The Imposter by Suzanne Woods Fisher

schoolhouse and teach them something. She rang the bell and two dozen children dropped their games to pour into the schoolhouse and scramble to find a desk.
    â€œGood morning, young scholars.”
    Four dozen eyes peered back at their new teacher. She cleared her throat and fingered a piece of chalk. “First things first. I want to learn all of your names.” She whirled to the blackboard but forgot there was a step up and tripped, falling to her knees onto the raised platform. “Not to worry,” she said, recovering quickly, jumping to her feet. She made it to the blackboard in one large stride and started to write Teacher Birdy in her most excellent penmanship, but pressed so hard that the chalk snapped in two. Two boys in the back of the room guffawed and her confidence, never robust, started leaking away. “Well, then, never mind.” She turned back tothe wide-eyed children. “So. I’m Teacher Birdy. If you will please stand one by one and tell me your name, then I’ll be sure to remember.” She glanced down at the first graders, little birds in a row. “Let’s start with this fine young man at the end of the front row.”
    Shy with this unexpected honor, little Peter Keim barely managed to find the floor with his feet and blurt his name. Then the rest of the first graders, the largest group according to Birdy’s roster, wobbled up one after the other, five in all.
    Birdy noticed a murmur from the back of the room grow bolder and bolder. She knew it belonged to Luke Schrock, adding his own commentary to each child. She knew Luke well. Everyone in Stoney Ridge did. If there was trouble to be had in the town, its source could be pinpointed to Jesse Stoltzfus or Luke Schrock. Often, both. You had to watch your step around those two.
    â€œTharah Thook,” said a second grader.
    Birdy’s forefinger traced down the roster. “Tara, I’m sorry but I don’t seem to have you on the roll.”
    â€œTharah,” she said again.
    â€œHannah?” Birdy tried again.
    A snort came from the back of the room. Birdy spied the source—Ethan Troyer. “Perhaps you can help me identify this child?”
    Caught off-guard, Ethan gulped out, “Sarah. Sarah Zook.” Then he glanced nervously in Luke’s direction.
    â€œOf course!” Birdy said to Sarah. “You’re Gideon and Sadie’s daughter.”
    The next few grades proceeded without fanfare. Then Ethan Troyer stood up. “Teacher Birdy, my name is pronounced Eee-thon.”
    â€œYou want me to call you Eee-thon?”
    In the back of the room, Luke yelled out, “Yup! That’s what we call him. Eee-thon.” All the boys in the back row nodded their heads enthusiastically.
    â€œI’ll make a note. Next student, please.”
    Molly Stoltzfus raised her hand as high as it would go, then sprang up and identified herself. “My name is Margaret Stoltzfus. You can call me Margaret but everyone calls me Molly.”
    â€œActually, everyone calls her the class hippo,” Luke piped up, a foxy grin spreading over his face.
    Molly dropped her head, her cheeks flaming red, and slipped back into her desk.
    In the hush, all the children turned to watch Birdy intently as she deliberated. These were the moments she had dreaded, the moments she knew she would need the wisdom of Solomon.
    Suddenly, Luke yelped loud enough to raise the hair of the dead. “I’ve been shot!” He clutched his neck with both hands. The entire class swiveled in their seats to see the severity of Luke’s injury. Several sets of feet drummed on the floor excitedly. Heads turned back and forth between Luke and Birdy; everyone seemed interested in how the new teacher would fare with this crisis.
    Breathing a little hard, Birdy walked to the back of the room and slid down onto one knee in front of Luke. She could see a red welt forming on his neck. “It does look like