Read Online Kristy and the Secret of Susan by Anne Martin - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne Martin
Ads: Link
leaning dramatically against the locker next to mine. "What do you think this assembly will be about? The dress code? The food fight the seventh-graders had last week? Or . . . dum da dum-dum . . . student government?" "Good morning, Mary Anne," I replied.
Mary Anne grinned. "Good morning. Sorry about that. It's just that assemblies - especially ones about student government - are - " "Boring? Dull? A brain-numbing waste of valuable time?" "That's it!" cried Mary Anne. "A brain-numbing waste of valuable time." She began to laugh.
"1 agree," I said. Then, "Ew. ... 1 wonder what this used to be." I pulled a plastic baggie out of the back of my locker. Something in the bag was very mushy and very moldy.
"Oh, disgusting!" exclaimed Mary Anne, who is easy to gross out.
"So that's what smelled so bad," I said. "I thought it was my gym suit." Mary Anne looked like she might barf if I went on, but she was rescued by the first bell for homeroom, which rang then. She darted away, calling over her shoulder, "See you in the brain-numbing assembly!" "Okay," I called back.
Thank goodness we don't have to sit with our classes during assemblies. The members of the BSC like to sit together, and we hardly have any other chances to do that at school because of Mal and Jessi. They're in an entirely different grade, so we don't even get to eat lunch together.
There's just one group at SMS that stays together always - in assemblies, at lunch-time, anytime. They don't even change rooms during the day. That's the class for handicapped students. A bunch of the kids in the class are retarded, and the others have different kinds of problems. Guess where the BSC sat during the assembly? Right behind the special class. The kids in that class took up exactly one row, plus three kids who sat in the aisles in wheelchairs.
Mary Anne had been wrong about the assembly. It wasn't about our dress code, the food fight, or student government. As a surprise, to celebrate something going on at school called Kids' Week, our principal had organized a program for us. For once, it was fun. First a really famous author talked to US about the books she writes. She had traveled all the way from Arizona just to come to SMS.
That made me feel sort of important. Then a songwriter sang a song he had composed about our school. Finally an artist called five teachers onto the stage and drew funny caricatures of them.
Did I pay attention to any of this? Barely. And why wasn't 1 paying attention? Not because the program was brain-numbing. For once, it was fascinating - but I couldn't pay attention because I was so busy watching the kids in the class in front of me.
At one end of the row were two of the kids in wheelchairs. (Their chairs were placed one in front of the other so as not to block the aisle and be a fire hazard.) The kid sitting in the front chair couldn't even hold herself up straight. She was strapped in everywhere - her arms strapped to the armrests, her feet to the footrests. Her head was even strapped to the back of the chair. And somehow, she managed to slump anyway. I'd seen her around school before. She tries to talk sometimes but she's harder to understand than our PA system. Her eyes don't focus on anything. She looks like she doesn't have a bone or a muscle in her body. Somebody once told me she has cerebral palsy.
The boy in back of her didn't need to be strapped in so much. He could sit up, but he was mostly paralyzed (I think). He couldn't even talk. Once I'd passed his class and looked in. I'd found out how he communicates. He holds a special stick in his mouth and uses it to tap out messages on a computer keyboard. Guess what. He can make pictures by holding a paintbrush or a pencil in his mouth. Claudia says his pictures are good, and she should know.
The first three kids in the row next to the ones in the wheelchairs were all retarded. They have Down's syndrome. I read about that in a book. Down's syndrome people have sort of slanted eyes and flattish
Mary Anne grinned. "Good morning. Sorry about that. It's just that assemblies - especially ones about student government - are - " "Boring? Dull? A brain-numbing waste of valuable time?" "That's it!" cried Mary Anne. "A brain-numbing waste of valuable time." She began to laugh.
"1 agree," I said. Then, "Ew. ... 1 wonder what this used to be." I pulled a plastic baggie out of the back of my locker. Something in the bag was very mushy and very moldy.
"Oh, disgusting!" exclaimed Mary Anne, who is easy to gross out.
"So that's what smelled so bad," I said. "I thought it was my gym suit." Mary Anne looked like she might barf if I went on, but she was rescued by the first bell for homeroom, which rang then. She darted away, calling over her shoulder, "See you in the brain-numbing assembly!" "Okay," I called back.
Thank goodness we don't have to sit with our classes during assemblies. The members of the BSC like to sit together, and we hardly have any other chances to do that at school because of Mal and Jessi. They're in an entirely different grade, so we don't even get to eat lunch together.
There's just one group at SMS that stays together always - in assemblies, at lunch-time, anytime. They don't even change rooms during the day. That's the class for handicapped students. A bunch of the kids in the class are retarded, and the others have different kinds of problems. Guess where the BSC sat during the assembly? Right behind the special class. The kids in that class took up exactly one row, plus three kids who sat in the aisles in wheelchairs.
Mary Anne had been wrong about the assembly. It wasn't about our dress code, the food fight, or student government. As a surprise, to celebrate something going on at school called Kids' Week, our principal had organized a program for us. For once, it was fun. First a really famous author talked to US about the books she writes. She had traveled all the way from Arizona just to come to SMS.
That made me feel sort of important. Then a songwriter sang a song he had composed about our school. Finally an artist called five teachers onto the stage and drew funny caricatures of them.
Did I pay attention to any of this? Barely. And why wasn't 1 paying attention? Not because the program was brain-numbing. For once, it was fascinating - but I couldn't pay attention because I was so busy watching the kids in the class in front of me.
At one end of the row were two of the kids in wheelchairs. (Their chairs were placed one in front of the other so as not to block the aisle and be a fire hazard.) The kid sitting in the front chair couldn't even hold herself up straight. She was strapped in everywhere - her arms strapped to the armrests, her feet to the footrests. Her head was even strapped to the back of the chair. And somehow, she managed to slump anyway. I'd seen her around school before. She tries to talk sometimes but she's harder to understand than our PA system. Her eyes don't focus on anything. She looks like she doesn't have a bone or a muscle in her body. Somebody once told me she has cerebral palsy.
The boy in back of her didn't need to be strapped in so much. He could sit up, but he was mostly paralyzed (I think). He couldn't even talk. Once I'd passed his class and looked in. I'd found out how he communicates. He holds a special stick in his mouth and uses it to tap out messages on a computer keyboard. Guess what. He can make pictures by holding a paintbrush or a pencil in his mouth. Claudia says his pictures are good, and she should know.
The first three kids in the row next to the ones in the wheelchairs were all retarded. They have Down's syndrome. I read about that in a book. Down's syndrome people have sort of slanted eyes and flattish
Similar Books
