Stepping Between The Ants - Book TWO: The Spring Ahead

By Lord Chester L. Baldwin II

Set in 1963, 'Stepping Between The Ants' Book FOUR: The Fall Behind, is a continued collection of stories that follow two boys; Skipper and Richie, that try to figure out what life is all about. 

The story about Skipper and Richie with their mother, (Mother Bean) and their younger brother Charlie and their younger sister Mary, travel on a bus; running away and arrive in Portland Oregon where Mother Bean's mother; Grandma Scarbrough lives. 

This story documents some of the continued adventures and challenges that Skipper and his brother Richie encounter in their new surroundings, which include;

Having to go to a public school after having always attended Catholic schools

Skipper and Richie find their own special place to be, eventually to be placed up in Grandma Scarbrough's attic, where, for the first time in their lives they feel a sense of well-being and safety.

Skipper and Richie find new friends from their new school who help educate them to their new surroundings and help them to acclimate their bearings. 

Skipper and Richie find and join a Boy Scout Troop with their new friends where they can continue their quest to become Eagle Scouts.

Within this coming-of-age story, Skipper and Richie will have to face their own predetermined notions of what the awful label, 'Retarded' really means before they can fight the injustices and begin to truly understand, and to find the courage and strength to support and champion their newly found, life-changing friendships.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lord Baldwin
• Release date: Dec 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201404840

Book preview

—  THE

LAUREL-BUSHES

FORT  —

—

After a few minutes of searching for Michael Ramsey’s footprints out in Grandma Scarbrough’s garden, Skipper said pointing to the ground, Hey, here they are; and these footprints are really big. 

Where do they go to? Richie asked, looking at the huge imprints.   

They followed the trail to the end of the fence, out by the sidewalk, and back to where he had started; his footprints then led the boys to a side window of his house. 

When they were less than five feet away from the window, the curtains on the other side of that same window suddenly stirred and Richie shrieked, Ah,... and started running across and through the garden the other way. 

Although Skipper missed what was going on, he was nonetheless caught up in Richie’s sudden anxiety, and as Richie bolted, Skipper instinctively followed him.  What happened? Skipper asked as they got to the other side of the ten-foot-high Laurel bushes that ran the length of the property.  What’d you see? 

Richie looked at Skipper for a moment in silence before he started laughing.  I don’t know. He said with surprise.  The curtain moved or something. 

The curtain moved or something? Skipper asked, annoyed.  I thought you saw a monster,...  or maybe someone had a gun or something.  The curtain moved? 

Hey look at this. Richie said, pointing to the Laurels bushes.  There’s a long hole in here that almost goes up to our fort.  It’s amazing. Richie parted the outer layer of leaves and branches to the Laurel bushes and went inside and sat on part of the root system that spanned over five feet wide. 

After Skipper followed him in, he smiled and said, Except for some of these prickly sharp branches here, this is much better than our other fort. 

But if we push some of those branches away, Richie replied, pointing, this can be another room to our fort. 

The boys made light work of making a tunnel spanning the length of the yard.  Richie could see Skipper was impressed but he asked, So, do you think it’s good? 

Yeah,... Skipper answered grinning as he began to burrow sideways.  I wonder if we can make a hole just big enough where we can see out but nobody can see in? You know, kind a like a secret window. Skipper gently moved some branches back and forth to create a small hole to look out. 

Impatient and anxious, Richie asked, Do you see anything? 

No, not yet,... Skipper answered.  Just give me a second.  I gotta move these small bush spear things out of the way. Though still camouflaged inside the north side of the Laurels, light began to pour in.  Okay, Skipper said, look here in this hole,... He pointed to his left, we can see Grandma Scarbrough’s house." 

Wow. Richie said, That’s pretty neat.  What about the other side?  

Michael Ramsey’s house? Skipper asked as he shifted his weight. 

Let’s see. Skipper was stabbed and scratched repeatedly from an abundance of small prickly branches, but he quickly opened up a leafy window to the south side of the Laurels.  Got it. He said triumphantly. 

