Those are not the kind of words that I want to hear Charles say to me first thing on a school morning. Mom had just dropped me off in front of the school, as usual, and Jason and John had walked over to join me.

The three of us were busy talking about our Thanksgiving vacation plans when Charles had decided to join us.

I don't generally encourage Charles' companionship but it's hard to ignore someone who shoves their book bag under your nose. The guys and I looked at each other and then down at the book bag. I had a feeling of dread when I looked at it. Knowing Charles like I did there was no telling what he had hidden inside the murky contents of his book bag.

I started to tell Charles what he could do with it when John said, "Sure, Charles, let's see what you have in there."

I'll have to have a talk with John later.

Charles eagerly tuck his hand inside the bag and produced a pair of handcuffs.

The metal was cold and heavy as I took them out of his hand and looked at the handcuffs curiously, "How many balloons at the fair did you have to bust to win these?" I asked. I could see my breath when I spoke. It was very cold and we were trying to keep warm by standing close together. We could have gone inside the building but we wanted to wait until the last minute before we had to go inside the prison.

"These aren't a toy," Charles said scornfully, "These are the real thing. My dad got them at an auction for me. My grandmother is coming over with my aunt and uncle for Thanksgiving dinner Thursday night and I can't wait to try them out on her."

I couldn't remember ever seeing Charles this excited about anything before. There was the time when Eddie Faulk's dad came to our class and spoke about his exciting job as a taxidermist. Charles' eyes seemed to almost pop out of their sockets when Mr. Faulk spoke about what was involved in embalming and stuffing animals. I had always figured that if Charles ever got excited about anything it was probably the obituary section of the newspaper.

"These are definitely the real thing. I've seen my father's handcuffs enough times," Jason studied them carefully and then looked up at Charles curiously, "You're going to handcuff your grandmother?"

"Sure," Charles said with a gleeful smile on hs face, "I'm going to tell Grandmother that I have this magic trick that I want to try out on her. I'll ask for her hand and when she gives it to me I'll handcuff her to her chair and then pretend that I lost the key for the rest of the evening. She'll think twice before she comes over to our house for dinner again."

Chales gave a high-pitched giggle and put the handcuffs back into his book bag. He closed it and walked away, giggling and laughing to himself.

"Sometimes I really wonder if Charles is for real," Jason sighed as we watched Charles walk up the school steps. "Last night I had a dream that I had gone to bed and woke up with my bed on fire and Charles was laughing at me and roasting marshmallows over the flames. Should I be worried?" Jason was unsure as he looked at me.

At that moment a white van pulled up in front of the school.

"Do you suppose they are finally working on the heating today?" I asked hopefully. The words Simpson & Son Heating and Air-Conditioning were printed on the side of the van.

"It's about time," John said disgustedly, "Yesterday the pipes froze in the P.E. Building and we couldn't take showers after we ran track. Nobody in Social Studies would sit next to me."

Brian the bully and his partner-in-crime, Scott, came running out of the side entrance of the building. They were laughing and hitting each other. This was not a good sign for the students or faculty of this school--not to mention me. Brian was up to something.

Brian quit laughing when he saw me. He came up to me and smiled, "So, Kevin Rooney, how good to see you. How are you doing? And Jason and John, so good to see you two too. Kind of brisky today, huh? I bet you are all looking forward to a great Thanksgiving holiday, aren't you?"

"great holiday," Scott repeated, snorting. Scott was one of those people who snorted when they laughed. It was very embarrassing for everybody but him. He didn't seem to notice that he did it. Or maybe he just didn't care.

Jason, John and I were all open-mouthed and speechless. I couldn't believe this was the same Brian. He was actually acting civilized toward me and--this was the really weird part--he actually called me Kevin Rooney, without making fun of it at all.

Brian laughed uproariously when he saw our astonished faces and he and Scott left, digging each other in the ribs and whispering.

"I don't like the looks of this," John said grimly as we watched them walk away.

"What do you suppose is up with those two?" Jason was wondering also.

The bell rang for the day to begin and we walked inside.

THe warm air of the building hit me and I could actually begin to feel my hands and feet thaw out by the time I had gotten to my locker. The hall was filled with the deafening roar of kids calling out to each other. Some kids were laughing and others were shouting to each other as locker doors slammed open and shut throughout the long corridor.

"Look over here, Kevin," said Jason before I even had a chance to open my locker.

