It didn’t take much time to unpack the few things we’d brought with us. Then we did some laundry, mostly the sheets and blankets from our beds, and cleaned the kitchen and our bedrooms. Right after lunch Mom took me to register for my new school.
When the form was filled out we walked up the street to Dr. Losier Middle School, which is only a few minutes away from the office where we’d registered. The principal said I could start the next morning and gave me a booklet about school rules.
We did some grocery shopping after that and then took a taxi back to the house. I unpacked the food and nearly dropped the eggs when Rosie wandered through the kitchen. It was the first time I’d actually seen her and the sight of a skunk waddling along wasn’t exactly something I’d ever been used to.
She looked at me as if to say “what’s your problem?” and then continued on to her dish — the only one that’s not kept in the pantry. I must admit she’s beautiful, though rather chubby. Maybe that’s normal for skunks, I wouldn’t know, but she’s as round as a ball.
Rosie took her time eating and then wandered back off, probably to sleep off her food, as that seems to be her main daytime activity. I heard Stoolie tell her to mind her own business as she passed by him.
Mom and I cooked pork chops and potatoes and broccoli for dinner, which is one of my favourite meals. Once we’d eaten we did some more cleaning and then went to bed.
I had a hard time falling asleep that night. It was so strange to be in this huge house and to know it was really ours. So much had happened in the past two weeks. On top of that, I was nervous about going to a new school where I didn’t know anyone. It made me think of my friends back in Ontario, which caused a big lump to grow in my throat. As I lay in bed trying not to cry, I wondered if they missed me too.
The next morning I dawdled over my breakfast until Mom got impatient and told me I was going to school and that was all there was to it. I don’t know how she knew I was trying to think up some excuse to wait for another day. Moms are weird like that. It’s as if they can actually read your mind sometimes.
The bell had already rung by the time I finally got there, which was when I realized my mistake in being so slow. Instead of getting to class at the same time as everyone else, I was going to have to walk in when the other kids were already at their desks.
It was all I could do not to turn around and go back home. Facing Mom would be much easier than facing a bunch of strangers. Surely I could think of some legitimate reason that I hadn’t gone to class. But before I could do anything a teacher came along. She asked me who I was, took me to the office, and got the vice-principal.
The vice-principal took me to my new homeroom. As we walked down the hallway he gave me a quick lecture on the importance of getting to school on time and said he hoped I wasn’t going to make a habit of being tardy. Then, as if he thought maybe he’d been too stern, he smiled and added that he was sure it wouldn’t be a problem.
My homeroom teacher, Mrs. McCloskey, was a tiny woman with a squeaky voice. I cringed inwardly as she introduced me.
“Class, we have a new student,” she announced perkily. “This is Sarah Gilmore. I want everyone to make Sarah feel very welcome here at Dr. Losier.”
There were mumbles that could have meant anything from a few of the students. Mostly they just stared as if I were a bug under a display glass. I felt awkward in my jeans and T-shirt and wished Mom and I had been able to go shopping for some new clothes, but the lawyer hadn’t finished straightening out the money yet. My outfit felt old and worn and I blushed as the other kids looked me over.
It was with relief that I took the seat Mrs. McCloskey assigned me. I opened my books and kept my eyes glued to them, trying to ignore the inquisitive looks from my new classmates. I decided that, no matter what, I was going back home at lunchtime. I’d tell Mom I felt sick to my stomach, which wasn’t really a lie.
Our second-period class was in another part of the building, and as I walked along, deliberately trailing behind the others, a couple of the kids from my class joined me.
“I’m Ashley,” one of them said cheerfully. “And this is Jamie.
“Hi,” I mumbled, wishing they’d leave me alone.
“Where you from?”
“Ontario.”
“Oh, yeah? Like, Toronto?”
“No.” I couldn’t help thinking that was a dumb thing to assume. Did the kids in New Brunswick think that Toronto was the only place in Ontario? “We lived in a small town near Belleville.”
“Oh, yeah? Cool.”
I had no idea why she thought that was cool, but I didn’t say anything. I figured if I stayed quiet they’d take the hint and go away. I was wrong.
They talked all the way to the next class, mostly asking questions. Did I walk to school or take a bus? Did I have a boyfriend in Ontario? Who was my favourite music group? I gave one-word answers as much as possible, feeling more and more annoyed.
Even worse, when the noon hour came, they rushed over to me, one taking each arm.
“You can eat with us,” Ashley said. I tried to protest but it was impossible to escape. They dragged me to the cafeteria, offering advice on what to buy for lunch. I fumbled in my pocket for the three dollars Mom had given me. Since I was trapped, I decided that I might as well eat before I went home. Maybe I could convince Mom that the food had upset my stomach.
I had to admit that I actually felt better after I’d had lunch. Besides, by then I’d decided that Ashley and Jamie weren’t so bad after all. They were just trying to be friendly and it was kind of nice to have someone to sit with in the cafeteria.
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