Can you see his house yet? Richie asked eagerly. 

Yeah. Skipper groaned, exasperated that Richie did not appreciate the work it took to create the opening, but he moved over to reveal the portal and to share the secret window with his brother. 

After a long pause of silence, Richie said, I don’t see anyone yet, do you? 

I’m looking through the same hole as you. Skipper said, annoyed.  You think I got superman X-ray eyes? 

That would be great to have wouldn’t it, Skip? 

I knew you were going to say that, I just knew it. 

You did? 

Yeah, but it would be real neat to look through walls and stuff.  You know those Xray glasses they sell on the back of comic books? 

Yeah. 

"I got to try one on in that magic shop.’ 

Did they work? 

Nope.  They kind of make things look funny but you can’t see through things, including clothes. 

Clothes? 

Yeah, you know, they got this crazy guy looking at a girl with his tongue hanging out? 

Yeah? 

Doesn’t work.  What is it that Mother says about carnivals? Together in unison the boys said, "Don’t waste your money.’ 

Candy, pop or comic books? Skipper asked.  Don’t waste your money. 

Movies at the Blue Mouse? 

Don’t waste your money. 

Girls over twenty? 

Don’t waste your money,... Richie spouted but then, looked at his brother and said, Hey, I don’t remember that one. 

I know, I just wanted to say it and see,...  Hey, Skipper said excitedly, I think I see ‘Mike the Retard’ moving around in that house. 

You do? Richie questioned as he leaned forward. 

Yeah, but it’s mostly shadows.  Oh, wait a minute, it looks like,... 

Looks like what. Richie said leaning further forward.  I don’t see anything. 

"Just wait a second, wait,...  There! Did you see him?’ 

Yeah, I think so. 

Well you either did or you didn’t, Richie.  Come on, he’s as big as that,... 

Yeah! I see him now. Richie said.  I just wasn’t too sure at first,...  I mean, his hair is as long as a girl’s; I thought it was his mother at first. 

Yeah, me too. 

Hey, what’s he doing there? Richie asked. 

I can’t tell, I think he’s dancing or something.  No, he’s got an airplane in his hand and he’s flying it around the room. 

Hey, Richie said, "I got an idea, what if we went over to his house?’ 

Are you kidding? Skipper asked with reservation but then said, "You want to go first? I’ll follow you, okay?’ 

Nah, I ain’t going over there. 

In the days that followed Skipper and Richie began to see a lot more of Michael Ramsey.   In fact, Michael started walking up and down the block, apparently with no destination in mind, but each time he would seem to go a little further before returning to his home.  He had a sort of waddle to his slow walk that, with his large body, reminded Skipper of a tin windup toy that would lean to one side, move forward and then lean to the other side to move forward; his long shoulder-length blonde hair swaying from side to side. 

Every time thereafter, Skipper and Richie, and sometimes Leslie, watched Mike going on his little walks from the safety and secrecy of their Laurel-Bushes Fort.  It was a couple days later that Skipper figured out that Mike always seemed to manage to conveniently walk down the sidewalk when the Laurel-Bushes Fort was being occupied. 

One morning, almost like clockwork, right after Leslie had joined Skipper and Richie and they had settled into the Laurel-Bushes Fort, Michael wandered by, walking slower than his usual gate, and with his hands in his pockets, he whistled something that vaguely resembled ‘Yankee Doodle.’ 

Skipper turned to Richie and whispered, There’s something weird about him today.  He’s never whistled before, did he? 

Skipper and Richie looked out at Michael, and Richie whispered, I didn’t even know ‘Mike the Retard’ could whistle. 

Leslie looked angrily at Richie and said, Don’t use that word, Richie. 

Richie was surprised and replied, I’m sorry.  Is that a bad word for you? 

Leslie nodded with renewed understanding in his face. 

Okay, sorry; no retard, no idiot, no crazy. Richie said with a calm, sensitive whisper.  Hey, he said smiling, I think that’s the first time you even said my name. 

