Wild Cat by Dandi Daley Mackall

Author:Dandi Daley Mackall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUVENILE FICTION / Religious / Christian
ISBN: 9781414332628
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2009-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Fiona Morris stands and waves at me from the front of the room. “There’s a seat up here, Katharine!” she shouts. “Come sit by me.”

I’m surprised she knows my name, even though we had gym together last year. I mostly sat out.

“Katharine!” Ms. Buffenmyer sees me now. “Welcome. Glad you could make it. I mean, it’s good to see you.”

I walk to the front and take a seat next to Fiona. She’s wearing a skirt with a green V-necked top. Her shirt matches her eyes. Her auburn hair flows straight to her shoulders and tucks under perfectly, like those expensive wigs in catalogs. I think she’s lived in Nice only a couple of years, but she was the most popular girl in elementary school last year.

“Thanks, Fiona,” I whisper.

She pats my hand. “I don’t mind,” she whispers. “Really, I don’t.”

I’m not sure why, but having her say she doesn’t mind makes me feel like maybe she does. Then she flashes me a smile, and I know I’m imagining things. I’d still be standing in the aisle if she hadn’t flagged me down.

Cassie’s on the other side of Fiona. I can’t believe how much she’s changed over the summer. She’s streaked her hair, and it looks great. Maybe it’s her low-slung jeans and low-cut top, but she could pass for 18.

“Hey, Cassie,” I whisper. “I love your hair.”

“Thanks. You too.” She smiles, but her gaze is stuck on my wig and stays there a few seconds too long. Makes me wish I’d picked the blonde wig instead.

Alex leans up from the seat behind me. He’s in my youth group at church, when I feel well enough to go. “Hey, Kat. Cool hair. New?”

I whisper back at him, “Kind of. Thanks, Alex.” I could hug the guy for liking my hair. My stomach unclenches. I reach into my book bag for a notebook.

Fiona leans over. “Don’t pay any attention to Alex. Boys can be so rude.”

I ease back into my seat, clutching my notebook like it will keep me from falling off the earth.

“All right,” Ms. Buffenmyer says, “let’s get down to business, people. Now, I’m going to need something in writing from you by the end of the hour. You’ve had a week to think about your social studies project.”

As if she’s just remembered that I haven’t been here all week, our teacher turns to me. “Um, Katharine, we’re doing projects in teams of two. Each team has to come up with a civic service project. Teams set goals together, draw up a plan, and do some kind of service for the community. The whole project will be worth a fourth of your grade.” A shadow passes over her face, and she steps closer to my desk. “Since you’re coming in on this late, maybe you and I can come up with an alternate project, something you can do at home if you want to. A report, maybe?”

I know she’s trying to be helpful, but the last thing I want is special treatment.

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