Belle Teal Read Online Free PDF

“Where else you traveled?” He asks this almost in a whisper.
    â€œOh, to London and Rome. All over Europe, really.”
    Mae’s hand is in the air again. “Will you sit with me and Kayla at lunch today?” she asks, all eager.
    â€œWhy, certainly. I would be delighted to join you,” replies HRH.
    Mae sends a big satisfied grin over to Kayla, who’s sitting in front of me.
    This time I cannot help myself. I swivel around and peer at Clarice. I believe my mouth is actually hanging open with my disbelief. Clarice, she is looking back at me and her forehead is arranged in a frown. I don’t want Miss Casey to catch us, though, so I fix my attention on HRH like she’s a fascinating worm under a magnifying glass.
    â€œThank you,” says Miss Casey when the questions have died down. “That was very interesting.” She indicates that Vanessa should take her seat. Then she looks at Darryl. “Are you ready?” she asks him gently, and she points to that spot under the flag.
    Vanessa, she is still on her way back to her seat, and when Darryl stands up, she leaps aside to escape him. Miss Casey sees this, but she doesn’t comment on it. She just waits until Darryl is standing beside her, then puts her arm around his shoulders like she did Vanessa’s, and smiles at him.
    â€œUm, well,” begins Darryl in a soft voice, “my name is Darryl Isaac Craig, and I live with my mother and my father. My father is a machinist and he works nights, and my mother works at the hospital in Mechanicsville. My aunt and uncle live next door to us.” Darryl looks up at Miss Casey. She nods. “Well, I — I’m ten years old and I used to go to school in Peapack.” He pauses. “That’s all.”
    Our classroom is absolutely silent. I don’t know which is worse. That awful snickering from before, or this silence that is so big and heavy, you could pick it up and throw it around the room.
    Miss Casey, she gives us a prompt. “Does anyone have a question for Darryl?”
    The silence grows.
    Actually, I have several questions for Darryl. I want to know what is a machinist, and I wonder is he really another only child like me, and is the hospital his mother works at Baptist Memorial, because that is where I had my appendix out three years ago and maybe I met her then. But no hands are shooting into the air, so I leave mine resting in my desk, fiddling with an old crayon I have just found in the back.
    Miss Casey is looking uncomfortable herself, or maybe a little mad. Finally she says, “Darryl, I have a question for you. What do you like to do in your spare time?”
    â€œMa’am, I like drawing, mostly.”
    â€œDrawing! Wonderful! Perhaps you will become our class artist.”
    Our room is as still as midnight. After looking out at our silent faces, Miss Casey, she finally says, “Class, I hope you will make Darryl feel welcome.” Which I notice she did not feel the necessity of saying after Vanessa finished talking. Miss Casey gazes long and hard at us, but her eyes linger on Little Boss, Chas, and Vernon.

L ordy, I do wish for my journal. So much is happening today that I can’t keep apace of it all. I brought the journal to school once last year, but Vernon got ahold of it and read a choice selection aloud on the playground. Since then, the journal has never left our house and I just have to try to hang on to thoughts with my brain until I can grab a quiet moment somewheres at home.
    All morning long I keep one eye on Miss Casey and whatever she is doing. I keep the other eye on Darryl, the kids in our class, and, outside the window, a small group of parents who are walking around and around. Now they are holding up those signs and chanting. It is a while before I get a good glimpse of one of the signs, since I don’t want Miss Casey to catch me looking out the window.
    The sign says, N IGGERS  G O  H OME