The Snow by Caroline B. Cooney

Author:Caroline B. Cooney
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781453264249
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2012-07-13T03:01:00+00:00

Chapter 14

IN ENGLISH, AN AMAZING thing happened. Mrs. Shevvington picked on Gretchen. This had never happened before.

The essay was to be about the most precious possession in your household — perhaps a baby photograph or an old dish of a grandmother’s, a cherished wedding present. Mrs. Shevvington had Gretchen read aloud.

“The most precious thing in my house,” read Gretchen proudly, “is my private telephone line.” She knew she was the only person in the seventh grade with her own phone book listing. “I have three different phones I can plug into the jack. My favorite is an Elvis phone. It — ”

“I beg your pardon,” said Mrs. Shevvington, sparse eyebrows raised contemptuously. “Are you saying that the sound of your own voice is your most precious possession?”

The class laughed at Gretchen. She was not used to it. She stumbled. “No — I — um — it’s the phone I like.”

“Oh. I see,” said Mrs. Shevvington in that cruel, silken voice. “So that all your admirers can reach you?”

Gretchen turned beet red. She looked ill.

“Nobody else listed herself as the most precious object,” said Mrs. Shevvington. “I’m fascinated, Gretchen. I don’t know which is more interesting. That you consider yourself an object, or that you consider the sound of your voice so magnificent.”

Gretchen’s essay pages shivered in the air. The meaner boys — the boys Gretchen herself had trained to do this — began flapping their arms to match her shaking hand.

“Try to be less self-centered, Gretchen,” said Mrs. Shevvington. Mrs. Shevvington sat calmly, her thick body like a piece of the desk, her oatmeal face solid. “Think of another subject.”

The mean people leaned back and smirked. Gretchen was as exposed as if she had been stripped of clothing.

“Well?” said Mrs. Shevvington.

Gretchen was now white as kindergarten paste.

“I can’t think of anything,” mumbled Gretchen. “My head is empty.”

Empty, thought Christina. Mrs. Shevvington had emptied her. Just for today, of course. Nothing permanent, like Val.

A minute passed. The big old school clock made a slight tick as the minute hand twitched and moved on. Gretchen stood hot and stupid in front of the class. Even Vicki did nothing. Gretchen had not a friend in the world.

Christina knew how that felt. “If I had an Elvis phone,” said Christina, “I would list it first, too, Mrs. Shevvington. I don’t think it’s fair of you to decide what is important to other people.”

She had truly caught Mrs. Shevvington by surprise. “I do not think I was addressing you, Christina Romney,” said Mrs. Shevvington.

“No, I don’t think you were either, Mrs. Shevvington. But I would like to hear about the other two telephones. Could you read the rest of your essay, please, Gretchen?”

Gretchen looked at Christina suspiciously to see if it was a trap.

The clock clicked again, with a little quiver of the long black hand.

The passing bell rang. But neither Gretch nor anybody else fled. It was Mrs. Shevvington’s class. The hallways filled with shouting and noise.

Mrs. Shevvington said at last, “Class dismissed.”

I had the last word, thought Christina, her grin of delight tucked safely inside her face.

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