Chapter 3:

The Perfect Friend

When I got home from school, I went straight to my room, threw my book bag on the floor, and flopped onto the bed. What a day.

Ms. Rodríguez had somehow managed to be even worse than I expected. Her room was arranged with the desks in rows and columns so that everyone sat by themselves, in alphabetical order. When she talked, she barked out commands. Most of the time when she asked a question everyone was too afraid to raise their hands, so she called on people at random, which is how I found myself messing things up with her almost instantly.

“And what do we know about multiplying numbers by zero?” she asked the class during the math period, tapping a yardstick impatiently against the ledge of the chalkboard. “Anyone? Anyone?” I scribbled in my notebook, hoping that maybe if I didn’t look at her I would turn invisible. Except there was nothing to take notes on at that moment, so I was drawing the same tiny circles and lines over and over. No one else volunteered an answer, either. Ms. Rodríguez picked up her clipboard and looked at the attendance sheet. “Let’s hear an answer from . . .” She ran her fingertip down the line. “Patricia?” I gulped and looked up. Everyone looked around the room. Most people looked at me, knowing that Patricia is my real first name. I was named after my grandma as a sign of respect, but I’ve always gone by my middle name, Maya. A couple of the new kids and kids I didn’t know that well turned their heads back and forth, confused, wondering who “Patricia” was.

I didn’t know what to do. Usually, this was the point where I would nicely correct someone about my name. My mom and dad had taught me a certain polite way to do it. “Actually,” I would say, “I prefer to go by my middle name, Maya.” And then I would answer the question. The prefer part made it sound very grown-up and responsible and polite even though I was correcting someone.

But in that moment, Ms. Rodríguez was staring at me with this scowl on her face, and I don’t know why, but I completely froze. “Patricia?” she repeated. “Aren’t you Patricia?”

“Um . . . I . . .” Before I could put a sentence together, Zoe Winters spoke up, loudly. Even though no one was even talking to her. “Yes, Ms. Rodríguez,” she said in her most overly dramatic voice. “That’s Patricia Robinson.” I shot her a look. Like, Thanks, I think I remember my own name. Except, in that moment, I guess I didn’t.

“Okay, Ms. Patricia Robinson,” said Ms. Rodríguez. “Let’s hear it. What happens when you multiply numbers by zero?”

Everyone was looking at me, and I didn’t like it. I wished a huge snow cloud could appear out of nowhere and drop an instant blizzard on our heads so that everyone would freeze and be covered with snow. Or maybe an alien spaceship could land on the playground, so everyone would run to the window to see it and forget about me altogether. Anything to get me out of this situation. But no magical blizzard or alien invasion appeared, and I felt my cheeks getting hot as everyone waited for me to respond. I could sense that my classmates were grateful—as long as Ms. Rodríguez was focused on me, they were spared. Finally, I managed to say a few words, quietly.

“When you multiply—” My voice squeaked like an old rusty bicycle. I cleared my throat and tried again. “When you multiply a number by one—I mean zero—it equals zero. Zero times anything is always zero.”

“Zero, zero, zero,” Zoe repeated in a whisper behind me. No one else seemed to hear her. I couldn’t tell if she was making fun of me or not, but somehow it made me feel even worse.

“That’s right,” said Ms. Rodríguez. “Thank you, Patricia.” I winced. Here it was, another chance to make things right. If I could speak up . . . For a second I felt time slowing down. Has that ever happened to you? I’ve felt that way before, when I’m embarrassed or when things feel out of control. A voice in my head was yelling at me. Speak up! This is your chance! Now! Go, go, go!

But all I did was nod. I didn’t say a word. And then, time was moving at a regular speed again, and Ms. Rodríguez moved on to something else. I nervously tapped my pencil against the side of my desk, feeling terrible. After a few minutes, I tapped it so hard that I dropped it, and it rolled behind me and toward Zoe’s desk. She picked it up and handed it back to me. Just before I took it, she smirked. “Here you go, Patricia,” she said, showing a toothy great white shark smile.

I tried to remember Jada’s words. Ignore them. I took it. “Thanks.”

I couldn’t wait until recess, when I would have a chance to talk it over with my friends. Even though I had said the right answer to the math question, I felt so small in the moment, and embarrassed. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I felt sick to my stomach. And I felt ashamed that I had failed to correct Ms. Rodríguez about my name. Your name is sacred, my grandma always told me. It belongs to you. You have to protect it. I wanted to see a familiar face, someone to remind me that I was still Maya and to make me laugh or distract me.

