Stella by Starlight (5 page)

Randy, who'd joined Stella by the window, grabbed her elbow. “Did you see that?” he exclaimed as Paulette tucked the money into her purse and headed across the street to her school. Her father rode off in the other direction, breaking into a full gallop.

“Five dollars!” Stella breathed. “I've never had that much money in my life.” But her mind was churning. Dr. Packard's saddle was shiny black. And it was decorated with silver studs that glinted in the sunlight, that would have glimmered in the moonlight. . . .

“All right, young ones,” Mrs. Cooper called out, interrupting her thoughts. “I don't want the teachers getting angry at me because you were late for school again. You may each take one Hershey's Kiss as you leave.”

As the children from Riverside School and the
children from Mountain View School filed out of the store, each grabbing one silver-wrapped chocolate from Mrs. Cooper's basket, it struck Stella that everyone got the same thing, no matter which school they went to.

7

Mrs. Grayson, as they had predicted, was in the doorway waiting for them as they arrived. They were late.

“Is she mad?” Hugh asked, ducking behind his brother.

“Not enough to use the paddle, I don't think,” Herbert replied.

Stella thought she saw a hint of a smile cross the teacher's lips as they scooted past her to their desks. Grades one to eleven, about thirty-five students altogether, sat in one room. There was no twelfth grade—students got a diploma and could go to college when they finished eleventh. Stella remembered how proud folks had been last year when Liza Twitty had left for college in Atlanta.

The potbellied stove was already stoked with logs the older students chopped each afternoon. The wooden desks of the younger children sat closest to it, but the whole room felt toasty.

Stella slipped into her own seat, next to the upright piano that Mrs. Grayson plinked out hymns and folk songs and ballads on. The thing was ancient, but Mrs. Grayson managed to work around the keys that were out of tune.

In the front of the room stood the American flag, which always tilted a little to the right in its stand. On the front wall were silhouettes of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, a map of the world, and a map of North Carolina. A red thumbtack marked the location of Bumblebee, smack-dab between Spindale and Forest City.

After the Pledge of Allegiance and morning prayer, Mrs. Grayson announced that they had a great deal to do that day, including arithmetic for all grades.

Everyone groaned.

The teacher held up a hand. “But first we have something to discuss.” Once she had everyone's attention, she said, “I know you've all heard about what was
seen in the woods last night. And I know your parents have warned you all to be careful. Let me add my two cents. Don't
ever
walk alone—stay in groups. Do not go into the woods for any reason. If you see anything that looks out of place, run—I say
run
—and find an adult. I am always here for you, and you are safe when you're with me. Any questions?”

Jojo was the first to raise his hand. “The—those—they—they wouldn't hurt children . . . would they?”

Mrs. Grayson looked Jojo in the eye. “Let's just not take any chances. Is that clear? Now, for something far more jolly, how about we start the day by practicing for the Christmas pageant!”

While her classmates began murmuring happily, Stella couldn't shake a sudden feeling of foreboding. Christmas was still a good ten weeks off. Why were they starting so early? Then it dawned on her that Mrs. Grayson was trying to distract them. It sure worked with Jojo.

“Ooh, when is it? Where's it gonna be?” her brother asked, not bothering to raise his hand this time.

“Jojo, where you been? At New Hope Church, as always!” the teacher replied. “Christmas Eve, just like
we've been doing forever. It's our Christmas gift to Bumblebee—to our parents and friends and everybody in our community. Why, I remember you weren't even walking yet when you first played Baby Jesus.”

Jojo beamed.

“We all get parts?” Carolyn asked, glancing at Stella excitedly.

“Of course. Every one of you has a part—”

Randy broke in, “Even
all
the Spencers?”

Everyone laughed, and Mrs. Grayson smiled. “Yes, the whole Spencer clan. All thirteen of them. Even little Hetty! Now, I'm going to expect you older students to help the young ones, and please tell your folks I'll need some bedsheets and feed sacks for costumes.”

“And cookies!” Herbert reminded her.

“And candy!” Jojo added.

“Yes, yes, yes, of course, but let's start with memorizing our lines before we plan the menu,” Mrs. Grayson said, holding her hands up.

“What's more important than dessert?” Johnsteve asked.

“Some might say music,” she replied. “I want to start with one of the songs we'll sing that night. A
new one. And”—she gave a sly smile—“we'll do some arithmetic at the same time!”

