Young Henry Buckley set the standard for our age group. His career began in kindergarten. Living one short block from our school, he left early to stand in the path of any solo arrival and square off, much like a Japanese warrior. Long before Christmas not only his own class but more than a few of those in Grades One or Two travelled only in pairs or more. He had a robust build and angry countenance, with an undiscerning grey eye. The one change from those first days to his teenage self was the development of one drooping sandy curl over the left eye to an oily wave above.
This reputation so promising did suffer one setback. The block did not come, as might be expected, from Basher Bilinski, she whose ready right fist flew out to discourage any unexpected obstacle, be it leaf, dodge ball, sibling or classmate. Nor did it come from the more august and resounding echoes of our world. The name Barclay was recognized as being beyond argument. The words school board had no meaning, but it was generally reckoned that anyone on it was beyond comment. So Helen Barclay was our de facto measure of deportment. She lined up before the bell rang, she alone and Mrs. Stevens’ Grade 3s. She was mostly first choice inside the school room, but never for games at recess. Your team would have been one short when recess was drawing to a close and she went to line up, after all.
No, Henry’s forward thrust came to an inexplicable halt at an unlikely source, one Bethany Parker. Bethany had started some weeks after school opening, her parents being late arrivals in the neighbourhood. In fact she started behind in a more comprehensive manner. Several in her class saw the delivery of her household. Knowing or supposing much about her from what was observed, they sought to enhance incipient reputations by broadcast and personal opinion. Apart from having no knowledge and therefore no opportunity to counter this verbal onslaught, Bethany was slight of frame, unprepossessing from pointed features to mousy colouring, and unchallenging in manner in any case.
So it came to be that she was the last holdout to walk alone on that infamous route. One rainy Tuesday she neared the school, only a trio of Grade 2s some distance ahead. Sauntering diagonally behind them to stand in the middle of the path came Henry. Whether resigned or determined, she closed in, step by step.
The trio had come to a hesitant stop, unwilling either to witness or abandon what was about to occur.
She was three, two and then but one step from Henry, arms akimbo and unmoving. She stood stock still, staring into his eyes and raising that little pointed chin. He took a deep breath, spit sideways into a puddle and gestured for her to step in the other direction as he walked beside, and only the slightest bit before her.
Most of that class went together right through Grade 9, only to disperse among three high schools for the area. Until then, Henry was always one row over and one seat before or behind Bethany. Always.
Possibilities narrowed and expanded our acquaintances with the change in schools. Some went on to university and took up occupations that hadn’t existed when we started school. Some changed cities. Some kept in touch, closely or sporadically or hardly at all.
Rumours of Henry included his presence as a porter at the care home where his father was situated, though someone thought he had been a bank or prison guard. There were a couple of uncharitable comments on not being a guard in the prison.
And Bethany, her family had moved again. She may have gone to that high school just outside our boundaries where the girls had a habit of marrying in the spring and having babies in the summer, or maybe it was marrying in the summer and having babies at Christmas. She may have gone into social work. Someone saw her at university. But then again, she may have taken up with one bad boy after another.
With those expanding possibilities it was just hard to keep track of people.