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Part Two "It sucked!" Stacy tossed her books on the back porch swing, started to go inside, then changed her mind and sat on the steps. She looked at her mother, who was on her knees weeding the flower bed under the kitchen window. Mrs. Tilssen laid her trowel on the grass, sat back on her heels and looked at her expectantly. "There are some boys who keep taking kids' lunch money," Stacy explained. "If you don't give them money, they beat you up." "Here, in Arrowhead?" "Yeah, mom. All kinds of stuff happens in Arrowhead these days." "Have you told Principal Marsh?" "One guy did, but nothing happened." Mrs. Tilssen frowned and Stacy could have predicted exactly what she would say next. "Then there was some sort of misunderstanding." She stood up, brushed off the knees of her jeans, and removed her gardening gloves. "I'll make an appointment so you and I can talk with him tomorrow." "Mom, he won't believe me. One of the boys is his son Roger." Mrs. Tilssen paused on her way into the kitchen. "Well, it's certainly worth a try. And if he doesn't believe you then you'll just have to prove it to him. He needs to know there is a problem with Roger." "A problem with who?" asked a deep voice. Stacy's brother Dane opened the kitchen door, nearly bumping into his mother. He was dressed in jeans and bedroom slippers, with a towel over his wide, hairy shoulders. He lived in the tenant house on the next hill to the north, but his shower was broken so he kept coming over to the family house to clean up and ended up being here at about dinner time most days. "Bullies at school," Stacy said, smiling now. This was something Dane could handle. It was so convenient to have a very large brother who knew how to fight. "Four of them followed me part of the way home today. They made me kind of nervous." Her brother's dark brows pulled together in a single fuzzy black don't-mess-with-my-sister kind of angry line, but Mrs. Tilssen said, "We've got it handled, Dane. I'm about to call the principal." She went inside, followed by her two offspring. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Mom," Stacy said. "He won't believe you but if Roger finds out that I told on him, they'll try and get even tomorrow. Let me handle it, okay?" Washing the garden dirt off her hands, Emma Tilssen said over her shoulder, "How do you plan on handling it?" "I don't know," Stacy said. "I need to think about it." Mrs. Tilssen hesitated. "All right," she said finally, drying her hands. "But let me know what you decide to do. And you know that if you ever feel like you're in real danger, you can knock on anyone's door in town and ask to use their phone to call for help. I'm sure you won't have any more problems, though, if you just talk to these boys and clear the air. And speaking of clearing the air, you'd better go shovel out the stalls and corral. Your dad couldn't do it today, he's trying to get all the beans planted since it's supposed to rain tomorrow. And don't forget to feed the horses." Stacy had forgotten to feed the horses once, months ago.
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