Just Claire by Jean Ann Williams Page B

pulsed in the darkened room .
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    O n Monday before first bell , ClaireLee dragged herself into the classroom like a dark cloud ready to gush rain. How much could she trust Belinda? Would her new friend tell the kids at school about Mama’s crying spell?
    Mrs. Reed pushed back from her paperwork. “How was your weekend, Claire?”
    She stifled a yawn. “Belinda spent the night.”
    â€œWhat did you girls do?” Mrs. Reed laid aside her red pen.
    â€œWe made pudding, and Belinda helped me with chores.” I should have made Belinda cross her heart to not breathe a word of what happened.
    â€œAh, so nice.” Mrs. Reed’s eyes crinkled with mystery. “Do you own any books, Claire?”
    The question threw her off, and she had trouble organizing her words. After a moment, she recited her list. “ Really So Stories , Mother Goose , Childcraft of Fairytales , and Secret of the Old Clock. ”
    Bending, Mrs. Reed reached for a handle to the right side of her desk. “How would you like another?”
    The ol’ gray cloud lifted. ClaireLee couldn’t help it—she chuckled. Her dry lips split a smidgen, and she pressed it with a finger. “It would be neat, Mrs. Reed.”
    Mrs. Reed opened the drawer, and her fingers disappeared inside. “Claire, I’d like to give you this.” She thrust out her hand for ClaireLee to take the shiny black book. “A New Testament tells about God’s Son Jesus and what he did for humanity.”
    She inhaled the leather scent, and ClaireLee’s fingers caressed the cover’s texture. Opening the pages, she read the thees and thous . Mrs. Reed hugged her, forcing ClaireLee’s eyes shut. My teacher smells of cocoa, red lipstick.
    â€œHow’s your family doing?” Mrs. Reed let go of ClaireLee. “Your mother?”
    Grabbing a braid, ClaireLee twirled it around a finger. I don’t want to fib, but —
    The bell rang, and Mrs. Reed stood to meet the students at the door.
    ClaireLee opened the top of her desk and nestled the Bible inside. School will be good today, if Belinda doesn’t tell anyone about Mama. If she told, the day would be a catastrophe.
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    A t first bell , ClaireLee followed Belinda to the tetherball court. The gift of the Bible cheered her, but she still worried by lunchtime the whole school would know about Mama. This is our family’s private business.
    Nibbling on a nail, she stood next to Belinda in the tetherball line. She waited for Belinda to pause in her discourse of how she enjoyed the weekend. I’ll make her swear to keep quiet about Mama.
    Behind ClaireLee, Kaye’s voice interfered with her concerns. “If you win the next game, Monteiro, you better understand I’m real good.”
    She scrunched her face at Kaye and said, “We’ll see.” What a brat. Why do I want to run the other way every time she opens her mouth? After a few games, and when Belinda lost to ClaireLee, Kaye took her spot. “I’m ready to win, Shrimp.”
    I’ll show her. ClaireLee shrugged off her jacket and flung it in the air toward Belinda, who caught it with one hand. “Step all over her, ClaireLee. Beat her.” ClaireLee bobbled her head in response, ready to beat Smarty Britches.
    ClaireLee gripped the ball, pulling the rope taut. Several girls ClaireLee didn’t know well waved. She stood as tall as her four-foot-eight frame allowed and dug in her toes within her patent leathers.
    â€œAre you scared?” Kaye shouted. “Let’s get this game going.”
    Making a fist, ClaireLee socked the ball, and it zoomed over Kaye’s head. The rope circled the pole twice, but Kaye gained control with a slam of her two fists. Kids hooted. ClaireLee leaped in the air and grunted through clenched teeth. Pow. A blood vessel burst in her hand— ignore it —and she shook off the pain.
    The rope zipped , but Kaye’s