On the first day of fifth grade, Mrs. Brightwell drove up to our house at 7:30 sharp. From my bedroom window, I saw Atticus get out of her car and dump his backpack next to our mailbox.
“Mom! They’re here!” I yelled, and kissed M, who was still sleeping on our bed. “I don’t have lunch money!”
I walked into my mom’s bedroom. She was dressed in her robe and putting on makeup.
“Mom! I’m gonna be late,” I said.
“You and me both,” she said, and flung her purse across the bed. “Just get what you need.”
I dug into my mom’s big yellow wallet and came up with a five-dollar bill. “Can I take this?” I held up the bill as if for inspection.
“Sure,” she said. I tucked it in my pocket and turned to leave. “But bring the change.”
“Okay,” I said, and picked up my backpack in the hallway.
“Have a good day,” Mom called out. “And remember you’re going to Mrs. White’s after school.”
“I know,” I yelled back, and slipped out the door.
Atticus was waiting for me at the end of our driveway. He wasn’t alone. Mrs. Brightwell was still there. She had rolled down the window of her car and was looking at Atticus like he was a beloved dog she was leaving at the pound.
“Are you sure I can’t follow you?” she asked as I walked up beside him.
“Mom, you promised,” Atticus said. “We’ll be fine.”
“But—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “School’s just down the street.”
“Could I at least pick you up after school with everyone else?” she asked.
“Mom!” Atticus exclaimed.
“Okay, okay,” she said. “I’ll pick you up here.”
“Mrs. White’s,” I chimed in.
Mrs. Brightwell looked next door. “Mrs. White’s,” she said, exasperated. “What time?”
“About four thirty?” Atticus said, looking at me for confirmation.
I nodded.
Mrs. Brightwell sighed.
Atticus’s mom does not like me. Atticus tells me that’s not true and that his mom likes me fine. Unlike him, I have a little thing called women’s intuition and it tells me that he is dead wrong. If I had a nickel for every time Mrs. Brightwell has rolled her eyes or sighed when Atticus mentioned my name, I’d be a hundredaire by now.
As Mrs. Brightwell drove away, Atticus and I picked up our backpacks and started walking.
I never liked the first day of school but this was definitely the worst First Day ever. Atticus and I would be in separate classes. I was going to be trapped in old Mrs. Jackson’s class with Cruella and her evil stepsisters. And this was the first First Day my dad wasn’t walking me to school.
We didn’t talk as we walked past Mrs. White’s house, where every bird in the neighborhood was gathered at the big bird feeder outside her kitchen window. When I’m doing my homework at her kitchen table after school, she likes to whistle to them while she makes me a snack. Mrs. White loves her birds. M hates them.
“Atticus, I’ve been thinking about something,” I said as we left Mrs. White’s house behind. “I’ve been thinking about where we’re going to go when we grow up and leave this place.”
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“The Galápagos Islands. For starters.”
“Okay,” Atticus said.
“Tell me about the ocean again.”
Atticus knows that talking about the ocean soothes me. It is one of my true-life aims to see it one day. Atticus has seen the ocean many times. His family goes there every summer.
“It’s bigger than you’d think,” he said. “And it’s loud. Like a constant roar. All day and all night. It’s cold, too. Whenever I get in and it’s cold like that, I always think about how cold it must have been.” He shook his head. “You know. On that night.”
“That night” was the night the Titanic sank. Atticus is a freak about the Titanic. He knows everything about it. Everything. If you don’t already know, the Titanic was a ship that was supposed to be unsinkable. On its first voyage, however, it sank in the middle of the ocean, in the middle of the night. It happened over a hundred years ago and lots of people died and Atticus is totally obsessed with it—to the point where I think it might be unhealthy.
I shrugged my shoulders. The ocean the Titanic sank in was not the kind of ocean I was thinking about. “I don’t care what it looks like at night.”
“But you should, Avie. The ocean’s beautiful at night. It goes on forever and ever. To infinity.”
“Infinity,” I said quietly.
We walked for a minute without talking. I was careful not to step on any cracks in the sidewalk. I’d had enough bad luck already.
“Did you talk to your mom about what Elena said?” Atticus asked.
“No,” I answered.
“Why not?”
“You know. Like she needs one more thing to worry about.”
“Yeah,” he said, and kicked a stone across the sidewalk.
