by Jean Little
ANNA MADE PAPA extra tall. The top of his head touched the edge of the paper. She gave him wide shoulders and a big smile. She made his eyes very blue.
Then she put Mama next to him, holding his arm. Mama came up to his shoulder. Papa often joked about how small Mama was. He could rest his chin on top of her head.
Anna gave Mama a smile too but her crayon slipped as she did it and Mama’s smile was crooked. Anna tried to fix it. She scratched at the wax with her fingernail. It flaked off but it left a smeary mark.
Should she start all over again — or give up?
Anna looked down at Papa, so tall, so happy. She drew a new smile on Mama’s face over the place where the crooked one had been. This time the smile was fine but you could still see where she had made the mistake.
I know, Anna thought with sudden excitement. I’ll make her sunburned and cover it up.
Carefully, she coloured in the rest of Mama’s face till it was rosy right up to her hair. It worked.
They’ve been on a holiday, Anna told herself, smiling a little at last. She made Papa’s face match.
She paused and thought. By now she had forgotten the rest of the class. Her eyes lighted and she bent over her drawing once more.
She put Fritz’s pail in Papa’s hand. It didn’t show, but Anna knew there was a little fish inside that pail.
Next she put in Rudi and Gretchen. They, too, were tall and sunburned. They had bright yellow hair and bright blue eyes. They had bathing suits on. Rudi was carrying his butterfly net. It was new and he was proud of it. Gretchen had Frieda’s pail, full of seashells. The two of them were walking along beside Papa.
The twins took up most of the space next to Mama. They were running, their legs kicking up. Fritz’s ears stuck out like cup handles. They both looked much too lively to be carrying their own pails. Anna left them in bare feet.
She coloured light brown sand in a band at the bottom of the page.
There. It’s done, she told the part of herself that was just watching.
Then she remembered. “And yourself, too, Anna,” Miss Williams had said.
There was still a little room left on the page at one side. She made herself fit into the small space. She made her hair plain brown, her eyes an ordinary blue. Wanting somehow to look as interesting as the rest, she tried to draw herself in her new tunic. But she could not make the pleats look like pleats. When she had done her best, the girl on the paper looked squinched up and ugly.
I’ve spoiled it, mourned Anna. She closed the crayon box.
Miss Williams came and bent above her.
“Who are they, Anna?” she asked.
Slowly Anna began to explain in German.
Miss Williams did not stop her and tell her to talk English instead, but when Anna pointed and said, “Mein Papa,” the teacher answered, “Your father. My, he is tall, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Anna replied in English, only half aware she was switching. She was too intent on making sure Miss Williams understood about the holiday.
“They are gone on … to the sea,” she fumbled, looking in vain for an English word for “holiday.”
“I thought they had,” Miss Williams said.
It was not such a terrible day. Not once did the teacher ask Anna to read from a book. She printed the story of Anna’s picture on another piece of paper. The letters were large and black. Anna read each line as it appeared. She did not panic. She did not think of this as reading.
Here is Anna’s father.
He is big. He is happy.
Anna’s mother is here too.
She is small. She is happy too.
They are at the sea.
Gretchen is Anna’s big sister.
Rudi is Anna’s big brother.
Gretchen and Rudi are happy at the sea.
Frieda is Anna’s other sister.
Fritz is Anna’s brother too.
Fritz and Frieda are twins.
The twins are happy here too.
Anna is in our class.
Our class is happy
Anna is here.
“You like drawing, don’t you, Anna,” Miss Williams said, picking up the picture and looking at it again, smiling at the bright colours, the liveliness of the twins.
Anna did not answer. She was too startled, even if she had known what to say. She had always hated drawing in school. Frau Schmidt would put a picture of a tulip up on the board for them to draw. Once, as a special treat, she had brought real flowers in a vase. The others had been pleased with their pictures that day, but in Anna’s, the flowers had looked like cabbages on sticks.
“Really, Anna!” Frau Schmidt had said.
Making this portrait of her family, Anna had forgotten that. This had not seemed the same thing at all.
She was still sitting with her mouth ajar when Miss Williams went on to say something else, something so much more surprising that Anna had to pinch herself to make sure she was not inventing the whole thing.
“You like reading, too. I can see that. And your English! I can hardly believe you’ve been in Canada such a short time. You are amazing, Anna.”
Miss Williams was not nearly as amazed as Anna Elisabeth Solden. She, Anna, like reading!
She wanted to laugh but she did not. She still did not even smile openly.
All the same, Anna felt something happening deep inside herself, something warm and alive. She was happy.
She was also muddled. She did not know how to behave. She had never felt this way before, not in school anyway. She sat perfectly still, her plain face as stern as usual. Only her eyes, blinking behind the big new glasses, betrayed her uncertainty.
The teacher did not wait for an answer to the astonishing things she had said. She took the picture and the story and tacked them up on the bulletin board where the whole class could see them. Then she got Benjamin to come over and read the words aloud.
“Twins!” Ben said, his eyes sparkling with interest. “Wow!”
Anna sat and listened to other classes working. She learned about explorers with the boys and girls in Grade Five. Miss Williams did not seem to mind other children listening and learning.
