The Crisis Chapter Seven

Great blues spend much time preening and grooming, typically when perched on a tree branch or atop a muskrat lodge after feeding.

                                                          –Birds of Lake, Pond, and Marsh/John Eastman        

 

Chapter Seven

 

     Thanks to Gabrielle, I was surviving sixth grade. I’d discovered with a best friend, enemies ain’t no big deal.

Then a crisis hit.

At recess, I started to tell Gabrielle about writing a letter to my daddy, but stopped myself. I wasn’t sure just yet if she’d go “gabbing” to her mother. After all, her mother’s friends with Mama. I wasn’t takin’ any chances.

Low and behold, Gabrielle surprises me, pulling out a tiny box from the pocket of her jacket

“It’s not my birthday until June. That’s why Mama named me Emma June,” I said puzzled.

“Open it. You’ll see,” Gabrielle said with eyes dancing under them wire-rimmed glasses. And her braces-smile sparkling like sunshine rippling across Pine Lake.

But all I seen in the box was two broken jagged-edged pieces of metal – one black and one white.

“They’re Yin Yang necklaces!” Gabrielle explained, clasping the white necklace around my neck, then the black one around hers.

“What?”

“Friendship necklaces. I bought them in my Karate class.”

“You take Karate lessons?” I said flabbergasted.

Lord, I was learning all kinds of interesting things about Gabrielle!

“Yeah, my father makes me. Anyway, now we’re Yin Yang sisters.”

“Oh, Gabrielle I’ve always wanted me a sister,” I said hugging her.

Gabrielle blushed.

“Remember the first day I met you. I told you I didn’t know my daddy? Well, I said it all mean-like to shut you up, because it was personal. It’s been bothering me lately. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt your feeling none,” I apologized.

“It’s okay. Sometimes when I’m nervous, I talk too much. Kids at my last school called me ‘gabby’.”

Suddenly, she started bawling.

“Ain’t kids meaner than a snake.”

Gabrielle nodded, wiping snot on her jacket sleeve.

Just then Josh Kingsolver whizzes by, bouncing a ball right in our faces.

“Bettcha you don’t know how to build a robot?”

“Hope I don’t get in his science group,” I whisper to Gabrielle.

“Me, too”

Back in the classroom we had bigger problems than Josh Kingsolver.

The dance.

Bright, neon-colored posters – compliments Victoria’s group – had been plastered all over the school all week.

Didn’t mean nothing to me, I’d been telling myself.

Until now…

I was face-to-face with one of ’em right now in Science class. Darn thing was nearly blinding me!

 

Sixth Grade Harvest Moon Dance

Friday, October 27^th

Dancing, hayrides, bonfire

7-10 p.m. in the school parking lot

“Wish I’d brought me a pair of sunglasses,” I said to Gabrielle, pointing to the annoying sign, when I picked her for my science partner.

The dance was tonight. Everyone was talking about it — including me and Gabrielle —

when we was supposed to be building a robot.

I whispered into Gabrielle’s ear, “Are you going to the stupid dance? I heard Victory and them snobs saying they was all wearing low cut tops.”

Gabrielle had a funny look on her face, like she ate too much ice cream.

“Are you?”

“Well, I ain’t going,” I said flat out.

But I couldn’t tell Gabrielle the real reason. Money. Mama couldn’t afford to buy no low cut top. That is, if I could talk her into it, which was doubtful.

“I hope Victoria, Jennifer and Clarrissa get hay in them low cut tops and get an itchin’ fit. Serves ’em right,” I whispered to Gabrielle, jealous as a jaybird.

After a bit, Gabrielle said in a voice so soft I wasn’t sure I’d heard right, “I might go to the dance.”

“YOU WHAT?” I screeched.

Mrs Stankoski glared over our way, frowning.

“I said, I might go,” Gabrielle repeated louder.

“You serious?” I said, trying to keep my voice down and stay calm.

But it was hard. ’Cause I felt like a wasp kicked out of its nest. Luckily, a lot of other kids was talking too; so we wasn’t the only ones making noises.

“What kind of Yin Yang sister would do that?” I said reaching around my neck, ready to give her back her necklace.

But stopped when I heard her words, “Mom found out about it. She’s making me go. She says, ‘It will build my social skills’.”

“You’re not wearing no low cut top are you? Lord, you ain’t got nothing to show off,” I said in a disgusted tone.

“Are you kidding?” Gabrielle said, blushing. “My mother and grandmother would never let me do that. I have to wear my party dress that matches my doll.”

“Them tooter girls will tease the livin’ daylights outta you. Besides, how you gonna ride in a hay wagon in a dress?”

“What’s a tooter girl?” Gabrielle asked innocently.

“Tooters is a restaurant. And them tooter girls is waitresses there. Mama almost got a job there once. But she said, ‘I ain’t gonna make tips by exposin’ my tooters’.”

I could tell I was shocking Gabrielle; she was blushing shades of berries. I thought about switching the subject to my daddy. Lord, I wanted to tell her about writing him in the worse way. But two things was stopping me. Mrs. Stankoski announcing we was to “hurry up and finish our robots.” And Gabrielle gabbing on and on about her “party dress” (like she didn’t pay no mind to my advice about them brats gonna tease her).