into tears.
And now Odessa sat face to face with Ms. Banville, the principal.
While Ms. Banville remarked on how surprised she was, how puzzled to see Odessa in her office, when Odessa had always been such a model student and blah, blah, blah—Odessa wasn’t listening.
She was doing math in her head.
If she went straight to the attic after school she’d have time to go back and catch Oliver before lunch and tie his laces for him.
She saw no point explaining Blake Canter’s trolliness. Why bother, when Odessa would erase this visit to Ms. Banville’s office, Oliver’s epic wipeout, and the echoing laughter in the cafeteria?
She’d wipe it all off the map.
Odessa took stock of Ms. Banville’s office. Her big swivelly chair, the photographs of curly-headed children, the diploma on the wall, and the big banner above her window that said FEBRUARY IS PRESIDENTS ’ MONTH .
This meant many things. It meant that they ate cake for George Washington’s and Abraham Lincoln’s birthdays. It meant a week off when some people did boring things like visit relatives, while others did awesome things like go to the Harry Potter theme park.
And it meant that someone at school got to be President for a Day.
It worked like this: they had an all-school assembly at which Ms. Banville would read a riddle, and whoever solved it first got to skip the next day of classes and sit in the principal’s office acting like the principal, or the president, which meant making announcements over the loudspeaker and signing attendance slips, but—most important—it meant you were cool, for one day, and usually that coolness lasted for a long time.
As Ms. Banville rattled off Odessa’s various punishments—a written apology to Blake Canter, an essay on how words, not fists, are the way out of conflict, and no recess for two weeks—Odessa studied that sign.
FEBRUARY IS PRESIDENTS ’ MONTH .
Her GMOP started to take shape.
She would help Oliver win President for a Day! She would hand him a moment of triumph. Make up for the one she’d taken away.
Odessa had some planning to do, but for now, she needed only to go home and back six hours so that she could start this day over and tie her little brother’s shoelaces in triple knots.
5 Hours
When the time came to select the President for a Day, Odessa was so excited to begin her Grand Master Oliver Plan, so proud of herself for coming up with it, that she failed to account for the problem of the shrinking of time. Since there were only five hours left, and since the assembly took place first thing in the morning, Odessa couldn’t wait until she got home from school to jump through the floorboards. That wouldn’t leave her enough time to give Oliver the answer to Ms. Banville’s riddle.
None of this was on Odessa’s mind that morning. She ate her cinnamon toast and rode with Claire to school, all the while picturing herself the hero. The one who saved her brother, who put his needs above her own. After all, Odessa wanted to win President for a Day herself. Who wouldn’t? All that attention! Even better than pale blue eyes.
She was filled to the brim—to the very top of that tank inside her—with pride. She was such a good person.
Odessa the Selfless.
She arrived at school and filed into the gym along with everyone else.
She took her seat and she listened as Ms. Banville said: “I’m going to read this year’s riddle. Please don’t shout out the answer. Raise your hand and wait to be called on.” Then she leaned in close to the microphone.
Slowly, and with a fair amount of drama, she read from a slip of paper:
You can find me in darkness but never in light.
I am present in daytime but absent at night.
In the deepest of shadows, I hide in plain sight.
What am I?
A few hands shot up and then some came down just as quickly. Odessa leaned back into the bleachers. She didn’t even try to solve the riddle. She didn’t need to.
Ms. Banville called on a fifth grader.
“I
And now Odessa sat face to face with Ms. Banville, the principal.
While Ms. Banville remarked on how surprised she was, how puzzled to see Odessa in her office, when Odessa had always been such a model student and blah, blah, blah—Odessa wasn’t listening.
She was doing math in her head.
If she went straight to the attic after school she’d have time to go back and catch Oliver before lunch and tie his laces for him.
She saw no point explaining Blake Canter’s trolliness. Why bother, when Odessa would erase this visit to Ms. Banville’s office, Oliver’s epic wipeout, and the echoing laughter in the cafeteria?
She’d wipe it all off the map.
Odessa took stock of Ms. Banville’s office. Her big swivelly chair, the photographs of curly-headed children, the diploma on the wall, and the big banner above her window that said FEBRUARY IS PRESIDENTS ’ MONTH .
This meant many things. It meant that they ate cake for George Washington’s and Abraham Lincoln’s birthdays. It meant a week off when some people did boring things like visit relatives, while others did awesome things like go to the Harry Potter theme park.
And it meant that someone at school got to be President for a Day.
It worked like this: they had an all-school assembly at which Ms. Banville would read a riddle, and whoever solved it first got to skip the next day of classes and sit in the principal’s office acting like the principal, or the president, which meant making announcements over the loudspeaker and signing attendance slips, but—most important—it meant you were cool, for one day, and usually that coolness lasted for a long time.
As Ms. Banville rattled off Odessa’s various punishments—a written apology to Blake Canter, an essay on how words, not fists, are the way out of conflict, and no recess for two weeks—Odessa studied that sign.
FEBRUARY IS PRESIDENTS ’ MONTH .
Her GMOP started to take shape.
She would help Oliver win President for a Day! She would hand him a moment of triumph. Make up for the one she’d taken away.
Odessa had some planning to do, but for now, she needed only to go home and back six hours so that she could start this day over and tie her little brother’s shoelaces in triple knots.
5 Hours
When the time came to select the President for a Day, Odessa was so excited to begin her Grand Master Oliver Plan, so proud of herself for coming up with it, that she failed to account for the problem of the shrinking of time. Since there were only five hours left, and since the assembly took place first thing in the morning, Odessa couldn’t wait until she got home from school to jump through the floorboards. That wouldn’t leave her enough time to give Oliver the answer to Ms. Banville’s riddle.
None of this was on Odessa’s mind that morning. She ate her cinnamon toast and rode with Claire to school, all the while picturing herself the hero. The one who saved her brother, who put his needs above her own. After all, Odessa wanted to win President for a Day herself. Who wouldn’t? All that attention! Even better than pale blue eyes.
She was filled to the brim—to the very top of that tank inside her—with pride. She was such a good person.
Odessa the Selfless.
She arrived at school and filed into the gym along with everyone else.
She took her seat and she listened as Ms. Banville said: “I’m going to read this year’s riddle. Please don’t shout out the answer. Raise your hand and wait to be called on.” Then she leaned in close to the microphone.
Slowly, and with a fair amount of drama, she read from a slip of paper:
You can find me in darkness but never in light.
I am present in daytime but absent at night.
In the deepest of shadows, I hide in plain sight.
What am I?
A few hands shot up and then some came down just as quickly. Odessa leaned back into the bleachers. She didn’t even try to solve the riddle. She didn’t need to.
Ms. Banville called on a fifth grader.
“I
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