I couldn't believe my eyes when I walked over to Jason's open locker. Jason's books and papers were covered with several inches of birdseed.

"This is just the sort of thing Brian would do!" I said as I watched in amazement, watching Jason scoop handfulls of birdseed out of the locker and onto the floor as he tried to get to his books.

"He will pay for this," Jason said, clenching his teeth together angrily.

"Did you hear something?" I asked, turning around. The hall was almost empty by now.

"No," said Jason, pouring seed out of a jacket pocket that he'd left overnight in the locker.

The warning bell rang at that moment and the noise was forgotten. Jason tried desperately to shake the seeds out of his books as we ran to class. I hadn't had a chnce to go to my locker but, fortunately, I had my first three classes' books in my book bag.

Homeroom was busy with the buzz of Thanksgiving vacation plans being discussed and it was hard for Mrs. Payne to get the class under control.

"Alright, students, in your seats, please," She said, smiling at us, "This morning, class, we will be going into the auditorium for a Thanksgiving play that the Franklin School first graders will be presenting to our school. I expect you all to be on your best behavior, especially certain people who I don't believe that I need to name," Mrs. Payne gave a warning glance toward Brian's side of the room. There were several empty seats around him. Mrs. Payne had found the best way to keep Brian from terrorizing students was to keep him as isolated as possible.

Brian was sitting there sullenly, ignoring Mrs. Payne. He did, however, manage to give me an evil smile as he turned his head to look at me.

No, things did not look good for me at all today.

Mr. Sorenson, the principal, came on over the intercom with the day's events. He told us that the heating was being fixed and that we should be careful around the men who were working on it. He also repeated Mrs. Payne's announcement about the play that the first graders were giving.

Actually, most of us could probably have cared less about going to see any play but it did give us a break from the morning classes for a while so we were eager to go into the auditorium.

"Alright, class, I want you to walk single file into the auditorium," Mrs. Payne's voice was loud as she struggled to be heard over our excited voices. We jumped up and raced to the doorway. As usual, I was one of the last ones to the door. By the time I had gotten there Brian was blocking my way. His arm went out and I flinched.

"Be my guest, Kevin," He held the door open for me. I walked through it slowly, glancing at Brian to see what he was going to do behind my back.

"What's wrong, Kevin, don't you trust me?" Brian tried to look hurt. I ignored him and rushed towards the auditorium door with Brian practically breathing down the back of my neck. I heard Mrs Payne's voice behind me in the classroom call out into the hall, "Would someone like to run an errand to the office for me?"

"Sure!" Brian eagerly leaped to the teacher's side as she walked to the doorway, "I'll be glad to."

Mrs. Payne laughed and said, "No, Brian, I was actually looking for a student who would come back after they ran this errand, not someone who would end up at the mall."

She turned to me and said, "Kevin, would you run this note to the principal's office for me?"

I took the note under Brian's baleful glaze and walked swiftly towards the office. The principal's office was at the other end of the school building and it took me a while to get there. I was passing by the cafeteria and lockers when I heard a strange sound. I looked around me. The students and teachers had all gone to see the play and the hall was vacant. I stopped for a few seconds to see if I could hear the sound again. Nothing.

I finally got to the office and put the note on the principal's desk. Mr. Sorenson looked up at me from his desk and smiled, "Good morning, Kevin, how are you enjoying your second year at our school?"

I hadn't expected to have a conversation with the principal, "I like it fine, sir."

"Has Brian tried to give you any more swirlies in the lavatory?" The principal looked at me closely.

I looked up, startled. I had thought that that little incident had been between Brian and I. I hadn't told anyone about that wet encounter. I had told everyone when I got to class that the water fountain had gone crazy. The teacher had looked disbelieving at me, knowing that usually there was barely a visible trickle produced from it's metallic spout. That incident was, after all, not the kind of thing you go around bragging about, so I had kept quiet.

"N-n-no, sir," I lied, wishing I was sitting in the auditorium right now.

"That's good, thanks for bringing me the note, go ahead to the play, Kevin," Mr. Sorenson smiled at me. I was dismissed, finally.