So I was disappointed when I got to the playground and saw that Jada and MJ weren’t there. Their whole class was still inside. As my classmates ran to the swings and formed circles, laughing and talking, I found Principal Merriweather, who was monitoring the playground. “Excuse me,” I asked, “do you know where Ms. Montgomery’s class is?” Principal Merriweather looked down at me. She was a tall, thin woman with gentle eyes. She had been born in Mississippi, which came through in her soft southern accent. “Hello, Maya,” she said. “How are you? How is your first day going?”

“It’s okay,” I lied. “But do you know where—”

“Aha,” she interrupted me, and I saw a moment of understanding in her face. “You are looking for Ms. Montgomery’s class. Because you want to see MJ and Jada, don’t you?”

Could she read my thoughts? I nodded at her, feeling confused. “Well,” she continued, “I’m afraid they’re not here, honey. They have the second recess break, at eleven o’clock.”

“A different recess?!” My mouth fell open. Eleven o’clock? You’ve got to be kidding me. Not only was I not going to see MJ and Jada right now, I wasn’t going to have recess with them ever. Ever. For the whole year. As Principal Merriweather gazed at me calmly, I looked desperately over the playground. Who was I going to talk to? Who would play with me? Listen to my bad jokes? Make me feel better about having the meanest teacher in the whole world? My face started feeling hot again, and my eyes stung. I swallowed. No way was I going to cry. Not on the first day of school. Not in front of the principal. Not a chance. Not—

“Oh, my dear.” Principal Merriweather reached out and put an arm around me as tears fell down my face. “I know it’s hard to have new routines,” she said. “And to meet new people. I understand you wanted to be in a class with your friends. But it’s going to be okay.” I pulled away from her, wiping my face on my sleeve. I understood what she was saying, but I could barely hear her. I was so mortified at having cried on the playground. In fifth grade! Who does that? My eyes darted over to the swings. I hoped no one had seen me. I took a step back from Principal Merriweather and coughed.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be okay. Thanks.” And before she could say another word, I was gone. I spent recess in the familiar corner by the fence, kicking a chunk of cement around with my shoe and pretending I didn’t care.

The next day was more of the same. And the next. And the one after that. By Friday afternoon, as I lay on my bed remembering the whole week, I felt defeated. On Monday I would have to go back to school with a teacher who called me by the wrong name and no hope of even seeing my friends for more than a few minutes. There had to be something I could do. Something to make the days better, to make a new friend who could stick by me and see me through this year. There was no way I could make it alone.

Amir was on the floor, singing happily to himself as he stacked blocks into a tall column. I leaned over the edge of the bed and poked him on the shoulder. He grinned his baby grin.

“Amir, what would you do if you were having a hard time at school? And your teacher was mean to you?”

He furrowed his brow for a second like he was trying very hard to understand what I was saying, then nodded and pointed at his blocks. “Block, Maya. Block! Maya have block?”

“No thanks,” I said gloomily.

“Maya have block!” He threw a block at my arm and giggled as it bounced onto the floor.

“Ow. We don’t throw, Amir. No throwing.”

He nodded seriously and went back to what he was doing. I sighed. One day Amir would be old enough for me to talk to when I was feeling lonely, but today was not that day. I frowned and looked at the red mark on my arm where the block had hit me. Ouch. Staring at the ceiling, I felt my mind start to wander. The perfect friend. Someone who would agree with me most of the time, and other times we could have interesting debates and arguments. Someone who would do the things I liked to do, or teach me how to do new things, and help me be brave enough to try them. Someone who would think I was funny all the time. Someone who would always be by my side, no matter what.

Just as I was sinking further into my bad mood, thinking that maybe the solution was to never leave my bedroom again, Mom stuck her head in the door. “Hey, kiddo,” she said. “I forgot to mention, sorry. I saw Mr. MacMillan earlier, and he said that he has some work for you to do if you want to go over there today. He asked me yesterday, but I told him you had homework and had to wait until the end of the week. I still want you to do some homework before you go, so that it doesn’t all get left for Sunday.”

And with that, the clouds parted. I sat straight up. “I finished my homework! Well, most of it!” Since I had no one to hang out with at recess, and since the math assignments this week were review from last year, I had finished that quickly. We were also supposed to read the first chapter of The Watsons Go to Birmingham, but Auntie Lou had read that book with me over the summer, and I already knew the whole story. So I was mostly good. I hopped off the bed. “Homework is handled! Can I go now?”

Mom laughed. “Sure,” she said. “You need to be home by six thirty for dinner. Tell him I said hello.”

“Will do!”

I was already out the door.