by Linda Byler
Teacher Katie didn’t say anything about raising hands. She just smiled at Mandy and said, “Very good, Amanda. You may write your name on the blackboard to show your friends. Do you want to?”
Lizzie was horrified. She could not believe Teacher Katie was going to make Mandy go up to the blackboard and write her name the very first morning she ever went to school. But Mandy slid quietly out of her desk and walked softly to the blackboard. Bending, she carefully selected a nice piece of chalk.
Lizzie’s breath came rapidly, and her heart thudded in her chest. Mandy had never written on a blackboard before, and she didn’t know how, not even one tiny bit.
But Mandy held the chalk carefully, and slowly wrote “Amanda” in nice, straight letters, a bit crookedly, but in good writing across the blackboard. She laid the chalk carefully in the tray, turned, and walked daintily back to her seat, her big green eyes sparkling.
Teacher Katie was very pleased, Lizzie could tell. “Why, thank you, Amanda. That was very good. Does anyone else want to show me how you can write your name?”
Two more pupils in first grade shyly wrote their names on the blackboard. Teacher Katie praised them as well, but Lizzie couldn’t help but notice that Mandy’s name was written the best.
After that, the first grade was given a picture to color. Lizzie watched carefully as Teacher Katie passed out clean white sheets of paper and new yellow boxes of crayons. Mandy sat up straight in her seat, wiggling a bit more than necessary, because she was happy to be able to color a brand new picture. Lizzie knew how much Mandy loved to draw and color with crayons, so she relaxed and started to put away her own things.
She had a new pencil box this year, one that she really loved. It was blue, long and narrow, with a white plastic top that you pushed back like a rolltop desk. Lizzie could never quite figure out what happened to the rippled white plastic, because when you pushed it back, it just disappeared. Emma had told her it curled down under the layers of blue plastic on the bottom, but that’s how Emma was. She didn’t know for sure, she just thought she did and acted as if she knew. Lizzie figured the top rolled up like aluminum foil or bathroom tissue, but Emma said it couldn’t, there was no room for a roll like that at the back of the pencil box. Lizzie didn’t care what Emma said; the back of the pencil box was a little bigger than the front, if you looked at a certain angle.
Lizzie also had two new pens. One was clear, so you could see through it to the tube of blue ink in the middle. The other pen was sparkling silver and purple, with a purple cap on the top. It was the prettiest pen Lizzie had ever owned, so she snapped the top of it with her thumb, clicking it noisily, until her friend Betty looked over at her pen. Lizzie smiled at Betty with a pleased expression, holding up her pen.
Betty looked away and didn’t smile, so Lizzie knew she was jealous. She laid the shining pen in the wooden groove of her desktop and swung her feet, pretending to look in the other direction. If she looked sideways, she could see Betty looking at her pen, but only for a very short time before she looked away again. Lizzie was happy with her silver pen, because she almost never had anything nicer than Betty. It was kind of a good feeling, so she rolled the pen with her fingers.
At recess, Lizzie asked Betty if she had a new pen. Betty turned her back to Lizzie and started talking to Susie, as if she hadn’t heard her at all. That hurt Lizzie terribly. She just couldn’t understand what was wrong with Betty.
She found Emma at the water pump, talking to Abner and Elam about picking baseball teams. Emma was often the boss at school, as much as she was at home. That was just how Emma was.
“Emma!” Lizzie tugged at her sleeve.
“What?”
“Emma, you know what? Betty won’t talk to me. She’s ignoring me,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea what I did wrong.”
“Well, don’t worry about her. Just be nice.”
“I’m not going to be, if she’s not nice to me.”
“Just forget about it, Lizzie. Maybe you hurt her feelings or something.”
Lizzie walked away. She couldn’t help it if Betty was jealous about her pen. She wasn’t showing off, she was just clicking the top of it so she’d notice it. She wished Betty would have noticed her new pen more. That was the trouble with friends—you could never tell when they would decide not to like you.
