Belle Teal (4 page)

Looking back at me is Vanessa Mathers.

“Oh.” I groan.

Vanessa gives me a large fake smile, smoothes her skirt across her lap, places her notebook neatly in her desk, then folds her hands in front of her.

I turn to Clarice and tug at her sleeve. “Guess who's in our class,” I whisper.

But Clarice is not looking at me. She's not looking outside either. Her eyes are glued to the doorway to our room.

“Clarice,” I whisper urgently.

Clarice glances at me, raises her eyebrows, and looks back at the door, so finally I follow her gaze.

Standing uncertainly in front of that yellow sun is a colored boy. Right behind him, with her hands placed gently on his shoulders, is a colored lady. “Excuse me,” she says, quiet-like. “Are you Miss Casey?”

Miss Casey turns away from the window. When she sees the lady and the boy, a wide smile spreads across her face.

“Mrs. Craig?” she says. “Darryl? Welcome. Welcome to our class.”

D
arryl, say good morning to your teacher.” Mrs. Craig nudges him toward Miss Casey.

Darryl sticks out his hand. “Good morning, ma'am,” he says, solemn-like. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet
you,
” replies Miss Casey. She turns on that beautiful smile again as she bends over to shake his hand. Then she leaves Darryl standing at the front of our classroom as she leads Mrs. Craig toward the door. The grown-ups talk for a couple of minutes, but I can't hear what they're saying. Mrs. Craig, she looks dead scared, though, and I don't blame her a bit. But Miss Casey places her hand on Mrs. Craig's arm while she talks to her, and soon I see Mrs. Craig's eyes soften.

Meanwhile, Darryl, he just stands there, staring down at his feet.

From the back row I hear whispering and snickering. And Vanessa turns a look on Darryl that is so hateful, I can almost feel poison shooting out of her eyes. I flash her a mean glare of my own, and what does she do but look straight at me and smile another one of her fake smiles.

Miss Casey turns around. The snickering stops.

Mrs. Craig says, “I'll be back at the end of the day, Darryl,” and she walks out of our room, her back straight, her head high.

Miss Casey shows Darryl to the only empty desk in the room. I don't know how she manages it, but as she is pulling out his chair for him, she also turns and sweeps her eyes around the room, glancing at every single one of us, sending out a warning about snickering and poison-eye looks.

Now, Little Boss, he is in rare bad form, because what does he do as soon as Miss Casey's back is toward him, but make a great show of hauling his desk away from Darryl's. He pushes it so hard, he nearly bangs into the back of poor Stephen Haines, who will cry at the drop of a hat but, fortunately, this time does nothing. Chas, who's on the other side of Little Boss's desk, starts brushing off his sleeves, like Darryl has somehow wafted cooties on Chas's shirt just by moving the air in the room. Vernon, meanwhile, has been working away at a drawing of a person with black skin and enormous lips. He holds it up for us to see, but by now Miss Casey has reached her desk again, and as she turns to face us, Vernon shoves the picture under his notebook.

“Good morning, class,” says Miss Casey brightly. “Now that we're all here, I want to greet you officially. Ray Stomper, please move your desk to its original position.

“Welcome to fifth grade,” Miss Casey continues cheerfully, not even watching Little Boss as he edges his desk reluctantly back toward Darryl's. “I think we are going to have an exciting year.”

That Miss Casey, she doesn't miss a trick. She probably knows about Vernon's picture too. I gaze at her, at her pearls and her dress and her perfect chestnutcolored hair, and just drink in the sight of her as she leads us in the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag and takes our milk orders. As she is walking around the room a few minutes later, telling us what all we're going to be learning this year, she lifts up Vernon's notebook, removes the picture, and carries it to her desk, where she leaves it wrong side up on top of a pile of papers. I myself would have been both humiliated and dumbfounded, but Vernon, he turns to Chas and just shakes his head in disgust.

After Miss Casey finishes telling us about the American history and fractions and tall tales and mammals we'll be learning about, she says, “Now, class, I am going to assign permanent seats to you.”

I hear a few quiet groans, and Vanessa Mathers puts her hand primly in the air. “Ma'am, what if somebody likes the seat she has already chosen?” she asks.

“I hope she will like the new seat just as well,” replies Miss Casey. “I have studied this and given it a lot of thought and decided that the new seating arrangement will be for the best.”

I realize that Miss Casey has been busy over the summer. One thing, she must have learned a lot about her students. Otherwise, how would she know who Little Boss is? Then I realize that Miss Casey didn't even need to take attendance. I feel a thrill when I think that Miss Casey has been studying up on me in her free time.

Miss Casey, she starts walking around the room. As she passes each desk, she taps it, and says the name of the person she wants to sit at it. When she is finished, Clarice is in the row behind me, which is a shame, but Vanessa is clear on the other side of the room, so that's good. And I am kind of in the front — in the second row — but not opposite Miss Casey's desk anymore. I really wanted to continue to observe her up close. And to be able to look at all the things on her desk — to see if she has a rubber-band ball, to see what condition her eraser is in (probably not chewed on like mine), or if maybe she has any interesting trinkets.

Little Boss, Chas, and Vernon have been separated, and now only Chas is in the back row. Miss Casey has placed Darryl in the seat where Clarice just was, right up against the front of her desk. He's in between Vanessa, whose desk is on the end by the windows, and Mae Bender, who's in the seat I wanted. A full row separates him from Little Boss and Vernon, and two rows separate him from Chas. I decide Miss Casey has been studying us very hard and is smart in addition to being beautiful and smelling good.

