Read Online Something to Hold by Katherine Schlick Noe - Free Book Online
Authors: Katherine Schlick Noe
Ads: Link
have to do this on my own."
When I go back into the classroom, Mr. Nute is sitting at his desk staring at a piece of paper in his hand. He looks up, his eyes dark.
He knows.
I stand there like a dope.
I breathe in, then say, "I'm very sorry, Mr. Nute."
"It's over," he says, his voice flat.
He mustn't tell my parents. Never in a million years would they expect something like this from me. My throat starts to close up.
"I didn't mean to," I whisper.
Mr. Nute frowns. "
What?
"
"My desk. I ... I didn't mean to cut it."
Mr. Nute just stares at me. And then something comes across his face, and he begins to laugh, a cackle that starts in the back of his throat and rises over the room. He sounds like a crazy person. I back up until my hands find the side of the door.
When he calms down, Mr. Nute pulls out his handkerchief and wipes his eyes. "You think
that
matters?" he asks, shaking his head.
"Mr. Nute," I say finally, "is something wrong?"
He sits there. Then he holds up that piece of paper. "I'm done," he says. "Fired."
Mr. Nute is in a whole lot more trouble than I am.
Consider Your Sins
S URE enough, the classroom is empty on Monday morning. Except for Jewel and Dora going through Mr. Nute's desk.
"What are you
doing?
" I ask.
"Told you he's gone," Dora says to Jewel.
I set my stuff on my desk, check the doorway, and go up to the front of the room.
"Look," says Jewel, and she pulls open the top drawer. Not even a pencil shaving or a paper clip. Same for the big file drawers at the side, and the bookcase behind the desk has been cleared out too. "Where'd he go?" she asks.
"Don't know and don't care," says Dora with a grin. "We got rid of him."
I am off the hook, but the way it happened doesn't bring the relief I was hoping for.
"I wonder who we'll get this time," Jewel says.
Any new teacher should be an improvement.
"What are you girls doing in here?" A voice snatches me back to Earth, and I slowly turn to face it.
A woman fills the doorway. Not fat so much as tall and bosomy. Brown plaid dress with a teacher sweater draped over straight shoulders. Trim hair and old-lady shoes, even though she looks about my mom's age. She has a clipboard tucked under one arm, a stack of books cradled in the other.
"Excuse me. Do you not hear well?" She tilts her head to glare at us over her glasses.
"I'm sorry!" pops right out of my mouth. "We ... uh ... were trying to find Mr. Nute."
"In his desk?"
"No."
"No?" she repeats.
"No, I mean..." I glance sideways at Jewel.
Help me out here!
She stares off like she is no longer in the room. "We don't have any business up here," I say quietly.
The woman nods, as if to say
Good answer,
and hangs the clipboard on the hook by the door. "Go on outside until the bell rings."
Fifteen minutes later, the class files into the room. The new teacher's sweater hangs on the peg, and thick books fill up the shelves. Her name is written on the blackboard in elegant scriptâ
Miss Anthony.
And below it, displayed in the center of the chalk tray, a black leather book with gold lettering. A Bible.
We settle into our seats and wait. Before she takes rollâor wishes us good morning, evenâMiss Anthony stands at the front of the room and hugs that Bible to her chest. "Bow your heads, children," she says.
"Heavenly Father," she whispers, "bless our minds and our hearts so that we may glorify Your work here on Earth. Amen."
"Amen," I respond automatically.
Then I remember that teachers are not supposed to pray. The Supreme Court said so last summer. Miss Anthony doesn't seem to care that the first thing we do in her class is illegal.
I wonder what else we're in for.
***
At recess, Benson reports that the Nutes' house is all cleared out. On Sunday night he saw the moving van pull away from the street where the teachers live, just west of school, and turn left at the highway.
"Back to the city, where he belongs," Benson crows on his way to the backstop.
Pinky shakes her head.
When I go back into the classroom, Mr. Nute is sitting at his desk staring at a piece of paper in his hand. He looks up, his eyes dark.
He knows.
I stand there like a dope.
I breathe in, then say, "I'm very sorry, Mr. Nute."
"It's over," he says, his voice flat.
He mustn't tell my parents. Never in a million years would they expect something like this from me. My throat starts to close up.
"I didn't mean to," I whisper.
Mr. Nute frowns. "
What?
"
"My desk. I ... I didn't mean to cut it."
Mr. Nute just stares at me. And then something comes across his face, and he begins to laugh, a cackle that starts in the back of his throat and rises over the room. He sounds like a crazy person. I back up until my hands find the side of the door.
When he calms down, Mr. Nute pulls out his handkerchief and wipes his eyes. "You think
that
matters?" he asks, shaking his head.
"Mr. Nute," I say finally, "is something wrong?"
He sits there. Then he holds up that piece of paper. "I'm done," he says. "Fired."
Mr. Nute is in a whole lot more trouble than I am.
Consider Your Sins
S URE enough, the classroom is empty on Monday morning. Except for Jewel and Dora going through Mr. Nute's desk.
"What are you
doing?
" I ask.
"Told you he's gone," Dora says to Jewel.
I set my stuff on my desk, check the doorway, and go up to the front of the room.
"Look," says Jewel, and she pulls open the top drawer. Not even a pencil shaving or a paper clip. Same for the big file drawers at the side, and the bookcase behind the desk has been cleared out too. "Where'd he go?" she asks.
"Don't know and don't care," says Dora with a grin. "We got rid of him."
I am off the hook, but the way it happened doesn't bring the relief I was hoping for.
"I wonder who we'll get this time," Jewel says.
Any new teacher should be an improvement.
"What are you girls doing in here?" A voice snatches me back to Earth, and I slowly turn to face it.
A woman fills the doorway. Not fat so much as tall and bosomy. Brown plaid dress with a teacher sweater draped over straight shoulders. Trim hair and old-lady shoes, even though she looks about my mom's age. She has a clipboard tucked under one arm, a stack of books cradled in the other.
"Excuse me. Do you not hear well?" She tilts her head to glare at us over her glasses.
"I'm sorry!" pops right out of my mouth. "We ... uh ... were trying to find Mr. Nute."
"In his desk?"
"No."
"No?" she repeats.
"No, I mean..." I glance sideways at Jewel.
Help me out here!
She stares off like she is no longer in the room. "We don't have any business up here," I say quietly.
The woman nods, as if to say
Good answer,
and hangs the clipboard on the hook by the door. "Go on outside until the bell rings."
Fifteen minutes later, the class files into the room. The new teacher's sweater hangs on the peg, and thick books fill up the shelves. Her name is written on the blackboard in elegant scriptâ
Miss Anthony.
And below it, displayed in the center of the chalk tray, a black leather book with gold lettering. A Bible.
We settle into our seats and wait. Before she takes rollâor wishes us good morning, evenâMiss Anthony stands at the front of the room and hugs that Bible to her chest. "Bow your heads, children," she says.
"Heavenly Father," she whispers, "bless our minds and our hearts so that we may glorify Your work here on Earth. Amen."
"Amen," I respond automatically.
Then I remember that teachers are not supposed to pray. The Supreme Court said so last summer. Miss Anthony doesn't seem to care that the first thing we do in her class is illegal.
I wonder what else we're in for.
***
At recess, Benson reports that the Nutes' house is all cleared out. On Sunday night he saw the moving van pull away from the street where the teachers live, just west of school, and turn left at the highway.
"Back to the city, where he belongs," Benson crows on his way to the backstop.
Pinky shakes her head.
Similar Books
