Billy’s Bunter

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It was warm in the back of the third-grade classroom, hot in the glare of the Sun through the windows and starting to get muggy and smell like bored kids.

Miss Barstow kept droning on about something or other up at the front of the room. Billy’s attention wandered with his gaze, through the windows and out to the playing fields, crisp and green in the afternoon Sun. He could feel its warmth on his back, there at the plate.

“William! How would you arrive at the answer?”

Billy’s attention snapped back to the front of the room. Maybe she meant Billy Farlini?

No such luck. She was looking right at him. All that was on the board was “3 Apples” and “2 Boys” and a question mark. Stall.

“The question was, Master Phillips, how can we fairly divide three apples among two boys?”

Oops. She’s using last names and “we.” Trouble. Why is it that she gets to use my first name when she’s feeling good about us and last names when she’s not? We only ever get to use her last name. I guess that says what she wants us to think about her. Never mind. If it’s three equal apples and two friendly boys, I just split one in half but she didn’t say that. Split ’em all in half—but that’s only three cuts so who does the cuts? One guy has the advantage. Split ’em all in quarters and that’s six cuts—that’s it! Like Farlini in the lunchroom.

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