Lone Bean (2 page)

Chapter 3
If You Don't Have Something Nice to Say . . .

“W
ho would like to share first?” Ms. Sullivan asked the class.

Everyone's hands shot up. Of course she chose Carla and Sam because they were sitting right up front. No fair!

Sam started. “This is Carla. Her birthday is December twenty-second. She has a mom and an older sister. This summer, she went to visit her grandparents in Mexico, but she spent most of the summer here with me. We rode bikes and went to the swimming pool and made a secret club.”

I sank down deep into my chair and tried not to listen.

“Her favorite color is green and her favorite foods are spaghetti and green apple Slurpees.”

I couldn't help it. My mouth opened and out flew, “No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is . . . now!” Carla shouted back.

“Bean, please stay quiet till it's your turn,” Ms. Sullivan said.

“When she grows up, Carla wants to be a teacher,” said Sam, finishing up.

Everyone clapped, except for me, of course. Instead, I put my hands over my face to stop my mouth from letting everyone know that Carla really wants to be a nurse when she grows up, just like my mom.

“Carla, your turn to tell us about Sam,” Ms. Sullivan said.

“This is Sam and she's my best friend,” Carla said.

I covered my ears with my hands so I wouldn't have to hear the rest. Carla and Sam giggled and danced around in the front of the room for what seemed like forever. Aisha, Gabrielle, and Tanisha went next, but I couldn't even listen because I was too upset. Mark and Jerry went after them.

And then it was our turn. Me and Stanley walked up to the front of the room.

“You go first,” I told Stanley. He looked nervous, so I gave him a little shove.

“This is Bean. Her birthday is June fifth.” As he spoke, I put my hands over my head and spun around so everyone could get a good look at me.

“Her favorite color is blue. She hates green. Her favorite food is blue raspberry Slurpees. She hates pickles.”

“And tuna,” I said as I scrunched up my nose and stuck out my tongue for extra effect.

“She has a mom and a dad and two sisters. She had a great summer at her grandmother's house playing with her cousin, I mean, best friend, Tanya.”

I turned to see Carla's reaction, but she wasn't even looking at me. She was passing a folded-up note to Sam.

“And when I grow up, I'm going to have my own TV show,” I added and took a bow, followed by a curtsy.

Everyone clapped, even Carla, but I could tell she didn't mean it.

“Hello, everyone,” I said in my best TV-show-host voice. “This is Stanley. His birthday is in January. He's lucky because he doesn't have any brothers or sisters. He's even luckier because he went to Disneyland this summer. Also, he can play the saxophone, which is a supercool instrument.”

“Bean and Stanley sittin' in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” Sam sang under her breath. I knew Ms. Sullivan couldn't hear from the back of the room, where she was watching the presentations.

Carla laughed, and so did the other kids sitting around them. My cheeks turned beet red and I wanted to run out of the room. I didn't want everyone to think I liked Stanley, so I said, “He smells like rotten tuna fish, so don't get too close.” I pretended to gag and I held my nose. Everyone laughed, and I walked back to my seat, leaving Stanley alone and sad in the front of the room.

“Bean, that was not nice,” Ms. Sullivan bellowed as she marched toward me. “I think you owe Stanley an apology.”

She was glaring down at me like an ogre, so I had no other choice but to do what she said.

“Sorry, Stanley,” I said without even turning around. I felt bad that I had hurt his feelings, but I had no other choice, you know.

“If you don't have something nice to say, then don't say anything at all,” Ms. Sullivan told me sternly.

When the presentations were all done, Ms. Sullivan went over the class rules. The last one was “Treat everyone with respect.” I thought that one was probably especially for me.

The rest of the day was pretty terrible. I sat alone at lunch and ate my peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, which had gotten all smushed when I sat on my backpack by accident. And during recess, I didn't have anyone to play with, so I threw rocks at the fence, which was no fun at all.

