Chapter Twenty-One

Sam watches the clock over the blackboard. Although the bell for recess rang a few minutes ago, Mrs. Martin still hasn’t stopped talking.

“Finally, our school is participating in the League of Women Voters history contest.”

Mrs. Martin continues. “Each student will submit an essay on ‘My World War II Hero.’ The winner gets a nice prize and a trip to Washington, D.C. Wouldn’t it be great if someone in this class won?”

World War II. Sam sneaks a look around the classroom. Charlie has a bored expression on his face. He bets that he knows more than Charlie or anyone else in the entire classroom about World War II. He would love to enter the contest, but now that they are attending school, Miss Perkins is so busy. He knows that she won’t have time to help him.

“Your essay will count as a test grade and will conclude our unit on World War II. Any questions?” Mrs. Martin says.

How long does the essay have to be? Sam wants to ask.

When no one raises a hand, Mrs. Martin sighs. “Dismissed.”

The class stands and rushes out the door.

“Hey, Sam,” Ann says. She is wearing a gray and blue sweater over a gray dress.

Sam smiles a big smile. “AAAnn,” he answers.

“Ann, could you take good care of Sam during recess?” Miss Perkins says. “I’ve got… to….go to the doctor’s. I’ll be back by…. lunch. Mrs. Martin…. has agreed to look after Sam.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ann says. “Are you feeling O.K., Miss Perkins?”

“What?” Miss Perkins asks. Without waiting for an answer, she mutters, “My rheumatism...” In a bustle of activity, she slips on Sam’s coat and checks his seat belt. She collects her purse and starts toward the door. “Thank you so much, dearie,” she calls to Ann on her way out.

As Sam and Ann start for the playground, Mrs. Martin looks up. “Ann? I need to talk to Sam,” Mrs. Martin says.

Ann pushes Sam over to Mrs. Martin’s desk. The surface is clear except for her grade book and an empty rose vase.

“Sam, would you like me to help you submit an essay for the League of Women Voters Contest?” Mrs. Martin asks. She takes off her glasses and begins polishing the lenses.

“YYYes,” Sam crows.

“All right,” Mrs. Martin says.

Without the glasses, Mrs. Martin’s face is more open, and Sam can see her brown eyes without the frame’s black bars. He thinks that his teacher actually looks pretty.

“We’ll start this afternoon,” Mrs. Martin smiles.

As Ann pushes Sam to the basketball court, the autumn leaves gust around them. The October day is cold, and Ann’s brown coat is buttoned to the top. But Sam doesn’t want to bother Ann by asking her to get out his blanket. When they pass the empty tetherball court, Sam realizes that Mickey still hasn’t shown up for class this morning.

Ann puts the chair in park and whispers, “I’ll be back.” He watches her run down the path towards Marigold.

“O.K. team. Let’s go!” Charlie shouts. “We’ve got another game today. Another chance for an upset victory.”

Charlie misses a rebound.

As the basketball rolls off the court, Sam thinks, come towards me. The ball zigzags for a bit but, just as he had hoped, it stops next to his chair. He stretches his foot out to touch it. As the tip of his shoe rests for a brief moment on the ball, Sam thinks, anything is possible.

Charlie reaches down to pick it up. To get Charlie’s attention, Sam grunts. Holding the ball in his hand, Charlie’s eyes meet Sam’s for an instant. They match his reddish-brown freckles.

Sam is too cold to trust his tongue to talk, but the cards Ann made for him are laid out on his tray. With his finger, Sam taps, “Tomcats Score!”

Charlie wipes his dripping nose with his sleeve and smiles. When he says, “Thanks,” his breath comes out in a puff. He starts to back away but stops. “You’re our cheerleader, Sam.”

Sam can’t say, Make me your coach. The moment passes too fast.