down memory lane isn’t something you or she would find enjoyable," Kimberley said as she and I made eye contact. "Are you okay?" she asked me. I could hear the concern in her voice.

"Yes, I'm all right," I assured her, smiling cheerfully. "I think Frank had it right, it’s just a bit of déjá  vu. Mary Beth, go ahead and eat your dinner, everything is all right."

"Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly.

"Absolutely."

Slowly Mary Beth pulled her plate back and continued eating. However, she did keep a protective eye on me throughout the rest of dinner.

The conversation that followed was light and cheerful. Mostly we talked about the upcoming caroling trips, and what Mary Beth and I should expect to see and do. We also talked about the various Christmas day church services. All in all, we gathered lots of information that we hadn't heard from anyone else.

Thinking it was good information to share, Mary Beth and I went to year A lounge as soon as we were finished with dinner. There, we told everyone else what we'd learned and what to expect while on our caroling excursions. Even though they'd just returned from Canada, everyone was excited for the chance to get out and see the countryside, as it were.

There were two surprises waiting for me when Mary Beth and I made it back to my room. I guess they weren't really surprises, because I expected them to be there.

"What's that," Mary Beth asked, pointing to a large gray case, resting horizontally on a stand, that put it waist high to a Munchkin.

"That must be the glockenspiel from one of the practice rooms." Opening the case confirmed my suspicion. "I'm sure glad they found a shorter stand. I was having a hard time reaching the keys on the ends before. This way I'll be able to move around while I'm playing. Want to hear something?"

"So, you do know what it's called," Mary Beth stated as she helped me take off the top of the case.

"Of course, I know its proper name. I remembered it after Darryl used it the second time. I would have called it a glockenspiel instead of a ‘what o spill’ it if Darryl hadn't made me mad."

"Matilda, what am I going to do with you?"

"A hug works, but be very gentle," I replied with a smile.

Rummaging around in the music that was left with the glockenspiel, I selected a carol that Mary Beth would recognize. She had no trouble picking up the melody of Silent Night and quickly joined in.

"Matilda, you've really picked this up fast. Are you sure you've never played before?"

"Technically no, I've never played the glockenspiel before. But I was learning the piano, unofficially."

"You want to explain that?"

"Well, it was when we were in the third grade, just after school started. One day, while you and the other girls were in the restroom, I ducked into the band room to hide from Bart. You know, at Whittier they didn't officially teach band until you were in the fifth grade. When I snuck in there to hide, I discovered I wasn’t alone. Mr. Munford was there and wanted to know what I was doing. After I explained everything, he was more than willing to let me stay; I guess he knew about Bart.

Mr. Munford was playing the piano the first day I hid there. I sat next to him on the bench and watched as he played. Because Mr. Munford was nice to me, and was willing to let me hide there, I used the band room many times. The third time I hid there, he asked if I wanted to play an instrument. Naturally I said yes, I mean, I'd do anything to get away from Bart."

"So, Mr. Munford taught you to play the piano? You never told me about that."

"Not exactly, at least he didn't start out teaching me the piano. He started me with a little flute, something small and easy for me to handle. For some reason, I just couldn't get the hang of it. He tried a couple of other instruments, but I couldn't play them either. Then he tested my ears and figured out they're all messed up. That's why I can't sing, I can't hear the tones correctly so I can't match them."

"So how can you play the piano or the glockenspiel, if you can't hear what you're playing? Or for that matter, how could you hear me singing in those recordings they played before we got the mikes?"

"I don't know what it is, but I've always been able to pick out your voice. As for the piano and the glockenspiel, each note represents a specific key or bar. All I have to do is read the music, and then hit the right key, at the right time."

"But, isn't it hard to play when you don't hear the right tone?"

"Not really. The fact that it sounds different to me than it does to everyone else doesn't bother me, or effect how I play. If I were playing a piano that was out of tune, I wouldn't know it, but you would. I don't think a glockenspiel can get out of tune, so for someone like me, it's the perfect instrument. There is one drawback."

"What's that?"

"Well, when it comes right down to it, I really can't, well ... I can't make music. Oh I can read the notes and hit kit the keys, but I can never be, you know, creative; not like I am with a computer."

"Is that what you call the relationship you have with computers, being creative?" Mary Beth laughingly asked.

"Of course, what else would you call it?"

"Oh, I don't know - magic comes to mind, maybe sorcery. I'd never thought of it as being creative," she laughed.

"Oh, that's enough out of you. See if you can recognize this one," I complained at her teasing, and started playing another carol.

