Amalee by Dar Williams

Author:Dar Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2004-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

I had to finish the week at school. I would fail if I missed two whole weeks.

If it got really bad, I’d hide backstage and listen to the gym classes killing each other at dodgeball.

I almost left after English. Lenore’s neck brace was attaching her head to her body, or at least that’s how it looked. When she first saw me, she seemed frightened, pointing at me with a trembling finger.

“I’m really sorry, Lenore,” I said.

“My lawyer said you’d say that,” she pouted.

“I brought you some cake and lemonade, with a straw.” I put them on her desk. “Do you need anything? Pen or pencil?”

This is what I knew: Don’t make a bad situation worse. I’d prepared myself in the morning, bringing extra things for Lenore.

“It’ll be hard to eat cake,” said Lenore, obviously wanting some. “Where do you eat your lunch, anyway?”

I hated to lie again, but there was no way she could find out my hiding place, especially now that the secret was out about my dad. “We don’t eat at the same time, remember? A few of the A-team kids eat with the C kids because we’re all in the same music class.”

Lenore watched as if all the words were buzzing out of my mouth. She was clearly confused. “That’s right,” she murmured.

I looked around and saw Ellen and Hally staring at me with disgust. “Don’t talk to me, okay?” said Ellen.

I looked away. Their April Fool’s Day joke was so cruel. But they hadn’t pushed anyone down the stairs.

I just told myself to keep surviving.

I was prepared for the kids, but not for Ms. Severance. She wouldn’t look at me, even when she handed out some photocopies.

I said, “Thank you,” but she said nothing.

I had an unusual thought then. It was a thought that was sticking up for me.

If Ms. Severance read about me in a book, she would have sympathy for me. We’d already read about a person who shot his best friend, and about an evil king, and a woman who locked her child in a closet. After the class was through saying that each of them should die a terrible death, she’d always smile, hold up a finger, and say, “Now, put yourself in this person’s shoes.”

I had used her words with people inside and outside of books. Ellen had dyslexia. She was always embarrassed when the tutor took her out of class. I knew that was part of the reason she’d stolen my books. She liked to watch other people squirm the way she did. When I put myself in her shoes, I wasn’t as angry at her. I felt sorrier for her.

Lenore had started wearing a bra in the fourth grade. I knew she felt like a freak. Her mother always made her wear thin white blouses, too, so everyone could see her bras. Everyone could snap her bra strap and run away. She wasn’t the only one this happened to, but she didn’t seem to notice this. She thought she had to force people to be friends with her.

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