Lizzie was relieved when the bell rang, because she had nobody to talk to, and it felt so different. After she resumed her studies, Lizzie forgot all about Betty. She was doing vocabulary, which she just loved to do, and it seemed as if her new book was going to be a lot harder than last year. She bent over her work, wondering if she could do all these words without using her dictionary. Without thinking, she reached up for her shiny new purple and silver pen, and pressed her thumb on the top, making a clicking noise. She was looking for the correct definition for the word “wonder,” clicking her pen repeatedly.
Unexpectedly, she felt a sharp nudge in the side of her leg. She looked over at Betty, a smile on her face, because she was so happy that Betty liked her again. Betty’s eyebrows were drawn down and she mouthed the words, “You think you’re smart, don’t you?”
Lizzie was shocked. The smile disappeared from her face, and she lowered her head, her face flaming with shame and embarrassment. If Betty had slapped her, it probably wouldn’t have hurt any worse. Slowly, she put the pen in the groove and picked up her pencil. She pressed her lips tightly together to keep from crying, trying to think of funny things before tears spilled over her eyelashes. She was too big to cry, but Betty was her best friend, and Lizzie could not remember her being unkind like this—not even once.
Lizzie felt awful. She was ashamed, but also fighting mad. That Betty was just jealous of her new pen, because she didn’t have one nearly as pretty. Lizzie peeped at Betty, who was writing with an ordinary blue and white pen, one that didn’t even have a clicker on top. Well, good for her, then. Lizzie sincerely hoped Betty would never get a pen even half as nice as hers.
At lunchtime, the upper graders were allowed to go home, because in the fall the farmers were still busy harvesting crops in the field. The big girls were allowed to go home to help their mothers with canning. Tomatoes, pears, and apples were all ready to be put into jars. Lizzie knew, because Mam was canning things every day.
Teacher Katie dismissed the seventh and eighth grade, while the rest of the pupils took turns washing their hands in a basin of water, drying them on the sweet-smelling green roller towel in the back of the room. They were called out by rows, so only six or seven pupils went back at one time. Lizzie was so glad Betty wasn’t in the same row as she was, because that Betty was going to find out, there was no doubt about it. Mam had often told Lizzie that it was the devil who made you jealous, and it was not a good thing to do. Betty had better watch out.
Lizzie splashed her hands a lot more vigorously than usual, until Teacher Katie told her to be careful, she was splashing too much. Lizzie didn’t even look at her; she was too busy thinking about how Betty was going to catch it, and how much fun it was going to be to tell her exactly what Mam had said about jealousy. She marched back to her desk and thumped her lunchbox on the top of her desk, looking straight ahead so she wouldn’t have to look at Betty.
After everyone had washed their hands, Teacher Katie washed hers, got her lunchbox, and sat down at her desk. She explained to the first grade about saying the lunch prayer, because little Amish children are used to silent prayer at mealtime in their homes. Then they all bowed their heads and said the prayer softly.
“Can we eat outside, Teacher?”
The heads were barely lifted before Emma asked this question.
“Yes, you may. Just be careful, and put your trash back into your lunchboxes or into the waste can,” Teacher Katie said.
Lizzie loved to eat outside. She dashed out with the others, finding a soft grassy spot on the playground. She plopped down beside Susie, hoping Betty woul
d sit beside them, too, because she was going to tell her what Mam said. Emma and her friends joined the circle, talking and laughing about things in their lunchbox.
Sure enough, Betty walked over slowly and sat beside Susie, so she wouldn’t have to sit beside Lizzie. Rachel told her to sit on the other side; there was more room for her there. “You’re making it too tight!” she said.
Before Betty could protest, Lizzie looked at Betty and said evenly, “She won’t sit beside me, because she’s jealous of my pen.”
Betty’s face turned red, and she looked straight at Lizzie. “I am not!”
“Yes, you are!”
“No, I’m not!”
“Mm-hmm.”
Emma was mortified. Lizzie had never acted like this in school. She was always the friendly one who loved everyone and everyone loved her. This was just awful. Emma was horribly embarrassed.
“Lizzie!”
Lizzie looked straight at Emma without blinking, and just gave her a long, level look, not even flinching.
