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There is a place at Lonely Oak Elementary, in the school's courtyard, different from any other place in the world. There is an iron fence that has no gate; just an open way. The fence surrounds a modest square of land, nestled in the corner outside of where the library joins the first-grade hallway. A garden-stone path marks the entrance of the fence, and on either side of the path are garden plots, where flowers are always blooming.

Gentle Ouly's Meadow.

Some kids don't know why it's called a meadow, for the area is hardly big enough to be a dog-yard. But then, those kids did not see. Gentle Ouly's Meadow was infinite and sunny, filled with flowers and trees and forests and streams. Even when it was clouded and rainy, the grass shined and birds sang. Even in winter it had life and color.

A few steps through the gardens, and at the end of the path, is the entrance to a_chashitsu_-inspired building. A pillar, fifth-grader-tall, displays a plaque behind protective plastic:

The House of Open Minds

Constructed by Eagle Scouts Raymond and Terrance Bishop, and Carl Dindland

With the help of Troops 5179 and 6242

Special Thanks to Arnold Weber, Architect

The House of Open Minds was officially completed six years after Lonely Oak was established. At first, it was used as a kind of classroom, back when class sizes were not as large. But, over time, its novelty and purpose began to fade, and it became more of a peculiarity to the school.

Where the school was made of brick, concrete, asphalt and tile, The House was made almost entirely of wood. The_hira-kawara_ roof, with its distinct and regular pattern, looked like the scales of a dragon, patiently waiting as still as a statue. With the addition of the gate to keep just anyone from getting near it, the little building became an isolated, and almost mysterious, part of the school despite being right outside the library.

The House of Open Minds was not solely Gentle Ouly's, yet she was its implied possessor. She was the one who utilized it most--if any other did at all. The other counselors preferred to stay in the air-conditioned building.

Mrs. Oulryk took great care of The House, and the garden around it. During the warmer seasons she spent more time here than she did in the building. She would never get into trouble for doing so, for she has been a counselor of Lonely Oak for as long as Lonely Oak has been in need of a counselor.

The fifth-grader reading the sign stepped up onto the outdoor_genkan_, separated from the ground by a single wooden step that ran the length of the front of the house. A potted poinsettia, radiantly crimson as if to represent the dragon's warm breath, hung by chain from the lee of the open perimeter.

A small_rouka_ went round the building. It was just wide enough for possibly two first-graders to walk side-by-side with some room, but beyond that it would not allow such luxury. If walked, the sides of The House proudly displayed artwork and letters that, though covered in plastic, crinkled and twitched from the gentle breeze.

Ribbons were tied in near regular intervals along the_kouran_. Each one was an award, a recognition, or more commonly a red-ribbon (of which there were thirty). Some even belonged to students, allowed to flutter and whip until the cheap nylon began to fray, then to be moved into the security of glass, felt, and wood.

At the entrance, just to the right of the plastic-paneled_shoji_ that served as the front door, there was a little bell upon a short copper chain. It was flicked once, emitting a humble chime.

The bell was rung once and only once. It needn't be rung any more than that; for if Mrs. Oulryk did not open the door, it was because she was not there to hear the bell. There may be a slight pause, as there presently was. But, only the most impatient of children would frustrate over this moment.

The_shoji_ slid aside with only the faintest scrape of friction.

"Hello, dear," the soft voice greeted with a soothing inflection. Her brown eyes had gone dark, requiring little glasses to rest upon the bridge of her snout. Her nose was like the bud of a tree-root peeking out through the snow. Her lips were drawn in a pleasant smile.

"May I come in?" Requested the young tiger.

The_shoji_ was drawn wider, allowing passage. "It has been quite a while since you visited, Arkethius," the polar-bear said with quiet joy. "The House is always open for my children, especially you." She took note of the small paper bag held in his hands. "What do you have, there?"

"Late Christmas present," he replied, accepting her offer to take it so that he could undo his shoes before stepping upon the_tatami_ mats.

He was one of the very few children who took their shoes off in The House.

Mrs. Oulryik allowed him to pass before closing the_shoji_. She went ahead to the center of the single room, and set the object down upon the kotatsu. She waited patiently as he prepared to enter the room proper, the tatami mats crunching quietly under his weight.

He joined her at the_kotatsu_, to her right. He lifted the kakebuton, decorated with red poinsettia leaves. The kakebuton concealed four zabuton, one at each face of the table. The cushions were thicker than typical, the stuffing added for comfort. The shikibuton that buffered the legs and feet from the rough tatami was dark blue, with silver silk lines that gave the impression of rippling water, and the pleasant texture was often traced by fingers. All of these fabrics were hand-sewn by the caretaker herself.

The tiger made himself comfortable at the_kotatsu_. The heater beneath remained silent and quiet, for The House had no means of electricity. There was a moment of stillness, to let the sunlight drifting into the room brighten.

