Read Online Maizon at Blue Hill by Jacqueline Woodson - Free Book Online

thin.”
    I felt a flicker of warmth toward Sandy. I had only been called “skinny,” never “thin.”
    â€œI’m not coordinated. I mean, sometimes I am, but not a lot. Plus, I don’t think I’d be good at team sports. I’m sort of an individual.”
    â€œThat’s ‘cause you’re an only child. My family is a team sport. I mean, there’re so many of us.” Sandy lay back down.
    My mind was spinning a little bit. I hadn’t even thought that Sandy was on scholarship. I knew I hadn’t thought about it because she was white and I just figured that no white people would need help paying for Blue Hill. A long time ago, Ms. Dell had sat me and Margaret down in her kitchen with bowls of her famous Jell-O with cherries in front of us.
    â€œYou’re gonna learn about racism and death and pain before you’re teenagers,” she warned. Margaret and I had nodded. By then we knew Ms. Dell had the gift to see into the future. “I’m gonna tell you this,” Ms. Dell continued. “Racism doesn’t know color, death doesn’t know age, and pain doesn’t know might.”
    Lying there, I wondered if it was racist of me to think all white people were rich.
    Sandy’s breathing slowed. After a while, when I couldn’t hear it at all, I knew she was asleep.
    I lay awake for a long time. What was it that made white people strange to me, that made Charli and Sheila and Marie seem threatening and safe at the same time? Why hadn’t I asked myself these questions before?
    â€œBecause you never had to,” I heard Ms. Dell murmur somewhere between my waking and sleeping.

13
    B ells were ringing somewhere far off. Sandy was already dressed and brushing her hair in the mirror when I rubbed my eyes open. The clock beside my bed said six forty-five.
    â€œGood morning, Maizon.”
    I grumbled something that might have passed for “morning,” grabbed my towel and bathrobe, and headed down the hall to the bathroom.
    I’ve never been a morning person and wasn’t used to waking up with other people in my room. One thing I liked about being an only child is how much space people give you. Sandy seemed like a nice person, I thought as I let the warm water from the shower run down my neck and back. But to me, nobody’s worth talking to at six forty-five in the morning. Other girls hustled in and out of the bathroom. I tried not to watch them through the mirror as I brushed my teeth. They all seemed so comfortable about walking around half-naked in front of other people. Not even Margaret and Grandma had seen me naked since I was small. I wasn’t about to start parading what I didn’t have in front of strangers.
    â€œYou got my side of the room this year,” Sandy said, when I came back into the room. “I usually sleep on the side close to the window.”
    I shrugged and turned toward my dresser to get clean underwear, feeling Sandy’s eyes on my back. “If you’re slow, you blow,” I said. I hadn’t meant for it to sound as crabby as it did.
    â€œI like that robe, Maizon. It’s pretty.”
    I slipped on a pair of the new cotton panties Grandma had bought me for school, then draped my robe around my waist and pulled the T-shirt over my head, all the while keeping my back to Sandy. The robe was white with thin green and red stripes running down it. I wasn’t used to someone watching me get dressed, and didn’t take the robe off until I had pulled on my skirt.
    â€œMy grandma bought it for me,” I said, draping the robe across the foot of my bed.
    â€œYou better hang it up,” Sandy warned. “Blue Hill is strict about neatness. If Ms. Bender or Mrs. Miller comes in here and sees it on your bed like that, they’re going to say something.”
    I wanted Sandy to mind her own business. I had every intention of hanging the robe up. When I didn’t say