“Have a seat in here." She opens
her office door at the end of the hall and steps aside to let me enter. I was
in her office at the beginning of the school year for a change in my class
schedule. That was the only time I’ve spoken to her other than to say hello in
the hall.
I swallow hard and sit in a red-cushioned
chair across from her wooden desk. She wheels a black vinyl chair up to her
desk. “I understand you were upset today in math.” Her eyes study me.
Is she telling me or asking me? “Yeah.
A little,” I mumble.
“Would you like to tell me what
happened?”
“Not really.” I focus on picking my
nails. What am I supposed to say? I couldn’t take the chair’s teasing any
longer. She’d write Dr. Phil for an immediate intervention. I’d be sent away
someplace.
“I read your creative writing
assignment. You’re a good writer.” Her voice is low and even.
My head snaps up. She has my writing
papers in her hands. I feel betrayed by my English teacher. She had said all
writing pieces were between us unless she asks our permission to share them.
“Mrs. Smith would like to submit it to
a journal for young people, but she thought I should read it first,” Mrs.
Hershey says. “It sounds like the land beyond Vica is a wonderful place. Tell
me how you came up with Vica.”
I study her for a long time before I
answer. It’s not easy for me to let people in on my friendship with Sam. I’ve
wanted to preserve every memory. Keep it tight, like if I share anything, it’s
no longer mine. I swallow and tell her the story of Brody, Sam, and me naming
the stars in the upside-down V. I leave out the details of how Sam said the
three stars are us.
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