Read Online Last Summer with Maizon by Jacqueline Woodson - Free Book Online Page B

raced between her mouth and stomach. Then faces began to come into focus and Margaret recognized friends from last year when she was in 5-2. None of them had made it to 6—1 with her. She put the poem on the podium and counted to ten as Ms. Dell had suggested. Her breath slowed and when she opened her mouth, the words of the poem spilled out freely.
    â€œMy pen doesn’t write anymore,” she began. Her voice filled up every crevice in the auditorium and she liked the way it sounded.
    When she finished, Margaret expected the same silence that had followed when she read in class. But the auditorium rumbled with applause. Some people were even standing. A few whistled. In the back, Bo’s long brown arm waved back and forth.
    â€œWe should all be very proud of Margaret,” Ms. Peazle said once the class had settled back in their room. “She has shown us the true meaning of being in 6—1. This is an honor given only to students who have shown that they are willing to work hard and do their best. I’d like to congratulate not only Margaret, but all of you!”
    The class cheered.
    Margaret eased her plaque into her schoolbag. She didn’t want the kids to think she was showing off or anything.
    After school, Margaret walked home slowly. Clouds hung low in the sky and a cold wind blew down Madison Street. The brownstones looked gray and cold. Margaret stopped at the stoop and looked toward the compromise spot. Most of the leaves had fallen off the tree. She entered her building and tapped lightly on Ms. Dell’s door. It was unlocked.
    â€œAnyone comin’ in must be a friend, ’cause we ain’t got anything here crooks would want or strangers would care to see,” Ms. Dell always said.
    â€œMargaret, it’s sure good to see you,” Ms. Dell said, coaching a spoonful of chopped green beans into Li’l Jay’s mouth. He was in a bad mood and wouldn’t eat. “This baby has been hollering all day. Maybe he’ll hush now that you’re here. I’m getting too old for this,” she said tiredly.
    â€œHow did the reading go?” Hattie asked from the kitchen window as she dusted a framed picture of a younger Ms. Dell.
    â€œGreat! And guess what,” Margaret said, watching Li’l Jay play with his beans.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPeople cheered. Everybody cheered!”
    â€œWell, what did you expect them to do?” Ms. Dell asked, winking at Hattie.
    The phone rang.
    â€œHello?” Hattie said. There was a long pause. “Yes, operator. I’ll accept the charges.” She handed the phone to Margaret.
    â€œWho is it?” Margaret mouthed.
    â€œIt’s for you.”
    â€œHello?” Margaret said. There was a lot of static on the line and the voice sounded tiny and far away.
    â€œMaizon?”

14
    M argaret hung up the phone and frowned. Ms. Dell took one look at her and sat down. They stared at each other silently.
    â€œShe’s coming home, isn’t she?”
    Margaret nodded. She looked around the kitchen, wondering what she should do with her hands. Her conversation with Maizon ran crazily through her mind.
    â€œComing home!” Hattie said. “It hasn’t even been three months.”
    â€œShe’s coming home,” she repeated, and began chewing on her cuticle.
    â€œSit down, Margaret,” Ms. Dell said.
    Margaret kneeled beside her and rested her chin on Ms. Dell’s thighs. They were warm and soft beneath the corduroy skirt she wore.
    â€œShe said . . .” Margaret began, then frowned. The words had disappeared as quickly as they had come.
    â€œThink about it a moment,” Hattie said, taking a seat at the other end of the table.
    Margaret felt her heart constrict into a small, painful lump. She took a breath and continued.
    â€œI should be happy, right?” She looked up at Ms. Dell, biting her lip to keep from crying. “I should be happy she’s coming