Katy's New World

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  When she’d shown Annika the list of classes selected for her sophomore year at Salina High North, Annika had shaken her head and made a face. “They sound hard. Why do you want to study more anyway? You’re weird, Katy.”

  Remembering her friend’s words made her nose sting again. Annika had been Katy’s best friend ever since the first grade when the teacher plunked them together on a little bench at the front of the schoolroom, but despite their lengthy and close friendship, Annika didn’t understand Katy.

  Katy stared out the window, biting her lower lip and fighting an uncomfortable realization. Katy didn’t understand herself. A ninth grade education seemed to satisfy everyone else in her community, so why wasn’t it enough for her?

  Why were questions always swirling through her brain? She could still hear her teacher’s voice in her memory: “Katy, Katy, your many questions make me tired.” Why did words mean so much to her? None of her Mennonite friends had to write their thoughts in a spiral-bound notebook to keep from exploding. Katy couldn’t begin to explain why. And she knew, even without asking, that was what scared Dad the most. She shook her head, hugging her backpack to her thudding heart. He didn’t need to be worried. She loved Dad, loved being a Mennonite girl, loved Schellberg and its wooden chapel of fellowship where she felt close to God and to her neighbors. Besides, the deacons had been very clear when they gave her permission to attend high school. If she picked up worldly habits, attending school would come to an abrupt and permanent end.

  A prayer automatically winged through her heart: God, guide me in this learning, but keep me humble. Help me remember what Dad read from Your Word last night during our prayer time: that a man profits nothing if he gains the world but loses his soul.

  The bus pulled in front of the tan brick building that she and Dad had visited two weeks earlier when they enrolled her in school. On that day, the campus had been empty except for a few cars and two men in blue uniforms standing in the shade of a tall pine tree, smoking cigarettes. Dad had hurried her right past them. Today, however, the parking lot overflowed with vehicles in a variety of colors, makes, and models. People—people her age, not like the kids on the school bus—stood in little groups all over the grassy yard, talking and laughing.

  Katy stared out the window, her mouth dry. Most of the students had backpacks, but none sporting bold colors like hers. Their backpacks were Mennonite-approved colors: dark blue, green, and lots and lots of black. Should she have selected a plain-colored backpack? Aunt Rebecca had clicked her tongue at Katy’s choice, but the pink one was so pretty, so different from her plain dresses…Her hands started to shake.

  “Kathleen?” The bus driver turned backward in her seat. “C’mon, honey, scoot on off. I got three more stops to make.”

  Katy quickly slipped her arms through the backpack’s straps and scuttled off the bus. The door squealed shut behind her, and the bus pulled away with a growl and a thick cloud of strong-smelling smoke. Katy stood on the sidewalk, facing the school. She twisted a ribbon from her cap around her finger, wondering where she should go. The main building? That seemed a logical choice. She took one step forward but then froze, her skin prickling with awareness.

  All across the yard, voices faded. Faces turned one by one—a field of faces—all aiming in her direction. She heard a shrill giggle—her own. Her response to nervousness.

  Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pull on the other kids faded. They turned back to their own groups as if she no longer existed. With a sigh, she resumed her progress toward the main building, turning sideways to ease between groups, sometimes bumping people with her backpack, mumbling apologies and flashing shy smiles. She’d worked her way halfway across the yard when an ear-piercing clang filled the air. The fine hairs on her arms prickled, and she stopped as suddenly as if she’d slammed into the solid brick wall of the school building.

  The other kids all began moving, flinging their backpacks over one shoulder and pushing at one another. Katy got swept along with the throng, jostled and bumped like everyone else. Her racing heartbeat seemed to pound a message: This is IT! This is IT! High school!

  Chapter Two

  Just inside the wide double doors, a smiling woman held a big paper sign in the brightest pink Katy had ever seen. Pinker, even, than her backpack. In tall black letters, the sign directed new students to turn right at the first corner for “orientation.”

