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New School
THE VAN DOOR SLID SHUT behind Cassandra Jones as her brother climbed out, and still she stood in front of the new school, staring up at it. Her heart thumped out a staccato rhythm at double time. Duh-dum, duh-dum, duh-dum. She knew where her classroom was; her mom had shown her when they visited the school a few days ago. No, that wasn’t the problem.
The problem was, she didn’t know anyone. Last year had been the best one ever at North Ridge Elementary. She spent every spare moment with her best friend, Tammy. Her mind flashed on those images now, eating lunch together, running on the playground, trying to see who could go the highest on the swing set at Tammy’s house.
They’d left Texas right after the last day of school. As in, Cassandra walked out the school doors, talking with Tammy, and saw her mom’s van waiting in the pick up line. The whole family was already inside, the vehicle packed to the rafters with everything the moving truck hadn’t taken.
And in that moment, the gravity of the situation hit Cassandra like a grand piano. She thrust her arms around Tammy and sobbed into her shoulder.
“Cassie. Cassie!”
Her mom’s voice behind her made Cassandra zone back into reality. She blinked back moisture and turned to the open window and the van that hadn’t moved.
“Cassandra, I’m holding up the line,” her mom said, weary lines etched around her eyes. Still, she pursed her lips together, and Cassandra knew her mother wasn’t unsympathetic to her plight. “You’ve got to go inside, Cassie. You’re going to be fine.”
Cassandra nodded and forced her feet to step forward. Her younger brother and sister were already gone, fearless in the face of the unknown. They just didn’t know enough to be scared. Cassie did. She was a fifth grader now, and she knew how mean kids could be. She’d had a good group of friends in Texas, solid protection. She had nothing here.
Being late wasn’t the first impression she wanted to make, either. She quickened her pace and ducked into the classroom, depositing her lunch box next to the others lined up against the wall. She found the desk Ms. Dawson had shown her last week and settled into it. Cassandra kept her eyes down while surveying her new classmates out of the corner of her eye. A boy with brown hair and glasses chatted with another boy, and a girl with short, reddish-blond hair showed off her new folders to a larger brunette. A few glanced her way, but most paid her no mind.
Cassie felt the breath slide out of her, and some of the tension worked its way out of her shoulders. This couldn’t be that bad, then. Nobody laughed at her or pointed her out as the new girl.
The eight o’clock bell rang, and the teacher started the class. She called roll. Cassandra tried to pay attention to the names, but they passed by in a blur. She remembered to call out “Here” when Ms. Dawson read, “Cassandra Jones.”
“Sometimes I go by Cassie.” The sentence was at the tip of her tongue, but she delayed too long and was too timid, and Ms. Dawson had already moved on.
Ms. Dawson gave out orders to organize their school supplies before copying down the sentences on the board. Copying sentences. This was familiar and easy, if not boring. The class worked in silence, and Cassie didn’t have to worry about whether anyone would speak to her.
“All right, it’s time for morning recess,” the teacher said, and Cassie’s traitorous heart started to gallop again. Would anyone play with her? Would she be left alone at the sidewalk?
“Let’s line up alphabetically.” Ms. Dawson read out their names, and each child stood in turn and lined up at the door. “Matthew Higgins. Riley Isabel. Cassandra Jones.”
Cassandra stood, smoothing down the skirt of her first-day-of-school dress. She never wore dresses except Sundays and the first day of school. In fact, until recently she had considered herself a tomboy, happier up in a tree than with a doll. But she’d felt a secret thrill of pleasure when her mother removed the curlers this morning and Cassandra caught a glimpse of her reflection, red pleated dress and full curls tumbling down her back. She looked pretty.
The girl with the short strawberry-blond hair was in front of her. She cast a glance back at Cassie and faced the front again. Cassie wanted to say hi, but the thought of speaking out loud when no one had called on her made her throat go dry. Instead she planned what she would say the next time the girl turned around.
