Chapter 2
TEACHER OF THE YEAR
Lucy recognized her eighth period Algebra teacher from the poster in the hall. Mrs. Bloodworth, “Teacher of the Year,” leaned over the open attendance book on her desk and drummed her red fingernails. Reddish-brown hair curved under her jaw. Her lips barely moved as she called roll.
“Adams.”
“Here.”
“Bintz.”
“Present, ma’am.”
The farther Mrs. Bloodworth went into the alphabet, the more Lucy’s stomach churned.
“Underwood.”
“He’s absent,” Josh said from his desk in front of the teacher.
She marked her book, then looked up. “People! We have two new students in our class. The first is Laheyda VookaDEE.”
“It’s LaHAda VooKAdee. The accents are on the middle syllables.” The little girl in the desk behind Lucy had mousy brown hair and a pixie haircut with ragged bangs. Her big round glasses, perched on the tip of her tiny nose, seemed ready to slip off at the slightest movement.
“Vookadee,” Mrs. Bloodworth said, rhyming with chickadee. “What kind of name is that?”
“It’s Vookaaadee.”
“I didn’t ask you how to pronounce it. I asked you what kind of name it was.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s nothing difficult about my question, young lady. Is your name Greek? Yugoslavian? Jewish? What kind of name is Vookadee?” Again, she mispronounced it.
Lahada’s jaw tightened, but before she could reply, the teacher said, “Are you chewing gum?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Bloodworth put her hands on her hips. “I usually don’t tell jokes in my class. But I always make an exception for gum-chewers… People, what’s the difference between a tiny girl chewing gum and a big fat cow chewing its cud?”
She paused. “Give up? The difference between a tiny girl chewing gum and a big fat cow chewing its cud is the intelligent look on the cow’s face.”
“I don’t get it,” Josh said.
“Quiet!” Mrs. Bloodworth snapped, glaring at Lahada. “Take that gum out of your mouth and stick it on your nose!”
Lahada folded her hands on the desktop.
“I’m waiting, Miss Vookadee.”
Lahada’s tiny thumbs twiddled furiously.
“Young lady, if you don’t put that gum on your nose this instant, you will sit in my class with gum on your nose every day for the rest of this year! Do you understand me!”
Josh reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a piece of bubble gum. He unwrapped it and then, pretending to yawn, stuffed it in his mouth. After several forceful chews, he took the gum out, stuck it on his nose, and said, “Like this, Miss Bloodworth?”
“Not funny, Mr. Bintz. Would you like to accompany Miss Vookadee to the principal’s office?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then keep that gum on your nose, and if Miss Vookadee doesn’t do the same, you both can visit Mr. Hightower. Do you understand me, Miss Vookadee?”
“Vookaaaadee,” Lahada said. “Lahada Vookaaaadee.” She took the gum from her mouth and placed it on her nose.
“Willis.”
“Here.”
“And Lucy Youze, our other new student.” Mrs. Bloodworth picked up a wooden pointer and stabbed a poster on the wall. “Miss Vookadee and Miss Youze, these are the rules of conduct in my class. Everybody repeat after me. Rule one. Don’t blurt out.”
“Rule one,” the students droned. “Don’t blurt out.”
“Rule two. Ask a stupid question, don’t expect an answer.”
“Rule two. Ask a stupid question, don’t expect an answer.”
“Rule three. Always be respectful.”
“Rule three. Always be respectful.”
“Now turn in your homework.”
“Now turn in your homework,” Josh echoed.
Mrs. Bloodworth glared.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Open your books to page thirty-two.”
During the lesson, Lucy doodled cartoon characters in her notebook: a fat snake, a skinny elephant, a hippo with a monocle, a pig in a chef’s hat. She listened to the slow click-click-click of the clock on the wall. Finally, the bell rang and Mrs. Bloodworth, reeking of perfume, stood near the door as her students filed past.
The other new girl joined Lucy in the crowded hallway.
“Uh.” Lucy pointed. “You still have —”
“Oops.” Lahada giggled and plucked the gum from her nose.
“Hey, Lucy!” Kat called. “Have you met Juliann and Mia? Juliann and Mia, this is Lucy.”
Kat ignored Lahada.
Juliann, who was even taller than Kat, had silky blond hair that hung all the way down her back. Mia was Lucy’s height but heavier, and wore tight jeans and a tight black sweater.
“What do you think of Mrs. Bloodynose?” Kat asked.
“She’s kind of intense.”
“How do you like Ramby Middle School so far?”
“It’s okay, I guess.”