It took her a while to figure out what I was playing. I hadn't played that one before, so I was hunting for each new key.

"Isn't that ... The Carol of the Bells?"

"Yes it is. Good guess. It's one of the carols you'll be singing when we go out."

"That was tough to guess; you're playing it really slow. It doesn't sound right that way."

"Hey, give me a break; it's the first time I've played this one. A couple of times through and I'll have the pattern down. After I’ve got that down I'll work on the tempo."

"How long will that take?"

"I'll work on it during the day tomorrow. I should have it up to speed for tomorrow night's rehearsal."

"That fast? Nobody's going to believe you haven't played before. By the way, what's in the box on your bed?"

"That's something I'm trying to ignore. I’m pretty sure it's the cream Dr. Harris sent over for my burns."

"Matilda! You can't ignore it. You want to get better, don't you?" Mary Beth asked, as she opened the box.

"Of course I want the burns to heal and they will. Using that cream will just make them heal faster."

"The note here says that Marie is available any time you need her. Why would she need to be available anytime?"

"They’re making her available to put the cream on my burns. That is, if I can't find someone else to do it for me."

"Did you have someone in mind?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking about asking you if you'd be willing to take on the job."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, are you going to ask me?"

I stopped playing and turned to look into Mary Beth’s eyes. "Mary Beth, would you be willing to apply the cream to the burns on my back and legs twice a day?"

"I thought we weren't supposed to see each other naked."

"That's why I asked if you'd do my back and legs. I figured I could smear it around on my bottom."

"I see. Before I answer, can I ask you a question?"

I couldn't resist the urge to giggle as I replied, "You just did ask 'A' question. Would you like to ask 'A' nother question?"

"You're a nut."

"Very true, but that's not a question."

"Okay. Matilda, all those weeks that you spent wrapping me with the elastic bandages and pushing me around in that stupid wheelchair, in all that time, I never heard you complain, not once. Why did you do that for me? I mean, I could have managed to do the bandages myself, but you took it upon yourself. Why?"

I looked at the floor for a while and eventually I looked up at Mary Beth. "I'm not sure how to answer that question. No, that's not right, I know how to answer, I just don't know how to answer and not have you get mad at me."

"Matilda, I'm not going to get mad at you and I think I know what you're going to say. I just need to hear it from you."

"Okay, I did it because I love you," I replied in a hushed tone. The room was silent for a moment, before I continued, "Mom tried teaching me something a while ago, but I didn't understand it until we came here."

"What was that?"

"That you'll have no greater joy in this life, than by being of service to someone else, and especially to someone you love. I didn't understand it before, and I'm not sure I completely understand it now. But, I know that it would be a privilege to help you in any way."

Mary Beth pretended to brush some hair out of her face, but I think she was wiping away a tear.

It was several moments before Mary Beth spoke, "Yes, Matilda. I'll take care of your burns for you. Right now, I think it's time we got ready for bed."

Mary Beth quickly went into her room, leaving me to wonder if I'd said something stupid again; only time would tell. Still holding the mallets and being a little sad, I thought about playing something, but decided it wouldn't help. Going into my closest, I picked a long silky nightgown. After a few minutes in the bathroom, taking care of the necessities, I found Mary Beth sitting on the couch in one of her favorite baby-doll pajamas, with her PDA in hand.

"Where were we?" she asked.

"Where were we, what?"

"Reading our scriptures. I know we read them each night on the bus, but for some reason I can't remember where we were."

"Oh, we'd just finished Second Nephi," I replied, as I went after my PDA.

"That's right. You want to start or shall I?"

"You go ahead; I'll read the next chapter."

I didn't hear much of what Mary Beth read, I was thinking about what had happened that evening and that Mary Beth was acting like the last six weeks had never happened.

Mary Beth finished reading a chapter and then I read a chapter. After setting the alarm on my PDA, we said our prayers. Then the event I was sorta wishing would be forgotten, wasn't.

Mary Beth picked up the tube of cream and with an evil smile she commanded, "Okay Munchkin, take off that nightgown and lay on your bed."

Knowing that resistance was futile, I only halfheartedly complained, "They will get better on their own."

"Now, young lady!"

I knew I couldn't get out of it, but I had to at least look like I really didn't want to submit. Slowly I got up; bending over, I grabbed my nightgown about knee level and started to pull it over my head. About the time my head was completely hidden, and from my armpits down wasn't, I heard some stifled giggling.

"What?" I demanded, as I struggled to finish the process.

"Nothing."

"This isn't funny, MayBee," I complained, as I dropped the nightgown on the floor.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry I giggled, it's just that - - - you look really cute in just a diaper. Do you think that maybe you could wear one from time to-"

"No way!"