After recess, we marched back to the classroom and the bad day just kept getting worse. I usually l-o-v-e LOVE reading, but this time I couldn't follow along. Carla and I always used to trace the lines of the book with our fingers. But now I had to share a book with goody-two-shoes Gabrielle, and every time I traced the lines, she kept swatting my finger away like a fly. Then, in math, which is usually easy-peasy, my numbers kept getting all jumbled up because Carla was whispering and passing notes to Sam.

Brrrrr-i-ing!
The bell finally rang. I jumped right up out of my seat and was the first one to the door. It took forever to get everyone lined up, but finally we made it out of the room, down the hall, and out to the playground.

I waved good-bye to Ms. Sullivan with a smile, but then I spotted Carla and Sam skipping toward the gate. Carla always used to walk home with me and my sisters.

I stood slumped over in the middle of the playground, remembering all the fun me and Carla used to have after school. I snapped back to the real world when Rose found me and asked, “So, how was the first day?”

“Bad.”

Before I could explain why, Rose spotted Gardenia coming out of the building and yanked me in her direction.

We headed out on Coliseum Street, and when we hit Twenty-fifth Street, I raced ahead. I wanted to get to the computer first, so I could email Tanya. Without thinking, I jumped off the curb into the street.

“Bean, get over here. You know you can't cross the street alone,” Rose said as she caught up to me.

Gardenia's lucky and can cross the street all by herself. She looked both ways, crossed, and passed me and Rose right by. Now there was no way I was going to get to the computer first.

When I spotted the house, I ran as fast as I could, but I was still behind Gardenia when we burst through the back door.

“Whoa, there, ladies,” Dad said, startled. “Slow down. I want to hear about your first day.”

“It was good,” Gardenia said. Then she headed straight to the snack drawer and grabbed the last fruit roll-up.

“I'll tell you all about it later, Dad!” Rose yelled over her shoulder as she headed straight upstairs. “I gotta use the bathroom!”

“How about you, Bean?” asked Dad.

“Oh, fine . . . super . . . fantastic,” I said, giving Dad a fake smile.

I couldn't believe my luck. The computer was still free. I threw my backpack on the floor and plopped myself down.

You've got mail,
the computer said.

I scanned the mail and it was all junk, so I opened up a new message box and typed in Tanya's email address. Rose walked by to go play outside, while I sat and thought about what to say. Then my fingers started typing.

 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Hows it goin?

Hey Tanya--

3rd grade is bad. My girl Carla has a new best frend and now I got no one 2 play with.

I miss u soooo much! Wish u went 2 the same skool as me.

How r u?

Bean :-)

 

“Dad, Bean's hogging the computer again!” Gardenia glared as she pushed through the door from the kitchen. “She's taking forever.”

“Am not!”

“Bean, give Gardenia a turn on the computer,” Dad said, taking her side, of course. “I want to have a little chat with you anyway.”

I followed Dad into the kitchen and plopped down at the table.

“Well, honey, now that you are a big third grader,” he said as he sat down next to me, “it's time to start taking piano lessons.”

“But I don't want to play the piano,” I protested.

“Why not?”

“Because Rose plays the piano.”

And Rose plays the piano really well. She can play Mozart and Beethoven and even some songs you hear on the radio. Gardenia plays the flute, and when she plays, she sounds like a songbird.

“You'll be great.”

“But Rose said my fingers are too short and nubby.”

“She was just teasing you. Your fingers are perfect,” said Dad as he tapped my hand with his. “And your sister plays so well because she takes lessons and practices. Like I always say—”

“I know. I know,” I said. I'd heard Dad say it a million times. “Practice makes perfect. But I still don't want to play the piano.”

“Bean, it's time to start taking music lessons, so it's either the piano or another instrument, but you have to choose one ASAP.”

“Fine,” I said. I crossed my arms.

“What's going on with you, Bean?” Dad put his arm around my shoulder. “You don't seem like your happy self.”

And I didn't feel like my happy self, either. I let out a loud sigh and dropped my head to the cool table.

“What's up? You can talk to me.”

“Carla has a new best friend. I don't think Ms. Sullivan likes me, and now I have to play an instrument.” Tears started filling up my eyes. “Third grade is terrible.”

