“But—”
“We’ll be fine here. You’re going to be late for school,” Hank said, looking at the clock. It was nearly 8:00. My fingers lingered on the row of keys hanging next to the stack of registration forms. We were running low on the forms. Expertly, Hank tore open a box of fresh new ones and set them on the table.
I picked up my backpack. “Okay,” I said. My mom handed me a custard bun for breakfast. I stopped by the kitchen and when she wasn’t looking, swapped it for a granola bar. At the door, I stopped and turned back. “Wait, what about your job at the mall?” I asked Hank.
“Don’t worry about it.” He waved me off. “I’ll just take one of my vacation days. I still have a bunch!”
I ate my granola bar as I walked the familiar two blocks down Meadow Lane to my school. It was a Great Value bar, not like the Quaker Chewy ones the other kids ate at school. My dad said it didn’t matter, they were all the same inside. He didn’t eat any granola bars himself, preferring the Bin Bin rice crackers from the Chinese grocery store. But I liked the granola bars better.
As I tossed back the rest of my breakfast, a white Mercedes came roaring behind me, screeching to a stop. I turned around to see Jason and his mom pulling up to me, and I quickly scrunched up the wrapper and stuck it in my pocket. Mrs. Yao waved from behind the wheel, her enormous diamond ring catching in the light.
“Get in,” Jason said, jumping out of the car. “We’ll give you a ride.”
He looked different, taller and with stiffer hair. Had he gelled it? His eyes smiled back at me while he waited. I hesitated for a second—what would Lupe say if she saw me arriving at school in Jason’s car? But it was 102 degrees outside, and I could feel the car’s air conditioning beckoning me from the sidewalk. I climbed inside and sank into the soft leather seat.
“How was your summer?” Jason asked me as his mother drove.
I had been practicing what to say when I saw him again, a casual but impressive story complete with sales figures: We managed to double our occupancy rates, the number of repeat customers went up by 50 percent, and we helped twenty-five immigrants, providing them free rooms and meals to help them get on their feet.
But in my excitement and haste, all that came out was, “Good.” I quickly added, “How about you? Did you go anywhere?”
I waited for the itinerary of no fewer than three continents, but Jason shook his head and said, “Nah.”
I lifted my eyes from the automatic window controls, surprised. “You didn’t go anywhere?”
“Yeah, I just stayed home,” he said.
His mom called from the front, “We traveled way too much last summer, didn’t we, sweetie?”
Jason gazed out the window and didn’t say anything. As we pulled up at school, I spotted Lupe in her mom’s car and waved to Mrs. Garcia. Mrs. Garcia had on a bright red headband and smiled at me as she waved back. A few times this summer, she’d come along with her husband to the motel. She always brought over great big bowls of freshly made guacamole and chips, and we’d all dive in. A few times, she even pitched in and helped my parents clean the rooms when it was a full house. Lupe’s eyes darted from me to Mrs. Yao to Jason, and she raised her drawing pad to her face like a shield.
I thanked Mrs. Yao for the ride and got out of the car, running over to Lupe to tell her about all the new customers this morning.
“That’s amazing!” she squealed, peeking over at Mrs. Yao. “The sign must have worked!”
“What sign?” Jason asked, walking over to us.
Quickly, I told Jason about being on TV.
“Really?” he asked. “What channel? I can’t believe I missed it.” Then with a groan, he added, “All I did was watch TV this summer.”
Lupe’s face turned red. The bell rang, and she grabbed my hand and pulled me away from Jason, toward the classrooms.
The walls of Dale Elementary School were adorned with hand-drawn blue-and-gold WELCOME BACK posters. Unlike last year, the walls were not freshly painted, but they still looked warm and inviting. As we walked down the halls, the younger kids scattered out of our way, gazing at us in awe. I smiled, remembering what it was like to be a fourth grader, looking up at a sixth grader. They seemed as powerful as the sun, like if you stared at one too long, you might go blind. I couldn’t believe I was now a sun.
Lupe and I walked arm in arm to the front office, where we learned that we were in the same class again—Mrs. Welch’s class! Jason was so bummed he wasn’t in Mrs. Welch’s class too, he threw his backpack down on the floor in a fit of frustration, and as if that wasn’t enough, he stomped on it.
Lupe started tugging my arm away from Jason and out of the office, but I resisted her pull. I wasn’t ready to go to class just yet.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I said gently to Jason.
Jason turned to the receptionist. “Can I switch classes? Please? I want to be in Mrs. Welch’s class too!”
The receptionist shook her head. “Sorry, I’m afraid not. All the classroom assignments are final.”
Jason stuck out his lower lip.
Lupe tapped my arm again, holding the door open with her foot. “He’ll be fine,” she insisted.
I glanced at Jason, who looked far from fine. He was staring at the receptionist the way some of our customers did whenever we told them we were all out of double beds.
Slowly, I walked over and put a hand on his back. “Hey, we’ll still see each other at recess,” I offered. Jason hung his head, nodding slightly.
Ten minutes later, Lupe and I found our new classroom way in the back of the school, except it wasn’t a classroom, it was an air-conditioned trailer! Hesitantly, Lupe and I opened the door to the trailer, thinking there must be some kind of mistake. But a thin white woman gestured for us to come in, so we did.
“I’m Mrs. Welch,” the woman said. “Please take a seat.” She pointed to the desks, where rows of similarly confused-looking students sat. I recognized Bethany Brett, the girl who had made fun of my math last year. Bethany rolled her eyes at me. Clearly, she was thrilled to see me too. I walked over to the two empty desks way on the other side of the room, far, far away from Bethany. As Lupe and I set our things down, Mrs. Welch made an uh-uh sound.
“Sorry, but you can’t sit with your friends,” Mrs. Welch said, shaking her head. She pointed at Lupe and motioned for her to take the seat next to Bethany’s instead. “Sit here.”
As Lupe reluctantly moved her stuff over to the other side of the room, I sat at my desk, my jaw clenching in frustration.
“Good morning, class.” Mrs. Welch had a tight brown bun on her head, like her hair had been pulled back with a vacuum cleaner. Her cheekbones were razor sharp, and she forced her paper-thin lips into a stiff smile as she scanned the room.
“Good morning, Mrs. Welch,” we replied.
“You’re probably wondering why we’re in a trailer,” she said. I looked around the room. Several kids were nodding. One was asleep. And another kid was scratching his head and smelling his fingers.
“Well, the classroom we were supposed to be in had a little water damage,” Mrs. Welch explained. “We were hoping to fix it over the summer, but unfortunately, due to budget cuts …” Her voice trailed off.