Alchemy

Three Pens, a Pie, and a Notebook Mr. Hudson set a cardboard box on his desk, blinking at Roland in a judicial way as he did so. For some reason this single glance entirely changed Roland's mood. He knew at once that he was not going to be praised, something he had been anticipating. Whatever it was that had caused Mr. Hudson to hold him back from midday break was being heralded by an expression of disapproval -- even, Roland realized incredulously, of contempt.Flicking the box open, Mr. Hudson thrust his left hand into it with the confidence of a conjurer whoknewhe was going to whisk a rabbit from an empty hat. He drew out not a rabbit, but a plastic packet containing three fine-tipped pens -- red, green, and blue -- which he set down in front of Roland with grim deliberation. Plunging his hand into the box for a second and then a third time, he brought out something in a greasy paper bag and finally a thick notebook with a red cover.Roland's reaction to these successive revelations must have satisfied a teacher trying to establish a small melodrama. His mouth fell open like an astonished mouth in some overacted TV sitcom. He was more taken aback than if Mr. Hudson really had produced a rabbit, and certainly far more alarmed. After shooting a startled glance at his English teacher, he looked back at the objects placed before him. A great blush swept through him, starting under his hair and then, driven by powerful shame, burning down through his cheeks, chest, and stomach. Of all the people in his class -- in the school, even -- Roland was famous for smart answers, but he had no answer to the silent accusation that those pens, the greasy bag, and that notebook were making as they lay before him."Well?" said Mr. Hudson at last. Roland gave a shrug so small it was nothing more than a convulsive twitch. He did not even try to look in the paper bag. He already knew what it must contain. Mr. Hudson was confronting him with the exact duplicates of the articles he had stolen only a week ago."It's not as if you couldn't afford tobuythem," said Mr. Hudson. "Shoplifting is a contemptible crime, don't you think?"Roland remained silent. There was no excuse for it; there was not any true explanation -- not one that made any sense, even to him. Here he was, seventeen years old, licensed to drive, a moderately well-to-do student, a prefect, with the prospect of scholarship exams coming up at the end of the year. Not only that, he was going out with Chris Glennie, who was possibly the brightest, and certainly the most beautiful, girl in the school. How could he have risked screwing things up by shoplifting three pens, a pie, and a notebook? All the same, that was what he had done. The pie was gone, eaten almost immediately, but in the drawer of his desk at home three pens in a plastic envelope, along with a red-covered notebook, exact twins to the objects Mr. Hudson had just set down in front of him, were lying, totally unused.It had been one of those days -- a day like today, for that matter -- when he had been allowed to drive his mother's car to school, with the proviso that he bring home a few family groceries. He had parked, crossed the road opposite the cafe painted blue and silver, and turning right into the arched mall, walked along it into the ultimate temple of the supermarket. He could clearly remember the moment when the impulse overtook him, could even remember the people to the left and right of him, all busy acting on impulses of their own. A mother with a baby in a stroller went sliding past him. A couple of young women were fidgeting by the rack of greeting cards, showing the cards to each other and laughing as they did so. Just beyond them a man in a long black coat held out a length of wrapping paper and stared down at it, apparently trying to work out if it was wide enough for his needs. The notebook slipped into Roland's back pocket jusMahy, Margaret is the author of 'Alchemy' with ISBN 9780689850530 and ISBN 0689850530.