By the time I had headed back to the auditorium, I could see a very small group of people standing near the lockers by the cafeteria. As I got closer I could see two cafeteria ladies and a student standing in front of the lockers and pointing at something. One of the ladies was Mrs Thompson and the other was Mrs. Spring. Mrs. Spring had white hair and a pleasant, grandmotherly face with wrinkles running all through it. She was one of my favorite cafeteria workers. She knew I loved applesauce and always gave me an extra helping of it when she was serving it at lunchtime. Mrs. Thompson was always frowning and had her nose wrinkled all the time like she had just smelled something really rotten. She was the perfect opposite of Mrs. Spring.

"I don't know," said Mrs. Thompson, leaning close to Mrs. Spring, "What do you think? Do you think we should open it?"

Mrs. Spring looked scared as she surveyed the locker in front of her, "I'm not sure, I think we should get the principal here. This might be more than we can handle. There is something alive in there, and I think it might be dangerous."

I looked toward where they were pointing. It was my locker. I could hear a high-pitched, inhuman wail coming from within it. It was a sound like I had never heard before. This was scarey.

The cafeteria workers sent the student to the principal's office and I stepped closer to the lockers.

"Be careful, Kevin," said Mrs. Spring. Her face was etched with even more lines as she held my arm tightly, "We don't know what is in that locker. It sounds like some kind of wild beast."

I cold almost see the metal of my locker being beat from the inside. The creature kept making throaty wailing noises that were muffled by the locker. The sound made my skin crawl. I stood there with the cafeteria workers as Mr. Sorenson came up to our group.

"What's going on here?" He asked us.

"There's something in one of those lockers," Mrs. Spring pointed to my locker.

Mr. Sorenson walked closer to my locker and asked, looking at us, "Whose locker is it?"

I raised my hand like I was still in class, "I think it might be mine, sir."

I didn't want Mr. Sorenson to know that it belonged to me but I had the feeling that he would know before very long that it was mine.

"Do you have any idea what is in there?" He asked me sternly, looking at me like I had purposely set up this situation.

"N-n-no," I said, shaking my head vigorously. I could almost feel a hiccup coming on.

Mr. Sorenson walked a little closer to the locker. The high-pitched wailing was becoming louder and more intense. I could hear flapping sounds now as it beat harder against the locker. Whatever was in there wanted out really badly. This was a nightmare. I was sure I would wake up any minute in my own bed at home.

Walking closer and closer, Mr. Sorenson's hand paused on the locker for a brief second. With a swift jerk he threw the door open. Bang! The metal door crashed against the other locker and in a flash, with a flurry of feathers, the creature flew out into the hallway. It looked around at our shocked group.

It was a turkey. I think we were all a little relieved to see that that was all it was. I was imagining some horrible, huge monster twice the size of my locker. The turkey had landed on it's feet in the center of our group and we had all backed away as it was finally freed from it's metal prison. It looked as stunned as we were but it recovered quickly and began studying us. Mr. Sorenson hadn't said anything since since he had opened the locker. None of the cafeteria workers had said anything either until now. Our little group was stunned into silence, temporarily.

"Get it!" Mr. Sorenson said loudly to no one in particular. He made a grab for the turkey. His hands were amost on the turkey's neck when his foot slipped on the birdseed that was scattered thorughout the hallway floor.

Crash! Mr. Sorenson landed flat on the floor, startling the turkey. It ran toward the cafeteria workers who screamed and shrieked and fled into the cafeteria, slamming the doors shut. The women looked at us through the windows. I could see that they were going to be a big help!

"Come here, little turkey," Mr. Sorenson had gotten up and had obviously decided that the direct approach with this turkey was not the best one. Intimidating the turkey would not help in the least. He was making a clucking sound and walking with tiny steps indirectly toward the bird. The turkey pecked at a gum wrapper on the floor and pretended to ignore Mr. Sorenson. I made a step to get behind it, thereby preventing it from going down the hall. The turkey saw me stepping behind it and made a mad dash down the hall past me with Mr. Sorenson and I right behind it.

"Come here, you stupid turkey!" screamed Mr. Sorenson.

A teacher came out of his room to see what the noise was and stepped back into it when he saw the turkey coming down the hall towards him.

Two girls were taking turns at the water fountain when they saw the turkey. They screamed in terror when it came near them. This only made the bird more frightened and it began beating it's wings harder. Feathers flew from it and the turkey's frantic gobbling became louder and more shrill as it raced toward the open doors of the auditorium.

