Amber Brown Is Green with Envy

by Paula Danziger

  I like all of the teachers at my school…I’ve had some great teachers here….. Mrs. Holt…. Mr. Cohen…. Ms. Light….

  What if there are no great teachers at my new school?

  What if they never smile at me? What if they already have favorite students, and there is no more room in their brains to add another favorite? What if they have already memorized all of their students’ names, and they have no more room in their memory for mine? What if they think of me as “What’s-her-face, that new kid who came to the school in the middle of fourth grade?”…. What if everyone thinks that it is weird for me to say, “I, Amber Brown”?

  There are so many more what-ifs.

  What if my dad keeps getting madder and madder about this?

  When I was at Dad’s house, I should never have told him that Mom and I and Max were going to move. He got on the phone to Mom and yelled and yelled and yelled. He said that he had moved back to this town, not to New York City, because of me, so that we could spend time together….. and how dare they think that they could move. He used the words “I’m calling my lawyer.” He used them a lot.

  I’m not sure, but I don’t think he should have acted the way that he did when he dropped me off at the house after Christmas vacation….. talking about how he knew where everything was, and how he had been a big part of the house for a long time.

  My dad. I’m just getting used to shared custody, to living in both houses. If I am living in another town, what if he decides to move to New York City? That will mean that I won’t see him as much, and I won’t see the Marshalls as much….. and Brenda won’t be my Ambersitter anymore. And Mrs. Holt won’t be my teacher. There will be a lot of won’ts.

  I’ve never really been mad at my mom before, not like this…not BIG TIME…. I may even hate her.…I may even hate Max. (If it wasn’t for him, none of this would happen.) Why did he and Mom fall in love? Why did I start to care about him? And my dad isn’t acting great either. I could hate him too. I know that it is bad to hate…but I can’t help it.

  Mrs. Holt has a few students pass around some paper. My friend Brandi is one of them.

  “Amber.” Brandi hands a paper to me and leans down and whispers, “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

  I didn’t even know that I was crying.

  I put my head down on the desk.

  She leaves and a few minutes later, Mrs. Holt comes up to my desk. “Amber, would you please step outside with me for a minute.”

  As we leave, she says to the class, “All right, everyone. I want you to start your writing assignment now….. and I don’t want to hear a sound out of anyone.”

  I stand outside the door with Mrs. Holt.

  I, Amber Brown, am even upset with Mrs. Holt. Why does she have to be such a good teacher that I am going to miss her?

  “Do you want to tell me what is bothering you?” Mrs. Holt takes out a tissue and wipes my eyes.

  She’s being so nice…. that makes me cry even more.

  I tell her what is happening.

  Every once in a while, she has to stick her head back inside the classroom to remind the class to quiet down.

  The class….. I will miss them too. Fredrich and his nose-picking fingers…. Brandi….. Kelly….. Alicia….. Tiffany and her collection of Barbie dolls….. her little brother, who is always committing Barbiecide on the dolls…Bobby….. everyone…. everyone except for Hannah Burton.

  “Amber.” Mrs. Holt leans down.

  “Yes.” I sniffle.

  “Are you sure that your mom is going to buy a house that is not in town, that you will have to leave the school?” she asks.

  I shake my head no. “But they may. They said that they might buy a house someplace else.”

  “Have you told your mom how upset you are?”

  I shake my head no again.

  Mr. Robinson, the principal, comes by.

  Mrs. Holt says that she wants to talk with him for a minute.

  They go stand about ten feet from me.

  I just stand where I am, sniffling.

  They come back, and Mrs. Holt says, “Amber, honey. Would you like to go sit in Mr. Robinson’s office until you feel better?”

  I sniffle more. “Am I in trouble?”

  I, Amber Brown, have never been inside the principal’s office. I thought that was only for bad kids.

  Mr. Robinson leans down and says softly, “No, Amber. Not at all. I promise. We just want you to calm down, to be able to talk about what is bothering you.”

  All of a sudden, what is bothering me is that I’m not sure that I want to talk with him about what is bothering me. I’m also not sure that I can go back into the classroom again. I don’t want everyone to see me cry, especially not Hannah Burton.

  I’m not sure what I want to do.

  A lot of kids say that it is really scary to go to the principal’s office.

  I’ve never heard anyone say, “I’m going to the principal’s office, goody!”

  We all just stand there.

  The class starts getting a little noisy again.

  Mr. Robinson just walks to the door and looks in.

  The class gets quiet, fast.

  Mr. Robinson comes back again.

  I, Amber Brown, have to make a decision, and I have to make it now.

  If I go back into the class, I’m afraid that I will start crying.

  If I go to Mr. Robinson’s office, I may start crying too….. but at least there, I know that he is not going to call me a baby for crying….. and I know that Hannah Burton is.

  I, Amber Brown, am going to the principal’s office.

  Chapter

  Seven

  The principal’s office….. everything looks so serious.

  He has one of the biggest desks I’ve ever seen and he’s got one of those big chairs that a person can twirl around in.

  I just can’t imagine Mr. Robinson twirling around and around in his chair.

  There are pictures of his family on his desk.

  It looks like he has two kids and a wife and two dogs. I never thought that a principal would have a child with a nose ring (the girl) and a child with an earring and turquoise hair (the boy).

  It looks like their family is still together, a happy family.

  I bet the Robinson kids never had to move.

