"What do you mean?" I asked.
The girls were quiet a moment, all eyes on the
teacher monitor. Betty nodded at Lorraine. She
opened her school bag, which she had set between me
and her, and took something out quickly. Then she
pressed it into my hand. I gazed down at what looked
like one of Papa George's self-rolled cigarettes. "I don't smoke," I said.
"That's not a cigarette, stupid," Betty said. "And
keep it below the table so Mr. Rotter doesn't see." "What is it?"
"It's a joint," Lorraine whispered loudly. "I don't want it," I said and tried to give it back,
but she pushed my hand away.
"Just keep it in case you get a chance to offer it
to Grandpa. It'll loosen him up."
"Just tell us what happens, that's all," Betty
said. "Put it away, quick," Lorraine said as Mr. Rotter
started down the aisle between the tables.
Little butterflies of panic fluttered in my head.
Gazing around, it seemed as if everyone were looking
at me, waiting to see what I would do.
"Hello, girls," Mr. Rotter said smiling down at
us.
"Are you making our new student feel at
home?"
"Yes, Mr. Rotter," Lorraine fluttered her
eyelids. "Is that true, Melody?" he asked me. I was afraid my voice would crack. "Yes sir," I
said. "Good. Good." He continued through the
cafeteria. I let out my breath.
"Very nice. You did well," Betty said. The
other girls apparently agreed.
"We're having a beach party Saturday night.