“Come on, Lucy. Tell us what you really think.”
Lucy hesitated. “Well, actually, I hate it.”
Kat laughed. “That’s more like it.”
“The schools in New Jersey are way better. The classes aren’t so crowded, they don’t have trailers, and the teachers —”
“Give me a break,” Mia said. “Nobody’s interested in hearing how great it is up north.”
“But all I said was —”
“If it’s so great up north, why don’t you just go back where you came from?”
“But she —”
“God, I hate it when these damn Yankees act like they’re better than us.”
“But I don’t think I’m —”
“From now on, why don’t you just keep your opinions to yourself?”
Lucy bit her lip.
Chapter 3
BLOOD, GUM, AND NOSES
Hunched beneath the weight of her backpack, Lucy reached into the mailbox and pulled out a stack of junk mail and bills. Then she trudged up the lawn.
The front door swung open and her mother called, “Hi, Lucy. How was your first day?”
“Don’t ask.”
Mrs. Youze lifted the backpack from Lucy’s shoulders and grunted. “What’s in here, the school library?”
“They gave me all my books and no locker.”
“They probably forgot. First thing tomorrow, remind your homeroom teacher. How about a hug?”
Arms at her sides, Lucy breathed in her mother’s lilac fragrance, so much more pleasant than Mrs. Bloodworth’s overpowering perfume.
“Let’s go to the kitchen, Lucy. I made you a snack.”
Lucy sat on a barstool at the counter and with her right foot pried off her left shoe and listened to the dull thud on the floor.
Mrs. Youze set out a plate of raw vegetables and ranch dressing. “Tell me about your day.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Do you like your classes?”
“Inside or out?”
“What do you mean?”
“My Spanish class is in a trailer in the parking lot. And the school’s so cheap they gave me a list of supplies we have to buy. Pens, pencils, paper, binders, even a box of tissues.”
“Tissues?”
“Yeah, and a special calculator for Algebra.”
“Maybe you can use Holly’s or Duncan’s calculator.”
“This school stinks, Mom. Everybody hates me.”
“How can they hate you when they don’t even know you?”
“They’re obsessed with blood and noses.”
“What?”
Lucy told about the red-haired girl with the bloody nose and the teacher who made kids put gum on their nose. Then she described the scolding from Mia.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. I really am. But things will get better. Just give it a little more time.”
Lucy picked up a pen from the counter and began writing her name on the back of an envelope. In a few minutes, the entire envelope was covered. “Can we move back home?”
“This is home, Lucy. Daddy and I have much better jobs here, we have a nicer house, and we can pay for Holly and Duncan’s college.”
“That’s another thing. Why can’t Holly and Duncan go to college here? Why do they have to be so far away? Last year they came home on weekends. Now I’ll never see them.”
“They’ll be home for winter break.”
“It might as well be forever.”
“It’s less than three months.”
“I’m all alone here, Mom.”
“Come on, Lucy. Cheer up.”
“A puppy would cheer me up.”
“We’ve been through this before, Lucy. A puppy is a lot of work.”
“It’s not like I have anything else to do. I don’t have any friends, so I’d have lots of time to take care of a puppy.”
“The answer is no.”
Lucy folded her arms on the counter and buried her face in the fleece sleeves. She squeezed her eyes shut and saw blackness and swirling blobs of light.
“Come on, Lucy. Tell me one good thing that happened today.”
Lucy could have said something about the kids at the lunch table (they seemed funny) or maybe Kat (she seemed nice). But she didn’t answer. Because no one could ever take the place of her best friend Nikki back home. No one. Ever.
Hi, Nikki. How do you like my new e-mail address? My dad told me to pick something different, but I wanted HOMESICK13. It’s perfect. On the way to school today I decided to play a little game. I decided to notice the first words anybody said to me here. You’d think it would be something like HI or HOW ARE YOU? But these two girls were fighting and then one of them started yelling at me. She said WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM! Like I was the one who punched her in the nose. So the first words anybody said to me were WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM! I should have said YOU! YOU’RE MY PROBLEM! YOU AND EVERYBODY ELSE IN THIS STUPID PLACE! They all hate me. Because I’m a damn Yankee. That’s what they call you if you’re from up north. Like the Civil War never ended. And my parents wonder why I’m upset. First they make me leave my home and my friends and then they make me live in this stupid place. Anyway, don’t forget to send me a letter. It’s the only thing I have to look forward to. Your best friend, Lucy.
Never underestimate your power to change yourself; never overestimate your power to change others. – H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society. – J. Krishnamurti