  Katy joggled her way to the right and followed several other kids around a corner, down a short hallway, to a room with another bold pink sign marked NEW STUDENT ORIENTATION. Although the word orientation was a new one, Katy vaguely remembered reading the word in the pamphlet the school had sent, and so she entered the room.

  A man wearing a bright orange tie directed everyone to enter the room and “take a seat—any seat.” Two long tables lined with chairs waited in the square room. Katy perched on the edge of a chair at the far end of the nearest table and placed her backpack on the floor beside her feet. She glanced at the others who’d entered the room and noticed that some of them appeared as perplexed as she felt. The thought gave her a small measure of reassurance.

  The chairs filled quickly with students, and the man with the funny tie snapped the door closed and bustled to the front of the room. He clapped his hands several times. “Quiet, please. Ladies, gentlemen, quiet now…” The shuffling and mumbles slowly drifted away. When silence reigned, the man said, “Thank you. Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” Katy replied automatically, then shrank back in embarrassment. At her school in Schellberg, each day had begun with Miss Yoder’s greeting followed by the students replying in chorus. But none of the other kids in the room responded to the man’s salutation, leaving her solo voice hanging in the air like an unpleasant odor.

  Suddenly, from the other end of the table, a male student called, “Good morning,” in a girlish, cheerful tone that perfectly matched Katy’s. Several others snickered, and two more kids echoed the “Good morning.” Katy hunched forward, trying to make herself smaller.

  The man gave a firm shake of his head accompanied by a scowl, once again silencing the students. “Welcome, everyone, to Salina North. I am Mr. Victor, the assistant principal.” To Katy’s relief, the kids quieted down and listened while Mr. Victor went through a list of behavioral expectations. Dad had already read the rules to Katy from the handbook the secretary had given him and lectured her on the importance of following them. But she listened politely anyway.

  When Mr. Victor finished explaining the school’s rules, he said, “I know we have two transfers from Hutchinson, where they use a trimester system. Have any others transferred from a school with something other than the standard semester system?”

  Katy raised her hand.

  Mr. Victor smiled at her, his thick mustache hiding his upper lip. “What system did your school use?”

  Katy blinked twice. “I—I’m not sure.”

  The man’s smile broadened, making his mustache expand. “How many sections did you have?”

  “Nine.”

  He reared back in surprise while the word nine was repeated around the room in disbelieving whispers. “You had nine?”

  “Yes, sir.” Pride squared her shoulders. Her school in Schellberg might have been small, but Gramma Ruthie and Dad had always emphasized how fortunate she’d been to have such a good teacher and a good school. “Miss Yoder taught all nine grades, and she divided us into—”

  Raucous laughter covered the rest of her explanation. She looked around in confusion. What had she said that was so funny?

  Mr. Victor clapped his hands again. “That’s enough! Quiet down.” He waited until the others quieted before turning back to Katy. “Did you have big tests right before winter break, and then again before school ended for the summer?” Something made his voice quaver, as if he was swallowing a laugh.

  Katy hadn’t realized a time of tests was called a “semester.” Heat flooded her face. Her first day of high school, and she’d a
lready encountered a new word: semester. She’d be sure to write it in her journal and remember it. “Y-yes, sir.”

  “Then your school operated on the standard two semester system.” He lifted his gaze to include everyone in the room. “There has been some talk about our school integrating to a trimester system.” Katy remained quiet while he explained the advantages and disadvantages of using three sections as opposed to two. Several students openly cheered when he mentioned that the trimester system made it possible for students to graduate early, but Katy wanted to cry out in protest. She’d just gotten here—she didn’t want to be finished early!

  “Now, let’s discuss the bell schedules so you will know what to expect.” Mr. Victor pulled three stiff posters from the corner and propped them on tall, silver easels. He held his hand toward the first poster. “Salina North operates on a modified block.” Katy listened, her brow furrowed in concentration, as the man explained that the students would attend seven fifty-minutes-long sessions on Monday, but four ninety-minute sessions the remaining days of the week. She frowned at the posters. Something didn’t make sense.