Math and music? Stella looked to Carolyn, who made a
don't ask me
face.

Mrs. Grayson walked over to the piano and started lifting the lid. Before it was even all the way up, she let out a screech. Everyone jumped up. “I do declare!” Mrs. Grayson exclaimed, staggering backward as two fat frogs leaped from the piano. “Good gracious, my Lord!”

Henrietta, whose desk, like Stella's, was close to the piano, leaped away screaming. Johnsteve and Hugh and Carolyn were already on the floor, scrambling under seats, trying to catch the frogs. Randy had both hands up high in the air, yelling, “It wasn't me!” Everyone else looked about ready to pop with held-in giggles, but the look on Mrs. Grayson's face was a thunderstorm.

“Which of you boys did this?” she demanded. “Johnsteve? Tony?”

Tony shook his head, sputtering, “We didn't do it. Honest.”

“You Spencer boys?”

Herbert held one of the squirming, leggy frogs in one hand. Hugh held the other. Their eyes were wide with innocence. Herbert spoke up first. “We didn't bring no frogs in here, miss. But can we keep 'em?”

That stopped Mrs. Grayson short. “Keep them? For pets?”

“No, M'am,” Hugh answered. “For to eat. My sister Hannah can put 'em in some stew!”

Mrs. Grayson's eyes finally softened. Herbert was awfully thin and hungry-looking. Stella hoped Mrs. Grayson would say yes.

“Do what you want with them, boys. Put them in those old Mason jars over there, poke a few holes in the top. Mind now that they don't get loose again.”

As Herbert and Hugh hurried off, Mrs. Grayson turned to the rest of the class. “I still need to know which young man hid frogs in my piano! Jojo, was it you?”

“No, M'am. I promise,” Jojo replied. “But you gotta admit—it
was
kinda funny.”

Mrs. Grayson did not look amused.

Stella looked around, as curious as her teacher. Finally one small hand went into the air.

“It was me, Mrs. Grayson,” Claudia Odom said quietly.

Mrs. Grayson didn't seem quite sure how to respond. She'd clearly been prepared to swat a naughty boy, and now looked at the first grader in astonishment. As did Stella. “Claudia? But . . . why?”

“I like stuff like frogs and snakes and bugs,” Claudia said simply. “I found them last night, and I put them in my lunch pail to show everybody.”

“So . . . how did they end up in my piano?” The teacher looked flabbergasted.

“I figured they needed some exercise. I was gonna move them at lunch. You don't ever do music until afternoon. I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I most certainly was not frightened,” Mrs. Grayson said, straightening her back. “Just very surprised.” She pursed her lips tightly, tried to look angry, then finally, explosively, she burst out with the biggest laugh Stella had ever heard from her. “Lord have mercy, child!” she cried out. “Don't ever do that to me again! That's about all the botheration a body can stand for one day!”

“Can I still keep 'em?” Hugh called out from where he was jabbing holes into a Mason jar lid.

“Sure, Hugh,” Claudia said amiably. “Kilkenny Pond is full of frogs!”

Stella found herself thinking about the frogs she'd heard in the pond. What might a family of bullfrogs have witnessed under the darkness of other nights?

8

“Well, we have wasted quite enough time with frogs and foolishness,” Mrs. Grayson said, buttoning up her smiles. “So let's get started. Most of you probably have heard this song, but we need to make sure we have the words and rhythms right. This is for a performance.” She raised an eyebrow at Claudia. “I trust no other animals shall land in my lap while we proceed?” Then she sat down at the old piano, and her fingers seemed to glide over the keys.

Stella grinned as she recognized the tune. She'd learned it when she was only two or three, sitting on her granny's lap at church. She suddenly remembered sliding the thin band of silver—her grandmother's wedding ring—up and down her granny's thin fingers.

Now Mrs. Grayson, pulling the children into the heart of the song, began to sing. “First verse!” she called out.

“Children, go where I send thee

How shall I send thee?

I'm gonna send thee one by one

One was the little bitty baby

Born in Bethlehem.”

“I know this one,” Jojo cried. “It gets longer and longer.”

“And faster and faster!” Henrietta added.

“You should be singing, not talking,” Mrs. Grayson told them, keeping to the song's melody as she did so.

“Verse two,” Mrs. Grayson now called out. “As you can see, we are doing our arithmetic lessons while we sing!”

“Children, go where I send thee

How shall I send thee?

I'm gonna send thee two by two

Two was Paul and Silas