New Beginnings (2 page)

Chapter Two

W
here's Dad?” I ask the next morning at breakfast.

“Dad went downstairs to the store early,” Mom says. “He's expecting another big shipment today so he's getting the shelving ready. I expect you both to help out after school.”

“I still wish Dad could drive us to school,” I say. “At least on our first day.”

“You'll be fine,” Mom says. “The bus stop is right down the street. But you'd better hurry. You don't want to miss the bus!”

Of course Mom plans to take Sophie to first grade at her new elementary school. Sophie shouts from our room that she can't find her shoes.

“It's always something,” Mom says.

Josh, hungry as usual, grabs another muffin and globs strawberry jam on it as Mom shoos us toward the door.

How can Josh be hungry at a time like this? I do not feel good about this day at all. Mom gives Josh and me each a kiss.

“Oh, wait,” Mom says, reaching for a file folder.

“Mom—” I say, but she interrupts me.

“You'll both do great at your new school,” Mom says. She takes a breath, as if trying to convince herself of what she's just said. “I've already registered you with the school secretary. They know you're coming. But she said she needed copies of your vaccination records and latest report cards.” She holds up the folder, looking back and forth between Josh and me. “Don't worry, Jules,” she says, “I have every confidence in you both.” She hands the folder to Josh.

Mom seems to have more confidence in Josh than in me.

The kids at the bus stop nod when Josh says hi, but no one really talks to us. In fact, no one comes near us. Josh keeps smiling at everyone and making eye contact. He's good at playing the friendly guy. Not me.

Everyone pretty much avoids us except a red-haired girl with freckles carrying some kind of shoe box with a towel over the top. She walks past us as the bus pulls up. She stares at Josh's muffin and says, “You'd better hide that. The driver is a real grump about food on the bus.”

The bus door opens, and everyone piles in. There is no garbage can inside or outside the bus, so Josh hands me Mom's folder, wraps the muffin in his paper towel, and hides it by cupping it between his hands.

“Take your seats!” the driver calls.

The red-haired girl pauses in front of me, trying to decide where to sit. There are only a few seats left. Both of her hands hold the box. She has no hands free to steady herself, so she turns around, facing me for a moment, and tries to back into the seat while holding the box with her two arms in front of her.

“Let me help,” I say, reaching out, but that's when the bus jerks to a start, and I plow right into her. The box makes an awful crunching sound between us. “Sorry. Oh, I'm so sorry,” I say, completely horrified, not just because of the box, but because my arms, neck, and face are right up against her chest; she's much taller than I am. My face is red hot, and I try to back up so I'm not so close. But the bus moves and I start to fall into her again.

“Watch it!” she yells as she angles her rear end into the seat.

“Take your seats!” the driver yells again.

Josh is right behind me, and when he falls forward into me, he pushes me into the seat beside her. Even worse, his muffin flies up in the air. I can't believe this is happening. I drop the folder and try to catch the jam-covered muffin. But I miss it, and it goes right past me, skimming the edge of the red-haired girl's towel and cardboard box. The muffin disappears near our feet. I'm hoping it didn't land on the file folder.

The girl beside me is still and silent. The word
livid
from last year's spelling bee comes to mind. I can't make myself look at her, so I look at Josh instead. He found a spot to sit across from me, one seat back.

When the girl beside me leans over her shoe box to look at her feet, the box buckles even more. I look, too. Josh's upside-down muffin on the floor would be bad enough. But this is worse. It missed the file folder, but it's upside down on her sneaker.

“Oh,” I say, grabbing the file folder and stuffing the now-wrinkled papers back into it. “I'm so sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. It was an accident.”

She gasps. There's a brief moment of silence before she yells, “You ruined everything!”

Okay, this is bad, but it's just a shoe. I don't know why she is freaking out.

“Sorry,” Josh says. He tries to hand her the paper towel he is still holding, even though it's covered in jam from the muffin.

“Get away! Both of you, just get away!”

“Don't yell at my brother,” I say. “You can wash your sneaker.”

“I don't care about my shoe. Look what you did to my science project! I've been working on it for weeks. You crushed it!”

The bus driver looks at us in his rearview mirror. In fact, I'm sure everyone on the bus is looking at us. I bet my face is as red as the strawberry jam.

