Dear Elizabeth, the note began.
Enclosed please find the photograph of Mrs. Abbott, our esteemed teacher’s favorite teacher. In case you’re wondering, I didn’t steal it; I just received it from Lila’s backpack. There’s a difference. Two of my former colleagues did, though who knows why. Probably because they’re idiots.
I have two favors to ask of you. Why you? Because you are probably one of two friends I currently have. Did you know that we were friends? All it took was five boxes full of used clothes and a trip to the homeless shelter. We didn’t even talk that much, but I was watching you the whole time, how you joked around with the little kids who wanted to help us put the clothes in the right piles and spoke Spanish to some old lady who got confused and thought you were her daughter.
I didn’t know you could speak Spanish or even that you knew how to make jokes. I wish I’d known those things. Do you ever wish we could know the insides of other people, that we could know everything that goes on in their heads? Or even what they eat when they go home. What does Bart eat for dinner? Does his mom like to cook? Maybe his dad does all the cooking for their family. I don’t know, do you?
Over the last few days I’ve been thinking about the people in our class, and I’ve made some decisions. For instance, I’ve decided that you try to be nice, but you’re not really nice. Niceness is fake. It’s like frosting on a cake. The cake might taste great or it might taste horrible. The frosting makes you think it’s great on the inside, but who knows for sure?
I don’t think you’re a fake person. I don’t think you’re a nice person. I think you’re a good person, which is better than nice.
Do you know who else I think is good? Becca Hobbes. Her problem is that she wants to advertise her goodness all the time. She’s good, but she’s a show-off. What I like about you is that you don’t advertise.
I also think you’re kind, which is different from good. Becca isn’t kind. Neither is Ariana. She’s nice, but not kind.
Because you’re good and you’re kind, I’m asking you two favors. One is, would you please put this photograph in the lost and found? If you put it in an envelope marked “Mrs. Herrera,” it will get returned to her sooner or later.
Two, would you please ask Stefan to the Fall Ball? We were supposed to go together, but I’m at a different school now, so I can’t. I think you and Stefan have a lot in common. If you don’t believe me, watch how he acts with Henry. He’s more than nice. He’s not showing off. He’s good.
Believe it or not, I’d like to be good. I know I’m mean, but being mean is like being nice. It’s just a different kind of frosting. Being good, that’s the cake.
You’re a good cake. I hope you have a good life.
If you ever find out what Bart eats for dinner, let me know.
Sincerely,
Petra Wilde
Elizabeth’s heart was racing when she finished the note. Petra Wilde had thought about her? Had spent time thinking about Elizabeth Hernandez? It was actually sort of a scary realization. As a general rule of thumb, you didn’t want someone like Petra to know you even existed. It was like a hawk realizing a sparrow existed. Bye-bye, sparrow. Better luck next time.
But you’re still here, Elizabeth told herself, looking around the kitchen. Safe in your house. And for some reason Petra Wilde thinks you’re good.
Elizabeth didn’t feel like a good person, exactly. She knew she’d done some bad things. She’d taken money from her mom’s purse so she could buy candy at the school store, and sometimes she copied Ariana’s math homework. She tried to stay away from people like Henry Lloyd, who she thought was a little bit crazy. Elizabeth wasn’t sure that Petra knew her well enough to say whether she was good or bad.
It was interesting, though, what Petra said about the difference between good and nice. And that idea that you could be mean and good? Elizabeth didn’t know what she thought about that, but she wanted to think about it some more.
She did think Stefan Morrisey was kind. He was also short and overweight, and Elizabeth didn’t know if she wanted to go to the dance with him.
If she were good, she’d want to.
If she were good, she’d text Stefan right now and ask him.
Elizabeth stood up and walked over to the fridge. She was afraid it was true: if someone who looked really strange or deformed came to her school, she probably wouldn’t be friends with them. Petra was wrong. Elizabeth was nice, but she wasn’t good.
