~ THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL ~

Idon’t like endings—of anything. Stories. Movies. Radio programs. I don’t even like the day to end, disappearing, dissolving into the dark. When I get into bed, I’m sad the day’s over. No way to bring it back. That’s why I’m heartsick now, because in a few days, school’s going to end. Everyone else is happy about it, but not me.

They try to make the day before the last day a fun time. The nuns and some mothers prepare a nice picnic in the playground for the whole school. There’s food and games. The best part is seeing the nuns run around in their long black robes, laughing and playing with us. I think this is the only time they get to do that. There’s Kool Aid in a big pail and a giant steaming kettle with plenty of hot dogs. There’s also candy, peanuts, and prizes. There’s no schoolwork either, so it’s a pretty good day. Still, I’m not happy about tomorrow.

The very last day of school, we bring bags or boxes from home and clean out our desks. I’ve taken most of my stuff out already. It’s creepy empty.

“Make sure to go through the lost and found box, in case anything of yours is still in there. Last chance,” Sister Regina calls out. “Otherwise, all of it goes to the poor children.”

I go through the box and find ratty-looking mittens, dirty socks, broken hair barrettes, soiled hankies. Nothing of mine. Let the poor kids have the stuff. Even they wouldn’t want any of it.

The walls look bare. All of our hand drawn pictures and stories have been taken down. Gone. Our names won’t be left anywhere. Kids who tried writing their names or carving their initials on their desks got caught and had to work extra hard to make sure they removed every mark. Desks will be re-varnished during the summer, and floors newly waxed and polished. Not even our footprints will be left behind.

I want to stay in this room with Sister Regina. She’s my favorite nun. She hardly ever hollers, and she reads aloud to us every Friday from fun books that don’t have church stories. Sister Regina likes what I write, too, especially my made-up stories.

I’m going to miss her, but I dare not say that too loud around Geraldine. She’s always complaining about Sister Regina. Geraldine never keeps quiet about much. But I still like to be with Geraldine. It’s almost as if she’s my other voice, saying things I would like to say, but never dare to.

Next fall, I’ll have a new desk, new room, and new nun. I won’t have my escape window to look out of when I want to think about far away things. I hear the desks will be bigger, and the work harder. If I flunked, I could stay here another year, but it wouldn’t be the same.

“School’s out—School’s out—Teacher let the monkeys out!”

The chanting goes on throughout the day. I pretend I’m happy it’s over and go along with everyone else singing the song. But I really like school, and look forward to going there each day. It’s as if I have another family I’m joining in another place.

Our class goes to Mass in the nearby church every morning before school. I can also go over to the church at recess or lunch and pray for things I want. I think God hears me better from inside the church. It’s where He mostly lives.

Geraldine is already planning things we can do this summer.

“I have so many things for us to do this summer, and will be so glad when school’s finally out,” she keeps saying. I can’t keep up remembering all Geraldine tells me, because she talks pretty fast. I just keep saying “yes” and “okay.”

“I’m going to the Brownie Girl Scout camp this summer. Why don’t you go with me and we’ll have such a good time together.”

I had already asked Mama. “No, Brownie camp costs money that we don’t have. And I’ll need you to help take care of Sonny and Mitzy,” is her quick answer. I’m not sure if I want to go to Brownie camp anyway. I’d have to sleep with girls I don’t know, swim in a lake that has big fish in it, and live in a tent in the woods with wild animals around. Yet, there are new things that sound exciting when Geraldine recites them. Making leather purses, singing all kinds of songs together, eating around a campfire. So I’m kinda glad Mama made the decision for me. It makes it easier.

Geraldine is the only child in her family, and her father still has a job. But she doesn’t think she’s better than anyone else, and she does share things with me. Sometimes she’s pretty bossy, so in a way I’m looking forward to some vacation time by myself while she’s away at camp. She promises she’ll write. But I don’t want to hear about all the fun she’s having, knowing I’ll never get there. It’s better not knowing.

I walk home slowly, dragging the paper bag along the sidewalk, tearing holes in the bottom. There’s nothing in it I want to save anyway. All I wanted to save was every day spent in Sister Regina’s room, but that’s not possible.