Morning Star by Judith Plaxton Page A

those very interesting. They’ll tell you all about the Underground Railroad. Actually, a lot of escaped slaves settled in Ontario. I think there was a settlement somewhere near here. If you don’t have a computer at home, we can look for more information at our Internet station over there. ”
    â€œOh, okay. Thanks.”
    â€œAnytime.”
    When Felicia met up with the group at lunch they were talking about the play. “Guess what?” Felicia announced. “I talked to Mr. Butler and I’m going to be a singing pioneer after all!”
    â€œThank you,” Dodie said emphatically. “It would have been sickening to perform with Cynthia.”
    â€œI would never have gone for the lead if I’d known I’d have to sing with Ashley,” said Josh. “What am I going to do? This is going to be so humiliating in front of the whole school.”
    â€œYou’ll be okay,” said Matt. “You worry too much.”
    â€œAnd every time I make suggestions to Mr. Butler, trying to improve the dialogue, he ignores me.”
    â€œThat’s because your ideas aren’t good enough.” Ashley stood before them, flanked by four of her disdainful supporters.
    â€œJosh is a good play writer,” said Felicia, the words popping out of her mouth unplanned.
    â€œYou would be the last person to know if a play is good or not,” said Ashley. Cynthia looked down at Felicia, pretending to stick her finger in her throat and gag.
    Ashley turned and walked away, her foursome like a military parade behind her.
    â€œShe’s good at entrances and exits,” said Matt.
    â€œWhat is it with her?” Renate asked.
    â€œJust ignore her,” said Dodie.
    â€œI can’t ignore her,” said Josh. “I’m stuck with her. We even have a scene where we hold hands and sing to each other!”
    â€œOh no!”
    â€œPlease!” The girls all started to laugh.
    â€œIt’s not funny.” Josh slumped in his chair.
    When they returned to class, Miss Peabody introduced Sally, the first student to present her family history. Sally lowered a screen from the ceiling, then stationed herself beside a computer and, as one photograph followed another, described the arrival of her great-grandparents from Holland after the end of the Second World War. “They brought tulip bulbs with them and planted them here. This is a picture of their garden.”
    The screen glowed with a vibrant mass of color. In the midst of the blossoms, an oval pond collected water, which cascaded down into it over a wall of rock. There was a collective “ooh” from the class. Sally also had a pair of wooden shoes, called klompen. Everyone wanted to try them on.
    Felicia started to worry about what her own story would be like. She couldn’t think of something her classmates might want to see, like the shoes, and she wasn’t sure if her family had differences that made them interesting.
    After school Felicia came home to an empty house. Florence had started playing bridge with the neighbors every other Thursday afternoon. The television sat silently in its corner, and nothing simmered on the stove. Felicia settled at the kitchen table and unrolled the poster she had begun working on the night before. The painted tree filled up the whole space. It had a substantial trunk with graceful limbs that extended into finer branches and feathery leaves. She’d started to add miniature duplicates of her great-aunt’s still life painting and the military medal. The poster looked good, but now she needed to think about how to present her family history. Her first thought was of her father, a shadowy figure, gone from her life before she was old enough to know him. A memory emerged of him sitting in a chair supported by pillows, almost too fragile to be approached by his rambunctious toddler, Felicia. No one would want to hear about that.
    What else? She stood and walked to the