But you could try to be good, she thought as she grabbed a piece of string cheese from the refrigerator.
At least you could try to be better.
She sat back down at the kitchen table and pulled out her LA notebook. Nice versus Good, she wrote at the top of the page. A Few of My Thoughts on the Book Wonder.
And then she put down her pen and picked up her phone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ellie
Saturday, October 28
Ellie felt itchy. Usually when she felt itchy it meant she wanted to write something but didn’t have her pen and notebook. Right now she felt itchy because she was wearing a dress. And standing in the school gym on a Saturday night without a notebook. Or a pen. Or any idea how to dance.
“Have you ever been to a dance before?” Felicity was standing next to Ellie, also in a dress, also looking like she felt a little itchy. “Because I haven’t, and I’m not sure what to do. We can’t just stand here all night, can we?”
“We could,” Ellie said. “But what’s the point of spending five dollars on a ticket if we’re just going to stand here?”
“Should we start dancing?” Felicity asked.
“Maybe we should mingle first.” Ellie pointed to the refreshments table, where Ethan, Rogan, and Cole seemed to be having a contest for who could stuff the most pizza in their mouths. “How about we start with those guys?”
“Ethan looks different without his lacrosse stick,” Felicity observed as they crossed the gym. “It’s like Harry Potter without his glasses.”
“And Cole looks kind of strange not carrying a sketchbook around,” Ellie said. “I’d like to see how he’d draw everybody here.”
“At least the people we know,” Felicity agreed. “Which is not that many. Why aren’t there more sixth graders?”
Ellie shrugged. Good question. Well, most of Mrs. Herrera’s class was here, but that was how it had been with their class lately. They’d gotten in the habit of showing up in the same places, at the playground first thing in the morning, at the same cluster of tables at lunch, at the soccer field during recess. Rosie still kept away, and Lila did too, mostly. But Ellie had seen Lila on the playground yesterday morning, standing at the edge of the popular girls, looking over at where the rest of the class was hanging out. Ellie had almost waved her over, and for the rest of the day she was sort of sorry she hadn’t.
Looking around now, she saw Ariana, Elizabeth, and Stefan dancing together in a group at the edge of the dance floor. Bart and Ben stood nearby, checking out something on Ben’s phone. Ellie wondered if it was true that Elizabeth had asked Stefan to the dance. Henry had been going around saying that Petra and Stefan had planned to go to the dance together before Petra had changed schools, but that was pretty hard to believe.
Even harder to believe was that Carson was supposed to come to the dance with Lila. The rumor was that she’d asked him. But what about Cammi? Ellie guessed that they were just friends after all. The news had broken on Thursday, and Cammi hadn’t come to school yesterday, but now she was serving punch over at the refreshments table. Becca stood next to her, passing out the cups.
“Yo, Ellie!” Ethan called when he saw her, although it came out more like “O-ee-ee,” because his mouth was stuffed with pizza. After he swallowed, he said, “Nice dress.”
“Thanks,” Ellie said. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
“I told Cole I’d give him five dollars if he wore a skirt,” Rogan said. “But he was too chicken.”
“It’
s true, I do own a skirt,” Cole said, wiping some tomato sauce from the corner of his mouth. “Well, strictly speaking, it’s a kilt. My mom’s big on our Scottish heritage.”
“He rocks that skirt,” Ethan said.
“Kilt,” Cole corrected him.
“Moving on,” Felicity said. She turned to Ellie. “Let’s go see who else is here.”
“We’re coming with you,” Rogan said. “If I eat any more pizza, I’m going to be sick.”
“Should we head toward the basketball hoop?” Ellie asked, pointing to the other end of the gym. “Is that what you call that?”
“I think you call it a hoop if it’s nailed to your garage,” Ethan said. “In a gym, you call it a goal.”
“I think it’s the same thing either way,” Cole said.
“You say kilt, I say skirt,” Rogan said.
“You say skirt, I say hoop,” said Henry, popping up from behind Felicity. “You say hoop, I say how high.”