They marched down the hall in a semi-straight line, some kids dragging their feet or walking slightly out of sync with the rest. As soon as they burst through the back doors to the play yard, however, the line dissolved. Children filtered out like ants from a scattered anthill. It was a large play yard, with a soccer field on one side, swings, tether balls, monkey bars, and a metal dome climber in the middle, and trees on the other side.
“Wow,” Cassie said, speaking in spite of herself. “It’s so big.”
“There’s more on the other side,” Matthew said, still standing close to her. “This is the upper grades playground.” He looked at her and then turned away, his cheeks coloring. He dashed off the sidewalk and joined the other kids.
Cassie smiled. She wasn’t an outsider, then. Someone had spoken to her.
She didn’t join in with the other girls. She didn’t know them well enough. Instead Cassie went to the swings. She pumped her legs and went as high as she could. Up here, with the wind streaking through her hair and around her ears, no one else existed. It didn’t really matter if she knew anyone or had friends.
Ms. Dawson blew her whistle, and kids withdrew from different areas of the play yard, regrouping as if sucked in by a magnet. “Line up in order!” she shouted.
Cassie looked around for the short-haired girl. She waited until the other girl had stepped into line, and then Cassie got in behind her. “Hi,” she said, gathering up her courage.
The girl didn’t even turn around. Maybe she hadn’t heard.
They cleaned up after recess and did some book work before going to lunch. Kids with lunch boxes lined up on one side, and those buying lunch lined up on the other. Cassie noted with relief that meant she wouldn’t have to be next to the short-haired girl.
She didn’t have the chance to wonder who would sit by her, either. They filed into the cafeteria and sat down at their table in the same order they’d been in line. Cassie opened up her blue lunch box, wondering if her mom had remembered that she didn’t like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Cassandra?”
She looked up, trying to hide her surprise.
The brunette from her class stood there. She brushed her shoulder-length hair back, balancing her lunch tray on her hip. “Want to come and eat lunch with me?”
Cassie looked toward the table by the windows where she pointed, with another teacher and several other kids. “Am I allowed to do that?”
The brunette smiled, showing colorful elastic bands around the braces on her teeth. “Yep.”
“Sure.” Cassie packed her lunch back up and followed the other girl. She tried to contain her joy, but she felt as if she’d won a prize. Someone she didn’t know wanted to eat lunch with her.
“I’m Danelle,” the girl said as they sat down with the other students.
“And I’m Ms. Buckley,” the teacher said. She had short blond hair and tiny wrinkles around her eyes. She smiled at Danelle. “I’m the school counselor.”
“Hi,” Cassie said, unwrapping her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Great. “I’m Cassandra. You can call me Cassie.”
The other kids introduced themselves, and Cassie realized half of them were new, also. Cassie nodded at them and put her sandwich aside for the other food offerings in her box. Grapes, chips, thermos of milk.
“You don’t like your sandwich?” Danelle asked.
Cassie shook her head. “Not really.”
“Here, trade with me.” Not even asking, Danelle swapped out Cassie’s sandwich for her chicken fingers. “It’s my favorite.”
“Thanks,” Cassie said, staring in wonder at her. What would it be like to have that kind of confidence? To be so sure of herself and others around her?
“So where did you move from?” Danelle asked, biting into the soft white bread and speaking around the food.
“Texas,” Cassie said, warming to the subject. “I loved it there. I miss all my friends. But my dad, he got a job transfer. So now we’re here.”
“In Arkansas,” Danelle said, taking a swallow of milk.
Cassie nodded, feeling her smile slip a bit. “Yeah.”
“What do you think of it so far?” Ms. Buckley asked.
She hesitated in her response. She hated it here, and they’d only lived here three months. She hated the small apartment that passed for their house, hated that all her friends were still in Texas, hated the snakes and spiders she spotted anytime she walked outside.
But she knew she couldn’t say that. “The people are nice,” she said. She tacked a big smile on to the end of the sentence, hoping Ms. Buckley would buy it.
“That’s right,” Danelle said, nodding. “The nicest people ever here.”
*~*
TURNED OUT THAT DANELLE’S last name was Pierce, and she was two people behind Cassie at line up.
