He paused. "Do I make myself clear, Elliot?"

"You most certainly do." The boy paused, before adding, "Sir."

Mr. Haskins turned his gaze to the rest of the class. "Our first lesson, as I warned you, will beon American history, which is appropriate remembering that this school was founded by the brother of a former president." With a portrait of William .

Tail in the main hall and a statue of his brother in the quadrangle, it would have been hard for even the least inquisitive pupil not to have worked that out.

"Who was the first president of the United States?" Mr. Haskins asked. Every hand shot up. Mr. Haskins nodded to a boy in the front row.

"George Washington, sir."

"And the second?" asked Haskins. Fewer hands rose, and this time Tom was selected.

"John Adams, sir."

"Correct, and the third?"

Only two hands remained up, Nat's and the boy who had arrived late. Haskins pointed to Nat.

"Thomas Jefferson, 1800 to 1808."

Mr. Haskins nodded, acknowledging that the boy also knew the correct dates, "And the fourth?"

"James Madison, 1809 to 1817," said Elliot.

"And the fifth, Cartwright?"

"James Monroe, 1817 to 1825."

"And the sixth, Elliot?"

"John Quincy Adams, 1825 to 1829."

"And the seventh, Cartwright?"

Nat racked his brains. "I don't remember, sir."

"You don't remember, Cartwright. or do you simply not know?"

Haskins paused. "There is a considerable difference," he added. He turned his attention back to Elliot.

"William Henry Harrison, I think, sir."

"No, he was the ninth president, Elliot, 1841, but as he died of pneumonia only a month after his inauguration, we won't be spending a lot of time on him," added Haskins. "Make sure everyone can tell me the name of the ninth president by tomorrow morning. Now let's go back to the founding fathers. You may all take notes asI require you to produce a three-page essay on the subject by the time we next meet."

Nat had filled three long sheets even before the lesson had ended, while Tom barely managed a page. As they left the classroom at the end of the lesson, Elliot brushed quickly past them.

"He already looks like a real rival," remarked Tom.

Nat didn't comment.

What he couldn't know was that he and Ralph Elliot would be rivals for the rest of their lives.

the annual football game between Hotchkiss and Tail was the sporting highlight of the semester. As both teams were undefeated that season, little else was discussed once the midterms were over, and for the jocks, long before midterms began.

Fletcher found himself caught up in the excitement, and in his weekly letter to his mother named every member of the team, although he realized that she wouldn't have a clue who any of them were.

The game was due to be played on the last Saturday in October and once the final whistle had been blown, all boarders would have the rest of the weekend off, plus an extra day should they win.

On the Monday before the match, Fletcher's class sat their first midterms, hut not before the principal had declared at morning assembly that, "Life consists of a series of tests and examinations, which is why we take them every term at Hotchkiss."

On Tuesday evening Fletcher phoned his mother to tell her he thought he'd done well.

On Wednesday he told Jimmy he wasn't so sure.

By Thursday, he'd looked up everything he hadn't included, and wondered if he had even achieved a pass grade.

On Friday morning, class rankings were posted on the school notice board and the preps were headed by the name of Fletcher Davenport. He immediately ran to the nearest phone and rang his mother. Ruth couldn't hide her delight when she learned her son's news, but didn't tell him that she wasn'tsurprised. "You must celebrate," she said. Fletcher would have done so, but felt he couldn't when he saw who had come bottom of the class.

At the full school assembly on Saturday morning, prayers were offered by the chaplain "for our undefeated football team, who played only for the glory of our Lord." Our Lord was then vouchsafed the name of every player and asked if his Holy Spirit might be bestowed on each and every one of them.

The principal was obviously in no doubt which team God would be supporting on Saturday afternoon.

At Hotchkiss, everything was decided on seniority, even a boy's place in the bleachers.

During their first term, preps were relegated to the far end of the field so both boys sat in the right-hand corner of the stand every other Saturday, and watched their heroes extend the season's unbeaten run, a record they realized Tail also enjoyed.

As the Tail game fell on a homecoming weekend, Jimmy's parents invited Fletcher to join them for a tailgate picnic before the kickoff.

Fletcher didn't tell any of the other boys in preps, because he felt it would only make them jealous. It was bad enough being top of the class, without being invited to watch the Tail game with an old boy who had seats on the center line.

"What's your dad like?" asked Jimmy, after lights-out the night before the game.

"He's great," said Fletcher, "but I should warn you that he's a Tail man, and a Republican. And how about your dad? I've never met a senator before."

"He's a politician to his fingertips, or at least that's how the press describe him," said Jimmy. "Not that I'm sure what it means."

On the morning of the game no one was able to concentrate during chemistry, despite Mr.

Bailey's enthusiasm for testing the effects of acid on zinc, not least because Jimmy had turned the gas off at the main, so Mr. Bailey couldn't even get the Bunsen burners lit.At twelve o'clock a bell rang, releasing 380 screaming boys to charge out into the courtyard.

They resembled nothing less than a warring tribe, with their cries of, "Hotchkiss, Hotchkiss, Hotchkiss will win, death to all Bearcats."

Fletcher ran all the way to the assembly point to meet his parents, as cars and taxis came streaming in past the lake. Fletcher scanned every vehicle, searching for his father and mother.

"How are you, Andrew my darling?" were his mother's first words as she stepped out of the car.

"Fletcher, I'm Fletcher at Hotchkiss,"

he whispered, hoping that none of the other boys had heard the word "darling." He shook hands with his father, before adding, "We must leave for the field immediately, because we've been invited to join Senator and Mrs.