After lunch the teacher wound up the gramophone and put on a record.
“Get comfortable, everybody,” she said, “so you can really hear this.”
Another strange word! Anna waited and watched.
Ben sat on the floor, leaning his back against Miss Williams’ desk. The boy Anna thought might be Bernard slid down in his seat till all you could see was his head. Mavis put her head down on her folded arms. Everybody relaxed, sprawled, slouched, leaned.
Anna settled herself a little more squarely on her chair. She did not slump or get down on the floor.
But I am comfortable, she told herself.
She stopped worrying about losing Gretchen’s hair ribbon, about Miss Williams finding out how stupid she was at schoolwork. She listened with her whole self.
Music, cool quiet music, rippled through the room.
“What did this make you think of?” Miss Williams asked when the record finished.
“Rain,” Isobel said. She was in Grade Four and had fat bouncy ringlets.
“I think water maybe,” Ben tried.
“Rain’s water,” Isobel grinned at him.
“No, I mean water like a stream,” Ben insisted, staying serious in spite of her.
“What do you think, Anna?” Miss Williams asked.
Anna blushed. She had not been going to say.
“I know that music from my home,” she explained. “I know the name.”
“Tell us,” Miss Williams smiled.
“It is ‘The Shine of the Moon,’” Anna stumbled. “But …” She stopped short. Miss Williams waited. The others waited too. All the faces turned toward Anna were friendly faces. She took a deep breath and finished.
“I think it is like rain too,” she said.
“The record is ‘The Moonlight Sonata’ by Beethoven,” Miss Willi
ams said. “But Beethoven did not name it that. He could have been thinking of rain.”
“Or a stream,” Ben said stubbornly.
“Or a stream — or something else entirely,” the teacher said. “Each of you, listening, will hear it differently. That’s fine. That’s what your imaginations are for — to use. Beethoven was a great composer. He was German — like Anna.”
Anna held her head up at that. She and Beethoven!
Arithmetic was not hard. Numbers, in this classroom, were big and clear and they stayed still when you looked at them.
“Good work, Anna,” Miss Williams said, looking over her shoulder.
Not, “Nobody would ever guess you were Gretchen Solden’s sister!”
She doesn’t even know Gretchen, Anna realized suddenly. She doesn’t know any of them but me.
She felt lost for a moment. Her teachers had always known her family too. Then she sat straighter.
Just me, she told herself again.
Whatever this teacher thought of her, it would be because of what she, Anna, did or failed to do. It was a startling idea. Anna was not sure she liked it. She shoved it away in the back of her mind and went on with her arithmetic. But she did not forget.
When school was over, she walked past her own house and went on to the store where Papa was hard at work. She waited off to one side. When the customers were gone, she stepped up and leaned on the counter.
“How did it go in school, my little one?” he asked hopefully.
Anna knew what he hoped but she ignored his question.
“Papa, what is a challenge?” She had said the word over and over to herself all day long so she would be able to ask.
Papa scratched his head.
“A challenge,” he repeated. “Well, it is … something to be won, maybe. Something special that makes you try hard to win it.”
Anna thought that over.
“Thank you, Papa,” she said, turning away.
“But school,” her father cried after her. “Tell me about it.”
“It was fine,” Anna said over her shoulder. Then she twirled around unexpectedly and gave him one of her rare half-smiles.
“It was a challenge,” she said.
“Something special,” she repeated, as she started for home. “Dr. Schumacher thinks I am something special … like Papa said.… But why something to be won?”
She gave a little hop all at once. She would not mind going back tomorrow.
“It is a challenge,” she said over again, aloud, in English, to the empty street.
She liked that word.
11
The Second Day
ANNA WATCHED HER FEET walking along.
One … two … one … two …
Soon she would be at the school. Maybe she could even see it now if she looked up. She did not look up.
It was a long walk but there was no way to get lost. You just kept going straight ahead after you got to the first big street and turned left. Mama had watched until Anna had made that first turn safely. So she was not lost.
She felt lost though.
One … two … one … two …
Yesterday at school they had been nice but she was new yesterday. Today she would probably be Awkward Anna again. Miss Williams would not smile.
Today she’ll want me to read from a book, Anna told herself, getting ready for the worst.
“Hi, Anna,” a boy’s voice called.
Anna looked up without stopping to think. The next instant, she felt silly. Nobody knew her. There must be another Anna. She glanced around quickly. There were no other girls in sight. Only a tall boy coming along the sidewalk from the opposite direction.
Anna dropped her gaze hastily and quickened her steps. She was almost sure he had been looking right at her and smiling but her new glasses must be playing tricks. She did not know that boy.
They met where the walk led into the school building.
“What’s the matter? You deaf?” the boy asked.
He was laughing a little.
Anna darted another glance up at him and then stared at her shoes again.
It’s Bernard, she thought, feeling sick.
She was not positive, but she had better answer. Bernard was Rudi’s size exactly.
“I am not deaf,” she told him.
Her voice was thin and small.
“Good,” the boy said. “Hey, why don’t you look at me.”
Obediently, Anna lifted her head. He was still laughing. Sometimes when Rudi teased, he laughed too.
