Tears rolled down his cheeks, and again he wondered why he was here to be punished for something he hadn’t done. It wasn’t fair.

When Shawn left, Billy opened his eyes and saw Sister Stephens walking away. He looked at his left hand and saw the red welts, felt the burning. He felt something on his face, too, and touched his cheek with his right hand. Tears?

Jimbo never forgot that although he was a year and four months older than his brother, it was Billy who, at the age of seven, instigated running away from home that summer. They would pack some food, Billy told him, and take a knife and some clothes, and they would go off and have adventures. They would come back rich and famous. Impressed with his younger brothers planning and determination, Jimbo agreed to go along.

They slipped out of the house with their packs and hiked from Circleville through the outskirts of town, past the built-up area, to the big field overgrown with clover. Billy pointed to a stand of five or six apple trees in the center of the field and said that was where they’d stop for a lunch break. Jimbo followed.

As they sat there leaning against the trees, eating apples and talking about the adventures they would have, Jimbo felt a strong wind coming up. Apples started falling all around them.

“Hey,” Jimbo said. “Gonna be a storm.”

Billy glanced around. “And look at the bees!”

Jimbo saw that the whole field seemed to be filled with swarming, buzzing bees. “They’re all over the place. We’ll get stung to death. We’re trapped. Help! Help!” he screamed. “Somebody help us!”

Billy packed quickly. “Okay, we didn’t get stung on the way into the field. So the best thing is to go out the way we come in—but we go out running. Let’s go now!”

Jimbo stopped screaming and followed him.

They took off, racing across the field, and made it back to the road without getting stung.

“That was quick thinking,” Jimbo said.

Billy looked at the darkening sky. “Its getting mean-looking. We got stopped, so let’s call it off for today. We’ll go back, but we won’t say anything. Then we can do it another time.”

All the way home, Jimbo kept wondering why he was letting himself be led by his younger brother.

Later that summer they went exploring in the woods around Circleville. When they got to Hargis Creek, they saw a rope hanging from a branch over the water.

“We can swing across,” Billy said.

“I’ll check it out,” Jimbo said. “I’m the oldest. I’ll go first. Then, if it’s safe, you can swing across after me.”

Jimbo pulled the rope, backed up to get a running start and swung out. Three quarters of the way across, he fell and dropped into mud, which started sucking him down.

“Quicksand!” Jimbo shouted.

Billy moved fast. He found a large stick and threw it across to him. Shimmying up the tree, Billy climbed out on a branch, down the rope, and pulled his brother to safety. When they were on the bank, Jimbo lay back and looked at him.