“Oh good, Henry’s here,” Ethan said dryly. “Dude, why aren’t you dancing?”
“I’m waiting to fill my dance card,” Henry said.
“That could take a while,” Cole said.
“Ellie will dance with me, won’t you?” Henry turned to Ellie and held out his hand. “They’re playing our song.”
Ellie felt her face go hot. She’d never danced with a boy before. She’d never danced period. Not in a room filled with other people, anyway. But she didn’t want to hurt Henry’s feelings, so she took a deep breath and said, “Sure. Okay.”
Following Henry out onto the dance floor, Ellie could feel a million eyes staring at her. But when she actually looked around, no seemed to be paying her any attention at all. Even Felicity was too busy laughing at something Ethan had just said to make meaningful eye contact. Okay, Ellie thought, I can do this. Just relax and move to the music, right?
“I feel honor bound to tell you that if Aadita were here, I’d be dancing with her right now,” Henry said. “Even though I think you’re a nice person.”
“She’s not allowed to go to dances,” Ellie informed him. “That’s what she told me and Felicity. Her mom says sixth grade is too young.”
“Or too old,” Henry said. “Preschoolers make the best dancers. But that’s sad about Aadita. I didn’t know about her mom.”
Henry didn’t look sad, Ellie thought. He looked like Ellie had just given him some wonderful news. He also looked almost—relaxed? She had to admit he was a good dancer. Maybe it helped that dancing gave Henry’s excess energy somewhere to go. Instead of dancing in one spot, she and Henry moved through the crowd, occasionally pausing so Henry could twirl Ellie around. After a few minutes, they’d circled around to the basketball goal, where Rogan, Cole, Cammi, and Ben were watching Ariana, Elizabeth, Becca, Stefan, Ethan, and Felicity dance.
“Are they having a hoedown without us?” Henry asked, twirling Ellie in the group’s direction. “And why do you think a hoedown is called a hoedown? Is it because farmers had to put their hoes down to dance?”
When they reached the other dancers, Henry bowed. “Mind if we join you?”
The circle of dancers opened to let them in. Ellie felt more self-conscious dancing with the group—with Henry, dancing had felt like goofing around. With the rest of the group, dancing felt more personal, like people were letting you see a side of them they didn’t usually let show.
Ellie shuffled back and forth, still looking around the gym. What was everyone thinking? Feeling? What could you really know about a person just by observing them at a middle-school dance? Was everyone nervous on the inside, even the people walking around looking superconfident? What was it really like to be Henry or Felicity or Stefan? What would Becca do when she got home? Drink hot cocoa with her mom and gossip with her about what everyone said and wore?
“Sam’s here!” Elizabeth cried, pointing toward the gym entrance, and then she started waving. “Sam! Sam! Over here!”
“He’s wearing a tie!” Ariana said, sounding delighted. “That’s so formal!”
Sam was leaning against a wall, his hands shoved into the pockets of his khaki pants. Finally he noticed Elizabeth waving at him. He waved back, but didn’t move.
“They must have let him back in our school,” Henry said. “They must have given him the key to the city!”
“He and his mom moved in with my neighbor yesterday,” Becca informed them. “I helped carry some of their boxes, and I also baked them some cookies.”
Ethan stopped dancing, a huge grin spreading across his face. “That means Sam’s back in our school district and Mrs. Herrera is safe. No more thin ice.”
That was good news, Ellie thought, and then wondered why such good news made her feel a little sad. Maybe it was because now the class wouldn’t have to form a human shield around Sam anymore, to protect him and their teacher. Now Garrison could go back to the jock table and Ethan, Rogan, and Cole could sit over near the eighth-grade football team, and Ariana and Elizabeth could sit at their usual table by the window, and Ben, Stefan, and Bart could go back to the computer lab at recess, and Becca could head to the classroom to tidy up the book nook. Maybe Felicity would get bored with their class now that there wasn’t some big drama going on and would start hanging out with Madeline and Anna again.
