Ida B (Katherine Hannigan) by Katherine Hannigan

Author:Katherine Hannigan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Back at school, Ms. Washington was trying to wear me down.

Every day at recess I’d sit on the steps. Every day she’d come sit beside me and say, “Anything you want to talk about, Ida?”

And every day I’d say, “No, ma’am.”

But it got harder and harder to say, “No, ma’am” without looking at her, acting like she was a stranger, like it was really true that I didn’t have anything I wanted to talk about.

When somebody stops to talk every day, and asks you about yourself, and doesn’t say anything to fill your part of the conversation, just lets you choose if you want to fill it yourself, then it’s hard to think that somebody’s your enemy or to keep her so far away from your heart. It’s hard not to trust somebody like that.

And she was wearing me down in ways she probably didn’t even intend to.

Ms. Washington would read to us every day after lunch, and her voice was like ten different musical instruments. She could make her voice go low and deep and strong like a tuba, or hop, hop, hop quick and light like a flute.

When she’d read, her voice wrapped around my head and my heart, and it softened and lightened everything up. It put a pain in my heart that felt good. When she told stories it made me want to tell stories. I wanted to read like her, so I could have that feeling anytime.

Ms. Washington would read good books, too, not silly ones where kids just learned how to behave right. The kids in her books did fun things, brave things, magical things.

She’d walk by my desk and set a book on it. “I thought you might want to read this,” she’d whisper.

And I’d just leave it there, like I wasn’t one bit interested. Then I’d slip it into my backpack at the end of the day. I’d take it out in my room at home with the door locked, and she was right—I did like it. A lot. But I wouldn’t tell her.

I practiced reading out loud like Ms. Washington to Lulu and Rufus, but I did it in my room and quiet so Mama and Daddy didn’t hear me. Rufus closed his eyes and looked so happy and peaceful, like I bet I looked when Ms. Washington was reading. Lulu got bored fast and started scratching at the door to get out, but I didn’t care and I didn’t take it personally.

I just loved making words into stories by the sound of my voice.

“Ms. W.” is what I’d started to call Ms. Washington in my head, but never to her face, after a couple of weeks in that classroom.

On a Wednesday during silent reading time, I peeked over my book to see what she was up to. And there she was, with her chin in her hand, tapping her pencil on her desk, and staring straight back at me. As soon as she saw me looking, she smiled, got up from her chair, and started toward me.

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