Jumping the Scratch by Sarah Weeks Page B

again. It was too late to change what had happened. The sudden sweet taste of butterscotch flooding my mouth, as I sat there on the crowded meeting rug that day while Arthur read to us, was the only reminder I needed that school was not a safe place to be thinking about this stuff and feeling sorry for myself.
    I let Arthur’s voice pull me out of my own head and back into his story, and after a while I found that I no longer needed to watch his lips in order to be able to understand what he was saying. I closed my eyes and began to rock back and forth to the rhythm of the words, images from the book taking shape behind my eyelids. Suddenly a hissing noise hit my ears like spit on a hot iron, and I opened my eyes to find Miss Miller glaring down at me, fiercely mouthing something with her terrible red lips.
    â€œSsssit up!” she hissed. “This instant!”
    I straightened up with a jerk, accidentally bumping knees hard with Audrey. Startled, I flinched instinctively, rocked over onto one hip, and shot my legs out to the side, catching her just under the ribs with my feet. She yelped and scooted quickly out of reach.
    â€œGet off me!” I shouted. “Get away!”
    Everybody turned around to stare and snicker. Miss Miller pressed her lips together and shook her head.
    â€œAs you can see, Mr. Stone, some of us are unable to behave properly when there’s a guest in the room,” she said. Then she turned to me. “Apologize to Mr. Stone for your rudeness, please.”
    â€œIt wasn’t his fault, Miss Miller,” Audrey interrupted quickly. “It was mine. I squished his fingers by accident with my shoe. That’s why he yelled like that. He couldn’t help it.”
    I didn’t know what to say, I was so surprised. Her foot hadn’t been anywhere near my fingers.
    â€œFine. Then you can both apologize to Mr. Stone for the interruption,” Miss Miller said.
    â€œWe’re sorry,” said Audrey quickly.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Sorry.” And I was. Sorry I hadkicked Audrey, sorry I had interrupted Arthur’s reading, sorry I was so pathetic that a girl had to come to my rescue.
    Arthur closed the book he’d been reading and looked at me. “Okay,” he said. “It’s your turn.”

11
    I BRACED MYSELF, FIGURING HE WAS GOING TO MAKE me read something out loud in front of everyone. Miss Miller did that all the time. Made us stand up in front of the class and recite poems or do math problems on the board. Other kids didn’t seem to mind it, Mary Lynne loved it, but for me it was excruciating to be up there in front of everyone, chalk squeaking in my sweaty hand, tripping over my own thoughts and words, terrified that somehow, as I stood there in the spotlight, they would be able to see right through me all the way to the secret I was desperately trying to hide. As it turned out, though, Arthur wasn’t talking to me in particular; he was talking to the entire class.
    â€œI’d like you each to try writing a description of your own now,” he said.
    A couple of kids near me groaned, but I exhaledand gave silent thanks.
    â€œI know,” Arthur said. “It sounds hard. But trust me, it’s not really.”
    â€œWhat would you like us to describe, Mr. Stone?” asked Miss Miller.
    â€œI was thinking we’d start with a place,” he said, “a place you have a good feeling about. It could be somewhere you went on vacation with your family, or maybe it’s your grandmother’s kitchen. It doesn’t matter where it is, as long as it’s special to you.”
    Pencils began scratching away before Arthur had even finished telling us what he wanted us to do.
    â€œHang on,” said Arthur. “Before you start writing, I want to let you in on a little secret.”
    He went to the board and wrote:
    Â 
    SIGHT
    SOUND
    SMELL
    TASTE
    TOUCH
    Â 
    Mary Lynne gasped and shot her hand up