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GROWING TALL: I'd done a lot of thinking about my class trip to Quebec City - mostly about how to get out of going. I'd heard that Andy was going and he was a pain-in-the-neck at the best of times. I can only imagine what he'd be like on a school trip.

Ms. Rudder is a good teacher, but she is so enthusiastic about what she teaches that she misses a lot of stuff that goes on in the classroom, and there's a lot to miss.

This could really - not be a fun time, but since playing video games by myself was my best plan for the weekend, I decided to go. Besides, it was time to get over Andy and his buddies beating me up a couple times in grade five - that was a few years ago now. The scar under my right eye is just part of my face.

The week passed quickly and before we knew it, our tour bus was roaring along the highway. I was talking - minding my own business when I felt the whack on the back of my head. I reacted with a quick look over my shoulder and saw Andy pulling his ball cap back on his head. My fist tightened.

"Hey, Nic! Thought you weren't coming your mom change your mind for you? Hehehe!" taunted Andy. He could always think up something arrogant to say.

"Bonjour! Bienvenue au Quebec," the billboard told us that we were now in the province of Quebec. It was surprisingly quiet on the bus, just the buzz of the smart kids talking to Ms. Rudder.

The bus pulled up to the motel and we began unloading sleeping bags, gym bags and other junk. Some of us were helping the girls carry their stuff to their rooms, while Andy stood around giving instructions about whose luggage should go when and where.

"Hey Andy, help carry some bags so we get done faster." I grabbed another suitcase. First, his eyes blinked in shock at what I said. He continued to stare and I knew I was in hot water. For some dumb reason, I didn't care.

Ms. Rudder discussed return plans with the bus driver, and then turned to us.

"Class, here are your room keys." I found my room right next to Andy!

"The luck," I grimaced.

Ms. Rudder instructed that we were to meet downstairs in a half hour for supper. Andy was waiting for me outside my room. I felt the grab at my shoulder, but I moved too quickly and he lost his grip.
"Meet me across the street at 11 o'clock," directed Andy.

I began to stammer out, "The curfew is 10:00 P.M...." when Andy interrupted.

"Be here, or I'll come and get you."
Staying in my room was a good answer to avoid this one. Maybe, but that isn't why I came to hide out. I was tired of being scared.

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