Amber Brown Goes Fourth (3 page)

I hear the phone ring.

Then it stops.

“Amber,” my mother calls up the steps, “it’s for you. Your father. Hurry up.”

I rush to the phone.

My father is calling from Paris, France.

“Daddy!” I pick up the phone, out of breath.

I hear the click as my mother hangs up the downstairs phone.

“Amber.” My father’s voice sounds so close even though I know how far away he is. “I just wanted to call to wish you a happy first day of school. I only wish I could be there with you.”

“With us?” I keep hoping that means that he and Mom will get back together, even though they keep telling me that they won’t.

“Amber.” My father sighs. “Honey, not there, not in that house. . . . I need a place of my own.”

We are both silent for a few minutes, and then I say, “I miss you, Daddy.”

“I miss you too. I wish I could see what you’re wearing right now and be there later to hear all about your day. Around six o’clock your time, I’ll call to find out how everything went.”

I figure that out. . . . That’s midnight his time.

Before hanging up, we have a kissing contest . . . . . making fast kissing sounds until one of us gets tired lips. As usual, I win.

When we hang up, I feel really glad that he remembered and called, and really sad that he isn’t living closer.

Going downstairs, I think more about this being my first day.

I wish that it were this time tomorrow so that I will have already gotten through my first day of school and know that everything has gone well.

I wish that my new teacher is wonderful and thinks that I’m wonderful.

I wish that I didn’t feel so nervous.

I wish.

I, Amber Brown, think that the school playground should be renamed. It should be called the school hang-around-and-talk ground, at least for the older kids . . . . like the fourth graders on up . . . . at least for the first day of school.

While we’ve been talking, I’ve been looking around. So far, there are no new fourth graders. So far, everyone who was best friends last year are best friends this year.

No best friend vacancies so far . . . . . except for me.

“Amber, what did you do over the summer?” Alicia Sanchez asks me.

“I went to England.”

“Name dropper.” Hannah Burton makes a face at me. “Name dropper,” she repeats, sticking her nose up in the air. “You’re just trying to impress everyone.”

That’s not fair. Alicia asked me what I did, and I told her. I went to England.

“And what did you do over the summer?” Naomi Schwartz asks Hannah.

“My family rented a house at the Jersey shore. That’s where I got this great tan.” She tries to look like a model.

I pretend to yawn.

“Where’s Brandi?” Alicia Sanchez asks. “Didn’t she visit you at the shore?”

“Yeah, but that was at the beginning of the summer. I don’t know what she’s doing right now . . . . and actually, I don’t care.” Hannah shrugs. “She and her family are still in California, I think. I don’t know.”

“I thought you were best friends,” Alicia says. “How come you don’t know?”

Hannah shrugs again but says nothing.

I guess that Hannah has a best-friend vacancy too, but the way she acts I don’t want to even be her worst friend, let alone her best friend. She’s such a monster, she should have a best FIEND.

“I hear that you got chicken pox in London,” Tiffany says to me.

I nod. “On the second day. . . . Can you believe it?”

Hannah Burton interrupts and says, “I got chicken pox in the first grade.”

“Disease dropper.” I make a face.

“You are just so immature.” Hannah sticks her nose up in the air. “You are such a dweeb. Back from England. . . . . Her Dweebness.”

“Watch it. If you keep your nose up like that and it rains, you could drown. Not that anyone would care.”

Gregory Gifford pretends to talk into a television microphone. “And there you have it, sports fans. Round one of the rematch between Brown and Burton. Some say it is going to be the fight of the century. Some say it’s just the beginning of another school year.”

“I didn’t start it.” I glare at Hannah, who is wearing a shirt that says,
MY PARENTS WENT TO THE JERSEY SHORE AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID T-SHIRT.

Personally, I think her shirt should say,
MY PARENTS GOT MARRIED AND ALL THEY GOT WAS THIS STUPID KID.

Jimmy Russell and Bobby Clifford come running.

They begin making rude noises with their armpits.

After making a really gross noise with his armpit, Jimmy announces that they are planning a Burping Olympics and everyone can sign up after lunch.

“Let me find my pen.” I cross my eyes.

“I can’t wait.” Naomi giggles and makes a gagging motion.

Bobby burps and then says, “You can make fun all you want. We’re going to be giving away a really great prize.”

“I can’t wait to hear this.” Naomi shakes her head.

“Ta-da.” Jimmy holds up a make-believe trophy. “We’re giving away the musical mermaid that I gave my sister last Christmas.”

“She hated it,” Bobby tells us.

“It was on sale, very cheap.” Jimmy laughs.

“It’s so ugly.” Bobby laughs.

“She gave it back to me for my birthday. So now it’s going to be our burping trophy. We’ll bring it in tomorrow,” Jimmy promises.

They start making rude body noises and burping sounds.

The rest of the boys join in.

Some things never change.

Last year the boys made monkey sounds.

This year it’s burping sounds.

Last year Fredrich Allen was picking his nose and chewing it.

This year he’s still doing it.

I know because some of the boys just yelled to him, “Hey, pick me a winner.”

Some things have changed, though. Tiffany Shroeder’s name. It’s now Tiffani, and she got a bra over the summer and actually needs it.

Jimmy and Bobby tried to snap the back of her bra when we came into school.

Mr. Cohen, our last year’s teacher, made them stop.

Another change that I can’t help thinking about again is that Justin isn’t here for the first day of school for the first time in six years, since preschool.

I bet that Justin could have won the burping
contest. Justin can even burp the entire alphabet backward and forward.

Gregory Gifford is playing sportscaster again. “It’s Freddie Romano in the lead . . . . . with forty-two consecutive burps.”

“Thank you, sports fans.” Freddie pretends to bow to a huge audience. “I owe my success to the two cans of soda that I had for breakfast.”

The school bell rings.

It’s time for class to begin.

I wonder what our new teacher is going to be like.

I wonder what class is going to be like without Justin.

I wonder where I’ve put my knapsack.

“Amber, congratulations. You are the first person this year to use the lost and found.” Mrs. Peters, the school secretary, smiles at me, holding on to my pink knapsack.

“Have you lost anything else, dear?” she asks.

I want to say, “Yes. . . . My best friend. . . . . Has anyone turned one in?”

I just stand there.

She reminds me, “You better get to class, Amber. You’re late.”