The teens of Beauneville are quite well-behaved, as one might expect. Actually, that's not quite true; the teens of Beauneville are smart, and like their younger siblings they know that open defiance of adult authority simply leads to pointless conflict. On the surface, the teens of Beauneville are always well-mannered and deferential to parents and teachers, or at least apparently so; but things are not always as they seem.
For when the lights are out, and the moms and dads of Beauneville are fast asleep, and the moon rises over the Mill Pond, the careful listener can hear faint ripples in the water that seem somehow out of place...and if one looks carefully at the surface of the pond in the reflected light, one can see things bobbing about that seem rather too large to be robust fish or playful beavers...and if you inspect the canoe house by the shore, you will note that something appears to be missing.
For on clear and moonlit nights in June, the teens of Beauneville gather on the waters of the Mill Pond, where they float and paddle and tread water and hang out in their canoes, as far as possible from shore; and they whisper to one another about many things, and about nothing in particular. And in the silence of a Beauneville night and the cool June breeze, time stands still.
The moms and dads of Beauneville know about this, of course; they were, after all, teens themselves. But the moms and dads of Beauneville are smart, and they know that the arbitrary exercise of parental authority for its own sake leads to pointless conflict. And so, the moms and dads of Beauneville do not inquire into the nocturnal practices of their teens, even if, when the lights are out, they hear the creak of floorboards, the soft tapping of feet on steps, or the sound of the back door closing.
But on this June night, as Roderick and Molly paddled quietly to the center of the Mill Pond, something happened that was slightly different from what the teens of Beauneville ordinarily do. It was a small thing -- hardly anyone mentioned it, or even noticed -- but just past midnight, as the canoe floated quietly, Molly slipped out of her clothing and into the water, where she swam in graceful circles around the canoe. Roderick did not join Molly, nor did the other teens, who preferred to retain their trunks.
Meanwhile, in Smileyville, Mr. Smiley rummaged for a midnight snack in his oddly-shaped-and-brightly-colored refigerator. He found a nice piece of Emmenthal; it was blissful.