“That’s better,” the boy said. “Now I’m going to do you a favour.”
Anna had no idea what he was talking about. She was certain now, though, that he was Bernard. She longed to run but something firm in the way he spoke to her made her stay facing him, waiting.
“This will be your first lesson in being a good Canadian,” he went on.
“Lesson?” Anna repeated like a parrot.
Her voice was a little stronger now.
“Yeah, lesson. When you hear somebody say ‘Hi, Anna,’ the way I did, you say ‘Hi’ back again.”
He paused. Anna stared up at him.
“You say ‘Hi, Bernard!’” he prompted.
Anna just stood, still not understanding, still not quite brave enough to run.
“Come on or we’re both going to be late,” he urged. “Just say ‘Hi, Bernard.’ That’s not so hard to say, is it?”
“Hi,” Anna heard herself whisper.
She could not manage to add his name. What did “Hi” mean anyway?
Bernard grinned.
“That’s a start,” he said. “See you in class, kid.”
He loped up the walk, leaving her behind. Anna followed slowly.
Somehow she had done the right thing. Bernard had not been mean. But what had it all been about?
She was so puzzled that she was inside the school before she remembered how afraid she was.
Then the nightmare began. She could not find the right classroom. She wandered up one long hall, down another. Through open doorways, she caught sight of groups of children but she recognized nobody. Several boys and girls hurried past her. They all knew exactly where they were going. If one had stopped long enough, she might have been able to ask the way but nobody seemed to see her.
A bell clanged. Anna jumped. Then everywhere the doors were closed.
She went on walking past the tall shut doors. She tried not to think of Papa. She tried not to think at all. She just walked and walked and walked.
“Anna! Anna! This way!”
Footsteps clattered after her. Angel footsteps! But the angel was Isobel, her ringlets bouncing, her eyes warm with sympathy.
“Bernard said he’d seen you so we guessed you must be lost,” she explained.
She grabbed Anna’s cold hand and squeezed it.
“I know exactly how you feel,” she told the new girl, tugging her along, not seeming to mind that Anna could not speak a word in return. “I got lost six times my first week here. This school is so big and all the halls look the same. At recess, I’ll show you a sure way to remember. You just have to come in the right door, climb two sets of stairs, turn right and you’re there. Here, I mean,” she finished.
Before them, like a miracle, was the right door. It stood open. Nobody was working. Benjamin wasn’t even in his desk. He was at the door watching for them. In an instant, Miss Williams was there too.
“Oh, Anna, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you,” she said.
Anna let Isobel lead her to her desk. She sank into her seat. She listened. Apparently everyone in the class had been lost at least once in the school building. Nobody blamed Anna. Not once did anyone say, “How stupid of you not to have paid better attention yesterday!”
“I got lost once just coming back from the bathroom,” Ben said and blushed.
The rest laughed. Ben didn’t seem to mind. He smiled himself.
“I expect you were daydreaming, Ben,” Miss W
illiams commented.
“I was figuring out whether a person could dig a tunnel under the Atlantic Ocean,” Benjamin admitted.
The class laughed again. Anna stopped trembling. Here in Canada, she thought, maybe it is all right to make mistakes.
“Now it’s time we stopped gossiping,” Miss Williams told them. “Take your place, Ben.”
Ben went to his desk. Miss Williams moved to stand at the front of the room. As she opened her mouth to begin, a voice spoke up.
“Hi, Anna,” Bernard said.
Anna looked at him. Then she looked at the teacher. Miss Williams was smiling, waiting. Anna gripped the edge of her desk.
“Hi, Bernard,” she said, still in a whisper.
“I’m teaching her to be a Canadian,” Bernard explained.
Miss Williams did not look surprised.
“Good,” she said simply. “Class, stand.”
When it was time for recess, Isobel did not forget. Ben came along too. They took Anna to the door through which she would enter the school.
“It’s the door you’d come to naturally, walking from your place,” Isobel said.
Anna’s surprise showed on her face. How did Isobel know where the Soldens lived?
“I heard Dr. Schumacher tell Miss Williams your address yesterday,” Isobel confessed. “I live on the same street, two blocks this way. Now listen, you come in here …”
“Cross-eyed … cross-eyed!” a voice in the playground sang out.
Anna did not know what the words meant. Until she saw her stiffen, she did not know they had anything to do with Isobel.
“Ignore them, Isobel,” Ben urged. “Pretend you don’t even hear, like Miss Williams said.”
“Four-eyes … four-eyes!” another voice took up the mocking chant.
Isobel let the school door close, shutting the three of them safely inside. She smiled shakily at Ben.
“Ignore them yourself, Benjamin,” she advised.
“I hate them!” Ben said, through clenched teeth.
“Me too … but hating doesn’t help,” Isobel said. “It would if we were a lot bigger.”
She caught the bewilderment on Anna’s face.
“She doesn’t know what they mean,” she said to Ben.
She explained about crossed eyes. Anna did not get all the words but she understood the gestures. Isobel’s eyes did cross sometimes but they were nice eyes, brown and kind. Anna remembered the brightness in them that morning when Isobel had found her. She, like Ben, hated whoever called Isobel names.