Catherine said I shouldn’t have to think of homework my first weekend here, but now I’ve got to study extra hard tonight. I have to take time to write in my journal, though, because I don’t want to forget anything.
Some of the classes are harder than others. Math, for one. History’s boring. I don’t know if Thunder Creek’s ahead of Buckner Academy or what, but we’re on World War II, and they’re still back with Lincoln.
English class is good, though, and I love science. They’re finishing up a geology unit, and I bet it’s no coincidence we’re studying mountain regions of the United States, specifically the Appalachians, and in particular, the Cumberland Mountains. I knew that the Appalachians form a divide between the rivers that flow into the Atlantic Ocean and the ones that drain into the Gulf of Mexico. What I didn’t know was that they’re the oldest mountains in the U.S.
I walked into the science room to see a big diagram of stratified rock, like a slice cut out of a mountain. The class is studying what the earth’s crust is made of, only the layers in the diagram are nice and level, like a stack of lumber. I’ve seen a big cut in a mountain where a road goes through, and sometimes layers are at a forty-five-degree angle. Sixty, even! Like God just leaned against a side of the mountain and the whole thing tipped over.
Everybody wants to eat with us at lunchtime, and they are so polite and sweet their words almost stick to my cheeks. I’m glad Hannah and Mackenzie eat with us, because they don’t have to try so hard to be nice.
The school serves the food, and if Mammaw ever saw the stuff they put on our plates, she’d give it to a dog. Today the choice is between “mystery meat,” as Catherine calls it, or grilled cheese sandwiches. I’ll take a fried egg sandwich on Mammaw’s homemade bread any day.
What’s embarrassing, though, is that every time I open my mouth, it’s like I said something important. I mention how early I’ve got to get up in the morning to catch the bus in Thunder Creek, and the girls’ mouths make a big O, like I just said I have to walk ten miles in the snow.
I’m writing all this from my bed. Got a bunch of pillows behind me. Catherine’s over at her computer, writing an essay for English, due Friday. We’ve got to write two pages on someone who has influenced our life. Catherine’s writing about a teacher she had last year. I thought of writing about Miss Dixon because I like her a lot, but I think I’ll do Papaw instead.
Claire says I can use her computer when I need it if Catherine’s using her own. I never learned the touch system of typing, though, and my handwriting is pretty good, so I may just do my essay in cursive.
I like the Combs family, all but Rosemary. She takes exception to whatever I say. I tell her I’m looking forward to seeing a horse farm, and she says, “Horses, horses, horses! That’s all anybody thinks about, and Lexington is so much more than that!” She might as well have said, “Hillbillies, hillbillies, hillbillies,” because I know that’s what she was thinking.
Peter and Claire fuss with each other a lot, but what else is new? And I like Catherine, but I can tell we’re not anywhere near being close friends yet, because she got a call on her cell phone, and when she switched it to her left ear, just before she left the room, I could hear a boy’s voice. I think she’s got a boyfriend, but she didn’t tell me one word about him after she came back. I wonder where the girls at Buckner ever meet up with boys. Wonder too what Shirl and Fred Mason are up to during mud vacation. Got to remember to send a postcard home to Ma and Daddy so it’ll get there before I get back. Catherine says we’re going to do most of our sightseeing next week, when Buckner goes on spring break. I’ll be glad when that happens, because I already studied the South and wouldn’t want to sit through the Civil War all over again.
Ivy
Some of the classes are harder than others. Math, for one. History’s boring. I don’t know if Thunder Creek’s ahead of Buckner Academy or what, but we’re on World War II, and they’re still back with Lincoln.
English class is good, though, and I love science. They’re finishing up a geology unit, and I bet it’s no coincidence we’re studying mountain regions of the United States, specifically the Appalachians, and in particular, the Cumberland Mountains. I knew that the Appalachians form a divide between the rivers that flow into the Atlantic Ocean and the ones that drain into the Gulf of Mexico. What I didn’t know was that they’re the oldest mountains in the U.S.
I walked into the science room to see a big diagram of stratified rock, like a slice cut out of a mountain. The class is studying what the earth’s crust is made of, only the layers in the diagram are nice and level, like a stack of lumber. I’ve seen a big cut in a mountain where a road goes through, and sometimes layers are at a forty-five-degree angle. Sixty, even! Like God just leaned against a side of the mountain and the whole thing tipped over.
Everybody wants to eat with us at lunchtime, and they are so polite and sweet their words almost stick to my cheeks. I’m glad Hannah and Mackenzie eat with us, because they don’t have to try so hard to be nice.
The school serves the food, and if Mammaw ever saw the stuff they put on our plates, she’d give it to a dog. Today the choice is between “mystery meat,” as Catherine calls it, or grilled cheese sandwiches. I’ll take a fried egg sandwich on Mammaw’s homemade bread any day.
What’s embarrassing, though, is that every time I open my mouth, it’s like I said something important. I mention how early I’ve got to get up in the morning to catch the bus in Thunder Creek, and the girls’ mouths make a big O, like I just said I have to walk ten miles in the snow.
I’m writing all this from my bed. Got a bunch of pillows behind me. Catherine’s over at her computer, writing an essay for English, due Friday. We’ve got to write two pages on someone who has influenced our life. Catherine’s writing about a teacher she had last year. I thought of writing about Miss Dixon because I like her a lot, but I think I’ll do Papaw instead.
Claire says I can use her computer when I need it if Catherine’s using her own. I never learned the touch system of typing, though, and my handwriting is pretty good, so I may just do my essay in cursive.
I like the Combs family, all but Rosemary. She takes exception to whatever I say. I tell her I’m looking forward to seeing a horse farm, and she says, “Horses, horses, horses! That’s all anybody thinks about, and Lexington is so much more than that!” She might as well have said, “Hillbillies, hillbillies, hillbillies,” because I know that’s what she was thinking.
Peter and Claire fuss with each other a lot, but what else is new? And I like Catherine, but I can tell we’re not anywhere near being close friends yet, because she got a call on her cell phone, and when she switched it to her left ear, just before she left the room, I could hear a boy’s voice. I think she’s got a boyfriend, but she didn’t tell me one word about him after she came back. I wonder where the girls at Buckner ever meet up with boys. Wonder too what Shirl and Fred Mason are up to during mud vacation. Got to remember to send a postcard home to Ma and Daddy so it’ll get there before I get back. Catherine says we’re going to do most of our sightseeing next week, when Buckner goes on spring break. I’ll be glad when that happens, because I already studied the South and wouldn’t want to sit through the Civil War all over again.
Ivy
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