"You're in here," she said, stopping at my classroom, "The cafeteria is down this hall. You turn right and it's right there. I gotta go upstairs. Uh-oh," she said, "here comes Chad."
He approached us quickly.
"Ah, you and the little rich girl," he said. "How cozy."
"Do I know you?" she asked him.
"Funny. Why didn't you call me?"
"I've lost your phone number," she said. "For good."
"Yeah. right. You'll be back," he said, but not with great confidence.
"If I'm desperate," she told him. He smirked, looked at me and walked away, "See?" she said to me. "Keep them in their place. I'll see you at lunch."
You better, I thought. You have my lunch money.
"When I see that Stuart, I'm going to tear off an ear," she added and walked on.
I watched her for a moment. Some girls and a boy jostled me back as they hurried into the classroom. I followed slowly. When I entered. I noted that everyone was rushing to choose his or her seat. Our teacher wasn't in the room vet. Those who had sat turned to look my way. Their faces were full of curiosity.
I
really am the only new student, I thought. They're not looking at anyone else the same way.
"This is Mrs. Morgran's third grade," a tall, thin, dark-haired girl with thin, almost nonexistent lips told me. The right corner of her mouth dipped at the end of her sentence.
"I know." I said.
"You're in third grade?" she asked and left her mouth open.
I didn't answer. I looked to the seat on the far side in the rear and headed toward it, but just before I reached it. Another student, a chubby boy with hair the color of wet hay, charged past me and slid into the chair as if he'd been sliding into first base in a baseball game. The students around us laughed.
"That's not very polite." I said. He smiled and looked at the students seated around us. I thought of what Alanis had just said and folded my arms, stepping closer to him. "Get out of my seat or I'll rip off your ear," I told him.
His face seemed to sink in the thin smile falling to shatter at his feet. He glanced at the others, at me, and then got up and sliding to the desk two desks ahead. Everyone else stared at me as I took the seat.
Moments later. Mrs. Morgan entered. She was tall, with graying dark-brown hair cut sharply at her tars, every strand perfect. She wore no earrings, but she had a necklace of small pearls that lay just under the open collar of her one-piece dark-blue dress, which fell in a baggy fashion to about two inches above her ankles. The dress seemed to erase any figure she might have. There was no way to
distinguish her waist, and she looked to be as flat chested as some of her sixth-grade girls, but certainly not me.
Her gaunt cheeks were tightened at the corners of her thin pale lips, which pursed as she put her bag on the desk and took out her class register. She put on a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that magnified her dull brown eyes. The other students apparently knew her well enough to quiet down and sit still while she flipped silently through pages. cleared her throat and looked up. She panned the room slowly, nodding. until she reached me. She stared at me so long that I felt like I was under a microscope,
"I know all of you, of course, from move-up day last year, except our new student, Jordan March, Jordan, please stand." she said.
I did, and she looked at me even harder. I didn't know what to do or say because she wasn't saying anything. She looked again at something in her register and then at me.
"Jordan." she said. "has just moved here from Bethlehem. Let's welcome her."
She nodded. and the class clapped.
"I begin every class year with my students writing their biographies. We pass them around so everyone gets to know everyone else well," she said. "Take out a sheet of paper and your pens. please."
Instantly, the chubby boy who had slid into the seat I wanted raised his hand.
"Yes, Gary?"
"I didn't bring a pen and paper yet."