Dad snuggled me in close to him. “It's just the first day of school. And you know what? Music always makes me feel better when I am feeling blue.”

I hoped he was right, but for now my mind was spinning with Carla and Ms. Sullivan and musical instruments. It all made me feel dizzy and sick, so I went outside to get some fresh air.

Rose and her friend Gina were playing hopscotch on the driveway. They'd drawn the squares with pretty pink and purple chalk.

“Can I play?” I called out.

“We've already started, Bean. Sorry,” Rose said as she threw the stone to the number 6 and hopped, jumped, hopped, jumped all the way to it.

Gardenia burst out of the door and shoved right past me. I glared at her as she joined Rose and Gina—who immediately let her play with them. I decided I didn't even want to play with my stupid-head sisters anyway.

Chapter 4
One Is Silver and the Other's Gold

Y
ou've got mail,
the computer said.

I clicked on the mailbox and
yes!
There was an email from Tanya.

 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Hows it goin?

Hey Bean,

Miss u 2. Sorry u had a bad day. Mine was great. My teacher is so nice. GTG cause my friend Donna is over.

TTYL!

T

 

Tanya had a friend to play with and I was all alone.

I heard Mom come in the back door.

“Hey, honey,” said Dad.

“I'm exhausted.” Mom sighed.

“Go relax. I'll get started on dinner.”

“Oh, it's okay,” she said. “I know you have lessons tonight. I'm on dinner.”

“Thanks. I'll put the water on to boil for the spaghetti while you change.”

Mom came into the living room and took off her jacket. She was wearing blue scrubs, which kinda look like pajamas. She wears them every day to work at the hospital. They look so comfy, and she is so lucky that she never has to worry about what to wear or if it's gonna match.

“Hey, there, Bean. What are you doing?” asked Mom.

“Just checking my email.”

“How was the first day?” she said, spinning my chair around.

I couldn't even get a word out before my eyes filled up and I started to cry. I fell into Mom's arms, and she held me tight.

“Third grade is terrible. I hate it and I'm never going back.”

“How come? What happened?” Mom led me to the couch.

We snuggled into the cushions. I said, “Carla has a new friend and they don't want to play with me and they keep laughing and passing notes in the front row, so I can't concentrate, and Gabrielle wouldn't let me follow along in the book with my finger like Carla always does.” I gasped to catch my breath between sobs. “And I had to be partners with Stanley and he's smelly and people laughed because Sam said I like him and Ms. Sullivan got mad at me and now Dad is telling me I have to play the dumb piano.”

“Oh, baby,” Mom said as she hugged me tighter. “You had quite a day.”

I mopped up my tears with my wet sleeve and said, “I hate third grade.”

“Bean, third grade will all get better, I promise. It was just the first day. Sometimes a new year takes some getting used to. And baby, you and Carla have been friends for so long. This will work itself out.”

Work itself out? But
how
?

“And, Bean, don't listen to what other people say. If you like Stanley, that's just fine.”

“I don't like Stanley,” I said with my most very serious tone of voice.

“All right then, but remember, it's important to treat people the way you would like to be treated. Okay?”

I do not like to be called names, so I felt bad that I had called Stanley
stinky
today.

“Do you have homework?” asked Mom.

“A little.”

“Then get to work. It's almost time for dinner,” she said, and then she disappeared up the stairs to change her clothes. If I got to wear blue scrubs like Mom, I would never take them off. I would wear them to bed and to school and even to parties.

I grabbed my backpack and set up at the kitchen table. I had one sheet of math and the letters
A
and
B
in my cursive writing book, and I had to write my spelling words in sentences. I decided to work on the cursive writing first. Uppercase
A
's are kinda hard, but I got into a groove with the lowercase ones. Just as I was starting to trace the uppercase
B
's . . .

Knock! Knock!
Someone was at the door. I tried to ignore it and keep making my letters, but whoever it was kept pounding and pounding.

“Can you get that, Bean?” Mom asked.

