Setting up our house is a bigger job than we’d figured. We need food, bedding and dishes, all the stuff we left behind when we escaped from Weasel City. Grandma lends us some things, but they don’t have very much themselves.

Everything is rationed now because of the war-meat, coffee, butter, cheese, sugar, all have to be bought only when we absolutely need them. And things are so expensive! A can of peaches, or a pound of hamburger, or a bottle of ketchup are worth more around here than gold. Bean-Trap looks like he might blow up when we go to the store on our first shopping trip.

“It shouldn’t take long to figure out the system,” he mutters as we toss a few things onto the counter. “It’s like a card game-learn the rules, then figure how to work ‘em in your favour.”

“We’re leaving soon,” Grandpa announces. “I got some mining claims and me and the missus will be moving into the skid shack out on the claim. Been finding some nice sapphires. Hardest gem in the world, next to diamonds!”

“Is that why your cat is named Sapphire?” Teddy asks.

“Sure is!” Grandpa says, grinning. “Sapphires will be the next ‘gold mine’ here. The mines in Montana made millionaires of nearly every Joe who showed up with a pick and shovel, late 1800s, early 1900s. Then the markets died. But I know there are sapphires around here too, big blue beauties size of hens’ eggs just lying around, waiting to be gathered. Some big as ten carats.”

“You don’t say.” Bean-Trap rubs his chin. “Sapphires. Lots of mining going on, you say?”

Grandpa’s eyes flicker. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe I’m just jumpin’ the gun. You’ll do all right here, Bean-Trap. Just don’t go jumpin’ my claims, you hear?”

“I’m a business man, not a miner,” he snaps. “Just keeping track of new developments, is all.”

He turns to us. “Well, kids, it looks like this might be our home for a long time yet.”

First day of school! I wake Teddy bright and early, make our breakfasts, pack lunches, and get us washed and dressed in our new clothes.

Bean-Trap doesn’t come with us. “Schools make me nervous,” he says. I don’t know why they should. He only went to one for three years.

As Teddy and I start down the sidewalk, I have to admit that I’m frightened. Kids converge from other streets, talking and yelling as they meet. Everyone knows each other, but nobody knows us.

I take Teddy to the first grade room. His teacher is sorting papers at her desk.

“This is Teddy Braden, er, Benedictson,” I say.

She doesn’t look up. “Where’s his registration form?”

“In the office, I guess.”

“Well, get it then.”

Teddy won’t let go of my hand. He begins to sob. The teacher’s attention has turned back to her papers. We fight our way to the front office through a maze of hallways. Kids run and push, yelling at each other, dropping books; the noise is overwhelming. There is no teacher in sight.

I approach the front desk, where the secretary looks up and smiles as if she remember us. How could she forget Teddy and I, kind of ragged and dirty, walking in with Bean-Trap and Grandpa who acted like they might hold up the place?

“You must be here for your registration papers. Here they are,” she says. “My name is Mrs. Louie, by the way. Now, Loretta, Mr. Phipps has decided to try you in the eighth grade, as you say you completed seventh grade in Alaska.Would you like me to take your little brother to his classroom so you can find yours?”

“Yes, please.”

“NO!” Teddy wails and hangs onto my hand, while his other hand clenches my skirt. I could die of embarrassment. He’s dangling like a spider, and blubbering all over his new shirt. He bunches up my skirt in his hand-my new blue skirt!-and wipes his face on it.

“Teddy!” I yell, and everyone looks.

We finally calm Teddy down by promising that both the secretary and I will walk him to his classroom. The teacher, Miss Whitter, is now all smiles.

“Has he had any schooling to date?” she asks.

“Just home-schooling,” Mrs. Louie replies. “His sister, Loretta here, seems to have covered all the subjects with him.”

“I’m sure.”

Teddy gives me one last terrified look before Mrs. Louie gently removes his left hand from my skirt, I unclench his right hand from mine, and we shove him toward his new teacher. I am no longer responsible for my brother’s education.

“Now, let’s find your classroom, Loretta,” she says. “This is a good school, but it takes a bit of time to fit in. New kids here find it hard at first but you won’t be new for long. There’s always someone coming or going.

She stops in the hallway, which is now quiet as we are late for class. “First were the explorers, fur-traders, prospectors, miners, stockmen and homesteaders. Then people came to work the mines from all over the world: the United States and Britain, the Scandinavian countries, Poland, the Ukraine, Italy, Yugoslavia, Holland, China. You’ll find it quite interesting.”

“So I’m not the only new kid?”

She smiles. “Today you are. Many families have been here for a long time, but there are always new people moving in. A mining area often attracts a transient population.”

I must look worried, because she brushes her hand across my hair and says kindly, “Don’t worry, Loretta. You’re a lovely girl, and smart too, I can tell. You’ll fit in.”

We continue to walk down the hall. Before she opens the door to my new classroom she says quietly, “If you have any trouble, don’t hesitate to call. I’m here to see that you and your brother enjoy Ferguson, and have good experiences at Silver Cup School. Now, go in there and dazzle them!”

She opens the door and the hum of activity stops dead. All eyes turn toward me. The teacher comes to the door.

“I’d like you to meet your new student, Loretta Benedictson,” Mrs. Louie says. “Loretta, this is your teacher, Mr. Majec. Good luck.” She wiggles her fingers in a farewell wave, and she’s gone.