It was at that moment when Michael, who was a couple feet past the apple tree, stopped walking, turned and looked over the fence and directly seemingly at the exact spot in the Laurel-Bushes Fort where Skipper and Richie were hiding.  Michael gave an uneven smile, turned, and while whistling, with his hands in his pockets, he walked on. 

Did you see that? Skipper said in a whispered voice.  He looked right at us. 

How could he do that? Richie asked.  He can’t see us and he couldn’t hear us. 

But I think he did. Skipper replied with astonishment.  "He looked right at us when you said the word, ‘Retard.’" 

That’s impossible. Richie argued. 

Nonetheless. Skipper replied. 

What’s that supposed to mean? Richie asked, annoyed. 

You figure it out. Skipper said smiling before extending himself to look out.  Nonetheless; it means less than none and even though you,...  Nonetheless, whether we like it or not, he knows about the fort and he knows that we’re in here. 

Maybe you’re right. Richie conceded. 

Maybe he wants to be in the fort with us. Leslie postulated.  Hey, Skipper said whisperingly, he must be going a lot farther today; he didn’t come back yet. Skipper popped out of the bushes and leaned out over the fence by the apple tree, looking down the sidewalk in both directions.  He turned and said, He’s gone. 

What? Richie asked as he climbed out of the bushes, followed by Leslie. 

I said he’s gone. Skipper repeated.  And, I was talking loud to you and you didn’t hear me; how could he hear us in there when we were whispering? 

I don’t know, but what about ‘Mike the,...?’ Richie stopped short of saying the bad word but looked at Leslie anyway. 

Leslie grinned. 

I don’t know. Skipper answered, looking concerned.  Maybe we should go look for him. 

Skipper, Richie and Leslie cautiously went to the corner of 96th and Woodstock and looked both directions.  What if he walked away and got lost? Skipper said as they walked up toward 92nd street. 

Where are we going? Richie asked.  You know what? We don’t even know ‘Mike the,..’ Michael at all.  What are we doing? And even if we find him, how are we gonna bring him home? He doesn’t know us. 

I know, Skipper said confused, but we can’t just let him go and maybe he’s,... Skipper looked south down 92nd street and said, What about down there? 

The Gypsies? Richie asked softly.  "I ain’t going down there again.’ 

He wouldn’t go down there anyway. Skipper said with false confidence, knowing that none of them wanted to explore that area. 

They headed back, detouring past the lumber yard and the truck top factory before they headed back down 96th street. 

What’ll we do now? Richie asked as they arrived in front of Grandma Scarbrough’s house.  Go back in the fort? 

Come on. Skipper answered.  We need to let his mother know, I guess. He was hoping Richie knew that the, ‘come on’ was an invitation for them all to go together because he didn’t want to go by himself to a stranger’s house, especially to the retarded boy’s house to tell the mother that her son was lost. 

Why don’t we just call? Richie asked, scratching his head. 

Two things; Skipper answered, First, if we go back into Grandma Scarbrough’s house, she’ll find work for us to do and there goes the day, and second, we don’t have their number and I don’t even know if they have a telephone. 

Oh yeah. Richie said self-consciously, You’re right, so what do we do? 

I think I just said, ‘we should go to Michael’s house.’ 

What do we say? Richie asked, looking at Leslie like he might know.  Turning to Skipper, Richie replied reservedly, Skip, you better do the talking. 

I don’t know what to say either. Skipper reported.  But let’s just go. 

That said, the three boys slowly walked up to the Ramsey house like condemned prisoners going to the gas chamber and they knocked on the large wooden door. 

Yes? a friendly voice called back from within.  Just a moment. 

A tall and large woman with puffy hair in a flowered dress opened the door.  Yes? She questioned with smiling expectant eyes.  Can I help you? 

Ma’am? Skipper said politely.  We uh, we’re staying next door and,... 

Oh yes. She said smiling with a glance in the direction of Grandma Scarbrough’s house.  That’s nice. 

Well anyway, Skipper said with newfound courage, your son, uh he, he just walked away.  We went looking for him but we couldn’t find him anywhere. 