Oh, no! I thought as I watched the turkey in front of us disappear through the auditorium doors. This was too much! I wanted to give up the chase and let someone else catch this bird but somehow I felt responsible for the capture of this creature.

The turkey raced down the aisle of the auditorium with Mr. Sorenson and I still close behind it. Kids were pointing and laughing at the odd sight the principal and I were making as we tried to catch the bird. Other kids started getting up to try to stop the obvious path of the turkey. They were too late. The turkey went around the kids and jumped up on the auditorium stage with feathers flying everywhere.

Frightened first graders dressed as pilgrims and indians had watched our progress through the auditorium from their places on the stage with astonishment. They had been standing like statues until the turkey fluttered onto the stage. Once the turkey had gotten this close to them, however, the boys and girls began to run, screaming and crying in terror. A harvest meal had been set on the table and the turkey ran under it for safety.

Mr. Sorenson, by now, had been joined by the janitor, Mr. Lance. Mr. Lance walked slowly to the table on one side while Mr. Sorenson walked to the other side. The turkey was trapped. Mr. Lance grabbed it by the neck and held it up. Some of the kids were shrieking in terror while others were laughing hysterically and pointing at our performance on the stage. Mr. Lance grabbed the turkey by it's body with his left arm and let go of it's neck. The turkey took that opportunity to beat it's wings with surprising force at Mr. Lance's head. Mr. Lance raised his hands to shield himself from the beating he was getting, thereby freeing the creature. Mr. Sorenson tried to grab the bird before it got away, but it was too late. The turkey fluttered on top of the harvest table, sending oranges, apples and grapes rolling all over the floor. It plopped onto some dishes of mashed potatoes and gravy that the cooks had made for this feast. Gravy and potatoes splattered all over us as we tried to get the turkey off the table. It was still going full-force as it made a dash off the table and toward an exit in the back of the auditorium. As it was fleeing off the stage, a kid dressed up like an indian warrior dashed up and tried to hit the bird with his rubber tomahawk. The turkey shrieked, probably thinking it was the next course in this meal and headed through the curtains at the back of the auditorium.

I was getting tired. Mr. Sorenson and Mr. Lance were starting to puff and lose speed also. This was becoming ridiculous. It was beginning to look like we were not going to get anywhere with this chase. Kids were yelling and throwing fruit all over the place. A banana hit me in the back and a orange whizzed right by the principal's ear. Some of the kids and teachers had joined us on our chase and we had become a mob of hunters looking for one traumatized turkey.

There was hope, however, the turkey had come to a dead end. We had reached the hallway where the showers for the gym classes were. The changing rooms were to the right and left of us and the workmen were working on the heating ducts next to the floor. There was only a door at the end of this hall and it was closed. There was no way out for the turkey now.

When the workmen saw us chasing the turkey they leaped up to help us catch it. It dodged the workmen's hands and headed straight for the open duct in the wall.

The turkey had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"Now what are we going to do?" Mr. Sorenson said in exasperation as he knelt and peered into the long hole. We could hear the turkey gobbling to itself from inside. We looked at the workmen. They were scratching their heads, trying to think of how to get the turkey out.

"I know!" A kid yelled from behind me, "Turn the heat on full blast and roast it!"

Mr. Sorenson ordered the teachers to take the kids out--all of them except me.

"How far inside that duct could the turkey go?" Mr. Sorenson asked. He was on his knees, poking his head inside the duct opening.

One of the workers informed him that about six feet into the heating duct there was a grill that would prevent the turkey from going any further.

Mr. Long had come back with a flashlight by now and the principal shone the light into the duct. I kneeled behind him and saw the turkey cowering in the very back of the duct. Every now and then it would flutter forward like it was going to come out but then it would see us and back itself against the grill again.

Mr. Sorenson scratched his head, "We have to get that turkey out of there right now, it's disrupting the whole school. Any suggestions?"

"We don't have anything long enough to pull that bird out with," A workman said, "We could get someone small enough to climb in there and loop a rope around it's neck so we can pull it out."

All four of the men looked down at me at that moment. I've never felt so small in my whole life. I looked at the hole. It looked very small. And I didn't like small, dark places. When I was younger I didn't like playing in cardboard boxes like other kids did. I don't even like having my bedroom door closed at night.

Wouldn't one of those first graders fit in there better, I wanted to ask. But I knew better. This was my mess. I had started it somehow and I would have to finish it.

