couldn’t see. Inside, she felt as if she had swallowed an ice-cream sundae all at once. “It was here! Now it’s gone!”
“You probably dropped it on your way to school.” Disapproval made Mr. Wilkins’s voice hard. She didn’t care what he thought. Where was her letter? It
had
to be here.
She was sure she had put it in her desk before class. She took it out and put it back every day. She took it home with her every night to work on it over and over. What if Miss Tompkins was right? What if the letter was still in her bedroom?
The sick feeling spread up her throat as girls from across the room finished placing their entries in the box. Mr. Wilkins closed the lid.
“Wait!” Lexie grabbed her pencil. “I remember every word. I’ll write it again.”
Mr. Wilkins glanced at the clock on the back wall. “The contest is over, young lady.” He picked up the box. “Good luck to all of you.” He might as well have said
all the rest of you!
After a nod to Miss Tompkins, he strode to the door.
“But I can write it again. It will just take a minute!” In her mind, Lexie saw Mama on the dock, her brown hair bobbed short and shifting against her cheeks as she turned her head, looking for her daughter.
“Please wait,” she called after Mr. Wilkins. “Please!”
A s Mr. Wilkins carried the box of letters into the hall and closed the door behind him, Lexie lurched to her feet. She clamped one hand over her mouth. “Miss Tompkins, I think I’m going to throw up!” She turned and ran for the door.
Behind her, she heard Miss Tompkins say in a worried voice, “Jack, go after her. If she feels up to walking home, please see that she reaches her grandparents safely.”
Once in the hallway, Lexie gulped for air. Her stomach began to settle. She braced one hand on the wall.
Mr. Wilkins stood in the doorway of the principal’s office at the front of the school. Lexie watched him, sickness forgotten. He still had the box of letters.
Where would he take them? Would he leave them in the office until it was time for the judges to read them? Could she write her letter again and slip it into the box when no one was looking?
Jack came up beside her. “You look like puke.”
Maybe Jack would help her get a new entry into the box. She turned to ask him, but down the hall, Mr. Wilkins called good day to the office staff. She spun around as he walked out the front door, still carrying the box.
“Oh, no!” She ran to the door. When she pushed it open, she saw Mr. Wilkins place the box on the backseat of his Packard, then climb behind the wheel.
She ran down the stairs, but she was far too late. Mr. Wilkins drove away. His automobile backfired. She felt the blast all through her body. Her feet kept running, carrying the rest of her with them. When she reached the gatepost outside her grandparents’ house, she stopped and gasped for breath.
“You want me to get your grandma?” Jack asked, coming up beside her.
“No. Go back to school. I’ll be all right.” She leaned her cheek against the flat top of the gatepost. Jack hesitated, but after a moment, she heard him turn and walk away. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and onto the gatepost.
Much later, she heard the front door. Grandma hurried to her. “Good heavens, child. What has happened to you?”
She felt Grandma’s arm around her, warm and caring, as she led her into the house.
It was a long time before she could tell Grandma about the missing letter. She sat at the kitchen table with a glass of milk Grandma had warmed on the stove. “I don’t care who wins! It doesn’t matter now. And I won’t go to that good-bye party.”
“Of course you will go.” Grandma sat across from her. Her eyes were kind, but her mouth took on the stubborn look Lexie knew all too well. “You are a Lewis, with steel in your spine. You will go to that party, and you will congratulate the girl who wins.”
“I can’t.” But even as she said the words, she felt
“You probably dropped it on your way to school.” Disapproval made Mr. Wilkins’s voice hard. She didn’t care what he thought. Where was her letter? It
had
to be here.
She was sure she had put it in her desk before class. She took it out and put it back every day. She took it home with her every night to work on it over and over. What if Miss Tompkins was right? What if the letter was still in her bedroom?
The sick feeling spread up her throat as girls from across the room finished placing their entries in the box. Mr. Wilkins closed the lid.
“Wait!” Lexie grabbed her pencil. “I remember every word. I’ll write it again.”
Mr. Wilkins glanced at the clock on the back wall. “The contest is over, young lady.” He picked up the box. “Good luck to all of you.” He might as well have said
all the rest of you!
After a nod to Miss Tompkins, he strode to the door.
“But I can write it again. It will just take a minute!” In her mind, Lexie saw Mama on the dock, her brown hair bobbed short and shifting against her cheeks as she turned her head, looking for her daughter.
“Please wait,” she called after Mr. Wilkins. “Please!”
A s Mr. Wilkins carried the box of letters into the hall and closed the door behind him, Lexie lurched to her feet. She clamped one hand over her mouth. “Miss Tompkins, I think I’m going to throw up!” She turned and ran for the door.
Behind her, she heard Miss Tompkins say in a worried voice, “Jack, go after her. If she feels up to walking home, please see that she reaches her grandparents safely.”
Once in the hallway, Lexie gulped for air. Her stomach began to settle. She braced one hand on the wall.
Mr. Wilkins stood in the doorway of the principal’s office at the front of the school. Lexie watched him, sickness forgotten. He still had the box of letters.
Where would he take them? Would he leave them in the office until it was time for the judges to read them? Could she write her letter again and slip it into the box when no one was looking?
Jack came up beside her. “You look like puke.”
Maybe Jack would help her get a new entry into the box. She turned to ask him, but down the hall, Mr. Wilkins called good day to the office staff. She spun around as he walked out the front door, still carrying the box.
“Oh, no!” She ran to the door. When she pushed it open, she saw Mr. Wilkins place the box on the backseat of his Packard, then climb behind the wheel.
She ran down the stairs, but she was far too late. Mr. Wilkins drove away. His automobile backfired. She felt the blast all through her body. Her feet kept running, carrying the rest of her with them. When she reached the gatepost outside her grandparents’ house, she stopped and gasped for breath.
“You want me to get your grandma?” Jack asked, coming up beside her.
“No. Go back to school. I’ll be all right.” She leaned her cheek against the flat top of the gatepost. Jack hesitated, but after a moment, she heard him turn and walk away. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and onto the gatepost.
Much later, she heard the front door. Grandma hurried to her. “Good heavens, child. What has happened to you?”
She felt Grandma’s arm around her, warm and caring, as she led her into the house.
It was a long time before she could tell Grandma about the missing letter. She sat at the kitchen table with a glass of milk Grandma had warmed on the stove. “I don’t care who wins! It doesn’t matter now. And I won’t go to that good-bye party.”
“Of course you will go.” Grandma sat across from her. Her eyes were kind, but her mouth took on the stubborn look Lexie knew all too well. “You are a Lewis, with steel in your spine. You will go to that party, and you will congratulate the girl who wins.”
“I can’t.” But even as she said the words, she felt
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