Belle Teal by Ann Martin

week, the only parent who bothers to show up is Big Boss and this time he drops Little Boss off, then drives away in a hurry.
    â€œGot himself a job with the road crew,” Little Boss tells me as we stand on the school steps.
    I have a feeling Big Boss will be scarce from now on, and I am feeling happy. Until the sad thing that happens a few minutes later.
    That morning HRH waltzes up to Miss Casey’s desk and hands her a note. There is this smug look on HRH’s face that I don’t like.
    Miss Casey, she reads that note and her lips tighten. The next thing I know, Vanessa and Clarice are switching seats. Now Clarice is in the front row again, next to Darryl, and Vanessa is in the third row. I wait for an explanation, but Miss Casey just takes attendance and milk orders and gets on with our day.
    On the playground, me and Clarice overhear Vanessa talking to Mae.
    â€œWell, my daddy just would not stand for it,” HRH is saying. “Of all things. Next to a colored boy. He called Miss Casey at home last night. Said she had to change my seat. He wrote her a note too, to make sure.
    â€I look at Clarice. Then I look across the playground at Darryl. He is huddled with the two other colored kids. By now I know their names. They are Winnie and Terrence. The three of them still have to stick with a teacher for protection. Seeing that, thinking of HRH and Big Boss and the parents and their signs, all I feel is plain sad.
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    That is what I put in my journal that night. About Darryl and HRH and my sadness. Then I put in about Little Boss’s bruise, just to get my mind on something else. Lordy, he came into school with a big one this morning. On his arm. He told me he fell off his porch. Little Boss must be the clumsiest person in the county. He fell off his porch in fourth grade too, and twice he got black eyes by walking into doors.
    I feel the need for adding something happier to my journal, so I write that Gran is already thinking ahead to our Christmas fruitcakes, which we make every year on the day after Thanksgiving. This gets me to thinking about the holidays, starting with Halloween. I look outside and see a V of geese silhouetted against a full moon. I hear them honking as they make their way south for the winter. And I feel a little chill, like all of a sudden autumn has come upon us.

I am putting my milk money in my purse necklace, and Gran, she is at the sink with the breakfast dishes. Under her breath she is singing something about “coming in on a wing and a prayer.”
    Mama bustles into the kitchen in her spanking clean Adele uniform. She gives Gran a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m off,” she says. She gulps some coffee.
    â€œYou do your homework, Mama?” I ask. 
    â€œYeah, precious. You?”
    â€œAll done.”
    I like that Mama and I both have homework to do. The two of us have been in school for a month now, and Mama has not missed a class or a day of work. She has done every one of her secretarial assignments too. (She is showing me how to make her shorthand squiggles.) From time to time she fills in at the Lantern. All in all, I think the money from the school account is being well spent.
    I have done every one of my homework assignments too, but then, I always do. Besides, I would not want to disappoint Miss Casey. An A or a star or a Well done! from her makes my insides feel glorious.
    Gran holds a plate of eggs and fried potatoes toward Mama, who waves it away. “I don’t have time,” she says. “I’ll be late. And I have a perfect work record so far.” She wipes the coffee from her lips and flies out the door. “School tonight,” she calls. “I’ll be home late.”
    I stand up. “I better go too, Gran. The bus’ll be here any minute.” I give her a hug.
    â€œYou keep an eye on Lyman,” Gran murmurs as I gather up my books.
    I don’t bother with an answer. I can hear the school bus.