Tomato Girl by Jayne Pupek

needing repair in poor houses.
    The backs of my legs hurt. My saddle shoes were tight and making my feet sweat.
    Fireflies began their nightly dance in the darkening sky. To keep my mind off troubles, I counted green blinks as I walked to Granby Elementary.
    I didn’t expect to find anyone at the school, but when I stepped around the corner to see if the back doors were unlocked, I noticed two women on the playground. It was Miss Franklin and Miss Wilder. I never guessed they came to the school after hours. Miss Franklin pushed Miss Wilder on the swing, and they both laughed like girls.
    Miss Wilder spotted me before I could back away. She threw up her hand and waved. “Ellie!”
    I waved, then turned to leave.
    â€œWait,” Miss Wilder called.
    This time my legs were too tired to run. The backs of my knees ached. The soles of my feet burned and felt sore. My shoes probably had rubbed blisters.
    â€œHi Ellie, how are you?” Miss Wilder knelt beside me. She wore blue jeans and a yellow tee shirt. I was so used to seeing her in dresses, I couldn’t help but stare.
    â€œI’m fine.”
    â€œAre you here with your parents?”
    â€œNo, by myself. I don’t live too far. Grace Street.” A mosquito bit my forearm and I slapped it, smearing a drop of blood on my skin.
    Miss Wilder pulled a tissue from her pocket, dampened it withher tongue and wiped the blood from my arm. I was grateful Mary Roberts wasn’t here to see that. She’d be sure to say that lesbian spit rubbed on your arm would only lead a girl to trouble. But I didn’t care. I was already in too much trouble to worry about spit.
    â€œWell, it’s nearly dark, Ellie. That’s a long way for a little girl to walk alone at night. Can I come with you?”
    â€œNo, I can make my way back.” I couldn’t let Miss Wilder walk me home and run into Daddy or Tess.
    â€œDoes your mother know you’re here?”
    â€œMama fell and is in the hospital. That’s why I missed school yesterday. I was in a hurry to get to Daddy’s store, and didn’t stay home and get her onion, and she slipped. She’s supposed to have a baby, but now the baby might die.” I hadn’t meant to say so much, but the words came anyway. I didn’t want to cry in front of my teacher, but I couldn’t stop the tears.
    Miss Wilder wrapped her arms around me. She patted my back the way a mother burps her baby. Her hand felt warm and solid.
    Miss Franklin walked over, too. “Is there anything I can do?”
    â€œEllie’s having a hard day,” Miss Wilder said. “Ellie, honey, Miss Franklin and I live near here, too. Just two blocks away. Why don’t you come home with us now and we’ll figure things out?”
    I nodded and let Miss Wilder keep her arm around my shoulder. It felt good to have someone’s hand steady me. As we walked back to their house, Miss Franklin followed close behind. She whistled a tune I liked but didn’t recognize.
    A vase of pink carnations decorated the kitchen table. By the window, a lime green parrot perched in a wrought iron cage. “Hello, Belle,” the parrot screeched and turned its head to one side to look at me.
    â€œWe bought Belle when we went on a trip to South America two summers ago,” Miss Wilder said.
    At school, Miss Wilder kept clay pots and brightly coloredbaskets on her desk, some filled with paper clips or apples. She reminded me of Mama, the way they both loved unusual things and were not afraid to be different, but Miss Wilder didn’t suffer the moods Mama did. She might scold Belle for being noisy, but she wouldn’t tape the bird’s beak shut to quiet her.
    â€œDoes she know many words?” I tried to think of something to say to be a good guest. Seeing Belle reminded me that my little green chick was on his own unless Daddy or Tess remembered to feed him. I should not have left Jellybean. No