Gates for a tailgate lunch."

Fletcher's father raised an eyebrow. "If I remember correctly, Senator Gates is a Democrat," he said with mock disdain.

"And a former Hotchkiss football captain,"

said Fletcher. "His son Jimmy and I are in the same class, and he's my best friend, so Mom had better sit next to the senator, and if you don't feel up to it, Dad, you can sit on the other side of the field with the Tail supporters."

"No, I think I'll put up with the senator.

It will be so rewarding to be seated next to him when Tail scores the winning touchdown."

It was a clear autumnal day and the three of them strolled through a golden carpet of leaves all the way to the field. Ruth tried to take her son's hand, but Fletcher stood just far enough away to make it impossible. Long before they reached the field, they could hear the cheers erupting from the pre-game rally.

Fletcher spotted Jimmy standing behind an Oldsmobile wagon, its open tailgate covered in far more sumptuous food than anything he'd seen for the past two months. A tall elegant man stepped forward. "Hello, I'm Harry Gates." The senator thrust out his politician'shand to welcome Fletcher's parents.

Fletcher's father grasped the outstretched hand.

"Good afternoon, Senator, I'm Robert Davenport and this is my wife, Ruth." "Call me Harry.

This is Martha, my first wife." Mrs. Gates stepped forward to welcome them both. "I call her my first wife- well, it keeps her on her toes."

"Would you like a drink?" asked Martha, not laughing at a joke she had heard so many times before.

"It had better be quick," said the senator, checking his watch, "that is if we still hope to eat before the kick-off. Let me serve you, Ruth, and we'll let your husband fend for himself. I can smell a Republican at a hundred paces."

"I'm afraid it's worse than that," said Ruth.

"Don't tell me he's an old Bearcat, because I'm thinking of making that a capital offense in this state." Ruth nodded. "Then Fletcher, you'd better come and talk to me because I intend to ignore your father."

Fletcher was flattered by the invitation, and soon began grilling the senator on the workings of the Connecticut legislature.

"Andrew," said Ruth.

"Fletcher, mother."

"Fletcher, don't you think the senator might like to talk about something other than politics?"

"No, that's fine by me, Ruth," Harry assured her. "The voters rarely ask such insightful questions, and I'm rather hoping it might rub off on Jimmy."

After lunch had been cleared away they walked quickly across to the bleachers, sitting down only moments before the game was due to begin. The seats were better than any prep could have dreamed of, but then Senator Gates hadn't missed the Tail match since his own graduation. Fletcher couldn't contain his excitement as the clock on the score board edged toward two. He stared across at the far stand, to be greeted with the enemy's cries of, "Give me a , give me an A, give me a ..." and fell in love.

Nat's eyes remained on the face above the letterA.

"Nat's the brightest boy in our class," Tom told Nat's father. Michael smiled.

"Only just," said Nat a little defensively; "don't forget I only beat Ralph Elliot by one grade."

"I wonder if he's Max Elliot's son?"

said Nat's father, almost to himself.

"Who's Max Elliot?"

"In my business he's what's known as an unacceptable risk." "Why?" asked Nat, but his father didn't expand on the bland statement, and was relieved when his son was distracted by the cheerleaders, who had blue and white pom-poms attached to their wrists and were; performing their ritual war dance.

Nat's eyes settled on the second girl on the left, who seemed to be smiling up at him, although H e realized to her he could only be a speck at the back of the stand.

"You've grown, if I'm not mistaken," said Nat's father, noting that his son's trousers were already an inch short of his shoes. He only wondered how often he would have to buy him new clothes.

"Well it can't be the school food that's responsible," suggested Tom, who was still the smallest boy in the class. Nat didn't reply. His eyes remained fixed on the group of cheerleaders.

"Which on' of them have you fallen for?"

inquired Tom, punching his friend on the arm.

"What?"

"You heard me the first time."

Nat turned away so that his father couldn't overhear his reply. "Second one from the left, with the letter A on her sweater."

"Diane Coulter," said Tom, pleased to discover that he knew something his friend didn't.

"How do you know her name?"

"Because she's Dan Coulter's sister."

"But he's the ugliest player on the team," said Nat. "He's got cauliflower ears and a broken nose."

"And so would Diane if she'd played on the team every week for the past five wears," said Tom with alaugh.

"What else do you know about her?" Nat asked his friend conspiratorially.

"Oh it's that serious is it?" said Tom. It was Nat's turn to punch his friend, "Having to revert to physical violence, are we? Hardly part of the Tuft code," added Tom. "Beat a man with the strength of your argument, not the strength of your arm; Oliver Wendell Holmes, if I remember correctly."

"Oh, stop droning on," said Nat, "and just answer the question." "Don't know a lot more about her, to be honest. All I remember is that she goes to Westover and plays right wing on their hockey team."

"What are you two whispering about?" asked Nat's father.

"Dan Coulter," said Tom without missing a beat, "one of our running backs-I was just telling Nat that he eats eight eggs for breakfast every morning."

"How do you know that?" asked Nat's mother.

"Because one of them is always mine," said Tom ruefully.

As his parents burst out laughing, Nat continued to gaze down at the A in TAIL. The first time he'd really noticed a girl. His concentration was distracted by a sudden roar, as everyone on his side of the stadium rose to greet the Tail team as they ran out onto the field. Moments later the Hotchkiss players appeared from the other side of the field and just as enthusiastically their supporters leaped to their feet.