Chapter 7

The Bully

At recess, I walked in line with the students to the playground and kept a safe distance from Miss Bear Claws. Standing on the top step, I looked around, hoping to see Mom, but she was nowhere in sight. Some kids ran to the swings, some ran to the basketball court and some jumped rope. I stood there and watched, feeling like a numbskull because I couldn’t remember anyone’s name.

I looked for Johnny. Where was that boy?

“Grace Ann!” I heard my name. I looked up and saw my brother. He was flying low on the sixth swing. I waved at Johnny and was thankful to see someone I knew, thankful he was okay. As much as I couldn’t understand how he could enjoy this school, even more I was glad that one of us was having a good day.

“Come over here and push me,” Johnny called. The wide grin on his face made me smile for the first time all morning. I couldn’t resist his request, so I walked over and pushed his swing.

“Higher,” he called, kicking his feet to help propel the swing.

Johnny looked back at me and said, “You want to swing, Gracie Girl? I’ll push you.”

Sometimes, like once in a blue moon, Johnny wasn’t such a pest. That was one of those blue-moon moments. I didn’t tell him though. He’d never let me hear the last of it.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I answered.

I looked over near the side of the school building and saw Miss Bear Claws standing alone with her back to the playground. I kept watching as she stood there, all by her lonesome. No one walked near her. I sure wasn’t about to.

A few minutes later, a boy rang the bell that signaled recess had ended. Back inside, I noticed a large shelf was home to lots of books, so I wandered over. The Wizard of Oz, Mr. Popper’s Penguins and Little House in the Big Woods were there for the taking. I’d read each of those books and loved them. Then I saw another book, one that I’d heard about and had been itching to wrap my hands around.

Mrs. Martin walked up. “Do you see a book you’d like to read, Grace?”

“This one.” I pointed to The Gremlins. I signed my name on a sheet, wrote the date and the title and took the book to my desk. Mrs. Martin said I could take the book home with me and read it at night. That sounded like a great idea.

“I love that book,” a girl said as she walked up to me. “I’m Janie.”

“Grace Ann,” I said as Mrs. Martin asked all of us to return to our seats.

I placed my new treasure with my arithmetic and spelling books. As students scrambled to their seats, my eyes swept the room. Drawings, some not recognizable, others flaunting talent, decorated the windows. Stories written in pencil on lined paper hung on the walls. I liked the look of the classroom, the way every student’s drawings, stories or best work found a place of honor. I wondered when I would see my work displayed for all to see.

I checked out the students. Eighteen of us claimed desks arranged in four straight rows. Five girls sat in desks in front of the windows. Five boys sat in the second row. My desk was next to last in the third row, made up of five girls. Three boys finished the count in the fourth row.

My tummy grumbled. I wasn’t sure if it was from hunger or a bad case of the jitters. What if this bully behind me won’t leave me alone?

Mrs. Martin interrupted my worrisome question when she asked everyone to line up in one big circle around the walls. “We’re having our weekly spelling bee,” she explained. “If you misspell a word, you will return to your desk and have a seat.”

The first few words were simple. Cart. Porch. Tiger. Mrs. Martin picked up a different spelling book. I could see right off that the words were harder. Picnic. Mixture. Contest.

My turn was next. Museum.

“Museum,” I said as I listened to the way it sounded. “M-U-S-E-U-M.” Whew, I spelled it.

I didn’t realize the bully was standing next to me until she whispered, “Showoff.”

“Correct,” Mrs. Martin announced. “Vickie, spell spoken.”

So that was the bully’s name. Vickie.

“S-P-O-C-K-I-N,” Vickie called out the letters.

“I’m sorry, Vickie,” Mrs. Martin said. “That is incorrect.”

Vickie pulled a pencil out of her pocket and jabbed my arm with the just-sharpened tip as she left for her seat.

I rubbed my pencil-poked arm and took a good look at Vickie before she sat down. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in two pigtails, each one tied off with orange yarn. Miss Bear Claws probably doubled my weight and shot up at least four inches taller.

The next round I got bureau. I spelled it, but the words were getting harder. I was lucky with the last one. I had a bureau in my bedroom at Grandma’s, and she taught me how to spell the word.

With so many kids back in their seats, my turn was coming around faster. “Grace, spell antique,” Mrs. Martin said.

“A-N-T-E-K-E.” I knew as soon as the letters trickled out of my mouth that I had misspelled the word.

“I’m sorry, Grace,” Mrs. Martin announced. “That is incorrect.”

I headed back to my seat. As I turned to sit, Vickie scooted her foot out and tripped me. I landed in my chair with a bounce.

Vickie leaned toward me and whispered, “Showoff.”

I spun around to ask Vickie why she tripped me. Before I could say anything, she flung her arm up, waved it hard enough to flag down a train and yelled out, “Mrs. Martin, I can’t hear the spelling words. Grace keeps bothering me.”

I couldn’t believe that girl. After jabbing, tripping and calling me names, she now had Mrs. Martin believing that I was the troublemaker.

Mrs. Martin said, “Grace, please face the front of the classroom.” I wanted to explain what had really happened, but Mrs. Martin called out, “Turbulence.”

Turbulence wasn’t my word to spell, but it sure fit how I was feeling—agitated.

Vickie whispered in my ear, “Don’t mess with me.”

Vickie’s threat was no problem since messing with her was the last thing I wanted to do. Her bothersome attitude and snarly frown didn’t do much for her looks. Neither did her baggy pants that she had rolled up three or four cuffs. Nor her too-tight, dirty shirt. Or the black, lace-up cloth shoes that topped above her ankles, the kind that Johnny and Daddy wore.

A girl named Maxine won the spelling bee. Mrs. Martin gave her a certificate with a blue star. As soon as Maxine sat down, Mrs. Martin said we were going to work in pairs on our arithmetic lesson. I teamed with a girl named Carolyn.

Carolyn sat with me at my desk. Vickie moved back to work with someone else. As Vickie stood up, she jabbed me again with a pencil. This time, I’d had enough. I raised my hand to tell Mrs. Martin. Vickie saw me and whispered in my ear, “If you tell on me, you’ll be sorry. So will your snotty little brother.”

Mrs. Martin asked, “Grace, did you want something?”

I glanced at Vickie. She snarled her upper lip.

“No, Ma’am,” I answered and lowered my arm.