“Hi,” she said to Cassie when they lined up for afternoon recess.
“Hi,” Cassie said back, grinning. They met up again outside.
“Do you like to swing?” Danelle asked.
“My most favorite thing!” Cassie replied. They raced to the swings, each girl pushing harder to make hers go the highest.
When Ms. Dawson blew her whistle, Danelle jumped off without even stopping her swing. “Come on, Cassandra!”
Cassie hesitated. Tammy had told her horror stories about people jumping off of swings and cracking their heads open. She’d always been too afraid to try.
“Silly goose!” Danelle said. “We have to line up!”
Cassie tucked her legs under her before thinking maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Instead she straightened them, took a deep breath, and jumped off. The momentum flung her forward, and her legs struggled to keep up. She stumbled through the grass until Danelle grabbed her arm, laughing.
“I can tell you haven’t done that before,” she said.
“Yeah,” Cassie agreed.
“You’ll have plenty of chances to practice.” She raced on ahead, and Cassie followed, breathless.
*~*
TODAY, AND TODAY ONLY, Cassie’s mom waited for them in the car line. Tomorrow they would all ride the bus to the apartment in Fayetteville. The idea rather excited her. She’d never been on a bus before except for field trips.
She found her brother and sister, Scott and Emily, waiting outside with the mobs of students. “How was school?” she asked them.
“Great,” Emily said, and she launched into a lengthy description of the classroom rules and what activities they had done. Cassie tuned her out. She hadn’t really wanted a play-by-play.
“Scott?” she asked.
“Boring,” he replied.
“You’re in first grade!” Cassie said. “How can it be boring?”
He shrugged.
Cassie waited for someone to ask her, but no one did. So she stated, “Well, my day was great. I’ve already made a new best friend.” She waited for a reaction, but Emily and Scott just stared at her. Cassie let out a dramatic sigh. “Don’t you get it? If you don’t have a best friend, you don’t have anyone to hang out with. No one to tell your secrets to. No one to celebrate with you when you do great. No one to play with at recess. Having a best friend is the most important part of school!”
Emily’s face lit up, and Cassie knew she’d caught on. “Yeah! I made a best friend.”
“Not me,” Scott grumbled. “I didn’t make any friends.”
“Bye, Emily!” someone called. All three of them swiveled to view a girl with long blond hair and big blue glasses waving as she got into a car.
“Bye!” Emily called back, waving emphatically. “See you tomorrow!”
“That your new best friend?” Cassie asked.
“No. I can’t remember her name. My new best friend is Alyssa. She sits by me.”
“Ah,” Cassie said. “My best friend is. . . .” Her words trailed off as she took stock of the waiting area. Only about five kids still lingered around the curb, but there were no more cars in line. “Where’s Mom?”
A teacher came out of the school, a slight frown crinkling her forehead. “All right, everyone inside. We’ll start calling parents in a few minutes.”
“Were we supposed to ride the bus?” Emily said, her brown eyes wide and fearful. “Maybe Mom’s at home waiting for us!”
“No, we weren’t!” Cassie snapped, her sudden worry making her cross. Her head pounded with an oncoming headache. Mom wouldn’t forget them, would she? She never had before. At their old school, they would walk several blocks and meet up with the car. Had she expected them to walk? Cassie shook her head. Couldn’t be. She wouldn’t even know which direction to go.
They trooped into the hallway between the entrance and the office. The other kids sat down on their backpacks or rested their heads on them, all looking tired and defeated.
“Where’s your mom?” Scott asked a little boy.
He gave a shrug. “She’ll be here. She’s always late.”
“Late,” Scott echoed, as if tasting the word.
Cassie squeezed her fists together and stared out the window, willing the blue van to appear. Any moment now, her mom would come into view, apologizing for whatever had kept her from being here on time.
A yellow car slid against the curb, and the little boy jumped up and ran outside.
The teacher came into view again. “Okay, let’s start calling parents.” She pointed at Cassie. “We’ll start with you.”
Cassie stared at the teacher, her mouth suddenly going dry. She’d just remembered something. She didn’t know their new phone number.