When Mama gave her a bowl of
“You’re not sick, and you are going.”
“She is a little pale.” Papa put his palm against Hildie’s forehead. Hildie hoped he would say she had a fever. “She feels cool.”
“She’s scared, that’s all. As soon as she gets there, she’ll find she doesn’t need to be.” Mama jerked her head. “If you don’t eat something, everyone in your class is going to hear your stomach growling by ten in the morning.” Hildemara looked at Clotilde, still bundled in a sleeping bag.
Papa looked at Hildemara. “I can walk them to school.”
“No. They need to learn to stand on their own. They’ll be fine walking by themselves.”
Papa ruffled Bernhard’s slicked-back hair. While Mama ran a comb through it again, Papa kissed Hildemara. “You will meet lots of other little girls your age.” He patted her cheek. When he went out, Mama went with him. When Mama ducked back inside the tent, she didn’t look at Hildemara. She picked up the small buckets with their lunch and told them it was time to be off. She grabbed Bernhard by the shoulder before he went out. “You walk with your sister. You keep an eye on her.”
They hadn’t gone a quarter mile when Bernhard kicked the dust angrily. “Come on, Hildie! Stop dragging your feet!” When she didn’t walk much faster, he started to run. She cried out, but he shouted back at her that she’d have to catch up or walk alone.
Hildemara ran as fast as she could, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to catch him. A stitch in her side made her slow down. She cried out again, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He looked back over his shoulder. Stopping, he put his hands on his hips and waited until she caught up with him. “You’d better stop crying now or they’ll all call you a crybaby.” He stayed beside her the rest of the way.
Children played in the yard. Some stopped to stare when Bernhard and Hildemara came near. Bernhard pushed the gate open. When children came over, Bernhard did all the talking. Hildemara stood beside him, looking from one face to the other, her throat dry. One of the boys looked at her. “Is your sister dumb or something?”
Bernhard’s face turned red. “She’s not dumb.”
When the bell rang, everyone lined up and filed into the building. A slender, dark-haired woman in a navy blue skirt, long-sleeved white blouse, and dark blue knitted sweater told Hildemara to share a desk with Elizabeth Kenney, the pretty girl who had worn the red and green satin dress and shiny black shoes the night of the Christmas pageant. She wore a pretty green dress today. A matching green bow tied her two long, red pigtails back. Elizabeth smiled brightly. Hildemara tried to smile back.
Bernhard made friends right away. A group of boys surrounded him on the playground. Tony Reboli stepped into the circle. “Let’s play a game.” He pushed Bernhard. Laughing, Bernhard pushed back. Tony put more force behind his next push. Bernhard shoved so hard Tony went down. Bernhard stepped forward and extended his hand. Tony allowed himself to be pulled up. Dusting himself off, he suggested they have a race. Tony took off, Tom Hughes, Eddie Rinckel, and Wallie Engles chasing after him. Bernhard caught up easily and passed by Tony, reaching the end of the playground first.
Sitting on a bench under a big elm, Hildemara watched her brother chum around with his new friends. He could run faster, jump higher, and play harder than any boy in school. By the end of the day, only the girls called him Bernhard. All the boys called him Bernie. By the end of the week, everyone wanted to be his best friend. Even the girls followed him around, giggling and whispering, wanting his attention. It amused Hildemara to see how embarrassed that made her older brother.
After two weeks, Hildie still hadn’t made one friend. No one teased her; Bernie made certain of that. But no one paid her any attention. She became Little Sis because that’s what Bernie called her and no one remembered her name. Every recess, while the others played, she sat on a bench by herself and watched. She didn’t know how to join in, and the mere thought of approaching someone and asking permission made her feel sick to her stomach. Only the teacher noticed her.
