“It is good,” she said. “Of course it’s good. And some very very vivid imagery, Larry. Excellent work.”

Larry flushed happily.

She turned again to Raj, who was still staring out the window. “Why don’t you read yours out for us, Mr. Travers?”

A general moan went up.

“Oh, miss,” Martin Abby whined, “he should read his out last. I don’t want to read mine after his.”

But Raj had already stood up. For a moment he just stared blankly at the front of the class. Then he pulled off his sweater, shoved it up inside his shirt, and clamped his hands under the mound they made. Imitating Bellamy’s accent, he said, “Vivid imagery, Larry. What’s this kind of poem called, class?”

“Rajiv!” Mrs. Bellamy shouted. “What are you doing?”

“A metaphor,” Raj said. “This poem is a metaphor: met-a-phor. Which means it’s being compared to something. And what can it be compared to, class? Not a pool of vomit, no, Morton, but that’s very close. Yes, that’s right, Michael: a pile of dog shit.”

“Sit down this instant!” she screamed.

Now Raj began to sway back and forth, cuddling his fake breasts and singing. “Oh, my little fishy with my little missy when the boat comes in. Oh, little missy with my little fishy, oh, little missy when the boat comes in.”

Mrs. Bellamy, tears starting to her eyes, hurried out. She returned with Peterson the Punisher, the ex–sergeant major, who looked gleeful with sadistic anticipation. Snatching up the collar of Raj’s shirt, he dragged him from the classroom.

“I have never been so humiliated.” Brenna snatched her scarf off her head as they entered the house. “What possessed you to behave so abominably?”

It was the first time either had spoken since she had picked him up from school and quick-marched him home. Raj, following her into the sitting room, didn’t answer.

She telephoned her husband at his office. “Listen, Haig, Rajiv has been suspended from school for just the most obscene and insulting behavior…. Yes, suspended, for two weeks. It was this morning. I’ve been up at Mother’s all day. He’s been sitting on his hands outside the headmaster’s office. Now, I want you to come home this instant and deal with this…. I don’t care, I’m not having anything more to do with him…. I don’t care. If you’re not here in half an hour, Haig, I can’t tell you what I’m going to do. You get here and you talk to this boy and call up that Mr. Reeves and explain that we simply can’t have him skulking about this house for the next two weeks. Do you understand?” She slammed the receiver down.

Raj, who was standing in front of her, was now as tall as she. Her little weapon of a face glinted menacingly in front of him.

“You come here,” she said, “live in our house, eat our food. Your father hasn’t sent so much as a penny for your keep, and you repay us by doing this?”