Nobody's Perfect Read Free

him.”
    The students tittered and Megan felt a rush of embarrassment. She sank an inch in her chair. She was only watching out for Ms. Endee; it wasn’t like she cared the least bit about Tony Rosenblum.
    â€œI got an e-mail from Tony’s parents saying that his family won’t return from the holidays for another few days,” Ms. Endee explained. “So Tony will have to get used to a new seat when he returns.” She smiled at Alexis who was just settling into her new desk, and Alexis returned the smile.
    â€œAnd we now have thirteen girls in our class,” Ms. Endee continued. “We used to have twelve, but Alexis makes thirteen.”
    Right, thought Megan. Lucky number thirteen!
    Megan had already done the math. She had eleven birthday invitations to her Positively Purple Party neatly addressed and assembled in a purple box in her purple backpack; she had only counted on a total of twelve girls at her party, including herself. Did she need to make another invitation? Did she have to invite the new girl? What was she going to do about Alexis?
    â€œThirteen is a baker’s dozen,” added Ms. Endee. She picked up her trusty blue marker and wrote the words “baker’s dozen” on the whiteboard. Snapping the cap back onto the marker, she asked, “Does anybody know why we call thirteen a ‘baker’s dozen’?”
    None of the kids raised a hand. No one had heard the expression before, so nobody had a clue. Ms. Endee often used expressions and vocabulary words that they didn’t understand. Then she’d write the word or words on the whiteboard and ask someone to volunteer a definition. No one ever did. Now they waited for Ms. Endee to explain the term herself, as she always did.
    Naturally they were surprised when, instead of launching into her own definition, Ms. Endee looked over their heads and said, “Yes, Alexis.” She was looking at the new girl.
    Everyone in the classroom turned to look at Alexis—and when they did, they saw that the new girl had raised her hand. In fact, it was still raised. “A baker’s dozen is when the baker throws an extra cookie or doughnut or muffin into the box in addition to the dozen already inside,” said Alexis. “The extra cookie or doughnut or muffin makes thirteen. And that’s why thirteen is called a baker’s dozen.”
    â€œQuite right,” said Ms. Endee, obviously pleased.
    Megan and Cindy exchanged another look. Megan raised her eyebrows and rounded her mouth to show that she was very impressed. “The new girl is good,” she signed to Cindy. Cindy giggled, partly because of the jack-o’-lantern look on Megan’s face and partly because she loved the way Megan used sign language as secret code in class.
    â€œAnd this whole discussion of bakeries is such a coincidence,” Ms. Endee continued with breezy enthusiasm, “because I have one more surprise for our first day back at school! A little surprise for recess!”
    The students shifted excitedly in their seats. Cindy turned toward Megan and signed, “What now?”
    Ms. Endee reached behind her desk and then presented a large pink box tied with string and obviously from the bakery. She placed it in the middle of her desk so that the entire class could see it—and naturally, they “oohed” and “aahed.” They could smell the freshly baked cookies at the back of the classroom. Megan turned toward Cindy and shook her hands excitedly, which was her own version of sign language for “Hooray.”
    Ms. Endee leaned over the pink bakery box and announced, “Alexis’s mother brought cookies to school with Alexis today. I’m going to distribute them at recess, and I want each and every student to make a point of introducing themselves and thanking Alexis before they eat that cookie.”
    The class chattered with excitement. Megan twisted in her seat to wave and