school board.
Mr. Wilkins was tall and wore a dress suit as crisp as their principal’s. He looked over the class, not taking any special notice of Louise. Louise didn’t try to draw his attention. She sat model-student straight, with her hands on her desk and her expression serious. Maybe life wasn’t as easy for her as Lexie had thought from looking at her expensive clothes and beauty shop haircuts.
“I understand the boys were not interested in this project.” Mr. Wilkins swept a severe glance over the boys. Even Ollie showed good sense for once and remained silent. “Therefore, it gives me pleasure to announce a prize the school board will award to the girl who has written the best letter.” Mr. Wilkins sounded as serious as Louise looked. Lexie could scarcely draw a breath. Were the rumors true? Would the winner go to San Francisco?
“You have all contributed your efforts and your pennies to purchase and clothe this doll.” He placed one hand on Emily Grace’s head. “You know this doll will join thousands of others on a journey to the country of Japan. Many are already aboard trains traveling across America toward the port of San Francisco. Who can tell me why?”
He pointed to a girl in the first row. She answered promptly. “They’re for children who live in all parts of Japan.”
“Yes.” He motioned to Alma. “But why are we sending dolls to those children? Can you tell us?”
“For peace,” Alma said. “We hope the dolls will carry our message of friendship.”
Lexie knew all that. Everyone did. They had talked about it for weeks and weeks. Why didn’t Mr. Wilkins get to the contest and the mystery prize?
“Dolls from our neighbors will join this doll of yours here in Portland,” Mr. Wilkins said. “A small celebration will be held on the dock beside the Willamette River. We will all wish them a safe journey to San Francisco. With dolls from all over America, they will board a ship and travel across the Pacific Ocean to Japan.”
Lexie shifted in her seat. Others were becoming restless, too. Miss Tompkins’s expression warned them to be patient.
Mr. Wilkins placed his box on the teacher’s desk. “We are planning a farewell ceremony near the wharf here. No doubt it will pale before the grand celebration to be held in San Francisco.”
He looked around the room again. “
If only I could be there.
Isn’t that what each of you is thinking?” A faint smile made his thin mustache rise. “But perhaps you have heard an exciting rumor. I am pleased to confirm that rumor. One of you
will
take part in the dolls’ farewell from that California city.”
Mr. Wilkins went on to say that the winner would be named during the send-off party for the dolls planned for the Portland wharf in January. Lexie’s heart pounded so hard she could hear it. Jack could probably hear it from his desk across the aisle.
The girls who had written letters were called to the front of the room, one row at a time, to put their entries into Mr. Wilkins’s box.
Lexie’s turn was coming up. She reached into her desk for her letter, then frowned. Where was the sheet of paper that should have been on top of her books? She slid her hand over, then under the books. Nothing.
She slipped from her desk and knelt on the floor to peer into the opening. Books. Her pencil. An eraser.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked in a whisper.
“My letter. It’s not here.”
“Look again.”
She yanked the books onto the seat.
“Electra,” Miss Tompkins warned, “bring your letter to Mr. Wilkins or sit down.”
“I can’t find my letter! It isn’t here!”
Lexie opened one book after another, shaking them. Nothing fell out. “It’s gone! My letter! It’s gone!”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Miss Tompkins said, sounding as if she really was sorry. “You may have forgotten to bring it with you this morning.”
“No!” Lexie felt inside the desk as if her fingers could find the paper her eyes
Mr. Wilkins was tall and wore a dress suit as crisp as their principal’s. He looked over the class, not taking any special notice of Louise. Louise didn’t try to draw his attention. She sat model-student straight, with her hands on her desk and her expression serious. Maybe life wasn’t as easy for her as Lexie had thought from looking at her expensive clothes and beauty shop haircuts.
“I understand the boys were not interested in this project.” Mr. Wilkins swept a severe glance over the boys. Even Ollie showed good sense for once and remained silent. “Therefore, it gives me pleasure to announce a prize the school board will award to the girl who has written the best letter.” Mr. Wilkins sounded as serious as Louise looked. Lexie could scarcely draw a breath. Were the rumors true? Would the winner go to San Francisco?
“You have all contributed your efforts and your pennies to purchase and clothe this doll.” He placed one hand on Emily Grace’s head. “You know this doll will join thousands of others on a journey to the country of Japan. Many are already aboard trains traveling across America toward the port of San Francisco. Who can tell me why?”
He pointed to a girl in the first row. She answered promptly. “They’re for children who live in all parts of Japan.”
“Yes.” He motioned to Alma. “But why are we sending dolls to those children? Can you tell us?”
“For peace,” Alma said. “We hope the dolls will carry our message of friendship.”
Lexie knew all that. Everyone did. They had talked about it for weeks and weeks. Why didn’t Mr. Wilkins get to the contest and the mystery prize?
“Dolls from our neighbors will join this doll of yours here in Portland,” Mr. Wilkins said. “A small celebration will be held on the dock beside the Willamette River. We will all wish them a safe journey to San Francisco. With dolls from all over America, they will board a ship and travel across the Pacific Ocean to Japan.”
Lexie shifted in her seat. Others were becoming restless, too. Miss Tompkins’s expression warned them to be patient.
Mr. Wilkins placed his box on the teacher’s desk. “We are planning a farewell ceremony near the wharf here. No doubt it will pale before the grand celebration to be held in San Francisco.”
He looked around the room again. “
If only I could be there.
Isn’t that what each of you is thinking?” A faint smile made his thin mustache rise. “But perhaps you have heard an exciting rumor. I am pleased to confirm that rumor. One of you
will
take part in the dolls’ farewell from that California city.”
Mr. Wilkins went on to say that the winner would be named during the send-off party for the dolls planned for the Portland wharf in January. Lexie’s heart pounded so hard she could hear it. Jack could probably hear it from his desk across the aisle.
The girls who had written letters were called to the front of the room, one row at a time, to put their entries into Mr. Wilkins’s box.
Lexie’s turn was coming up. She reached into her desk for her letter, then frowned. Where was the sheet of paper that should have been on top of her books? She slid her hand over, then under the books. Nothing.
She slipped from her desk and knelt on the floor to peer into the opening. Books. Her pencil. An eraser.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked in a whisper.
“My letter. It’s not here.”
“Look again.”
She yanked the books onto the seat.
“Electra,” Miss Tompkins warned, “bring your letter to Mr. Wilkins or sit down.”
“I can’t find my letter! It isn’t here!”
Lexie opened one book after another, shaking them. Nothing fell out. “It’s gone! My letter! It’s gone!”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Miss Tompkins said, sounding as if she really was sorry. “You may have forgotten to bring it with you this morning.”
“No!” Lexie felt inside the desk as if her fingers could find the paper her eyes
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