In a silent exchange, the aged bear meticulously unfastened the twist-tie about the top of the bag, and pried apart the scrunched wrinkles at the neck. She reached in, her fingers gently holding onto what was inside. She carefully lifted it free, only to see that it was wrapped in an additional layer of wax paper, occluding the object of interest just slightly. But this layer was crudely folded, and so she set it upon the_kotatsu_. It crackled quietly as she revealed the object inside.

"It's a_pagoda_," he clarified as she smoothed the wax paper flat.

Limited by the size of a bar of soap, the_pagoda_ was no more than a few inches tall. It had only three tiers, the topmost drastically smaller than the rest, and the distance between the first flange and the second flange was much wider than between the second and third.

"Oh, it's gorgeous," complimented Mrs. Oulryk, "The lines in the soap give it a mystical pattern; may I touch it?"

"Sure," he replied with a nod.

She reached with a careful hand, and with her thumb, index and middle fingers lifted the figurine off of the wax paper. "It smells like the sea," she said, examining it closely enough to scent the fragrance of the soap. "Let me see if I can find its place."

Mrs. Oulryk stood up with vocal effort, smoothed her dress, and began a brief search for a place to display her new trinket.

As she journeyed, the tiger looked about the interior of The House of Open Minds. It consisted of a single open room, large enough to accommodated ten well-seated children if the_kotatsu_ and some furnishings were ignored. It was notably darker inside The House, especially in winter when the sun was often shielded behind the clouds. In three corners were andons--in this case, battery-powered camping lanterns--decorated with paper designs that changed frequently. For this visit the decoration was snow hills with snow-covered trees.

Against the side walls were bookshelves, which held Mrs. Oulryk's gifts and trinkets. Anything from Legos to paper maché to_pagodas_ made out of soap.

Sprinkled throughout the trinkets were little porcelain bears.

A foot from the back wall, supported by four thin chains fixed into the ceiling, was a panoramic picture. It was an old picture from many years ago, with various tones of browns and white-browns where color had to be imagined. Many people stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the old picture, smiling and squinting from the sunlight. None of the faces were known by the students and most of the faculty, except for one smile. Framed by the dark brown of a wide oak tree, a middle-aged woman of modest size, for a polar bear, smiled broadly at the observer.

As the sun dimmed, dampening the plastic_washi_-style panels of the shoji in shadow, the scent of wood and linens became acutely prominent. In its age, The House had acquired a bit of a homely mustiness to it that, for some, was a disgust. But, for a few, it was tolerable, and maybe even pleasant in its own way.

"There we are," the old woman said with satisfaction, placing the trinket well in view, guarded on either side by figurines of a blue and red dragon. "So then, how have you been? How is your mother?" She inquired, returning to the_kotatsu_.

"She's good," the tiger replied, as Mrs. Oulryk joined him at the table. "She started her job as a bank teller last week."

"Did she, now? How wonderful!"

He nodded. "She'll have more time at home, so I'll get to see her more."

"Oh, did you bring a lunch?" The counselor asked in a self-interrupting manner, and received a shake of the head. "Oh dear, that won't do. Young boys like you need to_eat_..." She went to the back wall, where there was another, longer table that was also very low. Upon it was a basket of muffins, as well as a small camping stove which was boiling water. She took the water off and retrieved two mugs from a shallow cupboard beneath the table. "I am always prepared," she happily chimed to herself, pouring the water into the mugs.

It was highly against school rules for Mrs. Oulryk to have the little camping stove. Most teachers got in trouble sometimes for having such items like fans or coffee machines. But it was a well kept secret in Mrs. Oulryk's case, for one reason and one reason alone. In the warm weather, she brewed tea. That is not the reason. In the cold weather, she made hot chocolate.

Every year there were some kids that found out she made hot chocolate and, of course, would come visit her just for a mug. The problem with that was that The House of Open Minds was called_Open Minds_ for a reason. It had a spell. Whether it was given its namesake for this spell, or whether it acquired the spell through its namesake, none knew. Normally The House does not force you to open your mind completely, but if you step into the room with impure intentions then The House shall hath no mercy on thee.

One story that floated around the school was that, long ago, a bully came once a week to get hot chocolate. After the sixth visit, he wound up confessing he accidentally killed a neighborhood cat because he played chicken with it on his bike. But that was just a story, and only one person knew if it was true.

"You seem different, Arkethius," Mrs. Oulryk observed, as she set his mug of steaming cocoa upon a coaster. She also placed the basket of muffins on the table.

"How so?"

"I'm not sure--please, take a muffin." She scooted the little basket forward. "You just seem different. Of course, last time I had your company here was...well..." Her words floated away for a moment. Mrs. Oulryk rarely trailed. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, "What I mean is...well, I'm sure you still keep the Eye of Horus close to you."

He nodded, grasping a muffin from the basket. It was fat and oblong, like a small potato, studded with little red chunks of fruit. He dunked it into the hot chocolate, and took a bite. "I love your raspberry muffins," he said.