Well goodness. Michael’s mother said, looking surprised but cordially pleasant.  That was real considerate of you boys to worry about Michael like that; thank you. She looked over her shoulder and back at them and said, Oh, but Michael is here right now. 

She opened the door wider to reveal Michael sitting in a covered rocker watching television.  He didn’t even look up to see who or why three boys were standing there in the doorway at his house. 

He walks around the block a lot now. She remarked.  Would you boys like to come in? 

No. Skipper answered. 

I’ve made a chocolate cake for Michael. She said with raised eyebrows.  Would you like to come in and have a piece? 

Richie looked at Skipper, ready to rush in. 

No, Skipper repeated, We’ve uh, got to go, but thanks anyway. He backed off the porch, pulling Richie by the back of his shirt and with Leslie, they walked to the Laurel-Bushes Fort. 

This fort is really neat, Skipper said, settling in, but I can’t sit on these branches too long.  They hurt my butt. 

Richie laughed.  Maybe it’s cause your butt’s too big. In an instant Richie knew he had said the wrong thing as Skipper became despondent.  Richie knew Skipper was sensitive about was his size.  Skipper had body image problems.  Even though he wasn’t really fat, he thought he was.  Richie looked over and said, I’m sorry, Skip.  I just wanted to say, ‘Butt,’ too. 

Butt Two? Skipper said questioningly.  So, where’s Butt One? Relieved that he was forgiven, Richie said good-naturedly, I got an idea,...  about the bushes and stuff. Richie rolled out of the Laurel-Bushes Fort and said, Let’s get some carboard at the grocery store and we can lay it down on top of the bushes,... 

That’s a great idea. Skipper replied, rolling out of the Laurel-Bushes Fort.  You coming? He asked, looking at the outside part of the Laurel bushes in the place where Leslie was still sitting. 

Yes. Leslie said affirmatively rolling out.  But where is the grocery store? 

Not too far. Richie answered as they stepped onto the sidewalk.  Just passed the Rexall.  That’s the store my grandma works at. 

We better go around ‘Mike the,...’ Michael’s house, Skipper said, pointing.  Roger’s out there in front of his house now with others." 

After the boys had safely detoured and circled around to get back up to Woodstock, Richie asked, Why didn’t we go in? 

Go in? Skipper questioned. 

You know, Richie continued, For the cake? 

As they walked, Leslie’s eyes turned to Skipper with interest, maybe wondering the same thing. 

"I knew you wanted to go in. Skipper said definitively as they reached the small grocery store off of 89th Street and Foster.  They stepped into the store and Skipper asked a clerk next to a register, You guys got any spare cardboard boxes?" 

You’re in luck. The clerk replied.  We got us a whole lot of Spare boxes.  How much money you got? 

Skipper looked confoundedly at Richie and Leslie before saying, We don’t got any money. 

I was just kidding you fellows. The clerk laughed and said with a smile, Just go in the back there; you’ll find a huge pile.  Take all you want. 

As they sorted through the boxes, Richie said, If you knew I wanted to go in, why didn’t we? 

Come on. Skipper answered, annoyed, finding a good-sized box that had had boxes of Post Sugar Crisp cereal.  We can’t go in there for a couple reasons, first, you can never know what someone like that is gonna do next. 

Someone like that? Leslie parroted. 

You know what I mean, Skipper replied, "well, maybe you don’t.’ 

So he’s dangerous? Richie asked. 

I guess he could be. Skipper said with a serious look on his face before he suddenly smiled and said, Well, boys, I got mine. And with that Skipper started to leave the store.  Leslie, captivated by the advertisings on the boxes could not make up his mind, but seeing Skipper leaving, grabbed a Kellogg’s Sugar Frosted Flakes box and Richie trailed them after he grabbed an empty produce box. 

They walked down the sidewalk with the boxes resting over their heads, making it hard to negotiate where they were going and even with Skipper leading the way, sending out messages to where the curbs were or other obstacles to avoid like telephone poles, after they kept bumping into each other, sometimes stumbling or even tripping each other up, you might think that they would have decided to take the boxes off their heads, but it was too much of an adventure and so, they did not. 