Ellie guessed if that happened, she’d go back to spending lunchtime at the library. The fact was she needed to get started on a new story, because it looked like this one had ended. The special things had been returned to the special collection, the mystery of Sam had been solved, he and his mom had a place to live, and Mrs. Herrera wouldn’t get fired. As an added bonus, some people who hadn’t been friends two weeks ago were friends now, or at least friendly.
So a happy ending, Ellie thought. But she wasn’t happy. She didn’t want to go back to the library, at least not at lunchtime. She didn’t want Felicity to go back to Mr. Lee’s class, or for Rogan, Ethan, and Cole to return to their table all the way on the other side of the cafeteria near the eighth-grade football players. She wanted the class to stay the class, the way it was right now.
“Come on,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe if we all go over, he’ll come and hang out with us.”
Walking across the gym, Ellie thought that this could be the last scene of her book, everybody crossing the gym together, music thumping, laughter all around them, Sam waiting on the other side of the room, looking happy to be back.
Or it could be the first scene of her next book. Had she thought of that? Maybe nothing was ending.
Maybe her story was just beginning.
MRS. HERRERA'S SIXTH-GRADE CLASS Front row (l-r): Mrs. Herrera, Ben, Lila; second row (l-r): Rosie, Becca, Cole, Aadita, Stefan, Ariana; third row (l-r): Rogan, Ellie, Cammi, Carson, Felicity, Henry; back row (l-r): Matt, Sam, Petra, Bart, Elizabeth, Ethan, Garrison
MRS. HERRERA'S SIXTH-GRADE CLASS Front row (l-r): Mrs. Herrera, Ben, Lila; second row (l-r): Rosie, Becca, Cole, Aadita, Stefan, Ariana; third row (l-r): Rogan, Ellie, Cammi, Carson, Felicity, Henry; back row (l-r): Matt, Sam, Petra, Bart, Elizabeth, Ethan, Garrison
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Acknowledgments
The author would like to thank the following people for their assistance, their brilliance, their wit, their fortitude, and their ongoing support in spite of their better judgment:
Caitlyn Dlouhy; Michelle Rosen; Alex Borbolla; Sonia Chaghatzbanian; Justin Chanda; Jeannie Ng; Irene Metaxatos; Kristin Esser; Elizabeth Blake-Linn; Amy Marie Stadelmann; and all of the Dowells, including Travis, the ever-faithful and affectionate pup.
About the Author
Frances O’Roark Dowell is the bestselling and critically acclaimed author of many novels, including Dovey Coe, Trouble the Water, Chicken Boy, the Secret Language of Gir
ls series, and most recently the Sam the Man series. She is a firm believer that you can’t tell much about people’s insides by looking at their outsides, which is one of the reasons she wrote The Class. Connect with Frances online at francesdowell.com.
Visit us at simonandschuster.com/kids
www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Frances-O’Roark-Dowell
A Caitlyn Dlouhy Book
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster, New York
Also by Frances O’Roark Dowell
Anybody Shining
Chicken Boy
Dovey Coe
Falling In
The Second Life of Abigail Walker
Shooting the Moon
Ten Miles Past Normal
Trouble the Water
Where I’d Like to Be
The Secret Language of Girls Trilogy
The Secret Language of Girls
The Kind of Friends We Used to Be
The Sound of Your Voice, Only Really Far Away
From the Highly Scientific Notebooks of Phineas L. MacGuire
Phineas L. MacGuire… Blasts Off!
Phineas L. MacGuire… Erupts!
Phineas L. MacGuire… Gets Cooking!
Phineas L. MacGuire… Gets Slimed!
The Sam the Man series
#1: Sam the Man & the Chicken Plan
#2: Sam the Man & the Rutabaga Plan
#3: Sam the Man & the Dragon Van Plan
#4: Sam the Man & the Secret Detective Club Plan
#5: Sam the Man & the Cell Phone Plan
ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
The Class Page 17