Another girl behind us peeks over and under the seat, then she asks the redhead, “Are those the sneakers your cousin sent you from Hollywood?”

“Yeah,” the redhead says.

Hollywood? Please, who buys their shoes in Hollywood? Who does she think she is?

“Come to my locker when we get to school,” the other girl says. “I have an extra pair of sneakers.”

“Thanks,” the redhead says, loud enough for the whole bus to hear. “What I'm going to need is glue and a whole new science project. If I get a bad grade, I'll be grounded for life. “

Josh leans toward her and turns on his charm. Once more he says, “We're really sorry—”

“Don't talk to me,” the redhead says, lifting the towel and peeking at her project. Then she tries to kick the muffin onto my shoes.

Josh convinces the kid next to him to move back a row when the driver isn't looking.

“Jules,” he says, motioning to the empty spot next to him.

Josh and I slump in tandem beside each other.

“Well, things can only get better now,” Josh whispers to me, trying to make me smile.

“Yeah,” I say.

I hate that we have to start all over again in a new middle school. I hate riding the school bus. I hate that girl. And it's pretty clear that she hates me, too.

Chapter Three

W
e find the office. At least the school secretary welcomes us.

“Just in time,” she says. “Principal Phillips was just heading out. Mr. Phillips, these are our new students I told you about, Julia and Joshua Darrow.”

“Hello, hello,” the principal says. “Great to have you here. Sorry to rush off, but we've got an overflowing water fountain and a miniflood in the gym.” Then he hurries out the door.

Two students about our age come in, and the secretary introduces us to David Hutchinson, who will be Josh's school buddy for the day, and Sunita Patel, who will show me around. Josh and I briefly compare schedules, but we have no classes together. I was afraid of that. The trouble is, twins aren't usually put together in the same classes. Mom says it's because separating twins helps them become independent. So I'll be on my own, except for lunch.

I wait for Josh to say something first. His friendly personality usually puts everyone at ease, including me. But after the whole school bus fiasco, he's quieter than usual.

David asks, “Where are you from?”

“Pittsburgh,” Josh answers. But that's it. He doesn't say more than that.

Our morning didn't get off to a great start, but David and Sunita seem nice. Sunita is pretty with long black hair and a friendly smile. She rolls her eyes as David jokes about “making pit stops in Pittsburgh.” David has a loud voice, just like my little sister, Sophie. Josh smiles. Once Josh starts feeling better, they'll get along just great.

The bell rings. “See you at lunch,” I tell Josh.

But as we walk down the hall, Sunita looks at my schedule and says, “We have alternating lunch periods here. You might or might not see your brother at lunchtime.”

“Oh,” I say.

Sunita must sense the dread in my voice. She looks right at me.

“Don't worry,” she says.

“I can't help it,” I say. “I'm not good at meeting new people.”

“Just think positive,” Sunita says. “Besides, I've got the same lunch period as you, so look for me if you don't see Josh. And really, everyone is so friendly here, you'll make lots of friends right away, I'm sure.”

Everyone is so friendly?
Clearly she doesn't know the mean red-headed girl from the bus. I'm about to say something, but Sunita locks elbows with me and says, “Hurry, now.”

She steers me through the crowded halls, upstairs to Room 202. “You have Mr. Hart, the same science teacher I had last year. You're going to love his class!”

I bet Sunita is one of those people who never feels lost and always knows what to do and say. I'm one of those people who never knows what to say, so I say nothing. Then people think I'm a snob. Or if I do say something, half the time I blurt out the wrong thing and embarrass myself.

Sunita is right about Mr. Hart. His science room is filled with animals. Live animals. Lots of them—a corn snake, a bearded dragon lizard, a tarantula, and the most adorable lop-eared rabbit I have ever seen. The rabbit is small, and that makes its big floppy ears hanging down all the sweeter.

Sunita introduces me to Mr. Hart, and he points me to an empty chair near the rabbit. She walks me all the way to my desk, then whispers, “We'll talk after class. I gotta run, but I'll be back to guide you to all your classes through lunch.”

“Thanks,” I say.

Sunita's positive attitude must be rubbing off on me. Plus, I feel ten times more relaxed being around all of Mr. Hart's animals. I'm so close to the bunny, I can't help smiling. Things are looking up.

