Stargirl Read Online Free PDF Page B

laughed. “Right. Like she’s gonna say no.”
    No one had ever said no to the Hot Seat. Any reluctance to answering personal or embarrassing questions always yielded to the lure of appearing on TV. If anyone could resist that lure, I figured it would be Stargirl. That day after school, Kevin came at me thumbs-up and grinning: “It’s a go! She said yes!”
    First I was surprised. This didn’t fit my impression of her. I didn’t know that this was an early glimpse of something I was soon to see much more of: behind the dazzling talents and differentness, she was far more normal than I had realized.
    Then I was elated. We yipped. We high-fived. We saw visions of our most popular show ever.
    This was mid-January. We set a date of February thirteenth, the day before Valentine’s. We wanted a full month for buildup. With my resistance now gone, I jumped in with both feet. We planned a promo campaign. We got art students to do posters. We jotted down questions for Kevin to ask in case the jury ran out—fat chance of that happening. We didn’t have to post the usual jury notice: dozens of kids volunteered.
    And then things changed again.
     
    In the courtyard of our school stood a five-foot sheet of plywood in the shape of a roadrunner. It was a bulletin board, strictly for student use, always taped and tacked with messages and announcements. One day we found the following computer printout taped to the plywood roadrunner:
    “I pledge allegiance to United Turtles of America and to the fruit bats of Borneo, one planet in the Milky Way, incredible, with justice and black bean burritos for all.”
    Handwritten across the bottom were the words: “This is how she says the Pledge of Allegiance.”
    No one had to tell us who “she” was. Apparently, she was overheard in homeroom as we said the Pledge each morning.
    As far as I knew, we were not a particularly patriotic bunch. I didn’t hear people saying they were offended. Some thought it was funny. Some giggled and nodded knowingly, as if to say, There she goes again. On the following mornings, more than one kid was heard reciting the new “pledge.”
    Within days a new story wildfired through the student body. A senior girl, Anna Grisdale, lost her grandfather after a long illness. The funeral took place on a Saturday morning. For a while everything seemed routine: the crowd of people at the church, the line of cars with their headlights on, the smaller group clustered around the grave for the final farewell. After the brief graveside service, the funeral director handed everyone a long-stemmed flower. Upon leaving, each mourner laid his or her flower over the casket. This was when Anna Grisdale first noticed Stargirl.
    Through her own tears Anna could see that Stargirl was crying also. She wondered if Stargirl had been at the church as well. Even more, she wondered why Stargirl was there at all. Could she have been friends with her grandfather without Anna’s knowing it? Anna’s mother asked her who the unfamiliar girl was.
    Afterward, the mourners were invited to Anna’s house for lunch. About thirty came. There was a buffet of cold cuts and salads and cookies. Stargirl was there, chatting with members of the family but not eating or drinking anything.
    Suddenly Anna heard her mother’s voice. It was no louder than the others, but it was different: “What are you doing here?”
    Sudden stillness. Everyone staring.
    They were in front of the picture window. Anna had never seen her mother so angry. Mrs. Grisdale had been very close to her father. They had built an addition to their house so he could live with them.
    She glared down at Stargirl. “Answer me.”
    Stargirl gave no reply. “You didn’t even know him, did you?”
    Still Stargirl said nothing.
    “Did
you?”
    And then Anna’s mother was flinging open the front door and pointing, as if banishing her to the desert. “Leave my house.”
    Stargirl left.
    Danny Pike was nine years old. He loved to ride