  She thrust her hand in the air. “Sir?”

  Mr. Victor looked at her. “Yes?”

  “What is a block?”

  A titter went around the table, and two boys elbowed each other, smirking. One boy said loudly, “A chunk of wood!” The titters turned to outright laughter. Katy wanted to glare at the boys the way she used to glare at Caleb Penner when he called her Katydid, but she kept her gaze aimed at Mr. Victor and waited for his answer.

  Mr. Victor gave the boys a stern frown before turning to Katy. “We call the classes blocks. So, for instance, if you have English first hour, then English is block one for you. Does that make sense?”

  Katy nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  A slight smile curved his lips. He pointed to one of the posters. “Very good. Now—”

  “Mr. Victor?” Katy waggled her fingers.

  His hand remained suspended in front of the crisp white board. “Yes?”

  “You said we all have seven blocks on Monday, but then on Tuesday and Thursday there’s an eighth block. Why don’t we have eight blocks on Monday?”

  The man blew out a small breath and propped his hand on the edge of the poster. “Because not everyone has an eighth block.”

  Katy tipped her head.

  “The eighth block is an ELO.”

  Katy wrinkled her brow.

  “Extended Learning Opportunity. It’s set up for students who need additional help in a subject.”

  “Oh! Tutoring.” Katy nodded, relieved. “I understand. Thank you.”

  The man turned toward the chart and opened his mouth, but then glanced at Katy. “Any other questions?”

  She shook her head, making her cap’s ribbons dance beneath her chin. She caught the trailing ribbons and threw them over her shoulders.

  “All right.” He spent a little more time explaining the modified block system. “Since this is our first week and we only have two days, we’re going to follow Monday’s schedule today and tomorrow. That will give everyone a chance to become familiar with the campus and your teachers before starting fresh with the regular schedule on Monday. Now, please retrieve the printed schedule you were given at enrollment.”

  Katy unzipped her backpack and pulled out the pocket folder that held her schedule. Two students didn’t have their schedules with them. She cringed, expecting Mr. Victor to berate them for being unprepared, but he simply instructed them to go to the office for duplicates. Katy watched the pair saunter out of the room, seemingly unconcerned about their missing schedules.

  “Since you’re new to our campus,” Mr. Victor said, pulling Katy’s attention back to him, “each of you will be matched with a returning student who will be your escort for the first week. He or she will offer assistance and answer questions.”

  Behind Katy, someone whispered, “I feel sorry for whoever gets stuck with the girl in the grandma dress.” A girl giggled in response.

  Katy pretended she hadn’t heard, but her ears burned and she knew they were turning red. Caleb used to relish making her ears turn red. Hopefully the extended brim of her cap hid any changing color.

  Mr. Victor strode to the door and opened it, then waved his hand. Several students filed into the room, and each of them held a small placard with a name on it. “Please introduce yourself to the person holding your name.”

  Katy leaned left and right, peering past shoulders until she found a placard with her name. She cradled her backpack and wove her way to a pleasant-looking girl with shoulder-length, rather messy blonde-streaked hair. “Hello.” She pointed to the sign. “That’s me.”

  “Hi, Kathleen.” The girl smiled, flashing silver braces, and slipped the placard into the back pocket of her blue jeans. The movement pulled her striped shirt tight against her chest, emphasizing the curve of her bosom. Katy quickly averted her gaze. “I’m Shelby Nuss. I’ll be showing you around.” She gestured toward the door. “First hour has already started, but—”

  Katy hugged her backpack tight. “We’re late?” Miss Yoder had never tolerated tardiness. Would she have to take home a note on the first day of school?

  Shelby grinned. “It’s okay. The teachers expect the new students to show up late the first day because of orientation.” She cocked her head toward the door. “Come on, though. The second block bell will ring soon, and you’ll want to see where your first block class is located.”

