Read The Year of Billy Miller Online
Authors: Kevin Henkes
The Year of Billy Miller
DedicationTo Four—
Wife: Laura
Son: Will
Daughter: Clara
Teacher: Susan
PART ONE
TEACHER
1
It was the first day of second grade and Billy Miller was worried. He was worried that he wouldn’t be smart enough for school this year.
There was a reason he was worried. Two weeks earlier on their drive home from visiting Mount Rushmore and the Black Hills of South Dakota, Billy Miller and his family stopped in Blue Earth, Minnesota, to see the statue of the Jolly Green Giant. Billy instantly recognized the Giant from the labels of canned and frozen vegetables. The statue was spectacular—so tall, and the greenest green Billy had ever seen.
Billy was wearing his new baseball cap that said
BLACK HILLS
in glossy silver embroidery. It was a blustery day. The flag on the nearby pole snapped in the wind. Billy raced ahead of his family—up the steps to the lookout platform. As he stood between the Giant’s enormous feet, a sudden gust lifted his cap from his head. His cap sailed away. Without thinking, Billy stepped onto the middle rung of the guardrail, leaned over, and reached as far as he could. He fell to the pavement below.
The next thing Billy remembered was waking up in a hospital. His parents, whom he called Mama and Papa, were with him, as was his three-year-old sister, Sally, whom everyone called Sal.
After tests were done, the doctor proclaimed Billy miraculously unharmed, except for a lump on his head. “You fell exactly the right way to protect yourself,” the doctor told him. “You’re a lucky young man.”
“And Papa got your hat back!” said Sal.
When they returned home, Billy proudly showed his lump—and his cap—to his best friend, Ned. He called his grandmother on the phone and told her about the incident, too. Everything seemed all right until a few nights later when Billy overheard his parents talking in the kitchen.
“I’m worried about him,” said Mama.
“He’s fine,” said Papa. “Everyone said he’s fine. And he seems fine. He
is
fine.”
“You’re probably right,” said Mama. “But I worry that down the line something will show up. He’ll start forgetting things.”
“He already forgets things,” said Papa. “He’s a seven-year-old boy.”
“You know what I mean,” said Mama. She paused. “Or he’ll be confused at school. Or . . .”
That’s all Billy heard. He snuck up to his room and closed the door. And that’s when he started to worry.
Billy didn’t tell anyone that he was worried. Sometimes, he didn’t know how to say what he was thinking. He had words in his head, but they didn’t always make it to his mouth. This happened often, even before the fall.
“Happy first day of school,” said Mama.
“Happy first day of school,” said Papa.
Billy had noticed long ago that one of his parents often repeated what the other said.
Without taking the time to sit at the table, Mama rushed about the kitchen, stealing a few bites of Papa’s toast and a gulp of his coffee. She hoisted her big canvas bag onto the counter and reorganized its contents.
It was Mama’s first day of school, too. She taught English at the high school down the street.
While Billy was eating his pancakes, Papa reread aloud the letter that Ms. Silver, the second grade teacher, had sent during the summer.
In the letter Ms. Silver greeted the students and said she was looking forward to the new school year. She said that she and her husband had a baby boy at home. And two dogs. She said that second grade would be “a safe, happy year of growth” and “a wonderful, joyful, exciting challenge.”
Billy stopped chewing when he heard the word
challenge
. He put down his fork and touched the lump on his head. He didn’t want a challenge.
Papa continued. “Ms. Silver says you’ll be studying colors and habitats and the world of names.”
“That sounds like fun,” said Mama. “
My
students will be studying
Beowulf
and
Paradise Lost
.”
“I’d rather be in second grade,” said Papa, smiling.
Unlike the other fathers Billy knew, Papa stayed home and took care of Sal and the house. Papa was an artist. He was waiting for a breakthrough. That’s what he always said. He was currently working on big sculptures made of found objects. Pieces of old machines, tree limbs, and broken furniture filled the garage and spilled out onto the driveway. They were scattered across the yard, too. Billy loved watching Papa work. There was always something lying around that was fun to play with.
“Gotta go,” said Mama. She kissed Papa on his bushy orange beard. She kissed Billy on his lump. “Have a fantastic day,” she said. “And kiss Sal for me when she wakes up.”
Just like that, Mama was gone, the smell of her lemony shampoo hanging in the air for a moment.
Papa cleared his throat and shook Ms. Silver’s letter with a flourish. Billy could tell he was trying to be funny. In a deep, rumbly voice he said, “This utterly fascinating letter concludes by stating that currently this is, in fact, according to the Chinese, the Year of the Rabbit.” Papa used his regular voice again. “That’s pretty great, don’t you think? The Year of the Rabbit.”
Billy shrugged. Normally this would have interested him, but he was preoccupied.
“Maybe you’ll have carrots for a snack every day,” said Papa.
Silence.
“Papa?” said Billy.
“Hmm?”
“But, Papa, will I be smart enough for second grade?”