Lesson Three

         Todd Barber swooped the newspaper from the lawn and rounded the corner of Becky’s house.  He saw her dad sitting at a picnic table draped in plastic and old papers.  There was something large and lumpy on it, covered in more plastic and papers.  The man was concentrating on whatever he was doing behind the table and he didn’t seem to notice Todd’s arrival.

         “Hey, Mr. Prescott,” he called out, “I knocked at the front door but no one answered.”  Tod loped over to the table, squatted on the bench and swung his legs around in one smooth move.  Too bad Becky wasn’t around to see.

         “Ah . . . Tom, Becky and her mom are out doing errands.  Couldn’t say when they’ll be back.  And,” he nodded at the table and continued, “as you can see—I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

         “It’s Todd, sir,” he tossed the newspaper next to him on the bench and asked, “and I’m willing to help.”  He saw past the man and grimaced at the slaughtered deer, still dripping blood from the gash across its neck.

         Mr. Prescott looked up at him and said, “You do much hunting, T O D D?”  He brought his hands up where Todd could see them.  He was holding a wicked looking knife, with a long, thin blade and a whetstone.

         “Ah . . . no sir, not really.  My brother and I used to fish once in a while . . . but hunting?  No.”  He watched as the man drew the knife across the oiled stone with deliberate intensity.

         “My boys and I go every chance we get.  Haven’t been able to since the season closed . . . but we saw an opportunity this last weekend and jumped on it.”  He whipped back the papers and plastic to reveal a carcass on the picnic table.  He grinned over it at Todd and sliced into the bloody haunch.

         “Ah . . . Mr. Prescott, I was . . . ah . . .wondering if I could ask Becky—”

         “You know Todd, Becky is my pride and joy.”  He lifted up a muscle of meat and ran the knife along the bone without looking up before he continued, “Her brothers feel the same way.  They love their baby sister.”  He slapped the piece of animal flesh over onto a tray, grinned over it at Todd and asked, “I bet your folks feel the same way about you, huh?”

         “Yes, sir.  I’m sure they do,” Todd answered.  He was feeling a little funny—between the glaring sun, coppery smell and the pile of dead animal in front of him.  He looked away for a moment and then began again.  “Well, as I was saying, Mr. Prescott, sir, I was wondering if I—”

         “Children . . . we parents will do whatever we need to to keep them safe and secure and happy.”  He put the knife down and picked up a meat cleaver.  With one quick stroke, he brought it down through a joint on the carcass.  Without looking up he added, “Someday, maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll be a parent . . .you’ll know that responsibility.”

         “Well, yes sir.  Anyway, I know that Becky broke up with Shawn last week and I just thought that—“

         “That Shawn—I never liked that boy.  None of Becky’s brothers did either.  He ought never to have caused our baby pain.”  He took another whack at the carcass again, but this time he hit a bone, sending splinters and blood across the table towards Todd.

         Todd tried to wipe the stuff off him without looking girlie.  Trouble was he didn’t have a handkerchief, so he opened up the newspaper beside him, hoping to find an ad to use.  Then he saw the headline:  Teenager Still Missing-Last Seen Saturday Morning-Shawn Michaels, 16, disappeared Saturday morning after telling his parents he was spending the day with friends........

         “Now Todd,” Mr. Prescott peered over the carcass and asked, “what was it you wanted to ask me?”

         “Ah, nothing.”  He brought his wrist up and looked at his watch.  “Man, is that the time?  I gotta go.  Tell Becky I stopped by to say hi.  Good bye Mr. Prescott.”  Then in another smooth move, he extracted himself from the picnic bench and walked down the driveway and into the street.  He thought, as he walked home how cute Marion Anderson was.  Yeah, Marion.