Livvie Owen Lived Here by Sarah Dooley

brother, though. Otis Andrews. Otis is a divine creature. Paints murals. Great, giant pictures he has to climb up scaffolding to paint. I’m quite certain he’s goingto fall right on his head before the year is out, but Otis never lets that stop him.”
    I slid slowly into the chair Mrs. Rhodes indicated and she settled the waffles on the table in front of me. “Here you are, dear. Fresh from the kitchen. ‘Fresh’ being relative, of course.”
    I liked yogurt best, or Natasha’s bagels, but I took a tentative bite of the waffle. It was limp and lukewarm. I smiled thinly at Mrs. Rhodes.
    â€œThat good, huh?” she asked briskly. “Well, here, let me have that.” She whisked it back off the table. “Who wants yogurt?”
    Everybody except for Michael wanted yogurt. Michael liked limp blueberry waffles because they were what he always had on Fridays.
    The yogurt was vanilla and Mrs. Rhodes stirred granola bits down into it. It would have been difficult to sip, what with the granola floating around, so I used a spoon. It clacked uncomfortably against my teeth, but the yogurt made it worth it. It tasted extra good.
    Having unexpected yogurt when I thought I was going to have to eat a soggy blueberry waffle made the day better by several degrees. There was almost no pressure built up inside my head and I felt relaxed and happy. I was even feeling kind enough to say good morning to Bristol when she entered, althoughnormally we gave each other nothing but suspicious glances. She was wearing warm colors today, so I figured it was safe.
    With a startled look, Bristol said an uncertain “Hi . . .” before she and Robert went off to the corner to eat their yogurt and granola without associating with the rest of us.
    Mrs. Rhodes helped Peyton eat some yogurt without the granola, and Peyton made a squealing sound and rocked her chair back and forth.
    â€œIs it good, love?” I heard Mrs. Rhodes ask her softly. Shyly, so no one would notice, I watched Peyton’s face. Her warm brown eyes kept finding Mrs. Rhodes and then slipping away nervous, like she wasn’t sure how to say thank you for the yogurt. I knew how she felt, because I wasn’t quite sure how to say thank you for the yogurt, either. I sat and thought about it so long, Mrs. Rhodes finished with Peyton and sat down next to me.
    â€œSo, what does this class do after breakfast?” she asked me. “Do we have some sort of a schedule we follow?”
    â€œI have a picture schedule you can look at,” I offered, “but you have to promise to give it back.”
    She smiled a slight, crooked sort of smile. “I would be happy to give it back, of course, but it would be most helpful if you would share.”
    Jumping up so hard I banged the table and drew a vicious glare from Michael, I galloped to my study carrel and lifted my picture schedule out from under Monday’s newsprint scraps.
    â€œHey! It’s not set up!” The pressure was back all of a sudden.
    â€œOf course it’s not, dummy!” Bristol yelled. “Mrs. What’s-her-head didn’t know to do it and the old sub ran away!”
    I slammed my picture schedule down on the desk, hard. “What am I supposed to do with no schedule?” I hollered, my voice feeling thin and cracking.
    G followed me to the study carrel and tapped me once, but I didn’t like touch when I was already full of pressure, and I jumped away from her. “Hey! Watch it!”
    Stepping back with narrowed eyes, G put her hands on her hips.
    Mrs. Rhodes came a little closer, but not so much that she overwhelmed me again. “May I borrow that schedule?” she asked calmly.
    â€œIt’s not going to help you! It’s blank!”
    â€œWhat’s blank about it? I see pretty white Velcro dots and a lot of potential. Let me see.” Her voice stayed calm. I could sense Mr. Raldy lurking nearby, ready to intervene