"They're my specialty. You can have as many as you like."

"I keep it tucked away most of the time," he said, referring to her earlier statement; "I don't need to hold it so much any more."

Mrs. Oulryk knew of the young boy's grandfather, just as the young boy knew of her husband. She remembered how terribly he felt. She understood his grief, and his compulsive desire to hold that one last gift and never let it go. They supported each other greatly; he visited for lunch every day for several weeks.

It was so hard for him, for he felt his grandfather was his only real friend. She suggested trying to make a friend at school, which he did try. But, ultimately, that chapter was left unfinished. She knew that Arkethius was just frustrated, and when he stopped coming she was not insulted or upset; just concerned.

It did not help that just after he seemed to finally come to terms, his mother and father parted ways. But surprisingly that did not appear to torment him as much. And though he promised he would come talk to her if ever he needed, he never did.

Until today.

"I think I see, now," Mrs. Oulryk spoke after a moment of silence. She sipped her hot cocoa and set the glass down, wiping her lips with a napkin.

The boy knew she was waiting for his response. But he also could not respond with muffin in his mouth. He tried to hurry the swallowing by taking a sip of hot chocolate, and wound up gulping more down than intended.

"Oh dear, be careful, it's hot. I'm so sorry."

"I'm okay," he said, fanning his tongue a little, "So, what do you see?"

She gazed at him a little more intently. "I think you've grown."

He smiled proudly. "Mom said that too. She thinks I grew three inches over the holidays."

The old woman smiled. Arkethius was a smart boy, and she knew him well. He understood things, perhaps from going through all his troubles, that other kids often did not understand until they were a few years older. But he was still able to hide behind the façade of youthful ignorance if he ever so desired; and one could never know for certain if he was genuine, or acting, when he truly desired to hide.

"So then," Mrs. Oulryk asked, "Have you come to talk, or are you just going to drink hot chocolate and scarf down muffins?"

"I do love hot chocolate," he replied charmingly, "and these muffins." He took a third, dipping it into the brown liquid.

It was hard to think that sometimes kids would abuse Gentle Ouly's generosity. And worse, sometimes The House's spell was not enough to deter them. But if Mrs. Oulryk suspected one of her children of taking advantage of her, she would not address it openly. She was not mean, never to her children, even if they were mean to her. But she was crafty; she might prepare a mug of bitter coffee on 'accident' or she might put the water on late and not have it boiling in time before the student had to go back to class.

"Actually, I came to ask if you had school directories from when I was in third grade."

She took a moment to sip her chocolate, letting the notion linger in the hushed light of the room. "I'm so sorry if this is rude, but why would you ask a strange question like that?"

Mrs. Oulryk loved asking questions she already knew the answer to.

"I made some new friends."

Arkethius loved answering those questions in a way she would not expect.

Her eyes flashed, magnified behind the lenses of her glasses. "You have? That's wonderful! See? I knew there was something different about you."

"Well," he corrected, "They kind of made me their friend."

"A friend is a friend is a friend. It doesn't matter how they're made but how they're kept, in the end."

"Does that come from making lots of friends yourself?"

"Dear, all of you Oakers are my friends," she smiled; "I make dozens of new friends once every year." She took a big sip, as the hot chocolate had cooled down now. "Are you going to answer my question or would you prefer not to?"

"No, I will," he said clearing his throat. "I just...making my new friends sort of reminded me about an old one. I just wanted to catch up with him, see how he's doing."

"Oh, I see. What a wonderful surprise it would be! How does the directory play into your nice plan?"

"I wanted to send him a letter in the mail. But I don't have a directory from back then."

"Well, you've come to the right person. But lunch time is almost over and you will need to head back to class soon. Would you like me to send a note to Ms. Hupp's class before the day is out?"

"Sure," he replied, reading the time off of the clock sitting upon the shelf on the opposite wall. He gulped his hot chocolate, despite it being a little warm. "Thank you for the hot chocolate--and the muffins."

"You're very welcome. I hope you didn't burn your mouth too badly. I'm sorry if I made it too hot.

"It was just right," he smiled.

"Good. But, and sorry to be a Negative Nelly, but what if he moved? I'd just hate to see you get disappointed."

He shook his head. "He didn't move."

"Really?" She sat up straighter with curiosity. "You are so sure?"

From the first-grade hallway, the bell could be heard. "I'm afraid that's my cue."

"So it is," Mrs. Oulryk stood, and headed to the_shoji_ to allow the boy passage back through. "Please come again, Arkethius; it's so nice to see how much you've grown."

"I will," he promised, hurrying to slip on his shoes. He did not even tie the laces before slipping through the threshold. "And thank you."

She watched as he walked with subdued excitement. She felt warm, but not from the hot chocolate. "Thank_you_." She said softly, as she closed the shoji.