Now I am watching Vanessa, who has slid her chair as far away from Darryl as possible (I guess she knows better than to move her desk, like Little Boss did), and again I'm remembering Mama saying to be nice to the colored children. That Vanessa, she certainly is one for judging. I'm beginning to think her insides aren't so different from Chas's and Vernon's insides, even though their outsides are mighty different. Mama's words make more and more sense.

“Girls and boys,” says Miss Casey, breaking into my thoughts, “we have two new students in our class this year. Their names are Vanessa Mathers and Darryl Craig. I want you to make them feel at home. And Vanessa and Darryl, I'd like you to come up here and tell us a few things about yourselves. Who will go first?”

Vanessa shoots her arm in the air and wiggles her fingers around.

Miss Casey looks at Darryl, but he is sitting with his hands folded on top of his desk, staring at the blackboard. “Very well. Vanessa . . .” she says, pointing to a spot under the American flag.

Vanessa slides out of her seat like a graceful swan and stands before us. Miss Casey stands next to her and puts her arm around her, which makes me jealous.
“Bonjour, mes amis,”
begins Vanessa, looking out at our class. “In case you don't know, that's French. French for ‘Hello, my friends.'”

“Who does she think she is? The queen?” whispers Junie Partridge, who is sitting next to me.

Vanessa waves one hand in the air, queen-like, and says, “I hail from Mechanicsville. I lived my entire life there. I have a younger brother named . . .”

“Prince Heraldium,” Junie supplies in a whisper only I can hear.

“. . . Joseph Crew Mathers, and my full name is Vanessa Amy Wynona Mathers. I am named for my beautiful mama. My daddy manages the grain company in Mechanicsville. It is a very important job. We hope to be happy here in the little town of Coker Creek. I am sure I am going to enjoy being a student at Coker Creek Elementary.
Merci beaucoup.
And
s'il vous plaît,
feel free to sit with me for
dejeuner
this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Vanessa,” says Miss Casey. She looks out at the rest of us and I suddenly feel small and plain. “Does anyone have any questions for Vanessa?”

I imagine that I have eyes in the back of my head and they are looking at Clarice in the row behind me, sending her a message about stuck-up Frenchspeaking goody-goodies with fancy names and airs. I don't turn around, though. I am determined to get off on the right foot in fifth grade. But how I wish I could speak French in order to impress Miss Casey.

I can't tell, though, if Miss Casey is impressed with the French words. She is simply waiting for somebody to ask a question.

Mae Bender's arm flies up. “Where did you learn to speak French? Have you been to France?”

“To Paris.”

Well.

“Twice,” adds Vanessa.

My land.

I think that she really does sound like the queen. Queen Vanessa. Her Royal Highness. HRH Vanessa Mathers.

Next, puny little Stephen Haines puts his hand up. “Where else you traveled?” He asks this almost in a whisper.

“Oh, to London and Rome. All over Europe, really.”

Mae's hand is in the air again. “Will you sit with me and Kayla at lunch today?” she asks, all eager.

“Why, certainly. I would be delighted to join you,” replies HRH.

Mae sends a big satisfied grin over to Kayla, who's sitting in front of me.

This time I cannot help myself. I swivel around and peer at Clarice. I believe my mouth is actually hanging open with my disbelief. Clarice, she is looking back at me and her forehead is arranged in a frown. I don't want Miss Casey to catch us, though, so I fix my attention on HRH like she's a fascinating worm under a magnifying glass.

“Thank you,” says Miss Casey when the questions have died down. “That was very interesting.” She indicates that Vanessa should take her seat. Then she looks at Darryl. “Are you ready?” she asks him gently, and she points to that spot under the flag.

Vanessa, she is still on her way back to her seat, and when Darryl stands up, she leaps aside to escape him. Miss Casey sees this, but she doesn't comment on it. She just waits until Darryl is standing beside her, then puts her arm around his shoulders like she did Vanessa's, and smiles at him.

“Um, well,” begins Darryl in a soft voice, “my name is Darryl Isaac Craig, and I live with my mother and my father. My father is a machinist and he works nights, and my mother works at the hospital in Mechanicsville. My aunt and uncle live next door to us.” Darryl looks up at Miss Casey. She nods. “Well, I — I'm ten years old and I used to go to school in Peapack.” He pauses. “That's all.”

Our classroom is absolutely silent. I don't know which is worse. That awful snickering from before, or this silence that is so big and heavy, you could pick it up and throw it around the room.

Miss Casey, she gives us a prompt. “Does anyone have a question for Darryl?”

The silence grows.

Actually, I have several questions for Darryl. I want to know what is a machinist, and I wonder is he really another only child like me, and is the hospital his mother works at Baptist Memorial, because that is where I had my appendix out three years ago and maybe I met her then. But no hands are shooting into the air, so I leave mine resting in my desk, fiddling with an old crayon I have just found in the back.

Miss Casey is looking uncomfortable herself, or maybe a little mad. Finally she says, “Darryl, I have a question for you. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“Ma'am, I like drawing, mostly.”

“Drawing! Wonderful! Perhaps you will become our class artist.”

Our room is as still as midnight. After looking out at our silent faces, Miss Casey, she finally says, “Class, I hope you will make Darryl feel welcome.” Which I notice she did not feel the necessity of saying after Vanessa finished talking. Miss Casey gazes long and hard at us, but her eyes linger on Little Boss, Chas, and Vernon.