When we arrived at English, more kids were staring.
Ana and Celia’s little plan was not going so well.
Ana laid out a two-hundred-piece puzzle on the back table, a sailboat gliding on an aquamarine sea. “This should keep your hands busy so your mind can focus.”
My body rocked back and forth, back and forth.
“Breathe, Charity,” she said. “Remember what we practiced.”
Okay, I can do this. Focus on the puzzle. Look for blue pieces. Look for blue pieces.
I spotted Grace’s friends, Lilly and Darcy.
Oh, great.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Blue pieces. Blue pieces . . . 7, 8, 9 . . .
The teacher, Ms. Beckett, came and put her hand over mine. “So nice to meet you, Charity. Welcome to our class.”
I looked down at her fingers—dotted with age spots—and up at her face—wrinkled with wisdom. I felt welcome here.
Breathe in peace.
Wait a minute. Who’s that?
Standing a few feet behind us was the principal, Mr. Jergen, wearing a frown. Next to him stood a large woman wearing a red blouse that tied in a bow at her neck. Her eyes pointed in my direction. She held a pen and notebook, and I could hear her nose whistle a little when she breathed.
Ana looked back at them and stiffened.
Breathe in peace?
Were they here because of me? Celia said the administration would keep a close eye on me.
My heartbeat multiplied by two.
Holy hippopotamus.
Blue pieces, blue pieces. How many did I have so far?
Ms. Beckett dove into a discussion about Alice in Wonderland. Her petite body bopped and boogied around the classroom as she described scenes from the story. The whole time her short gray hair never moved a millimeter.
Mom had read me the book when I was ten. As Ms. Beckett spoke, images of the blue caterpillar, grinning cat, and terrible Queen of Hearts floated in my mind. I could almost taste Alice’s cake and tarts and tea. My brain felt like a dry sponge soaking in its first drops of water.
I can do this. Focus on the puzzle. Red pieces now . . . 1, 2, 3 . . .
I always felt close to Alice. She fell down a rabbit hole and found her body too small, then too large. The creatures in Wonderland considered her a freak, but, to her, they were the strange ones. Alice had a hard time living in Wonderland. Did the author Lewis Carroll feel out of place in his world? I filed that question away with a million others I would never get to ask.
Brown pieces now . . . 1, 2, 3 . . . Are Jergen and that lady still staring at me?
I peeked back. Jergen had left, but the whistle-breathing woman stayed. She reminded me of the Queen of Hearts. At any moment, I expected her to point and shout, “Off with her head!”
“Let’s get in groups to discuss the questions on the board,” Ms. Beckett said. “How about a few people form a group with Charity? Stuart, Alex, Lilly, Rachel, join her at the back table, please.”
Lilly with pink hair? Oh, no. Hasn’t she already called me tragic twice?
The kids pulled chairs up to my table, leaving miles of space between them and me.
Diagnosis: contagious.
Stuart was the only one who did not squirm at my strangeness. He opened his copy of Alice in Wonderland, crammed with yellow highlights and notes scribbled in the margin. His long legs barely fit under the table as he laid out his notebook and adjusted his glasses to examine Ms. Beckett’s questions. I could guess he loved learning as much as I did.
“Okay, what does everyone think about question one?” he said. “What aspects of the story suggest that this is a dream?”
Ms. Beckett came up to Ana. “Can I ask you a few quick questions about our new student?”
“Of course,” Ana said. “I’ll be back in two minutes, Charity,” she whispered.
My nervous body rocked back and forth.
Rock. Rock. Rock.
Rachel fiddled with her sparkly yellow bracelet and snapped her bubblegum—watermelon flavor, I think. Her head tilted toward me. “Is she supposed to participate?”
Maybe because I was not looking at her, she thought I could not hear her. I focused on my puzzle. Or at least tried to.
Rock. Rock. Rock.
“She is participating,” Lilly said, twirling her pink hair. “Can’t you see she’s deep in thought?” A sneezelike giggle burst out of her nose. She and Rachel covered their faces.
My neck burned hot.
“Could we get back to the discussion?” Stuart sounded annoyed. “Alex, what do you think about question one?”
Alex, who was staring at me, turned to Stuart and scratched his arm. “Um, what was the question?”
Both girls crumpled into another giggle fit, and I realized my lips were scrunched into a duck face. By now, half the class stared. Lilly’s friend Darcy, sitting across the room, mimicked my face and made the whole class laugh. My entire body burned. My hands hit the table.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Keep it together.
Ana returned and put her hand on my back. “Breathe in, Charity.”
Ms. Beckett marched over. “Lilly, Rachel, you need to come with me. Now.” She pointed to the door. The girls rolled their eyes and got up to leave.
Even with them gone, I trembled on overload.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
“Breathe, Charity,” Ana said.
Too late.
Countdown to KETTLE EXPLOSION . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1.
My legs launched me from my chair. I knocked over the table, sending hundreds of puzzle pieces flying. A few kids screamed.
Ana pulled me out of the room, leaving behind a small disaster as the Queen of Hearts scribbled furiously in her notebook.
Off with her head!
…
The phone rang five minutes after Mom and I got home from school. I heard only Mom’s end of the conversation. I knew it was Jergen.
“Yes, but I assure you this was not violent behavior . . . but I find it difficult to believe that any student was injured . . . but you promised a one-month . . . but . . .”
Mom put the phone down and sat several minutes with no expression. I sensed
