Donutheart by Sue Stauffacher

Author:Sue Stauffacher
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780375849244
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2008-03-11T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Flour Power

I made little progress in my campaign to win Glynnis Powell over the next week. Even though I kept her kerchief, laundered and ironed with spray starch and lavender water, in the top zippered compartment of my backpack, events conspired to keep us apart. Well, that, and acute attacks of shyness that hit just as I was within greeting distance. But I had plenty of time to ponder my mother’s oh-so-wise advice. On the day of Sarah’s exhibition, for example, I found myself sitting alone at the end of my table in the low-traffic area of the cafetorium and, for the one hundredth time that day, thinking about not thinking about Glynnis.

I cast a longing glance in the direction of the cheerleaders’ table. There sat Glynnis, her flour baby on her lap. I wondered what she did with the child during cheerleading practice. If she made sure her team practiced all towers and pyramids on the two-inch foam surface recommended by the ACCCA, there might be a corner left for a baby blanket. The intensity of my stare drew her attention. How could it not? She covered her mouth with her napkin and blushed. I hoped my return blush was as bright as hers.

Sighing, I inserted my sandwich back into its biodegradable cellulose bag. Truly, I felt alone in all the world. Bernie was in Gary, Indiana, inspecting ranches and split-levels, though he was due back this afternoon. Sarah Kervick was doing whatever she did wherever she did it. She would catch up with me following the final bell on the sidewalk outside of school, a trick she often employed when we were supposed to walk home together.

My priority at the moment was to make it through a bathroom episode unscathed.

After packing up my things, I clutched my CD of water sounds to my chest and headed to the exit that led to the boys’ bathroom by the gym.

“Hey, Donut-brain. Where’s your girlfriend?” Marvin Howerton shouted just as I was in sight of safety. Half the cafetorium quieted to hear my response.

And how should I respond to this oh-so-clever permutation of my name? With honesty?

Fair, fresh, and sensibly attired, she sits among us.

No. We all knew who Marvin was referring to. I chose not to escalate tensions by remaining silent. As if he’d conjured her up, Sarah Kervick came bustling toward me as soon as I’d reached the hall. Keds was tucked under her arm like a football.

She grabbed me roughly by the elbow and propelled me to our destination.

The bathroom entrance was blocked by the orange cones that signal CAUTION: WET FLOOR. Sarah ignored them and pushed me through the door; I narrowly missed a concussion-inducing blow from Mr. Herman’s broomstick.

Just as roughly, she pulled me back into the hall and whispered, “He’s not done yet.”

Indeed, Mr. Herman appeared to be in some kind of a trance, his back to us, moving like a cat across the bathroom floor. The broomstick had been unscrewed from the broom

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