Amberville by Tim Davys Page B

opposite. You know that someone wants what is good for you when you feel satisfied inside. When you feel well.”
    “But why doesn’t everyone want to feel good?” I asked. “Why does anyone want to do something bad?”
    “Because otherwise you wouldn’t know when someone was good,” said my brother Eric slyly, but his voice was trembling.
    “There you’re wrong,” Odenrick smiled tenderly in Eric’s direction. “There is evil in the world, cubs. Hopefully you’ll never have to encounter it, but you should know about it. For it is going to entice you when you get older, and then you must recognize it and resist it.”
    Eric had turned toward the wall. Sniffling was heard coming from his bed. Deacon Odenrick sat silently and listened. I was so surprised I didn’t know what I should say.
    “Eric?” said Odenrick at last. “Is there something you want to tell?”
    I felt confused. Up until that evening I’d believed that Eric and I shared everything. Feelings as well as experiences. There and then I was forced to realize that that wasn’t the case. This was at the same time a relief and a disappointment.
    Penguin Odenrick and I listened together to Eric.
    “It’s Samuel Pig,” Eric sobbed. “He calls me a thief. He says that I’m bad. He’s says that I’ve stolen the Ruby.”
    “The Ruby?” asked Odenrick.
    “That’s his red marble,” Eric explained, sniffling. “He says that he’s going to whip me. With his friends. That they’re going to give me such a whipping that I’ll never be able to walk again.”
    All the cubs at preschool played marbles. For most of them it was no game, but rather completely serious. Wewere cubs, but we were particularly superstitious where it concerned our marbles.
    “Samuel Pig?” Odenrick repeated.
    Eric nodded and tried to wipe away the tears from his cheeks.
    “I know Samuel Pig’s parents,” said Odenrick. “I’ll talk with them.”
    “No, no!” howled Eric, terrified. “You mustn’t say anything.”
    “But Samuel can’t threaten you unpunished,” said Odenrick, and his voice was quivering with indignation. “I’ll speak with your principal.”
    “No!” howled Eric again.
    “But what—” Odenrick began.
    “Nothing,” interrupted Eric. “It’s just that I’m scared. He’s mean, Samuel. He lies. And he fights. Promise not to say anything.”
    “But I…”
    “Promise?” nagged Eric.
    “I promise,” said Odenrick. “We deacons have a duty to remain silent. You can count on me. I’m not going to say anything. But if Samuel so much as…”
    The penguin didn’t finish his sentence. When we saw Odenrick’s threadbare appearance on the edge of my bed, we thought it was wise that he didn’t express any sort of threat.
    He didn’t look as though he could live up to it.
     
    The preschool was five blocks north. The pride of the school was the playground behind it. There we spent at least a few hours every day, most often during the Forenoon Weather.
    Eric and I went to preschool because Mother wanted us to. We could have been at home, but Mother thought that the most important thing in life was to correctlyunderstand how to manage your social environment. We went to preschool to learn to play with others, not just ourselves.
    It happened less than a week after Eric’s confession. It was a Thursday. That I know. We sang on Thursday mornings, and I liked to sing. After singing we ate the fruit we’d brought with us from home, and then it was time to go outside. There were thirty of us cubs, and it quickly became chaotic in the hall when everyone was putting on their outdoor clothes at the same time.
    Eric vanished out of sight. It was not unusual; we often kept a little distance from each other. Twins have different strategies at various periods of life. At the age of six Eric and I were careful about not choosing similar clothes and keeping ourselves a little apart from each other. I used to go down to the lawn by the great oak tree