worrying.
“Don’t call him Papa,” said Sal. “He’s not your papa. You should call him Cliff.”
Ned paid no attention to Sal.
Ned always called Billy’s father Papa. Billy thought this was funny, but it bothered Sal. Ned called his own father Dad; everyone Billy knew called their own fathers Dad. When he was little, Ned had thought that Papa was a name like Billy or Cliff or Sal. Now he knew better, but it was a habit hard to break and a joke everyone but Sal enjoyed. Lately Billy had considered calling Papa “Dad” in public. He wondered if the word Papa sounded babyish. It was one thing for Ned to use it for fun, but another thing for Billy to use it for real.
“I can’t believe you two are second graders,” said Amy.
“I can’t believe you’re walking us to school,” said Ned.
“Just today,” said Amy. “Give your poor mother a little joy.”
“And we’ll stay a safe distance behind you,” said Papa. “We won’t embarrass you.”
It was only five short blocks to school. Billy and Ned walked as fast as they could, to get away from their parents. Walking fast made something click inside Billy. He felt as if he had a motor embedded in his chest, independent of his control. The motor was revving up. “Let’s run,” he said.
After several long strides, Billy heard the joyful, rowdy sounds of his schoolmates, and was drawn to them as if he were being pulled by a strong invisible force. When they reached the edge of the playground, Billy turned around. Papa, Sal, and Amy were more than a block away. He and Ned waved good-bye and then plunged into a noisy group of kids charging around the playground like a pack of dogs.
The bell rang much too soon for Billy. Everyone lined up along the fence by grade. Mr. Tuttle, the principal, kept saying, “Welcome back!” with a megaphone. Billy and Ned pretended they held megaphones and yelled, “Welcome back to you!”
And then, at Mr. Tuttle’s command, Billy’s line moved. Caught up in the motion, he was pushed and pulled until he found himself funneled into the old brick building and entering Room 2.
3
Ms. Silver had chopsticks in her hair. That was the first thing Billy noticed about her. Her wavy blond hair was coiled into a bun and held in place with two shiny red chopsticks. Billy’s parents liked to eat with chopsticks sometimes, but he had never seen chopsticks on someone’s head before.
Without thinking, Billy whispered, “Chop, chop” as he filed past her. Ms. Silver just smiled at him, but then, she seemed to be smiling at everyone, even Ned who asked, “How many days of school until summer vacation?”
There were six tables with four chairs each arranged around the room. “Look for the place with your name,” said Ms. Silver. “When you find your place, you may sit down.”
“Here’s my seat,” said Ned. He pulled out his chair and plopped onto it. Then he patted the tabletop next to him. “Sit here,” he told Billy.
It made sense that he would be next to Ned. After all, they were neighbors and best friends. Maybe Ms. Silver knew that they were friends. Billy sat down without looking at the name tag at his place.
Billy felt breath on the top of his head. He turned around. Standing too close was a girl he didn’t recognize. Her eyes were narrowed to slits, her arms were crossed, and her fingers were drumming on her elbows at a rapid-fire pace.
“Excuse me,” she said. “You’re sitting at my place.” She paused. “Unless your name is Emma Sparks, too. Then we have a problem.”
The girl stepped aside to let Billy get up. “If your name is Billy Miller, you sit there,” she said, pointing. “If your name is Grace Cotter, you sit there.” She pointed again. “He must be Ned Henderson,” she continued, nodding. And then she pointed once more, this time at Billy. “I have a feeling you’re Billy Miller.”
Everything about the girl made it seem to Billy that she should be, at least, a third grader. She
“Don’t call him Papa,” said Sal. “He’s not your papa. You should call him Cliff.”
Ned paid no attention to Sal.
Ned always called Billy’s father Papa. Billy thought this was funny, but it bothered Sal. Ned called his own father Dad; everyone Billy knew called their own fathers Dad. When he was little, Ned had thought that Papa was a name like Billy or Cliff or Sal. Now he knew better, but it was a habit hard to break and a joke everyone but Sal enjoyed. Lately Billy had considered calling Papa “Dad” in public. He wondered if the word Papa sounded babyish. It was one thing for Ned to use it for fun, but another thing for Billy to use it for real.
“I can’t believe you two are second graders,” said Amy.
“I can’t believe you’re walking us to school,” said Ned.
“Just today,” said Amy. “Give your poor mother a little joy.”
“And we’ll stay a safe distance behind you,” said Papa. “We won’t embarrass you.”
It was only five short blocks to school. Billy and Ned walked as fast as they could, to get away from their parents. Walking fast made something click inside Billy. He felt as if he had a motor embedded in his chest, independent of his control. The motor was revving up. “Let’s run,” he said.
After several long strides, Billy heard the joyful, rowdy sounds of his schoolmates, and was drawn to them as if he were being pulled by a strong invisible force. When they reached the edge of the playground, Billy turned around. Papa, Sal, and Amy were more than a block away. He and Ned waved good-bye and then plunged into a noisy group of kids charging around the playground like a pack of dogs.
The bell rang much too soon for Billy. Everyone lined up along the fence by grade. Mr. Tuttle, the principal, kept saying, “Welcome back!” with a megaphone. Billy and Ned pretended they held megaphones and yelled, “Welcome back to you!”
And then, at Mr. Tuttle’s command, Billy’s line moved. Caught up in the motion, he was pushed and pulled until he found himself funneled into the old brick building and entering Room 2.
3
Ms. Silver had chopsticks in her hair. That was the first thing Billy noticed about her. Her wavy blond hair was coiled into a bun and held in place with two shiny red chopsticks. Billy’s parents liked to eat with chopsticks sometimes, but he had never seen chopsticks on someone’s head before.
Without thinking, Billy whispered, “Chop, chop” as he filed past her. Ms. Silver just smiled at him, but then, she seemed to be smiling at everyone, even Ned who asked, “How many days of school until summer vacation?”
There were six tables with four chairs each arranged around the room. “Look for the place with your name,” said Ms. Silver. “When you find your place, you may sit down.”
“Here’s my seat,” said Ned. He pulled out his chair and plopped onto it. Then he patted the tabletop next to him. “Sit here,” he told Billy.
It made sense that he would be next to Ned. After all, they were neighbors and best friends. Maybe Ms. Silver knew that they were friends. Billy sat down without looking at the name tag at his place.
Billy felt breath on the top of his head. He turned around. Standing too close was a girl he didn’t recognize. Her eyes were narrowed to slits, her arms were crossed, and her fingers were drumming on her elbows at a rapid-fire pace.
“Excuse me,” she said. “You’re sitting at my place.” She paused. “Unless your name is Emma Sparks, too. Then we have a problem.”
The girl stepped aside to let Billy get up. “If your name is Billy Miller, you sit there,” she said, pointing. “If your name is Grace Cotter, you sit there.” She pointed again. “He must be Ned Henderson,” she continued, nodding. And then she pointed once more, this time at Billy. “I have a feeling you’re Billy Miller.”
Everything about the girl made it seem to Billy that she should be, at least, a third grader. She
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