"Maybe just once in a while?"

“Don’t even think about it,” I scowled.

"I'm sorry, but it’s just that you look so cute like that."

"Look, just as soon as I get my bladder working right, that'll be the end of the diapers, and you'll never see me in them again."

"Um, Matilda, if my memory is right, your bladder has never worked exactly right."

"Oh shut up," I scowled, trying to look serious. Imagine if you will; a little girl who looks to be under 8 years of age, standing in the middle of her bedroom, in just a diaper, trying to be serious. I almost giggled myself.

Once again, Mary Beth tried to stifle another bout of giggles. On the other hand, I had to at least try and look mad. I scowled some more, as I shook my fist at her, before I climbed onto my bed. "Just get this over with."

After I was comfortably lying on my stomach, Mary Beth came over with the tube of cream. Her giggling abruptly stopped and she was instantly serious, this was the first time she'd seen my back, and the burns. "Oh my," was all she said, as she started to gently apply the cream to my legs. After she'd finished with the legs, she started on my shoulders and gently started working her way down.

As she was working on the small of my back, she surprised me by asking, "Tell me again, why did you take care of me for all those weeks?"

I wondered why she would ask that question again, I knew she knew the answer. However, being in such a vulnerable position I didn't want to upset her. Still, I had to answer her question, not to do so would almost be a lie.

"Because I love you and you needed my help," I whispered.

Suddenly I felt the waistband of my pull-up being lifted away from my flesh, and a warm, greased, hand sliding down my left buttock; my heart skipped a beat or two.

“MARY BETH, what are you doing,” I cried out, as I tried to crawl away

In the most loving voice I've ever heard from Mary Beth, she meekly said, "Lay still please."

I didn’t seem to have much choice. If I pulled too hard, the sides of the pull-up would tear away, as they were designed to do. Being completely naked would be more embarrassing, than having Mary Beth’s hand gently sliding back and forth across on my tender bottom. As Mary Beth removed her hand, I felt a something strange, almost a pain of sadness. A moment later she repeated the process, the lifting of the waistband and her delightfully warm hand spreading the required cream across my right buttock.

Up to that point in my short life, I'd never experienced anything like that. I never knew that simple intimate contact by someone could give you such a feeling of ecstasy. I wished I could have suspended time and stayed in that moment, but it was not to be. Mary Beth quickly completed the task, removed her hands, and went into the bathroom to wash away the remnants of the cream.

I was still lying on my bed, trying to savor the moment, as Mary Beth returned. "You want some help getting your nightgown back on?"

I nodded, as I slowly pushed myself up and slid off the bed. Mary Beth picked up the nightgown and started fiddling with it. "Put your hands up," she said.

I did as I was told. I then felt the nightgown gently floating down over me.

"There you are, all ready for bed," she added a kiss to the top of my head.

"Thank you," I shyly replied.

Mary Beth then pulled down the blankets and helped me into bed, so the cream wouldn't be wiped off immediately by my nightgown. I was a little surprised when she pulled the blankets back up and tucked them in around me. I almost passed out when she bent down and kissed my nose.

"There you are my Munchkin, all tucked in."

"Thanks," I smiled. "I wasn't expecting the royal princess treatment."

"My pleasure. Matilda, can I ask you something?" she asked as she dropped to her knees, putting her at eye level with me.

"Sure."

"Would it be all right with you if I were to ... sleep in your bed again?" she quietly asked.

"What?" That question took me completely by surprise; I couldn't believe my ears.

It was several moments before she repeated the question "Can I sleep with you?" I sensed a hint of fear in her voice.

"But you said ... I thought you didn't want-"

"Forget what I said before. I wasn't thinking or acting the way I wanted to. I was reacting the way mom programmed me. Please forgive me, I was ignorant, and stupid, and ... I was scared." Mary Beth reached for the box of tissues.

"You were scared, of what?"

"I was scared of what the others would think if they found out. I was scared of what my mom might say. And I was scared that you just wanted to ... well, you know."

Sadly I nodded. 'I did know what she was referring to. I'd heard some of the sixth-grade boys bragging. I also knew that what Mary Beth feared could never happen, and that someday I would have to reveal my one last, embarrassing, little secret.'

"But mostly, I think I was scared to admit that I ... that I love you too."

"And you're not scared anymore?" I meekly asked.

