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She put off calling the school. She even asked Grandma to do it. “Not on your stuffed cabbage,” the old lady said. “I don’t mess with the authorities.” Angel practiced deepening her voice in her chest, saying things like, “This is Mrs. Verna Morgan. I intend to enroll my children in your school.” Or “Excuse me, please, but where does the school bus stop on Morgan Farm Road?” But even in her own head she sounded like a kid playing grownup. So she gave up trying to imitate Verna and just called. The school phone was busy. It stayed busy. She’d almost lost her nerve and decided to forget about school when suddenly there was a long ring at the other end and a voice barked, “Chesterville Union Elementary School.”

“Uh—”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I need to know about where the bus stops.”

She could hear a sigh at the other end. “Honey, the buses stop all over the district. You got to pick a spot.”

“On—on Morgan Farm Road.”

“Wait a minute. I got to check the map.” She came back after what seemed to Angel halfway to forever. “No stops on that road. No kids.”

“Yes, there are. Me and my brother. We just moved here...my mom, too, only she’s real busy right now and can’t come to the phone. Or else she’d be—”

“Okay. Okay. Where do you live?”

“Well, my mother and my brother and me are living with my grandmother, my great-grandmother. For right now.” The voice got very stiff, like somebody had told the woman to practice being patient with slow learners and she didn’t like having to do it. “I don’t know your greatgrandmother, honey. So you need to tell me who she is and where she’s at.”

“She’s Mrs. Morgan. Mrs. Erma Morgan. The same as the road. I don’t think there’s any number—”

“Hold on a minute, okay?” Angel could hear the woman conferring with somebody else. “Okay. Looks like it’ll have to be a new stop. The bus will stop right by your mailbox. Now, that will be the elementary school bus, won’t it?”

“There’s more than one bus?”

Another sigh. “Honey, we got five different schedules to coordinate. Kindergarten. That’s morning and afternoon. Elementary. That’s one through five. Middle school, which, in case you’re wondering, is six through eight. And high school. But I’m guessing you don’t need to know about that last one.”

Angel felt panicky all over. She’d never imagined that she and Bernie would be riding different buses. What would he do if she wasn’t with him?

“Now, which bus was it?”

“I don’t know—I mean—”

“This is a busy day, honey. Could you get your mother to call later? I could explain everything to her.”

Angel hung up the phone.

Grandma was watching her from the rocker. “See what I mean? They treat you like scum on a frog pond. I bet they didn’t even tell you what time the dang thing went past here.”

“Grandma, it’s two different buses.”

“Two?”

“Yeah. I got to ride one and Bernie has to ride a whole ’nother one.”

“Well, you didn’t expect them to make it simple for you, now, did you?”

“What am I going to do?” She was talking to herself. She wasn’t asking for help.

“Well, you could try not going a-tall. By the time I was your age—”

“Welfare would be after me and Bernie for sure then.”

“And why do them snoops have to know where you’re at?”

“I already told the woman at the school where we live, Grandma.”

She shook her head sadly. “And I thought you was so smart.”


Tags: Katherine Paterson Young Adult