Read Online Something to Hold by Katherine Schlick Noe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katherine Schlick Noe
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five," she says, flipping pages with her finger. She holds the Bible out to Raymond. "This is about you. Read it."
He hesitates, and I wonder if he dares to refuse.
Then he takes the book, bends his head toward the page, and reads. "'The righteousness of the blameless keeps his way straight, but the wicked falls by his own wickedness.'"
There is no other sound in the room, no movement. I can't imagine how it feels for Raymond to stand up there in front of all of us. I don't know if I could take it like he does.
I glance at Jewel a couple of rows over. She sits with her head down, eyes closed, fists clenched on her knees.
Miss Anthony takes the Bible out of Raymond's hands. She flips a few more pages. "And in chapter seventeen we learn that 'he who is glad at calamity will not go unpunished.'" She presses her palms together and the book snaps shut.
"Sit down," Miss Anthony says to Raymond, "and consider your sins."
I can't believe she would humiliate him this way. Raymond walks slowly down the aisle, his head up and eyes fixed straight ahead. He looks completely unmoved.
Miss Anthony talks about compassion, but she sure doesn't show any. I almost feel sorry for him.
A Rose Deep Red in a Circle of White
A T the top of an endless hour before lunch, Miss Anthony picks up a long piece of chalk. She flips it between two fingers to hold like a cigarette as she adjusts her glasses. Turning her back to us, she begins to plant division problems on the board.
"Copy these and do them," she says as she writes.
A few minutes later, a shadow grows in the doorway beside my desk. It's Mr. Reeser, the janitor. "'Scuse me, Miss Anthony," he says.
Her hand freezes on a 5. She turns only her head toward him. "Ronald."
"Mr. Shanahan asked me to move some furniture in the attic. I'm taking a couple of boys to help. Might get a little noisy overhead."
She's not going to like that.
Miss Anthony doesn't believe in noise. Sure enough, she ignores him and turns back to the board to finish the last problem.
I didn't know this school had an attic. I wish I could see it. I imagine a stale, dusty room full of old desks with broken seats. File cabinets of lost records, or maybe books with swear words scribbled in the margins.
Miss Anthony scans the classroom. She plucks victims one by one to wrestle the problems at the board. We're supposed to keep one eye on them while working out the problems at our desks. You have to be ready to go up and do it right when somebody stumbles. She says it's good practice. It also causes bad feelings.
Miss Anthony patrols the board, peering over the sweaty heads as the kids work with their backs to the room. Then she looks out at the rest of us and settles on me. "Kitty. It's your turn. Fix Raymond's for him."
I definitely do not want to do that. "Miss Anthony," I say, "I'm not done yet."
All the way back to his seat, Raymond's eyes are fixed on me. If I do what she says, I'll pay for it at recess.
"You're done enough. Get up there," Miss Anthony says as she marches down the line from Raymond's empty spot at the board. She holds out her hand to Orin, and he gives up his chalk like a losing pitcher yanked from the mound.
I try again. "I'll do Orin's."
"Raymond's," she says.
I can see what a mess he has made on the board, the problem smeared by a wet palm.
I sigh and get out of my seat. Arguing with Miss Anthony never works. It's always her way or no way.
I have to walk right by Raymond's desk. He stares down at his worksheet, pencil in hand, but I can't miss what he says under his breath. "Go ahead. See what happens."
I take a quick step and grab the chalk out of the tray. I stall some more by rewriting the numbers as evenly and carefully and small as I can. Then I stand there, not sure how to do the problem.
Miss Anthony's voice sinks down onto the back of my neck. "You
were
listening when we learned this, weren't you?"
Such a dangerous question with no safe answer.
Suddenly, I hear an invasion of
He hesitates, and I wonder if he dares to refuse.
Then he takes the book, bends his head toward the page, and reads. "'The righteousness of the blameless keeps his way straight, but the wicked falls by his own wickedness.'"
There is no other sound in the room, no movement. I can't imagine how it feels for Raymond to stand up there in front of all of us. I don't know if I could take it like he does.
I glance at Jewel a couple of rows over. She sits with her head down, eyes closed, fists clenched on her knees.
Miss Anthony takes the Bible out of Raymond's hands. She flips a few more pages. "And in chapter seventeen we learn that 'he who is glad at calamity will not go unpunished.'" She presses her palms together and the book snaps shut.
"Sit down," Miss Anthony says to Raymond, "and consider your sins."
I can't believe she would humiliate him this way. Raymond walks slowly down the aisle, his head up and eyes fixed straight ahead. He looks completely unmoved.
Miss Anthony talks about compassion, but she sure doesn't show any. I almost feel sorry for him.
A Rose Deep Red in a Circle of White
A T the top of an endless hour before lunch, Miss Anthony picks up a long piece of chalk. She flips it between two fingers to hold like a cigarette as she adjusts her glasses. Turning her back to us, she begins to plant division problems on the board.
"Copy these and do them," she says as she writes.
A few minutes later, a shadow grows in the doorway beside my desk. It's Mr. Reeser, the janitor. "'Scuse me, Miss Anthony," he says.
Her hand freezes on a 5. She turns only her head toward him. "Ronald."
"Mr. Shanahan asked me to move some furniture in the attic. I'm taking a couple of boys to help. Might get a little noisy overhead."
She's not going to like that.
Miss Anthony doesn't believe in noise. Sure enough, she ignores him and turns back to the board to finish the last problem.
I didn't know this school had an attic. I wish I could see it. I imagine a stale, dusty room full of old desks with broken seats. File cabinets of lost records, or maybe books with swear words scribbled in the margins.
Miss Anthony scans the classroom. She plucks victims one by one to wrestle the problems at the board. We're supposed to keep one eye on them while working out the problems at our desks. You have to be ready to go up and do it right when somebody stumbles. She says it's good practice. It also causes bad feelings.
Miss Anthony patrols the board, peering over the sweaty heads as the kids work with their backs to the room. Then she looks out at the rest of us and settles on me. "Kitty. It's your turn. Fix Raymond's for him."
I definitely do not want to do that. "Miss Anthony," I say, "I'm not done yet."
All the way back to his seat, Raymond's eyes are fixed on me. If I do what she says, I'll pay for it at recess.
"You're done enough. Get up there," Miss Anthony says as she marches down the line from Raymond's empty spot at the board. She holds out her hand to Orin, and he gives up his chalk like a losing pitcher yanked from the mound.
I try again. "I'll do Orin's."
"Raymond's," she says.
I can see what a mess he has made on the board, the problem smeared by a wet palm.
I sigh and get out of my seat. Arguing with Miss Anthony never works. It's always her way or no way.
I have to walk right by Raymond's desk. He stares down at his worksheet, pencil in hand, but I can't miss what he says under his breath. "Go ahead. See what happens."
I take a quick step and grab the chalk out of the tray. I stall some more by rewriting the numbers as evenly and carefully and small as I can. Then I stand there, not sure how to do the problem.
Miss Anthony's voice sinks down onto the back of my neck. "You
were
listening when we learned this, weren't you?"
Such a dangerous question with no safe answer.
Suddenly, I hear an invasion of
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