Read Online Make Way for Dyamonde Daniel by Nikki Grimes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nikki Grimes
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smart her daughter was. That was the end of
that
secret! Now everybody knows how smart she is. Dyamonde still doesn’t always go around saying how smart she is, though. It’s not nice to brag.
One morning, in her third-grade homeroom, Dyamonde was feeling down.
If I’m so smart
, thought Dyamonde,
how come I’ve been in this new school three whole weeks and I still don’t have a new best friend?
Dyamonde didn’t have time tofigure it out because her teacher, Mrs. Cordell, clapped to get everybody’s attention.
“Class,” said Mrs. Cordell, “we have a new student joining us today. Please say hello to Free.”
“Hello, Free,” everyone said, like robots.
And what did that boy do? He grunted!
Puleeze!
thought Dyamonde.
How rude!
“Free just moved here from Detroit—it is Detroit, right?” asked Mrs. Cordell.
Free grunted again. Mrs. Cordell,who Dyamonde decided was being
way
too nice, pretended not to notice.
“I hope you will all make Free feel welcome.”
Dyamonde shook her head. She already knew she didn’t want to have anything to do with that boy. So, of course, he took the seat right in front of her.
Oh, brother
, thought Dyamonde.
Now I have to stare at his fat head every day
.
Well, his head wasn’t fat, really. It was a nice head, covered with tight brown braids. His head washard to see over, though, because he was so tall.
When the lunch bell rang, even though he didn’t deserve it, Dyamonde invited Free to sit with her. She knew how lonely it felt to be the new kid in school. But instead of being grateful, he mumbled, “Leave me alone.”
Dyamonde sucked her teeth.
Too rude!
thought Dyamonde. Aloud, she said, “Suit yourself,” and went on to the lunchroom without him.
The seats in the lunchroom filled up fast. Not that it matteredto Dyamonde. She already knew where she was going to sit.
Dyamonde got in line and bought a milk to go with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she’d brought from home, then took a seat with Tanya, Tylisha and Tameeka—the three T’s. They weren’t about to let Dyamonde into their little group, but they were nice enough to her at school. Sitting at their table during lunch made her feel a little less alone.
One plus three equals four
, thought Dyamonde.
Four’s a nice, sturdy number, like a table with four legs, or a square, all cozy and zipped up on all four sides
.
Dyamonde liked even numbers. In fact, Dyamonde liked numbers, period. Math made sense to her. Numbers were neat, and easy, and solid. Not like English, which was full of rules that changed all the time. Yes, math was best. Math was something you could always count on. Well, mostly.
For a long time after her mom and dad got divorced, Dyamonde hated math because all she could see was subtraction. Mom’s voiceminus Dad’s. Two for breakfast instead of three. Monday night TV minus the football. It just didn’t feel right, at first. But things were a little better now. Dyamonde plus her mom equaled two, and two was a nice even number, and even numbers rule. So, while the three T’s were not her real friends, sitting with them at lunchtime gave Dyamonde a break from feeling like the odd number she was at school the rest of the day. After all, who wants to feel odd?
Dyamonde couldn’t help butnotice that Free sat at a table in the back, all by himself.
Talk about odd
, thought Dyamonde.
She just shook her head.
Boys
.
Lonely Girl
Dyamonde was happy to go home that afternoon. The next day was Saturday, which meant no Rude Boy and no feeling lonely in the school yard. Plus, on Saturdays she could sleep as late as she wanted. And she might as well. She didn’t have anything else to do these days. Well, she hadhomework, but that didn’t count. She always had homework.
Dyamonde turned the key in the front door of her apartment building. She was supposed to go straight to her neighbor’s on the second floor and wait there till her mom came home from work. Instead, she slipped
that
secret! Now everybody knows how smart she is. Dyamonde still doesn’t always go around saying how smart she is, though. It’s not nice to brag.
One morning, in her third-grade homeroom, Dyamonde was feeling down.
If I’m so smart
, thought Dyamonde,
how come I’ve been in this new school three whole weeks and I still don’t have a new best friend?
Dyamonde didn’t have time tofigure it out because her teacher, Mrs. Cordell, clapped to get everybody’s attention.
“Class,” said Mrs. Cordell, “we have a new student joining us today. Please say hello to Free.”
“Hello, Free,” everyone said, like robots.
And what did that boy do? He grunted!
Puleeze!
thought Dyamonde.
How rude!
“Free just moved here from Detroit—it is Detroit, right?” asked Mrs. Cordell.
Free grunted again. Mrs. Cordell,who Dyamonde decided was being
way
too nice, pretended not to notice.
“I hope you will all make Free feel welcome.”
Dyamonde shook her head. She already knew she didn’t want to have anything to do with that boy. So, of course, he took the seat right in front of her.
Oh, brother
, thought Dyamonde.
Now I have to stare at his fat head every day
.
Well, his head wasn’t fat, really. It was a nice head, covered with tight brown braids. His head washard to see over, though, because he was so tall.
When the lunch bell rang, even though he didn’t deserve it, Dyamonde invited Free to sit with her. She knew how lonely it felt to be the new kid in school. But instead of being grateful, he mumbled, “Leave me alone.”
Dyamonde sucked her teeth.
Too rude!
thought Dyamonde. Aloud, she said, “Suit yourself,” and went on to the lunchroom without him.
The seats in the lunchroom filled up fast. Not that it matteredto Dyamonde. She already knew where she was going to sit.
Dyamonde got in line and bought a milk to go with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she’d brought from home, then took a seat with Tanya, Tylisha and Tameeka—the three T’s. They weren’t about to let Dyamonde into their little group, but they were nice enough to her at school. Sitting at their table during lunch made her feel a little less alone.
One plus three equals four
, thought Dyamonde.
Four’s a nice, sturdy number, like a table with four legs, or a square, all cozy and zipped up on all four sides
.
Dyamonde liked even numbers. In fact, Dyamonde liked numbers, period. Math made sense to her. Numbers were neat, and easy, and solid. Not like English, which was full of rules that changed all the time. Yes, math was best. Math was something you could always count on. Well, mostly.
For a long time after her mom and dad got divorced, Dyamonde hated math because all she could see was subtraction. Mom’s voiceminus Dad’s. Two for breakfast instead of three. Monday night TV minus the football. It just didn’t feel right, at first. But things were a little better now. Dyamonde plus her mom equaled two, and two was a nice even number, and even numbers rule. So, while the three T’s were not her real friends, sitting with them at lunchtime gave Dyamonde a break from feeling like the odd number she was at school the rest of the day. After all, who wants to feel odd?
Dyamonde couldn’t help butnotice that Free sat at a table in the back, all by himself.
Talk about odd
, thought Dyamonde.
She just shook her head.
Boys
.
Lonely Girl
Dyamonde was happy to go home that afternoon. The next day was Saturday, which meant no Rude Boy and no feeling lonely in the school yard. Plus, on Saturdays she could sleep as late as she wanted. And she might as well. She didn’t have anything else to do these days. Well, she hadhomework, but that didn’t count. She always had homework.
Dyamonde turned the key in the front door of her apartment building. She was supposed to go straight to her neighbor’s on the second floor and wait there till her mom came home from work. Instead, she slipped
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