Once in Every Life

"It's all right, Katie," Savannah whispered. "They won't laugh at you."

They both knew it was a lie; knew they would laugh at her.

Katie bit down hard on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. Tears stung her eyes as she stumbled along beside her sister.

It don't matter what those dumb old kids think anyway.

But it did matter. It mattered more than anything.

She clung to Savannah's hand and kept moving, trying to be grown-up, trying not to be afraid.

If only she weren't so stupid. Then everything would be okay. The kids wouldn't laugh at her. Her mama would love her. The teacher?

"Are you ready to go in?"

Savannah's voice cut through Katie's thoughts. She yanked her head up and found that they were almost there. Anxiety spilled through her blood like ice water.

She turned to her sister. "I don't feel so good, Vannah. Maybe I should go home."

73

Savannah dropped to her knees and touched her sister's cheek. "Aw, Katie ..."

She flung herself into her sister's arms. Savannah hugged her tightly, stroking her hair and mumbling soft, soothing words of love. Savannah drew back and looked up at her. Katie did her very best not to cry. Tears burned behind her eyes and blurred her vision, but not one slipped past her lashes. It was a trick all the Raffertys had learned. "I-I'm fine." She rubbed her sweaty palms on the nubby wool of her skirt and clutched her strapped-up school-books to her chest.

Savannah got slowly to her feet. Hand in hand they climbed the creaking steps and opened the schoolhouse door. The tired whine of the hinges drew every eye. A dozen small heads cocked in their direction. Shivering, Katie drew back.

Savannah laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and held her in place. "I'm right here," she murmured soothingly.

Katie made a beeline for her desk. The small, sturdy heels of her heavy leather walking boots clicked loudly on the planked floor. With each footfall, the rising cadence of giggling nipped at her self-confidence. She moved faster, her schoolbooks bolted to her chest, her gaze nailed to the wood beneath her feet.

She sidled into the steel-backed chair with an audible sigh. Savannah eased in beside her. The comforting warmth of her sister's body gave Katie the courage to set her things on the desk in front of her. With trembling fingers, she unstrapped her books and pulled McGuffey's First Eclectic Reader out from beneath her math primer. The small brown book nearly disappeared into the scarred wood of the desk.

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Katie wished fervently that it would really and truly disappear.

In the front of the room, Miss Ames rapped sharply on her desk and stood up. "Let's begin by reading aloud."

Katie squeezed her eyes shut. In her lap, her fingers crossed tightly, then curled into fists. Please don't pick me. Please don't?

"Susan Jacobs, why don't you begin? Page nine of the

reader."

Katie's breath expelled in a sharp sigh of relief. She opened her eyes slowly and turned to page nine. She stared hard at the paper, trying to read along with Susan.

It was impossible. The black ink swirled and danced and changed positions. Letters were meaningless, melting together to form words that weren't words. Sentences that were pure gibberish. Not a single word that Susan read appeared on Katie's page.

Tears burned her eyes. What was wrong with her? She tried so hard?harder than anyone else in the class. Every night she hurried to her room right after supper and studied the mishmash of letters in her primer. Every night she failed, and miserably, to make sense of even one word.

"Thank you, Susan, that was very good. Now, how about you, Mary Katherine? Will you pick up where Susan left off?"

Katie's head snapped up. A wordless, aching "no" slipped past her lips.