Rodent Read Free Page A

school. I don’t want to push things at this point though. I nod back—slow, serious.
    “Wait outside my office until I can reach her,” he says, gesturing to the door. He turns back to his computer before I’ve even left.
    This is the real punishment, having to sit around listening to everyone else’s stupid conversations while my butt goes numb. The admin assistant talks to the custodian about her nephew’s new baby boy, who is just so extremely precious, as though people don’t have babies every day.
    “Can I collect my stuff from my locker?” I ask her. She’s done an excellent job of ignoring me up to this point. She gives a furtive look toward Mr. Talmage’s closed door. When she doesn’t answer, I tell her, “I’ll come right back.” Trying to sound as innocuous as possible. She nods.
    I get my books and jacket from my locker and return to my jail chair in the office. At least I have some reading material now, in the form of my English textbook. I spend the rest of the third block—supposed to be Biology—reading about some fool getting buried alive, one brick at a time, behind a cellar wall.
    Mr. Talmage sticks his head out the door right before the last bell and tells me to get my mother to call him. I take it he couldn’t get her out of bed to answer the phone. “You won’t be returning to school until I have that conversation,” he says, as if that’s a threat. Like there aren’t a hundred other crappy schools in this city to choose from. He starts to say something else, but the bell cuts him off mid-word. I get up and walk away before he can repeat himself.
    Across the street, Maisie’s waiting in her classroom like I told her to. She hops up from a circle mat and runs to my side. She shows me a craft she made with cotton balls and pipe cleaners. I have no idea what it is but tell her, “That’s really nice! Now get your sweater. Evan’s waiting.” She waves goodbye to Mrs. Williams, who’s lost behind an enormous stack of papers on her desk.
    On the bus to day care, I ask her about her first day of grade two.
    “I made a friend. She’s called Emily, and she has a loose tooth.” Maisie raises her hand absently to her own very intact teeth. “But I had to sit by another boy who was pokey.”
    “What do you mean, pokey ?”
    “He poked me in the arm with his finger,” she says. “I didn’t like it.”
    “Well, if he ever does it again, give him a smack and tell him to cut it out.” I know I should be giving her some motherly advice about talking through conflict, using words to express her feelings, or telling a grown-up. But I give her the advice she’ll actually need to survive eleven more years in this jungle. “And if he doesn’t,” I add, “tell him your big sister’s coming after him.”
    Maisie considers this and nods.
    Evan brightens at the sight of us in the doorway. It seems that he and his buddy, Patrick, are in the middle of a squabble over the best truck in the room, and we’re his reinforcements. As usual, Elaine hasn’t helped at all. Too busy cutting out apples from construction paper in the corner.
    “C’mon, Evan,” I call. “I’ve got to get to work.”
    Evan lowers his chin and stands his ground. He knows that to leave now is to concede and lose it all.
    “Now!”
    He comes slowly, dragging his feet across the carpet. “I bet you can play with the truck first tomorrow,” I say as we head down the hallway to his cubby. He doesn’t believe me and makes me put on his shoes and sweater without lifting his arms and feet to help.
    I half-drag Evan and Maisie, one in each hand, down the block to our apartment, through the lobby, into the elevator. They start fighting over who gets to press the button for our floor, so I do it myself. Which makes them both sulk.
    I pause outside our apartment door. What I’ll find on the other side is like a choose-your own-adventure story. I turn the key and push the door open, standing in front of Maisie and