"Yes, I'm still scared.” Mary Beth started to sniffle. “But I'm not scared of what I was scared of before. What I'm scared of now is-” Mary Beth slipped her hand under the blankets and took one of my hands into hers. “-is thinking that I might-" There were more sniffles as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "-that I might lose you again-ain-n-n-n." At that moment she broke down and started crying, a full-ledged downpour.

“Again?” I thought aloud.

“Y-Yes, a-again-n-n-n. W-when you di-didn’t sh-show up ta ch-change back, I-I tho-thought I-I'd n-never see y-you again-n-n. I-I just k-knew the m-most tear-terrible th-things ha-had ha-happened to y-you-u-u. I wa-was scr-screaming at A-Angel ta h-help m-me f-find y-ou. I ha-had ta f-find y-you, ta ho-hold y-you, ta tell y-you that I l-love y-you. El-Ellen w-was t-there, s-she gave m-me some-something ta m-make m-me st-stop scr-screaming. I tho-thought I-I l-lost y-you for go-good and th-that I wo-would be a-alone for-forever.”

As she started crying, I flipped the blankets off of me and slid off the bed. Taking my friend in my arms I tried unsuccessfully to sooth her fears. Having me standing, and MayBee on her knees, seemed a bit weird, but it put the top of her head just below my chin. It was just the right position for me to hold her close to me with one arm and stroke her hair with my other hand.

“I cou-couldn’t thi-think bout noth-nothing b-but f-finding y-you. I cou-couldn’t s-sing that n-night. T-They k-kept me away f-from the r-rest of the sch-school so t-they wo-wouldn't k-know y-you wa-was mis-missing. I j-just wa-wanted ta f-find y-you. Pl-Please Ma-Matilda, te-tell m-me y-you wo-wont le-leave m-me a-again. Pl-Please te-tell m-me that y-you st-still l-love m-me-e-e."

“Shh … Of course I still love you, with all my heart. Hush now, please stop crying. Everything is going to be okay. Of course, you can sleep with me. Shhh! Oh I’ve missed you so much.” I gently continued stroking her hair, as I reassured her of how much I loved her and how much she meant to me.

It was sometime before Mary Beth’s tears started to subside. Almost in a daze, she looked up at me timidly, asking “So do y-you still l-love me?”

“Of course, I do. I’ve said that over and over, a dozen times or more.”

“You have?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And, is it o-okay if I sleep with you again? I d-don’t like sleeping alone. I cry my-myself to sleep every night.”

“I know about you crying in bed at night. It breaks my heart to hear you that way, knowing there's nothing I can do to help you. Yes, you can sleep with me. I told you that many times in the last twenty minutes.”

“You did? Have I been crying that long?”

“Yes I did, and yes you have, you silly little girl.”

“One more question.” Along with some more sniffles. “When did you grow so tall?”

I smiled as I leaned over and kissed her up-turned nose. “When you decided to crawl around like a baby. Come on now, let's go to bed?”

Mary Beth slowly got up off the floor. I don’t know if my helping her was really helping, or if I was hindering her progress. Either way, we were both smiling as I crawled back under the blankets. I slid backwards across the bed, holding the blankets back, indicating that she should follow.

“But I always sleep behind you, with an arm around your waist,” she mentioned, as she slid her toes under the blankets.

“Not tonight my dear. Tonight I want to be able to look into your eyes as I fall asleep.”

“You’re a silly Munchkin.” Sniff.

“I thought you were the silly one tonight,” I teased, with a big smile.

With the blankets drawn up, lights out, I could just make out her lovely face in the trickle of light coming from the bathroom.

“Matilda,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve acted so dumb. Do you forgive me?”

Taking her hands in mine, I smiled at her a moment before answering, “Of course I forgive you. Welcome home.”

Smiling, she kissed my nose.

‘Welcome home my love. After a long absence and way too many tears, we’ve both come home. Now I knew what she meant in the message she sent, “Nobody will separate us.” OH NO, what about . . .'

"Matilda, you look like something's bothering you."

"I was thinking about a message you sent me, before you got to Chicago. You said that nobody would separate us. What would you say if they ask me to-"

"WHAT HAVE THEY ASKED YOU TO DO NOW?"

"Well . . . They want me to go to Edinburgh with-"

"Edinburgh? Isn't that in England?"

"Actually It's in Scotland."

"Scotland! NOOOO. They c-can’t do that to me a-again, n-not again-n-n," she cried and cried, hiding her face in the pillow.

I scooted closer, putting my free arm over her back, gently stroking her as she cried herself to sleep.

’I wonder how badly they want me to go to Edinburgh. I guess if they really want me, they'll just have to make room for MayBee too.’

* * * To Be Continued * * *

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