I sit in the empty chair next to the furry little rabbit. She must be a dwarf. She's hopping, then hiding under a little basket. She pokes her cute nose out from under the basket and sniffs the air, wiggling her whiskers. She tilts her head and looks right at me. I can't wait to pet her.

“Welcome back, everybody. We have a new student today who has just moved to Ambler. Please welcome your new classmate, Julia,” Mr. Hart says.

“Jules,” I say.

Everyone turns to stare at me. A few kids nod and smile, but I avoid their eyes by looking at the rabbit.

“Okay, then. Welcome, Jules,” Mr. Hart says. “Now, our first order of business today is to review the science tests you took before spring break.”

He hands back the tests to some groans from the class. Of course I don't have a test, but he tells me to look on with the girl across the aisle from me. She halfheartedly moves her desk closer to mine, but then she starts doodling on her paper. I don't blame her.

Mr. Hart drones on and on about the importance of rocks, sediments, and fossils. I try to listen at first, but I'm having a hard time paying attention. I can't stop looking at the dwarf rabbit with her long, floppy ears. The tiny
V
of her mouth is surrounded by the softest-looking brown and white fur and the most adorable little bunny chin. She's out from under her basket and sniffing around the cage. I wish I had a carrot or something to feed her.

I reach through the wire cage with my fingers. Curious, she hops closer and sniffs me. Her whiskers tickle and I can't help smiling, but I hold my fingers still. She tilts her head, and I stroke the spot on the top of her head between her ears. She leans closer to my hand and now I can reach her velvety ears, warm and soft. The grid of the cage is too small to reach my hand all the way through to pet her. I study the latch on the front of the cage to see if I can open it quietly. Mr. Hart is still lecturing about geologic processes.

I open the little hook very slowly so I won't scare the bunny and so the hook won't make any noise. She hops away when I reach in, but when I hold my hand still, she comes back toward me. She lets me pet her soft fur, first on her head and ears again, then down her back. I want to take her out of her cage and put her on my lap. School would be so much easier if we could bring our own pets. That's what I'm thinking when I realize Mr. Hart isn't talking anymore. No one is talking or doing anything because everyone, including Mr. Hart, is staring at me.

Uh-oh. Now what have I done?

I slowly pull my hand out of the cage. “Sorry,” I say. I latch the catch securely.

“Wow,” says the girl across the aisle. “Chewie let you pet her?”

“Chewie?” I ask.

“Yeah, Chewie. That's her name.” She points to the bunny.

“She didn't try to bite you?” another kid asks.

“No, why?” I ask.

“It appears we have a bunny whisperer among us,” Mr. Hart announces.

Several students laugh.

“All I did was pet her,” I say.

“Yes, but no one has been able to pet her since we got her two months ago. She bites and scratches and is a bit of a nervous Nellie. You're the first person, as far as we know, who she's let pet her.”

“Oh,” I say. I look at Chewie and she looks back at me, cute and innocent.

“Do you have rabbits or other pets at home?” Mr. Hart asks.

My face warms. “No,” I say. “But I volunteered at the animal shelter in Pittsburgh. I'm very good with animals.”

“I can see that,” Mr. Hart says, rubbing his chin. “Chewie needs a new home. She isn't getting along with the students. Maybe you'd like to give it a try.”

“That'd be great,” I say.

“You'll need your parents' permission of course.”

“I'm sure my parents will agree,” I say. What am I thinking? Dad might agree. But Mom? I'll need all the help I can get to convince her. I have to talk to Josh as soon as possible.

“All right, Jules from Pittsburgh,” Mr. Hart says, “please see me after class. We'll discuss the details.”

Mr. Hart begins to make another announcement about some kind of upcoming streams cleanup event, but I'm having a hard time paying attention. I can't stop smiling and looking at Chewie, who has one ear up and one ear down. She looks like she is smiling, too. It's a goofy little smile, with her front teeth sticking out just a tiny bit.

Finally I'll have a pet to care for. I start thinking about building Chewie a bigger home than the little cage she's in now. This cage might be good for carrying her safely from one place to another and maybe for sleeping at night. But I learned at the Pittsburgh shelter that all animals, including rabbits, need enough space to run or hop around and play. I'll make her a tunnel, agility ramps, and hidey holes, too.

Science class zips by. The more I think about having Chewie as a pet, the more excited I get. The morning that started out so badly is definitely looking up.