Why else? Richie’s muffled voice called out from behind Skipper. 

Why else what? Skipper’s echoing voice replied. 

Why we couldn’t go into ‘Mike the,...’ Richie caught himself.  His house? 

Michael lives there. Skipper said, slowing down on purpose to cause Richie’s box to bump into his. 

What? Richie’s echoed voice called out as Leslie plowed into him.  Sorry, Leslie.  We had a bit of a traffic pileup. 

Leslie, who was having fun with this game, said nothing but halted till he could see Richie’s feet disappear. 

Richie, Skipper said as he started moving again.  Sometimes you are so dense. 

Free chocolate cake and maybe ice cream? Richie said with his squeaky voice, I don’t get it. 

The boys almost forgot about Roger but then backtracked and detoured back to Grandma Scarbrough’s house.  Two things; Skipper said as he broke down the cardboard box and set it in place, First, if anyone saw us coming and going in or out of ‘Mike the,...’ in or out of his house, we’d lose any of the friends we’ve made so far. 

Not me. Leslie spouted with confidence as he was breaking his box down to get it flat. 

Well of course, not you. Skipper replied, readjusting his seating arrangement.  But it’s hard for some people to be around other people that are broken and are,... 

Broken? Leslie interjected.  Why? 

Why what? Richie asked and then turned to Skipper and said, That is where I was sitting. 

Oh, sorry. Skipper apologized as he slid the box to another place.  Skipper stopped what he was doing and said with a note of unsureness.  It’s because they’re different, I guess. He peeked out of the bushes where Richie and Leslie were and said hesitantly, And people are scared and afraid, you know? They don’t know how to be around other people that are,... 

Scared? Leslie parroted trying to comprehend.  Afraid of what? Skipper gave a huge sigh and came out of the Laurel bushes.  They’re different. Skipper replied with confusion on his face.  People get uncomfortable when they’re around someone that looks different or sounds different, you know? Like they talk funny, or someone that walks different or someone in a wheelchair. 

Why? Leslie asked, standing there with his cardboard in his hand.  Why, what? Skipper asked as he took Leslie’s cardboard and placed it strategically into the Laurel bushes. 

Why do they feel that way? Leslie asked as he followed Skipper into the Laurel-Bushes Fort. 

I don’t know. Skipper answered as he looked for a good place to put his cardboard.  While he was trying to put the cardboard down, he said, Maybe they’re afraid of what they don’t understand. Skipper saw the confusion on Leslie’s face and attempted to simplify his words.  So, they try to avoid em because they think maybe the broken or different people are sick, so they’re scared to get close; scared they’ll get sick too; and scared to maybe be like them. 

Leslie pointed to an area on the other side of Skipper and said, Can I be there? 

Why? 

So I can be next to you. 

Oh, Okay. 

As he watched Skipper placing his cardboard and with Richie now coming in with his cardboard, Leslie said, Mike is different. 

Yeah. Skipper answered straining, having a hard time with the bushes. 

And broken? Leslie replied with an uneasiness. 

Yeah, Skipper responded, He is that. 

But is he sick? Leslie asked with concern. 

Skipper let go of the stubborn cardboard and looked back at Leslie. 

No. Skipper answered.  I don’t think so, but people don’t know just by looking,... 

Am I broken and different? Leslie asked with sincere concern.  Skipper thought about it for a minute and said, Yeah, maybe you are broken and you definitely are different, but that’s not a bad thing, and I don’t think you’re retarded or crazy; just broken. Skipper looked into Leslie’s desperate eyes and with a reassuring smile, said, Leslie, I think in some ways everybody is broken a little bit now and then.  We just have to try to fix what it is that got broken. Skipper looked over at Richie for help but Richie was oblivious to the conversation.  Uh, Richie and I, Skipper continued looking back to Leslie, We’ve been thinking that you are kind a fixing yourself, a little bit all the time. 

