Mary Wolf Read Online Free PDF

birds and people.
    Over Mama’s objections I’d worn my jeans. She thinks girls look more feminine in dresses. You don’t want to stick out in a new school. No Kick Me signs. Jeans are pretty generic.
    Most of the time I don’t see my sisters clearly. They’re too close for me to be objective. At the bus stop the girls come into focus. Framed in space, they look out-of-place, lost.
    Danielle stamps her feet.
    â€œYou should’ve worn your coat,” I tell her.
    â€œI hate that coat. I’m not cold,” she snarls. When Danielle’s scared, she acts mad, instead. She got into fights at the last school she attended.
    â€œDon’t worry, you look fine.”
    She rolls her eyes. Most of our clothes come from yard sales and thrift shops. Her dress is too short and her sweater’s too big. She bangs her lunch bag against her legs.
    â€œI don’t see why he couldn’t give us a ride,” she says. “It’s not like he was doing anything.”
    â€œHe has to have a physical for his job today.”
    â€œNot till later.”
    â€œMaybe his stomach was bothering him.”
    â€œHis stomach’s always bothering him,” she mutters, chucking a rock into the vineyard across the road.
    â€œDon’t worry, I’ll take you to school this morning.”
    â€œI can do it myself,” she protests, relieved.
    â€œMe too, Mary?” Erica clutches my hand. She look so little in her blue plaid dress, her blond hair twisted into shiny braids. Danielle’s hair was long until she hacked it off with scissors. Mama had a fit.
    â€œYou too, hon. It will be all right. You’ll love being in school again. Wait and see.”
    â€œI can wait,” Danielle says. Erica huddles beside me. She’d climb inside my pocket if she fit.
    The bus looms out of the fog and groans to a stop. The door swings open and the driver greets us.
    â€œGood morning, girls,” she says. “There’s seats in back.”
    I shove the girls up the steps and down the aisle, through a tunnel of goggle-eyed faces. We find seats together. Erica sits on my lap. She’d suck her thumb if kids weren’t watching.
    We pass farmhouses, barns, and misty vineyards, and ghostly oak trees draped with moss. We cross a bridge over the river and drive downtown, past beauty shops, markets, gas stations, the post office, the high school, to the grade school at the north end of town.
    I get off with the girls. I’ll walk to the high school. Mama and Daddy registered the girls yesterday, but we need to find out the location of their rooms.
    The secretary gives us directions, then says, “Remind your parents that we’ll need the girls’ transcripts for our records.”
    â€œThey’ll be here soon,” I promise. There are no transcripts. We’ve been everywhere and nowhere. And won’t be here long enough for it to matter.
    In the first-grade wing we meet Erica’s teacher. Mrs. Donatelli kneels down and smiles at Erica, and shows her where to put her lunch bag and coat. Erica’s pleased to have the teacher’s attention, but when I move toward the door, she says, “Mary, don’t go.”
    â€œI have to, honey. I’ll meet you out front, after school.”
    â€œShe’ll be fine,” the teacher says. “We’ll have lots of fun.”
    â€œThat’s what they all say,” Danielle grumbles. We head down the hall to her fourth-grade classroom.
    â€œI should be in fifth grade. I was last time.”
    â€œYeah, but you never caught up. Now you’ll probably be the smartest kid in your class.”
    â€œOh goody,” she says, looking miserable.
    Her classroom is empty. Her teacher’s on the playground, supervising the kids before the final bell rings. I introduce my sister. He greets her warmly and says, “So tell me, Danielle, where did you live before this?”
    â€œI’ll see you