Ever since last year, Mom’s been working as a nurse again. She used to be a nurse before I was born but quit working after that so she could take care of me. Now she was back in the ICU at St. Joseph’s. She works long hours and she’s tired a lot.
“But I’ve got a plan,” I said.
“What plan?”
I smiled. “I’m going to cut off Elena’s ponytail and feed it to the tigers.”
He stopped and looked at me. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I said. “We’re going to the zoo this year.”
“That’s months away.”
“So.”
“I’m not in your class, Avie,” Atticus said. “And she is.”
“It’ll be okay,” I lied. “I can take care of myself.”
“Right.”
We started walking again. Atticus knew me. He knew I was the kind of person who really would cut off someone’s ponytail if it came to it. He also knew that his voice was always in the back of my head telling me that cutting off ponytails was a bad idea. Most of the time, the voice of Atticus would win.
Sometimes it would not.
I could see the school up ahead beyond the mailbox at the top of our street. Once a week, I put a letter into that mailbox. Today was one of those days. I pulled an envelope from my backpack and slipped it through the slot.
“I ran into Chloe at the mall last weekend,” I said. “And it went okay.” I neglected to mention the Jell-O incident.
“I’ll be just next door,” he said. “If you need anything.”
I smiled inside.
“I mean it, Avie.”
“I know,” I said.
The crossing guard stopped traffic in front of us. The walk was over. Time to cross the street and start fifth grade.
I turned and saw Mrs. Brightwell parked in the lot next to the Jiffy Freeze, right across the street from school. The Jiffy Freeze has the best double chocolate fudge ice cream cones in town. Our eyes met. I could tell she didn’t think we were going to see her. She was so busted.
I quickly turned away. Atticus didn’t know his mother would spy on him. But I did. He deserved to know.
I looked back toward the Jiffy Freeze. Mrs. Brightwell had disappeared. Her car was still there but she wasn’t. I would bet my bowl of Seashells of the World that she was ducking beneath the dashboard.
Today, I decided to let the voice of Atticus in my head win. I followed him across the street feeling the eyes of Mrs. Brightwell burning a hole in my back every step of the way.
She would owe me for this.
Atticus walked me to my class and wished me luck. I looked inside and saw Elena’s Gang of 3 staring back at me.
* * *
Mrs. Jackson sat us in alphabetical order, so my desk happened to be next to Chloe Martin’s. In the desk behind Chloe was Elena Maxwell and in the desk behind Elena was Sissy Mendez.
Alphabetical order can really stink.
Marcus Johnson sat behind me and, like in second grade, his desk was right beside Elena’s. She looked over at Marcus as if she couldn’t believe this was happening to her again. In response, Marcus puckered his lips and blew her an air-kiss. Elena dramatically threw her hands to her face and groaned.
Mrs. Jackson stood up from behind her desk and wrote her name in big letters on the chalkboard. I thought that was funny. Who in this class didn’t already know that she was Mrs. Jackson?
She started by telling us all the rules of her classroom. Like how we shouldn’t run or chew gum or speak without raising our hands. I stared at the long whisker growing out of her chin. It wiggled with every word she said.
“There is one last rule of this classroom that must be abided by above all others,” Mrs. Jackson continued. As she spoke she wrote this in big letters under her name:
NO BULLIES ALLOWED
She suddenly had my attention.
“There will be no bullying in this class,” she said. “Anyone who exhibits bullying behavior will be sent directly to Mr. Peterson’s office.”
I turned and looked at Elena. She acted like she didn’t see me but I knew she did.
That would be great if Elena was sent to Mr. Peterson’s office. That would really make my Infinity Year.
Mr. Peterson was the kind of principal who told jokes to the students and dressed up on Halloween but if you had to go to his office, it was a different story altogether. Last year, Adam Singleton hocked a loogie onto the chalkboard right in the middle of our math class. It was gross. Ms. Kinney sent him directly to Mr. Peterson’s office. He didn’t come back until after recess and I could tell he had been crying. Ever since, I have wondered what Mr. Peterson did to him. Adam wouldn’t tell.
I figured if Mr. Peterson can make Adam Singleton cry, he might have a chance with Elena.
At that moment, a grand idea sprang forth. I didn’t have to do anything to Elena this year. She would do it to herself. All I had to do was be sure Mrs. Jackson was watching when Elena struck.
I could do that.