It was pitch-black and tight in the duct. It was also very cold, it had been a while since the heat had worked in this part of the building but, fortunately, I was still wearing my coat, not having been able to open my locker this morning.

The turkey was directly in front of me. I had a flashlight in one hand and a rope in the other. My instructions were to slip the looped end of the rope around the turkey's neck when I got close enough. That wouldn't take very long. I inched myself closer to the turkey. It was only about four inches in front of me. I got the rope ready to slip over it's head. The turkey tried to flap it's wings and feathers flew into my eyes and mouth. I spit them out and rubbed my face against the inside of my arm.

"It's okay, fellow," I said softly to the terrified turkey, "I'm here to get you out of this place," I could hear my words echo through the tunnel. I was beginning to feel sorry for the creature. It looked at me with terror and I thought it looked like it was shivering. I would get Brian for this!

I was close enough now to slip the end of the rope that had been knotted into a loop over the turkey's head. I tried to fit it over it's head but the turkey dodged my hand. I tried again and the same thing happened. I shone the flashlight into it's eyes. The stunned turkey stared at the light. I swiftly threw the loop over the turkey's head.

"I got it!" I shouted in triumph. The men grabbed my feet and pulled me out of the tunnel. I was never more glad to breathe fresh air.

The rope tightened as the men began pulling the turkey out. It struggled, but the men pulled tighter. I was afraid that it might strangle before the men had pulled it out. The last pull must have done the trick, though, because suddenly the turkey popped out of the hole and into the waiting arms of Mr. Long.

"Well, Kevin," Mr. Sorenson looked down at me as Mr. Long left with the turkey, "Do you know how that turkey got in your locker?"

"No, sir I don't," I was truthful as I said that--I really didn't know for sure how it had gotten in there--but I had a good idea that a certain bully had a part in this.

It took a while for the excited first graders to calm down enough to go back to their own school. This is one Thanksgiving pageant that they'll never forget, I thought. It also took a while for the teachers to clean up the mess the turkey had made in the auditorium. I couldn't believe the shape my locker was in when I finally had the courage to look in it. Turkey droppings were everywhere and my books and papers were ripped apart from it's claws.

French was the last class of the day, thank heavens. Brian slept in the very back of the class, as usual. The teachers usually enjoyed it when Brian slept during their classes because it meant that he wasn't causing trouble for a change and things would be peaceful for a while.

Jason motioned for me to see something he had in his hands. I looked over and saw Charles' handcuffs. My eyes opened wide.

"I borrowed them," He whispered to me across the aisle.

The teacher, Mrs. White, informed us then that one of the students in our class, Susan Moore, would take her place for the last ten minutes of class since she had an emergency that had come up.

Susan Moore sat down at Mrs. White's desk with a smug smile.

"I hope that you will all think of her as my substitute," Mrs. White gave the class a threatening look, "She is directed to write down an names of troublemakers and give it to me after the Thanksgiving holiday."

Mrs. White left and things were quiet except for the occasional snoring of Brian. Someone shot a airplane over Susan's head while she was reading a book and she reached down to pick it up. Jason took that moment to click one end of the handcuffs around Brian's dangling hand and the other end to the seat next to his hand.

It took only a few seconds to accomplish this. Susan was looking suspiciously in our direction, "What are you doing over there, Jason?" She asked him, straining her neck to see what he was doing.

Jason slid smoothly and swiftly back to his chair, "Just picking up a paper that fell," He answered, smiling at me.

The bell rang and the class got up to leave, including Susan. Usually the teacher would have reluctantly woken up Brian at this time. However, Susan disliked him as much as we did and she left with everybody else. Jason and I were alone in the classroom as he slipped the handcuff key into Brian's back pocket. Just as he and I stepped out into the hall, the principal's voice came booming over the intercom with an announcement for the teachers. A few seconds later as we got to the front door of the school we heard, "HEY! WHERE IS EVERYONE? GET ME OUT OF HERE! JASON! KEVIN! I'M GONNA KILL YOU TWO!"

I got into the waiting car in front of the school and Mom looked at my dirty clothes. I was splattered with mashed potatoes and gravy. Grease and dirt were smeared all over my clothes from the heating duct. Mom started to say something but I raised my hand to stop her and said, "Mom, all I want to tell you right now is that I don't think I want any turkey for my Thanksgiving dinner."

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