Lizzie turned to Betty, and with the same level stare, she told Betty that if she didn’t stop being jealous of her pen, the devil was going to get her. Betty was so surprised at Lizzie, her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of astonishment. There was absolute silence after that. All the lunchboxes remained closed, because no one really felt like eating. The wind stirred the tall grass by the fence, and a grasshopper whirred into the center of their circle. The schoolhouse door slammed as a little boy dashed back inside for a forgotten item.
Finally, Lizzie opened her lunchbox and examined the contents. The others did the same. Rachel began munching soberly on her sandwich, and Lizzie took a long drink from her Thermos bottle. Susie started eating cornstarch pudding from a small plastic container, but a bit selfconsciously, not with the usual ease and happy chatter that accompanied their lunch hour.
“The devil can’t get you, Lizzie!” Betty burst forth, unexpectedly.
“Mm-hmm. By making you jealous,” Lizzie said.
“Who said?”
“My mom.”
“Oh.”
Lizzie bit into her cheese sandwich, which was so dry it stuck to the roof of her mouth. She scraped it off with one finger and chewed methodically. She wished Mam would let them put bologna and cheese on their sandwich, but there was no use asking. Mam never did, because it was too expensive. They were only allowed two pieces of bologna and no cheese. Or just cheese and no bologna. Mayonnaise helped to make cheese sandwiches less dry, but they weren’t very good.
Betty watched Lizzie eat her sandwich. She leaned over to her and said quietly, “Does your mom know stuff like that about the devil, or did she make it up?”
Lizzie chewed her bite of sandwich, swallowed, and said, “Oh, she knows, Betty. She reads her Bible a lot.”
Betty looked very seriously at Lizzie. “I’m sorry, then.”
“You’re welcome,” Lizzie replied.
Rachel, Susie, and Emma burst out laughing. They choked on their food, rocked back and forth, slapped their knees, and kept on laughing. Lizzie and Betty looked at each other and smiled, but couldn’t really laugh, because neither of them knew what was so funny. Finally, Rachel gasped, and Emma spluttered, “Lizzie, you don’t say ‘you’re welcome’ when someone says they’re sorry!”
“What then?” Lizzie asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Betty said.
The other girls started laughing again, so Betty and Lizzie got up and walked to the porch. Betty turned to Lizzie and asked her if she was still mad.
“No, I’m not. But, Betty, you should never act jealous, because you are my very best friend. And besides, I never have nicer things than you do. You know that.”
“I wasn’t really, really mad or jealous. You were just kind of clicking it too much.”
“You mean, I was showing off?” Lizzie asked.
“You were kind of, yes.”
“Well then, I won’t.”
“Good.”
“Betty?” Lizzie asked.
“Hmm?”
“Do you want my new pen? Just to use next period?”
“May I?”
“Sure you may!” Lizzie said generously.
“Oh, goody, Lizzie!” Betty said.
They hurried inside to find the pen, which Lizzie handed to Betty, her head held high, and her face wreathed in smiles. Betty examined it carefully.
“Where did you get a pen like this?” she asked.
“My aunt Fannie gave me and Emma each one for … actually, I don’t even know what for. But you may use it for a long time, Betty.”
Betty looked at Lizzie, and Lizzie looked back at Betty. They shared a smile of pure delight, because they were back to being the best of friends.
“I’m going to ask my mom if you may come home with me overnight! Do you want to, Lizzie?” Betty beamed.
“Of course!”
“We would have so-o-o much fun. You could help me feed my calves and look at all my pretty things I got for Christmas!”
Arm in arm, they left the classroom, and Teacher Katie wondered vaguely what that was all about. That was the thing about girls—they were a lot harder to figure out than boys. Teacher Katie smiled to herself and shook her head a few times, before folding her waxed paper neatly, closing her lunchbox, and proceeding to check second grade papers.
chapter 19
Grandma Miller Is Sick
Lizzie, Emma, and Mandy burst through the kitchen door, their bonnets dangling and their sweaters hanging open or buttoned crookedly. The crisp fall air swirled around their feet as they banged the door shut behind them. Their tin lunchboxes made a clattering sound when they threw them facedown on the oilcloth-covered table. The kitchen seemed strangely quiet without Mam, but they thought nothing of it, because Mam wasn’t always in the kitchen when they returned home from school.
