mischievously. Her sense of humor overcoming her embarrassment, Michelle began to giggle, but quickly stopped when she heard the voice behind her.
“I said, my name is Susan Peterson,” the voice repeated loudly. Michelle turned, and met Susan’s glare, then felt herself turning red again. She quickly faced the front of the classroom, sure that she had accidentally made an enemy, and wishing again she hadn’t let herself get caught up in Sally’s scheme.
“Miss Hatcher?” she said hesitantly. Corinne looked up at her, and smiled.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, concerned by Michelle’s troubled expression.
“I was wondering — could I change my seat?”
“Already? But you’ve only had it two hours.”
“I know,” Michelle said. She shuffled her feet uncomfortably, wondering how to tell the teacher what had happened. Then she blurted the story out.
“It was supposed to be a joke. I mean, Sally told me that Susan Peterson likes Jeff Benson, and she thought it would be fun if we took the seats beside Jeff so Susan couldn’t sit next to him. And I went along with her.” Michelle seemed to be on the verge of tears as she continued. “I didn’t mean for Susan to be mad at me — I mean, I don’t even know her, and — and.…” Her voice trailed off helplessly.
“It’s all right,” Corinne told her gently. “I know how things like that can happen, particularly when everything is new and strange. Go on outside, and when you come back, I’ll change everybody’s seats.” She paused a moment, then: “Whom would you like to sit with?”
“Well — Sally, I guess. Or Jeff. They’re the only people I know.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Corinne promised. “Run along now — there’s only ten minutes left.”
Michelle, unsure whether she had done the right thing, walked slowly out to the schoolyard. In a group under a large maple, Sally Carstairs, Susan Peterson, and Jeff Benson seemed to be arguing about something. Feeling terribly self-conscious, Michelle approached the group, and wasn’t surprised when they stopped talking as she drew near. Sally smiled and called out to her, but Susan Peterson ignored her, quickly moving off in the opposite direction.
“Is Susan mad at me?” Michelle asked anxiously. Sally shrugged.
“So what if she is? She’ll get over it.” Then, before Michelle could say anything more about it, Sally changed the subject. “Isn’t Miss Hatcher neat? And wait till you see her boyfriend! He’s too dreamy for words.”
“Who is he?”
“Mr. Hartwick. He’s a psychologist,” Sally told her. “He’s only here once a week, but he lives in town. His daughter’s in the sixth grade. Her name’s Lisa, and she’s awful.”
Michelle didn’t hear the comment about Lisa; she was more interested in the father. She groaned, remembering the batteries of tests she and her classmates had been forced to endure each year in Boston. “Are we all going to have to take tests?”
“Nah,” Jeff replied. “Mr. Hartwick doesn’t do anything unless someone gets in trouble. Then they have to talk to him. Mom says you used to talk to the principal when you were in trouble. Now you talk to Mr. Hartwick. Mom says it was better when you talked to the principal, and got a licking.” He shrugged eloquently to let anyone who was interested know that the matter was of supreme indifference to him.
When the bell summoning them back to class rang a few minutes later, Michelle had all but forgotten her embarrassment, but it was quickly brought back to mind when Miss Hatcher held up a blank seating chart. There was a startled buzzing among the students, which Corinne quickly silenced.
“I’m going to try something new with this class,” she said smoothly. “As you know, I’ve always felt that seventh-graders were old enough to decide for themselves where they want to sit.” Michelle squirmed, sure that everyone was watching her, and that they knew whatever Miss Hatcher was about to do was her fault. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem fair to the last people into the room. So I’m going to pass out slips of paper, and I want you all to write down whom you’d like to sit next to. Maybe we can make everyone happy.”
Unable to resist, Michelle glanced over her shoulder. Susan Peterson had a smug smile on her face.
Corinne began passing out paper, and for the next few minutes the room was quiet. Corinne gathered up the papers and studied them briefly. Then she began working on her seating chart while the children whispered among themselves, predicting the results.
The rearranging began. When it was over, Michelle found herself seated between Sally and Jeff, with Susan on Jeff’s other side. Silently, Michelle sent a message of thanks to Miss Hatcher.
As the last bell sounded, Tim Hartwick stepped out of the office that was reserved for his use at the Paradise Point school. He leaned comfortably against the corridor wall and watched the children swirl past him in their rush to escape into the warm late-summer afternoon. It didn’t take him long to spot the face he had been looking for. Michelle Pendleton hurried down the hall with another girl, whom he recognized as Sally Carstairs, and glanced at him timidly as she passed. As she left the building, he could see her whispering to her friend.
His expression thoughtful, Tim went back into his office, picked up a folder, put it in his filing cabinet, then locked the office door behind him before proceeding down to Corinne Hatcher’s classroom.
“And so it begins,” he intoned. “Another year of young minds to mold, futures to shape …”
“Oh, stop it,” Corinne laughed. “Help me clean up, so we can get out of here.”
Tim started toward the front of the room, then stopped short as he saw the seating chart, still propped against the blackboard.
“What’s this?” he said, his voice faintly mocking. “A seating chart in the classroom of Corinne Hatcher, champion of freedom of choice? Another illusion shattered.”
Corinne sighed. “There was a problem today. We have a new student this year, and it looked as though she was about to get off on the wrong foot. So I tried to straighten out the situation before things got out of hand.” She gave him the details of what had happened that morning.
“I saw her just now,” he said when she was finished.
“Did you?” Corinne began stacking the papers on her desk, talking as she worked. “Pretty, isn’t she? And she seems to be bright, eager-to-please, and friendly, too. Not what you’d expect to be coming out of Boston these days.” Suddenly she frowned, and looked at Tim curiously. “What do you mean, you just saw her? How do you know what she looks like?”
“I found a folder on my desk this morning — Michelle Pendleton’s records. Want to take a look?”
“No way,” Corinne replied. “I try never to look at the records till there’s some reason to.”
She thought Tim would drop the subject, but he didn’t.
“She’s almost too good to be true,” he said. “Not a single black mark anywhere.”
Corinne wondered what he was getting at.
“Is that so strange? I can think of any number of students here who have spotless records.”
Tim nodded. “But this is Paradise Point, not Boston. It’s almost as though Michelle Pendleton has been living her life unaware of her surroundings.” He paused, then: “Did you know she’s adopted?”
Corinne closed her desk drawers. “Should I have?” What was he getting at?
“Not really. But she is. She knows it, too.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Somewhat. But what is definitely unusual is that apparently she’s never had any reaction to it at all. As far as her teachers could tell, she’s always accepted it as a simple fact of life.”
“Well, good for her,” Corinne said, her voice showing a trace of the annoyance she was beginning to feel. What on earth was Tim trying to get at? The answer came almost immediately.
“I think you should keep an eye on her,” Tim said. Before Corinne could protest, he forged ahead. “I’m not saying anything is going to happen. But there’s a difference between Paradise Point and Boston — as far as I know, Michelle is the only adoptive child you have here.”
“I see,” Corinne said slowly. Suddenly it was all becoming clear to her. “You mean the other children?”
“Exactly,” Tim said. “You know how kids can be when one of them is different from the rest. If they made up their minds to, they could make life miserable for Michelle.”
“I’d like to think they won’t,” Corinne said softly.
