Rosemary was going to grab me and throw me to the ground or try to punch me in the nose.
But instead, to my incredible relief, the warning bell went off. Morning recess was over. It was time to get into our lines and go inside to class.
The only problem was, Rosemary didn’t move.
So neither did I. We both just stood there, staring at each other. I wanted to look away—I wanted to run away. But I was afraid if I did, Rosemary might come after me and hit me, and I wouldn’t see her fist coming.
“It’s time to go back to class,” Erica said, her voice sounding a little high-pitched and wobbly. “You guys? We have to go now.”
“Fine,” Rosemary said, still staring at me. “But this isn’t over.”
“Fine,” I said, staring right back at her.
“Fine,” Rosemary said. Then she let out a laugh and tossed her long, bushy hair, and said, “Scaredy-cat.”
And then she turned around and ran as hard as she could for the line. And I stood there watching her go, feeling like Jell-O—like I had no bones at all in my body, just blood and skin and maybe a little muscle, but not any that could actually support my body. Erica put her arm around my shoulders and whispered, “It’s okay. We wouldn’t have let her hurt you.”
And Caroline and Sophie said the same thing and patted me on the arms, and I totally believed them.
Except that, really, what could they have done to stop her?
It was a big relief when lunchtime rolled around that day. I couldn’t wait to get home and have some microwaved hot dogs or some French bread pizza. Since Grandma was visiting, I thought maybe Mom might step it up and maybe even whip up some Hot Pockets. I really wasn’t prepared for the scene that greeted us when Kevin and I stepped through the mudroom door, a few minutes behind Mark,who as usual had hitched a ride home on the back of one of the neighborhood boys’ dirt bikes.
And that was Mom standing in the kitchen next to a brand-new stove, which some men from Home Depot were holding on a dolly, while Grandma stood nearby, looking like she was pretty angry. But not as angry as Mom, maybe.
“No, Ruth,” Mom was saying. Well, she wasn’t really saying it, exactly. She was sort of shouting it. “No, I guess you’re right. I guess I don’t appreciate the gesture. I already have a stove.”
“Clearly,” Grandma said, almost shouting, too, “you do not. That is why my grandchildren have been eating microwaved meals for the past few weeks. That’s why I simply went to the store this morning and bought this perfectly nice stove and had it delivered without any problem, as you can see—”
“As we explained to you last night,” Mom yelled, “the stove we ordered from the same store you went to is on back order. It’s arriving at the end of the month. We already have a stove, Ruth. It’s just not here.”
“But what’s wrong with this one?” Grandma wanted to know, pointing at the stove the men were holding on the dolly. “It’s here. It’s ready to be installed. The children can have grilled cheese for their lunch.”
Mark, Kevin, and I exchanged glances. It had been a long time since we’d had grilled cheese. I personally love grilled cheese.
But even from where I was standing, I could see there was a lot wrong with the stove Grandma had picked out. It looked kind of modern and shiny, and even in the short time I had lived in our new house, I knew that wasn’t the style Mom and Dad were going for. They wanted the things inside of it to match the old-fashionedness of the house. Shiny and modern didn’t go with the rest of the kitchen, which was snug and comfy.
“It’s just not the stove we ordered,” Mom said, proving I was right. “And that we already paid for.”
“I’m sure you can get your money back,” Grandma said, glancing at the men who were holding up the stove. They looked like they were getting kind of tired of holding the stove. I’m sure it was heavy. “Can’t she?”
“I
But instead, to my incredible relief, the warning bell went off. Morning recess was over. It was time to get into our lines and go inside to class.
The only problem was, Rosemary didn’t move.
So neither did I. We both just stood there, staring at each other. I wanted to look away—I wanted to run away. But I was afraid if I did, Rosemary might come after me and hit me, and I wouldn’t see her fist coming.
“It’s time to go back to class,” Erica said, her voice sounding a little high-pitched and wobbly. “You guys? We have to go now.”
“Fine,” Rosemary said, still staring at me. “But this isn’t over.”
“Fine,” I said, staring right back at her.
“Fine,” Rosemary said. Then she let out a laugh and tossed her long, bushy hair, and said, “Scaredy-cat.”
And then she turned around and ran as hard as she could for the line. And I stood there watching her go, feeling like Jell-O—like I had no bones at all in my body, just blood and skin and maybe a little muscle, but not any that could actually support my body. Erica put her arm around my shoulders and whispered, “It’s okay. We wouldn’t have let her hurt you.”
And Caroline and Sophie said the same thing and patted me on the arms, and I totally believed them.
Except that, really, what could they have done to stop her?
It was a big relief when lunchtime rolled around that day. I couldn’t wait to get home and have some microwaved hot dogs or some French bread pizza. Since Grandma was visiting, I thought maybe Mom might step it up and maybe even whip up some Hot Pockets. I really wasn’t prepared for the scene that greeted us when Kevin and I stepped through the mudroom door, a few minutes behind Mark,who as usual had hitched a ride home on the back of one of the neighborhood boys’ dirt bikes.
And that was Mom standing in the kitchen next to a brand-new stove, which some men from Home Depot were holding on a dolly, while Grandma stood nearby, looking like she was pretty angry. But not as angry as Mom, maybe.
“No, Ruth,” Mom was saying. Well, she wasn’t really saying it, exactly. She was sort of shouting it. “No, I guess you’re right. I guess I don’t appreciate the gesture. I already have a stove.”
“Clearly,” Grandma said, almost shouting, too, “you do not. That is why my grandchildren have been eating microwaved meals for the past few weeks. That’s why I simply went to the store this morning and bought this perfectly nice stove and had it delivered without any problem, as you can see—”
“As we explained to you last night,” Mom yelled, “the stove we ordered from the same store you went to is on back order. It’s arriving at the end of the month. We already have a stove, Ruth. It’s just not here.”
“But what’s wrong with this one?” Grandma wanted to know, pointing at the stove the men were holding on the dolly. “It’s here. It’s ready to be installed. The children can have grilled cheese for their lunch.”
Mark, Kevin, and I exchanged glances. It had been a long time since we’d had grilled cheese. I personally love grilled cheese.
But even from where I was standing, I could see there was a lot wrong with the stove Grandma had picked out. It looked kind of modern and shiny, and even in the short time I had lived in our new house, I knew that wasn’t the style Mom and Dad were going for. They wanted the things inside of it to match the old-fashionedness of the house. Shiny and modern didn’t go with the rest of the kitchen, which was snug and comfy.
“It’s just not the stove we ordered,” Mom said, proving I was right. “And that we already paid for.”
“I’m sure you can get your money back,” Grandma said, glancing at the men who were holding up the stove. They looked like they were getting kind of tired of holding the stove. I’m sure it was heavy. “Can’t she?”
“I
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