Like the light of the sun had suddenly broke through the clouds, Leslie’s face lit up and he smiled with a sense of self confidence.  But why would your Scout friends not want to be your friends anymore? Leslie asked. 

Yeah, Skipper answered questioningly, scratching his bald head.  You’re right.  If they can’t be my friend because I have a weird brother than,... 

Hey. Richie spouted, I resent that. 

Come on, Richie, you will always be my best friend, but,...  don’t you see Richie? Skipper said, putting his hand on Richie’s shoulder, Leslie’s right.  When I’m with you, I don’t care what other people think of me, because I got you and you got me.  And it should be the same with whoever we choose to be our friends, like Leslie here or even Mike the,... 

Mike the Different. Leslie added. 

Yeah, Skipper replied, Mike the Different. 

—  ‘MIKE

THE

DIFFERENT’  —

—

In the days that followed, Skipper, Richie and Leslie would see, ‘Mike the Different’ walk past their Grandma Scarbrough’s house a lot. ‘Mike the Different’ would even stop at times and watch what the boys were doing. 

Skipper knew that, ‘Mike the Different’ was checking them out and a couple of times he even pointed it out to Richie and Leslie. He even smiled and waved to him a few times, friendly-like to be courteous, whereas, ‘Mike the Different’ would seemingly act like he’d been discovered and quickly shy away. And there was always a cautious detachment and dissociation held between Skipper, Richie and Leslie with, ‘Mike the Different;’ a distance that made that relationship strictly casual. 

It was about twelve thirty on a particular warm afternoon as they sat in the Laurel-Bushes Fort when Skipper pulled out sandwiches from a paper bag and handing one to Richie and one to Leslie. His face squinched up as he said, I’d really like something besides peanut butter and jelly all the time. 

I like peanut butter. Leslie said cordially as he took a big bite. 

What kind do you want? Richie asked. 

I don’t know, Skipper answered exaggeratedly, baloney maybe, or spam, or tuna, or some kind a meat or something. 

Well, we ain’t getting Spam while we’re here with grandma. Richie spouted. She hates pork anything. 

But it’s always peanut butter and it is always on this dry, dense wheat bread. Skipper complained. Sometime I’d like a sandwich on that wonder bread, you know? It’s light and fluffy and soft and, ‘Wonder Bread’ builds strong bodies eight ways,... 

At that moment, a commotion rose from out in the street where many voices could be heard. The three boys crawled up the tunnel-like insides of the Laurel bushes till they got closer to the fence and then peered out. 

Standing on the sidewalk right in front of Grandma Scarbrough’s house, under the String-Bean tree, Skipper, Richie and Leslie saw a gang of boys surrounding, ‘Mike the Different.’ 

So, what’s with the Mohawk, Mikey? Someone asked. Although the speaking person’s back was facing them, Skipper recognized his obnoxious voice right away,... It was Roger; the kid that lived at the end of the block. Roger; the kid that, a month earlier, had caused Skipper to experience a whole lot of grief. 

What’s happening? Richie whispered.’ 

I’m not sure. Skipper answered. 

‘Mike the Different’ stared back and said nothing but smiled a huge, clueless smile. Both sides of his head were indeed shaved, leaving a three-inch-wide swath of long, blonde hair striped down the center of his head that continued halfway down his back. To Skipper, that long, blonde Mohawk that waved in the gentle wind looked really cool.  In, his right hand,... fresh from Bud’s Barbershop, ‘Mike the Different’ was clutching a blue, see-through plastic comb and a tube of Brylcreem. 

I wish I would a thought of that. Skipper said enviously, rubbing his bald head. 

Me too. Richie agreed. I bet mine would a looked great. 

Did you hear me? Roger said, pushing, ‘Mike the Different’ into another boy. That other boy was a kid from Michigan named, Detroit. 

As, ‘Mike the Different’ fell into Detroit, Detroit laughed as he said, Don’t you touch me, you pervert! and then pushed, ‘Mike the Different’ back into Roger’s direction. 

