As soon as class ends and everyone clears out (except for my brother, hanging around by the bulletin board), I approach Mr. Delman. He starts to speak, but I hold up a hand. “If I can explain.”
“Certainly,” he says. “Go ahead.”
“If you need to give me Reflection for starting the stand-in, I’ll accept it with no arguments. But you said yourself that we’ve done badly on the last few quizzes and the unit test. I mean, not me, but many others.”
“That’s correct.”
“So what would it hurt to try something different? Think outside the box. See if standing, or moving, or taking stretch breaks even, can improve students’ performance. If not, then no harm, go back to the old way.”
He tips his head. “Are you planning a career as an attorney, Erin?”
“Oh, I haven’t decided. There are many careers I’m considering. I’m good at a lot of things.” I turn to Ethan. “Anything you’d like to add?”
He grins. “I think you covered it.”
Mr. Delman picks up his briefcase from the floor and starts putting papers into it. “Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll take this under advisement.”
“What does that mean?” Ethan asks.
“It means I’ll give it some thought.”
“Thank you,” I say, then motion to Ethan. I go out and he follows. You have to know when to make your exit. That’s crucial.
“Whoa,” he says, and I put my finger over my lips. Mr. Delman could still hear us. Ethan and I can talk later. We quietly walk down the hallway toward our lockers.
I didn’t plan this, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not until the moment I overheard Ethan asking Mr. Delman if he could use the desk-evator in class. Then I knew I had to do something to help him. I mean, I wanted to. And also, I knew if I pulled it off right, I wouldn’t get in trouble.
Even if I did, it would’ve been okay. There’s a first for everything. And besides, this was important. In so many ways.
So that’s how you work within the system. That’s how you get rules to change.
Erin looks at the time on her phone. “Oh, I’ve missed the bus! And it’s an hour until the late bus.”
“So you’ll walk.”
“It’s cold out.”
“It’s fine.”
“You’d still be wearing shorts if Mom didn’t make you wear jeans.”
“True.”
We open our lockers, grab our backpacks, load them up, and walk out the front doors together. Erin pulls on a knitted hat and gloves, then wraps a scarf around her neck.
“Seriously,” I say, “it’s not that cold.”
“What are you talking about! It’s freezing!”
After we cross the street and we’re in the park, I say, “Thanks, Rin.”
She looks at me and smiles. “You’re welcome.”
Rin. My first word.
Mom likes to tell random strangers how I didn’t talk for the longest time when I was little and they were worried about me. Then one day I just said my sister’s name. Or part of it. Which assured them I was brilliant, and besides, it was so cute. People usually have a story about their own kid or someone else’s, who also didn’t talk and is now an astrophysicist or something. So maybe my future is bright, who knows.
“That was amazing,” I say. “A stand-in? Only you would come up with that.”
“I know.” She laughs. “Just kidding. Sort of.”
“I can’t believe you did that. Stood your ground and protested. Got everyone else to do it too. Then explained it all rationally to Delman.”
“Hey, I can live on the edge if I want to.” She pulls down her hat, then stuffs her hands into her pockets.
“You sure can.”
Yeah, that’s my sister, living on the edge, bundled up with only her eyes and nose showing. The kind of edge that gets things to happen.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Okay.”
“When you told me you didn’t think I could do it—make the desk-evator—that I didn’t have what it takes—were you saying that because you wanted me to keep trying?”
She peers at me from under the hat. “What do you think?”
“I think yes.”
“We’ll leave it at that, then.” She strides ahead.
We’re almost through the park when I realize Wesley’s sitting on the bench where the seagulls usually are, but there aren’t any. They’re gone. He’s by himself. I can only see his profile, but he looks different. Not as scary.
Then, I just know. I don’t know how, I just do. It was him.