I got up with a huff and pulled my chair over to the door. You have to look out the peephole before you open up, you know. I could only see the top of someone's head. It kinda looked like a head I knew, but it couldn't be. Could it? I moved the chair away and swung open the door. No way! Stinky Stanley was right there at my back door.

“Hi, Bean,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” I gasped as a whiff of yuck filled my nose.

“Hey, Stanley,” Dad said as he came in from the living room. “Ready to get started?”

I turned to Dad and asked, “Started on what?”

“I'm working with Stanley on his saxophone. He has quite a musical talent.”

I stood there with my mouth so wide open that a bird could have flown in. They walked right by me and into the living room, where they set up by the piano. I couldn't believe Stinky Stanley was in my living room and now my poor ears would have to listen to his terrible saxophone playing.

They started to play, and boy, was I surprised! Stanley was not bad at all. He was actually super-duper good. He sounded almost like they do on Dad's jazz CDs. I tried to get back to my homework, but all that bebopping in the living room was very distracting.

I finally finished my cursive writing and started to smell dinner. Mmm . . . spaghetti and meatballs . . . and garlic bread. I worked on my spelling, then started on my math. It was easy as pie. Mmm . . . pie would be yummy too! My stomach gurgled. I was starving. I counted the time till dinner. One meatball, two meatballs, three meatballs, four . . .

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Dad asked Stanley when they came into the kitchen. I held my breath and shut my eyes. No. Say no, Stanley!
Say no!

“No, thanks, Mr. Gibson. I've gotta get home,” he said. “Bye, Bean. See you tomorrow at school.”

“Bye,” I said with a big smile, and this one was a real one because I was happy he couldn't stay.

At dinner, my sisters jabbered on about how great their first day of school was. Gardenia was excited because her best friend, Whitney, is in her class and some boy named Kevin who she l-o-v-e LOVES! Rose kept going on about how, in middle school, you get your own locker in the hallway and go to different classrooms with different teachers for every subject. Sounded like a pain to me, but I couldn't even get a word in edgewise.

“How was your day?” Dad asked Mom, and finally my sisters shut their mouths.

“Oh, my goodness, it was a busy one. It felt like a never-ending flood of babies,” Mom said with a laugh. “Five in all.”

“Wow! That's a lot of birthdays in one day,” I said.

“Bean, did you tell Mommy about your day?” Dad asked.

“Yep,” I said as I sulked down deep in my chair. I felt so sad that I wasn't even hungry anymore.

“You and Carla will work it out,” Rose said. She patted my leg under the table.

Mom said the same thing, but I wish someone would tell me how.

“And till then, I'm sure Stanley could be a good friend,” Mom suggested.

“No way!” I shouted. “Are you kidding me?”

“Bean”—Dad looked me straight in the eyes—“Stanley is a very nice boy.”

“But I want to be friends with Carla.”

“There is nothing wrong with making new friends,” Mom said.

“That's right,” Dad agreed. “It's just like that song we used to sing when you were little. ‘Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other's gold.'”

“Whatever.” I groaned.

Dad got up from the table and put his plate in the sink, followed by Rose and Gardenia.

“Grab your instruments, girls—let's make some music,” Dad sang.

They always practiced at night before bed. I knew soon I would have to play with them too . . . once I figured out which instrument was better than the piano.

“Bean, up to your room to wash up,” said Mom. “It's almost bedtime for you.”

I hate that I have to go to bed before everyone else just 'cause I'm the youngest, but I marched myself up the stairs anyway. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and put on my pajamas. I grabbed my book,
Ramona Quimby, Age 8,
and climbed into bed. I love the Ramona books because she is funny and gets into trouble a lot and also because we are the very same age, you know. But tonight I couldn't concentrate because there was too much going on inside my brain.

I could hear a muffled Rose playing the piano and a garbled Gardenia on the flute. Usually, the music lulls me to sleep, but not tonight. I stared at the ceiling fan as it turned and turned and turned. Luckily, Mom stuck her head in the door just as I was starting to get d-i-z-z-y DIZZZZZZY!

“Good night, Bean,” she said. She turned out the lights and closed the door, but she left it open just a crack, so it wouldn't be too dark.