Read Online Wild Girl by Patricia Reilly Giff - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Reilly Giff
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“After school, I’ll take care of Love You. Don’t worry about that, either,” I said, and let myself out the door.
I went along the driveway, looking back to see José on one of the chestnuts, then took the long road to the end where it turned. I practiced what I was going to say to Mrs. Bogart, mumbling to myself.
I passed the fruit store, but it wasn’t open yet. There was a sign on the door, BACK ON MONDAY.
The words came into my head. A weekend sign. And I knew what it meant.
“Back on Monday,” I said aloud. “And Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.”
And another sign. FRESH APPLES.
Ah
.
Soon the school was ahead, and I saw the drumming boy, Ian, up ahead, talking to someone and waving his armsaround, but I didn’t see anyone else from our class. Never mind. I knew my way to the classroom, too.
I went down the hall and straight to the teacher’s desk, waiting while she wrote something on a pad in front of her.
At last she looked up. “Lidie. I’m glad to see you.”
I said it slowly: “I know math.”
“Yes, good.”
I said it again, realizing I’d forgotten a word. “I know
hard
math.”
She tilted her head, said something, but I caught none of it.
“I want—” I began.
“Hard math,” she said.
She went to my desk and sat down next to me, a thick book in her hand. She gave it to me to look through, waiting patiently.
It began with the easiest adding problems, baby subtraction, and I thumbed through the pages. Halfway through, I went back a few pages.
I picked up a pen and worked out the problems on that page,
X
equals this,
Y
equals that. I couldn’t do the ones that had long English questions, but no matter. I skipped over them.
I did a few on the next page, then moved forward two or three pages, and kept going until I didn’t know any more.
I looked up to see Liz standing there with a few others, watching me. Mrs. Bogart smiled at them. “Wow,” she said.
I knew from the sound of this word
wow
that I had done well, really well.
“Wow,” I said, too, and they all laughed, but the laughing was kind. Mrs. Bogart went to her closet and brought me another math book to put in my desk. She patted it. “For you.”
Girls spoke to me now, interrupting each other, still talking as if I were deaf, but I was smiling, smiling, and so were they.
“Library,” Mrs. Bogart said.
I looked at Liz. I wondered if I knew that word.
“Books,” Liz said.
Ah,
biblioteca
.
We lined up at the side of the room, on our way to the library.
I passed my hooded jacket on its hook, with its slight bulge in one sleeve, the baby scarf that no one could see. Maybe my jacket belonged there after all; maybe I did, too.
Upstairs, we went through double doors. The librarian was a man with wavy gray hair; he looked as if he liked to eat. “Hello, Lidie,” he said, and placed a thick book in my hands, a book with pictures.
I drew in my breath. I had seen this book many times before, but now the words were in English.
I paged through. It began with a picture of a herd of horses running together, all legs, a cloud of dust behind them.
I thought of Tio Paulo’s words:
They came from herds, living with horses all around them. And even though it was thousands of years ago, they haven’t forgotten. They need friends
.
A few pages later, I saw Gallorette, the famous tomboy filly. On another page, I saw Ruffian, queen of the fillies.
I sat there the whole period with Liz, saying their names.Then I saw the photo of Native Dancer. “I have …,” I told Liz.
“The horse?” she asked.
“No, not the horse.” I tried not to laugh. “The …”
I reached for the word, and suddenly it was there. “The picture.”
And then we both laughed. “Look,” she said, reading, then pointing to the blur in the corner. “Isn’t that a cat?”
“Yes, the cat was…”
I stopped.
The cat was his friend
. The whole sentence came to me in English.
But then the time was up. I held the book to my chest
I went along the driveway, looking back to see José on one of the chestnuts, then took the long road to the end where it turned. I practiced what I was going to say to Mrs. Bogart, mumbling to myself.
I passed the fruit store, but it wasn’t open yet. There was a sign on the door, BACK ON MONDAY.
The words came into my head. A weekend sign. And I knew what it meant.
“Back on Monday,” I said aloud. “And Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.”
And another sign. FRESH APPLES.
Ah
.
Soon the school was ahead, and I saw the drumming boy, Ian, up ahead, talking to someone and waving his armsaround, but I didn’t see anyone else from our class. Never mind. I knew my way to the classroom, too.
I went down the hall and straight to the teacher’s desk, waiting while she wrote something on a pad in front of her.
At last she looked up. “Lidie. I’m glad to see you.”
I said it slowly: “I know math.”
“Yes, good.”
I said it again, realizing I’d forgotten a word. “I know
hard
math.”
She tilted her head, said something, but I caught none of it.
“I want—” I began.
“Hard math,” she said.
She went to my desk and sat down next to me, a thick book in her hand. She gave it to me to look through, waiting patiently.
It began with the easiest adding problems, baby subtraction, and I thumbed through the pages. Halfway through, I went back a few pages.
I picked up a pen and worked out the problems on that page,
X
equals this,
Y
equals that. I couldn’t do the ones that had long English questions, but no matter. I skipped over them.
I did a few on the next page, then moved forward two or three pages, and kept going until I didn’t know any more.
I looked up to see Liz standing there with a few others, watching me. Mrs. Bogart smiled at them. “Wow,” she said.
I knew from the sound of this word
wow
that I had done well, really well.
“Wow,” I said, too, and they all laughed, but the laughing was kind. Mrs. Bogart went to her closet and brought me another math book to put in my desk. She patted it. “For you.”
Girls spoke to me now, interrupting each other, still talking as if I were deaf, but I was smiling, smiling, and so were they.
“Library,” Mrs. Bogart said.
I looked at Liz. I wondered if I knew that word.
“Books,” Liz said.
Ah,
biblioteca
.
We lined up at the side of the room, on our way to the library.
I passed my hooded jacket on its hook, with its slight bulge in one sleeve, the baby scarf that no one could see. Maybe my jacket belonged there after all; maybe I did, too.
Upstairs, we went through double doors. The librarian was a man with wavy gray hair; he looked as if he liked to eat. “Hello, Lidie,” he said, and placed a thick book in my hands, a book with pictures.
I drew in my breath. I had seen this book many times before, but now the words were in English.
I paged through. It began with a picture of a herd of horses running together, all legs, a cloud of dust behind them.
I thought of Tio Paulo’s words:
They came from herds, living with horses all around them. And even though it was thousands of years ago, they haven’t forgotten. They need friends
.
A few pages later, I saw Gallorette, the famous tomboy filly. On another page, I saw Ruffian, queen of the fillies.
I sat there the whole period with Liz, saying their names.Then I saw the photo of Native Dancer. “I have …,” I told Liz.
“The horse?” she asked.
“No, not the horse.” I tried not to laugh. “The …”
I reached for the word, and suddenly it was there. “The picture.”
And then we both laughed. “Look,” she said, reading, then pointing to the blur in the corner. “Isn’t that a cat?”
“Yes, the cat was…”
I stopped.
The cat was his friend
. The whole sentence came to me in English.
But then the time was up. I held the book to my chest
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