Then the other three boys surrounded him, laughing and jeering at him, each taking a turn pushing his huge uncoordinated body back into the center of a small circle, pushing him back and forth from boy to boy, each making sure they tormented him while preventing him from escaping. 

Skipper, Richie and Leslie climbed out of the Laurel Bushes Fort and stood cautiously on the property side of the fence to watch. Suddenly, ‘Mike the Different’ clumsily stumbled over his own feet and fell to the ground, his blue, see-through plastic comb broken in the scuffle of the fall. 

A brief sadness crossed Michael’s face as he saw his blue, see-through plastic comb in pieces, but then, as Roger’s foot casually flew past his face, he covered his head with his hands and tucked himself into a ball as Roger stomped on and burst the tube of Brylcreem all over the sidewalk. 

The gang walked in a circle around, ‘Mike the Different’ as Roger continued to pretend to be kicking him. This lasted for a few moments until Roger got bored with the staleness of the game and, with a wicked smile, followed through with a soft kick to the temple of the head of, ‘Mike the Different.’ 

Although, ‘Mike the Different’ was screaming, it was not very loud, and it was almost like a baby; so at first, Skipper reacted like the other boys; amused by the actions and reactions of, ‘Mike the Different.’ 

And although, ‘Mike the Different’ was making strange, soft whimpering sounds, he also had this weird kind of smile on his face; and to Skipper, it was easy to be confused. 

It was almost like, ‘Mike the Different’ was acting out a part to humor the other boys; like it was a game he was playing with them, both factions’ kind of pretending, like in wrestling match on television. 

There was no anger on any of the boy’s faces as they had joined in Roger’s diversion, each taking a turn at doing things to hear, ‘Mike the Different’ make his weird sounds.  But then things began to escalate with the five boys, as they all started taking turns kicking ‘Mike the Different’ while he was helplessly overwhelmed. It was at this point that Skipper began to really comprehend that there was a real person there on the ground; a real person that was not playing with his attackers; a real person that was being hurt,... a real person; ‘Mike the Different.’ 

Skipper’s heart pounded in his head while a great conflict battled in his brain as he tried to justify that, ‘Mike the Different’ was just a poor unfortunate person that had stumbled into rough waters. And from the sounds, ‘Mike the Different’ made, Skipper tried to rationalize that he probably didn’t even feel what was happening to him. 

Skipper also knew that if he was to object to the possible thrashing, then that would mean he was siding with, ‘Mike the Different.’ 

But on the other hand, what was wrong with that? ‘Mike the Different’ was a human being, right? And a Boy Scout is Trustworthy and Loyal, even to this person he was only offhandedly acquainted with in passing. 

And Skipper was new to this neighborhood. He didn’t know what all their rules were or what might go on here on a daily basis. He tried to justify this strange event as just, ‘something that happened’ all the time; like a ritual or something, where maybe everyone, including, ‘Mike the Different’ was privy to the game, or maybe like some ‘rite of passage’ thing, where they’d all suddenly stop and all get buddy, buddy before they went their ways. 

But to Skipper, when something felt so wrong, he wondered why he should stay on the outside and not act to right the wrong? A Scout is Helpful, he thought, and maybe, ‘Mike the Different’ is in need of help. And how could he be a spectator to the travesty? And something inside him knew what all the answers were and what was right. 

And, there were other Boy Scout ideals raging inside Skipper—the Scout Law: Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent, along with the old code of the west; the unwritten law that made Skipper responsible for women, children and those less fortunate. And, from the Scout Oath; "To Help Other People At All Times." 

And then there was that thing in his head and heart that preached, You know what’s right and you need to do it. And there was Mother Bean’s spirit there telling Skipper to look after his little brother Richie; and didn’t that mean that he also needed to be a good example?

with great apprehension Leslie asked, Why are they doing that to him? 

Meanwhile Detroit proceeded to pull open the pants of, ‘Mike the Different’ and together with one of the other boys, managed to pull them down to his ankles, leaving, ‘Mike the Different’ lying there on his side in a fetal position with