Mrs. Ransom kept a chart on the wall and put up gold and silver stars, or blue and red dots. Every morning, Hildie ran to the girls’ bathroom first thing to wash. It did no good. Following the Pledge of Allegiance and singing “My Country, ’Tis of Thee,” which Hildemara confused with “God Save the King,” Mrs. Ransom checked each child for properly combed hair, washed hands and face, clean nails, and polished shoes. Not once did Hildemara pass inspection.
Once, Mrs. Ransom went so far as to part her hair in a dozen places searching for lice. While the children twittered with laughter, Hildemara sat red-faced and sick with humiliation. “Well, at least you don’t have lice. But you’re not clean enough to earn even a red dot. You might earn a silver star if you bothered to polish your shoes.”
When Hildemara said she needed polish for her shoes, Mama turned around and put her hands on her hips. “Polish? With all the sand and dust you walk through to get to school? We’re not wasting money on polish!”
Hildemara dampened the hem of her dress to clean her shoes, but then Mrs. Ransom said her dress looked unwashed.
“Let me see your hands, Hildemara Waltert. Still chewing your nails, too. It’s a disgusting habit. You’ll get worms.” The children around Hildie twittered. “Hold up your arms. Don’t put them down until I tell you.” Hildemara kept her hands in the air, her face burning with shame as Mrs. Ransom pointed. “Look at this, children. When you wash your hands, wash your arms as well. I don’t want to see rivulets of dirt.” She shook her head at Hildemara. “You can put your arms down now. Next time, don’t just splash a little water on yourself in the girls’ bathroom and call it a bath!”
“The Walterts live in a tent down by the irrigation ditch, Mrs. Ransom.”
“I know where they live, Elizabeth, and it’s no excuse for being filthy. If she bothered to use a little soap with the water, she might earn a silver star.” Mrs. Ransom moved on to the next child. Betty Jane Marrow received a gold star every day.
Hot tears burned and Hildemara struggled to keep them back. She bit her lower lip and kept her hands clenched in her lap. She could feel Elizabeth Kenney looking at her, but wouldn’t look back. A boy behind them leaned forward and yanked hard on Hildemara’s hair. Elizabeth swung around. “Stop it!”
Mrs. Ransom turned and pinned Hildemara with her eyes. “Go sit on the stool in the corner.”
Elizabeth gasped. “She didn’t do anything!”
“All right. That’s enough. Let’s get to work.”
When recess came, Hildemara went out to her bench. Elizabeth Kenney left her friends and approached her. “May I sit with you, Hildemara?”
Hildemara shrugged, torn between resentment and admiration. Elizabeth had a whole row of gold stars on the class chart. The only one who had more was Betty Jane Marrow. Elizabeth looked plump and pretty. No one told her she looked skinny as a rail and pale as a ghost.
“I live on Elm Street. It’s not far. Just across the road and down a few blocks. You walked by my house once. I saw you through the window. My house is just a few doors down from the library. Do you know where that is? You can come to my house before school, if you like. We have hot water and…”
Hildemara’s face flamed. “I wash every morning. I’m clean before I come to school.”
“It’s a long walk from where you live. I’d be covered with dust and dirt, too, if I had to walk to school every day.”
“How do you know where we live? Did Bernie tell you?”
“My mother brought Christmas dinner to your family. She brought you and your sister dolls.”
“Did she make the rag doll?”
“No. It was from the church rummage box.” Elizabeth’s friends called for her to come back. Elizabeth said she’d come in a minute. “My mother says Mrs. Ransom treats you badly because her brother got killed in the war. Your father is German, isn’t he? That makes you German, too.” When her friends called again, Elizabeth stood. “I guess I’d better go. Would you like to play with us, Hildemara?”
“Elizabeth!”
Hildemara looked at the other girls. They called for Elizabeth, not her. Did they think of her in the same way Mrs. Ransom did? Throat tight, Hildie shook her head. When Elizabeth walked away, Hildie watched Bernie playing marbles with his friends on the other side of the playground. Why didn’t anyone care that he was German? Everyone
