“Oh, we get fellows like that once in a while. Farm boys mostly, who might take seven or eight years to get through. Used to be more of them than there are now. By golly, not yet seventeen . . .”

“We have a birth certificate at home,” I said irritably.

“Oh, no need for that.” He still shook his head. “I’ve never misjudged a boy’s age that much before.”

Half angry and half amused, I dawdled in the school library before going to the gym to meet Duff. He was with a group of boys taking turns on the parallel bars, while a sweat-­shirted instructor was conferring with an elderly man wearing a white coat and stethoscope. I waved to Duff and the doctor came over to me.

“Is that your son?” he asked. “What do you feed him? He looks like an invalid, but he has more stamina than any other two boys here.”

“He’s always been good at gym activities,” I said.

“For his size, he’s the strongest boy I’ve ever seen.”

It was a surprising evaluation. Duff had always been fairly well coordinated, but I had never thought of him as being exceptionally strong. Rating him that highly, it seemed to me, wasn’t saying much for the local talent.

The next day Duff and Franny started school. Duff was late in coming down for breakfast—something that had never happened at home—and as a result he missed the bus. We permitted him to drive the car to Cainesville, and that set a pattern. He was late again the next day and the day following, and by the next week he had persuaded us to let him take the test for a license, which he passed easily. A boy can drive legally at sixteen in Ohio.

Then on the Tuesday of the third week of school, we had a call from the principal of Cainesville High. He would like to meet with the parents of Duffin Caine as soon as possible. The secretary couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell me what Mr. Wheeler wanted.

That evening Duff claimed to know nothing about it.

“Except maybe it’s because I had an argument with a couple of fellows this morning.”

“An argument about what?”

“Oh, one guy called me a ‘dude’ and I called him a ‘hick.’ It was nothing. It was really stupid.”

“What happened after the name calling?”

“Nothing. Oh, I shoved the creep, but that’s all. I suppose Wheeler is blaming me because I’m a stranger in the school. If I were you, I’d ignore the call.”

“I can’t ignore it. I promised to see Mr. Wheeler.”

“You’ll make it harder for me, Mom. The kids will say I need my mother to stick up for me.”

“I’m sorry, Duff. You’ll just have to explain that it wasn’t your decision.”