Only Emma (13 page)

The entire third-grade class wriggles with excitement at the same time. Even the chairs look more alert. It reminds me of this nature show I saw once on the Animal Planet about a coral reef. The whole reef was alive, every little part of it.

See, that’s what’s so great about nature: the interesting surprises. In real life, the surprises are all the kind of thing that makes you feel sick to your stomach—like when your mom loses her job, and you have to move from a house to a condo, and you have to transfer from one school to another for practically no reason at all. Just because of someone not making enough money to pay private school tuition anymore.

“Emma McGraw, are you listening?” Ms. Sanchez asks.

Uh-oh. My new friend Cynthia Harbison looks down at her hands, embarrassed for me. Jared snickers, and Corey blushes, but I nod and look alert. “Yes, I’m listening,” I say.

“Well, good,” Ms. Sanchez says, smiling, “because I don’t want anyone to miss what I have to say.” She looks around for a second, still smiling. It’s as though she wants us to love her for what she hasn’t even announced yet.

Someone sneezes, and everyone laughs. Sneezes are always funny in our class. I don’t know why.

“Now, I know that school only started a few weeks ago,” Ms. Sanchez says, “but you’ve all been working pretty hard. And I know that some of you have been struggling.”

Next to me, I hear Corey Robinson give a little groan. I think he is allergic to arithmetic.

“… so I’ve planned a treat for all you third-graders,” Ms. Sanchez is saying.

Heather’s hand shoots up in the air, as usual. She holds her arm up with her other hand, as if otherwise it might fall off. “Oh, oh,” she says, before Ms. Sanchez has even called on her. “Are we going on a field trip? Because my big sister’s class, they went on a field trip to the San Diego Zoo, in a bus.”

A trip to the zoo! I’m glad that I am paying attention now. I have been to the zoo a lot of times with my mom, of course, but this would be different. This would be official. It would be like we were real nature scientists, almost—traveling on a special research bus.

And a nature scientist is what I want to be when I grow up.

“No, it’s not the zoo,” Ms. Sanchez says, and my hopes drop right down into my shoes. “And it’s not any kind of a field trip,” she continues. “The treat will be right, here, this Friday, on our very own playground. Well, on the lawn next to the playground.”

I hide my fingers and start counting on them, even though I have supposedly outgrown doing this. Today is Tuesday, so my fingers tell me that the surprise will happen in three more days.

“Our treat will happen right after lunch,” Ms. Sanchez says in a singsong, keeping-secrets kind of voice. “Now, be sure to wear play clothes on Friday, and not your usual prom dresses and dinner jackets,” she teases us. “And tell your moms and dads,” she adds. “They are welcome to join us, if they can take a little time off work. And they might want to bring their cameras.”

“We don’t have to wear costumes, do we?”
Jared asks, sounding suspicious. “Are you going to make us put on funny hats or have a parade?” It is only October, but I know already that Jared is not a parade kind of kid. And if there was ever a Funny Hat Day at this school, he would stay home with a convenient stomach ache or something.

I’m sure of it.

Ms. Sanchez laughs out loud. “No, don’t worry, Jared. You’re safe.”

“Because I’m not wearing any funny hat,” Jared announces.

I guess he thinks having funny hair is bad enough. Funny hats would be too much.

“No hats,” Ms. Sanchez promises. “Friday will be a hat-free day, okay?”

Heather’s hand flies up again. “Oh, oh,” she says. “And no coconut, okay? Because I get a rash.”

“Oh, darn,” Ms. Sanchez cries, pretending to be disappointed. She slaps her desk with her left
hand, and the ring makes rainbow shines. “The treat was going to be that you would all eat coconuts while wearing silly costumes and hats and then have a parade. And now it’s
ruined
.”

Heather starts to pout. “I was only saying,” she mutters. She looks around for sympathy, but everyone is too busy whispering to notice her.

“Now get out your workbooks,” Ms. Sanchez calls out. “It’s time to do some heavy-duty subtraction.”

Poor Corey groans again.

I guess it’s back to real life—until Friday afternoon, anyway.