  Katy avoided stepping on Shelby’s heels as they headed down the hallway. Shelby glanced over her shoulder. She grinned again, and the overhead lights made her braces sparkle. “Come up here beside me. You don’t have to stay back there.” She caught Katy’s elbow and pulled her forward. “Around here, if you don’t push your way through, you might miss class. So don’t be bashful, okay?”

  Katy nodded, but inwardly she frowned. Pushing your way past people wasn’t Christlike. Dad—and the deacons—wouldn’t be pleased if she became self-serving. Her tennis shoes squeaked softly against the shiny tile floor as Shelby led her down a hallway lined with tall, narrow metal cubbies. At the top of each cubby’s door, a small sign bore a stamped number. Shelby stopped when they reached 164B.

  “All the sophomores have lockers in the B section. You should have a combination on your enrollment sheet to open the lock, but you’ll probably only use the locker for your coat and…um, necessities.”

  “Necessities?”

  “You know—for that time of the month.” Shelby’s eyes skittered to the side and then back.

  Katy’s ears started burning again. Maybe she shouldn’t ask so many questions.

  “Most of us just carry our books in our backpacks because there isn’t time to run to the lockers between every class.” Shelby glanced at Katy’s backpack, which was nestled against the modesty cape of her dress, and a small smile teased the corners of her lips. “Yours is real…nice, but you might want to get one with wheels. All the books can get pretty heavy.”

  Katy nodded, but she knew Dad wouldn’t buy her another backpack. “Where’s the first block class held?”

  Shelby quirked her finger and led the way down a long hallway interrupted by doors with long, narrow windows. Katy couldn’t resist peeking into classroom as they hurried down the hallway. They nearly reached the end before Shelby stopped in front of a door marked 173: BIOLOGY. Just as Shelby’s hand closed over the door handle, the same clanging noise that had called everyone in from the front lawn blared again. It seemed to come from right above Katy’s head.

  She cringed, wishing she could drop her backpack and cover her ears. “What is that?”

  Shelby gawked at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted green ears and a tail. “That’s the class bell. That’s how we know it’s time to go to the next class.”

  “Bell?” Katy shook her head, her ears still ringing from the horrible attack of noise. “Bells go ring-a-ling. That thing goes braaawnk!” The classroom door flew ope
n and students spilled into the hall just in time to hear the awful sound leave her throat. Laughter rang, even more offensive than the so-called bell.

  Katy asked one more question. “Where is the ladies’ room?”

  Shelby pointed.

  Katy turned and ran.

  Chapter Three

  The final bell of the day sent Salina High North’s one thousand students spilling into the hallways in a mad rush for freedom. Katy crisscrossed her arms over her chest to avoid elbowing anyone and tried to worm her way to the edge of the hallway. If she tripped over a shoelace or one of the many rolling backpacks out in the middle of the sea of people, the crowd would trample her before they even knew she was down. Thank goodness for the comfortable sneakers on her feet!

  Usually she bought her tennis shoes at Wal-Mart, but Gramma Ruthie and Grampa Ben had taken her to a shoe store in the big mall at Salina for her public high school shoes. The sales person called the blue and white leather sneakers “running shoes.” Running shoes were perfect for this school!

  Shelby trotted alongside Katy. Her shoulder bumped against Katy’s, they were so close. “It can be pretty overwhelming at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

  Katy forced a smile. “I suppose.” What would Shelby think if she knew there were fewer people in the entire town of Schellberg than there were dashing through these hallways right now? Voices and the sound of shoes on the floor—squeaks from sneakers, clicks from heels, clomps from heavier soles—echoed from the walls and tile ceiling, creating a disharmonious racket. Katy couldn’t wait to reach the yard and separate herself from the noise and confusion of the hallway.

  Her backpack straps dug painfully into her shoulders. Each teacher had distributed a textbook and syllabus. Seven books created a lot of weight and strained the backpack to its limit. Katy hoped the seams didn’t burst. But if they did, she’d be forced to buy a backpack with wheels, as Shelby had suggested. She’d find a black one.