Melody (Logan 1)

"Please sit," he said gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. Aunt Sara sat in the one beside it. "West Virginia, eh?" he said, gazing at my file. "Coal mining country. Tell me a little about your school there."

I described it simply. He wanted to know more about my extracurricular interests than my

schoolwork, it seemed, and when I told him I played the fiddle, he raised those bushy eyebrows, gazed at Aunt Sara, and then nodded at me.

"That will be different," he said. "We have an annual talent show to raise money for scholarships at the end of the school year. I hope you'll participate."

"I'm sure she will," Aunt Sara offered.

"Well then, your being Sara and Jacob Logan's niece, I don't think I have to tell you to behave yourself, Melody, but here's our school code and our rules to follow." He handed me a pamphlet. "Look it over and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to come knocking on my door. Good luck and

welcome."

I thanked him. When I came out of the office there was a diminutive girl with a caramel complexion and shoulder-length ebony hair waiting in the outer office. She had eyes as black as her hair. She wore a necklace made of tiny seashells and a light blue blouse, matching skirt, and sandals with no socks. Her toenails were polished in bright pearl.

"This is Theresa Patterson," Mrs. Hemmet said. "Theresa's one of our honor students. She'll show you around today."

"Oh Theresa, how nice that you're going to help Melody," Aunt Sara said. "I remember how Laura used to help you with your work sometimes."

"Hello, Mrs. Logan," Theresa replied. She didn't crack a smile. She was a very serious looking girl, pretty but dour to the point of seeming angry. She turned to me. "You have a schedule card?"

"Yes." I showed her. She gazed at it, then nodded. "All my classes. Let's go. We're missing the American history lecture and Mr. K. doesn't like to repeat himself," she said. She started

away. I looked at Aunt Sara.

"Have a nice day, dear."

I nodded and hurried to catch up with my obviously reluctant guide.

"Why did you get here so late?" she asked, her face forward as she marched down the corridor.

"I had to visit with my aunt this morning. She wanted to bring me to school herself and she always stops at the cemetery first to spend a moment at my cousin Laura's grave. She drowned almost a year ago."

Theresa glanced at me, her right eyebrow raised.

"Don't you think I know that?" She paused and turned. "Don't you know who I am? Why they picked me to show you around?"

I shook my head.

"I'm Theresa Patterson. My father is Roy Patterson. He slave-works for your uncle Jacob, so naturally they just assumed I should slave for you," she added and walked on.

Welcome to your new school, I thought and hurried to catch up with Theresa.

.

School was not much different here from what it had been in Sewell, I decided. The desks were the same type and we had even been using the same history textbook, so I wasn't behind the other students. In fact, I had read enough ahead to actually raise my hand and answer a question the first day, even though I was full of a thousand anxieties. The teacher, Mr. Kattlin, whom the students called Mr. K., was obviously impressed. Theresa simply offered me a smaller smirk.

"Did you take algebra, too?" she asked as soon as the bell rang to end the period.

"Yes."

"Good. Then I won't have to do much," she commented. "Let's go. Math is all the way at the end of the corridor and we often get surprise quizzes. I like to look over last night's work before class starts," she added.

It turned out I was actually a chapter ahead of the class in algebra, but I didn't volunteer any answers this period. The teacher did spring a quiz on the class, and I surprised him by offering to take it, too. Some of the other girls who had been in my history class looked annoyed with me. I was afraid that if I did better than they did, the teacher would use me to mock and chastise them. I had seen my teachers back in Sewell do that.

After math we had our lunch break and Theresa showed me to the cafeteria.

"I've got my own lunch," she told me and showed me her brown bag. "Buying lunch is too expensive for all of us."