“I’m hungry!” Lizzie said loudly, going into the pantry. She rummaged in the plastic containers, looking for molasses cookies. They were her favorite when she came home, especially if Mam made hot chocolate.
“Where’s Mam?” asked Mandy, opening her lunchbox and finding a yellow apple she hadn’t eaten at school. She rubbed it across her apron and took a huge, crisp bite.
“Mmm!” she said.
Lizzie watched her eat the apple, wondering why Mandy always ate things like oranges and apples. She even liked Jell-O better than chocolate whoopie pies, which was unthinkable to Lizzie, because Jell-O tasted sour, same as most fruit. Mam said that was why Mandy was so thin—she ate good, healthy things that weren’t so fattening. Lizzie didn’t worry whether something was fattening or not, she just ate whatever tasted good. All she knew was that a whoopie pie tasted a whole lot better than an apple, especially a green one.
There were footsteps coming up the stairs, and the girls heard Mam and Dat talking as they appeared in the living room doorway. Mam’s nose was red and her eyes looked swollen, her lips quivering with emotion. Dat had his arm across Mam’s shoulder, as if trying to comfort her.
Lizzie looked carefully at Mam, her heart sinking. Now what is wrong? she thought. She could easily tell that Mam had been crying, and Lizzie felt very distressed.
Dat looked at Emma and said soberly, “Emma.”
“What?” Emma had been reading quietly, kneeling on a kitchen chair, bent over the table with the paper spread on top. She looked up, quite unaware that anything was wrong.
“Do you think you three girls could stay here with a ‘maud’ if we decide to go to Ohio?” Dat watched Emma’s face carefully as he spoke.
“Why would you go to Ohio? Where are you going?” Lizzie blurted out before Emma had a chance to answer.
Mam sat down wearily, putting her arm around Mandy’s thin shoulders. Mandy snuggled against Mam, her eyes carefully searching Mam’s swollen face. Mam reached over and brushed a few stray hairs out of Mandy’s eyes, smiling at her in reassurance.
Dat broke off a piece of molasses cookie and took a bite. H
e chewed thoughtfully as Mam answered Lizzie’s questions.
“We got a letter from Aunt Vera, and she says Grandma Miller is not well. She’s weak and sick and often has to lie down and rest, because she just doesn’t have her strength.” Mam’s voice rose at the end because she felt so helpless, and Lizzie knew she didn’t like to be so far away when her mother was sick. She pitied Mam, but Dat looked so miserable that she almost pitied him more.
Mam sighed and wiped her eyes and nose with a crumpled handkerchief. She adjusted a loose pin on the front of her old brown dress, smoothing her covering in one swift movement. Mam was very upset, and Lizzie felt like burying her face in Mam’s soft stomach, the way she used to do when she was younger.
“If we go,” she continued, glancing at Dat’s worried face, “we’ll go tomorrow on the train. It doesn’t suit Rachel to stay with you, because Elam Kings just had a baby boy and she’s helping there. So if it suits Malinda Zook, would you stay with her for a few days?”
Emma sat down in a chair and asked, “Why her?”
“Who is Malinda Zook?” Lizzie asked nervously.
“She has helped me already, with canning and housecleaning. Don’t you remember Abner Zook’s Malinda?” Mam asked.
“Who?”
“Lizzie, you know who Mam means. That girl that made you put your books on the toy shelf, and you were so provoked,” Emma said.
“Oh, her,” Lizzie said.
“We’d take Jason along, then Malinda can go to her job till the evening. You girls can go to Lavina Lapp’s house till Malinda picks you up,” Dat said.
“Lavina is out of school. We can’t go to her house,” Lizzie said crossly. This whole thing was just not something Lizzie wanted to do. Why did Mam and Dat have to go to Ohio in the first place? “Mam, Mommy Miller will probably be better soon. Do you have to go to Ohio?” she wailed.
“Lizzie!” Emma said. “Of course they want to go. How would you feel if it were Mam?”