  I bet that their parents never got divorced.

  I sigh….. a very loud sigh.

  “Amber.” Mr. Robinson leans forward. “Would you like to talk with me about what is bothering you?”

  Looking at him, across the desk, I shake my head no and then start talking.

  My head is saying no, but my mouth talks anyway.

  First, I tell him about my parents separating, and my dad moving away….. and my mom crying a lot in the beginning…. and my dad moving to Paris….. and then coming back….. and how Mom met and is going to marry Max…and that I don’t know who to choose…Max or Dad…and how I was doing badly in Mrs. Holt’s class, not turning in homework or anything…and how I’m doing well now….. and how now my mom is going to sell the house and how we are going to have to move…and maybe move out of town…and I’m going to have to leave the school…. and why should I even bother to do well if they don’t even care about what I want?

  I am losing control….. and I don’t think that I am ever going to calm down.

  Mr. Robinson just sits there listening.

  I cry really hard. There are tears coming out of my eyes, gunk coming out of my nose.

  The tissue that Mrs. Holt gave me is soaked.

  I throw it in the wastepaper basket.

  It misses.

  Looking up at Mr. Robinson, I wait for him to yell at me and make me stay after school.

  I pick the wet tissue up again and drop it into the wastepaper basket.

  This time it goes in.

  Mr. Robinson hands me a box of tissues.

  I hope that I don’t use them all up.

  Blowing my nose, I say, “Thanks.”
>
  He smiles at me. “Amber….. I’m going to let you in on a secret. I have a little refrigerator hidden in this office.”

  He walks to a closet door and opens it up. “What kind of soda would you like?”

  I sniffle and then grin at him. “Do you have crème soda? That’s my favorite.”

  “Mine too,” he says.

  I can’t believe it….. the principal of my school likes my favorite soda.

  He hands me the soda and then goes into a drawer and brings out several different kinds of Twizzlers, black licorice and chocolate and strawberry.

  “Amber,” he says, “we’ll talk about what is bothering you, but first I’m going to show you something that makes me smile when I am upset. First, though, I have to ask…you are not allergic to any of this and you are not a diabetic…. and your parents let you eat candy?”

  I nod and giggle. “My dad lets me eat more candy than my mom does.”

  He says, “Okay….. then here goes. Which Twizzler do you think will go better with crème soda?”

  I shrug.

  I’ve never thought about that before.

  He hands me one of each, and then gives himself a chocolate one.

  He bites off each end of his Twizzler and uses it as a straw. “Yummmmmmmmmm.”

  I giggle and try all three with my soda.

  The chocolate Twizzler straw with crème soda is definitely the best. The strawberry one is okay….. the black licorice one is a little pukey.

  I smile at Mr. Robinson.

  It’s the first time I’ve had a real big happy smile since Mom and Max told me that we would have to move.

  We talk more about how I am feeling.

  Mr. Robinson says, “I’ll give your mom a call tonight and let her know what we’ve talked about, if that’s all right with you.”

  I nod.

  “I want you to know,” he says, “that this may not change what is going to happen. There are times in our lives when we have to do things that we don’t like.…Nothing’s perfect, life doesn’t always seem fair. If you have to move to another town, go to another school, it may be hard for you…but I think you are a terrific kid, and you’ll do all right. And you can always write to me….. and I’ll write back.”

  I really like Mr. Robinson.

  That makes me want to cry again.

  I’m sorry that I really like him so much.

  That’s one more person that I’m going to miss.

  Chapter

  Eight

  I’m back in class.

  I have washed my face, and I hope I can hide the fact that I’ve been crying.

  What I can’t hide is the fact that I have been eating black licorice. I know this because when I went into the bathroom to wash my face, I stuck my tongue out at myself, and my tongue is black.

  I look at the board.

  January 11—Happenings

  Birthdays:

  1175—Alexander Hamilton—first U.S. Treasury secretary

  1885—Alice. Paul—founder of the National Women’s Party and women’s rights leader

  1938—T.E. Moulton—the first American woman to become a bank president

  Events:

  1878—Alexander Campbell became the first milkman to deliver milk in glass bottles.

  1935—Amelia Earhart was the first woman to fly solo across the Pacific—her 18-hour flight went from Honolulu to Oakland.

  1964—The Surgeon General declared cigarettes hazardous to health!

  Other Special Events for January 11:

  This is International

  Thank you Day

  &

  A Special Day that you will

  find out about later !!!!!

  Ever since we came back from vacation, Mrs. Holt has been putting the day’s list of happenings on the board.

  I am very happy about that because for Christmas I gave her a book of events throughout the year.

  I even have the same book at my house. I gave that to myself as a Christmas present.

  Mrs. Holt asks us what interests us about the list.

  Bobby Clifford says, “I thought only girls are secretaries. How come Alexander Hamilton was a secretary, and he’s a guy?”

  Alicia Sanchez raises her hand and turns to Bobby. “Doofus.”

  “No name-calling,” Mrs. Holt says.

  Alicia stares at Bobby. “Men can be secretaries too. It’s a good thing that Alice Paul was born to help women’s rights…. It’s a shame that she isn’t around to help you, Bobby.”

  She says “Bobby” in a tone of voice that sounds like she is saying “Doofus.”

  Fredrich Allen raises his hand. “Being a secretary in the United States Cabinet is different from the traditional secretary.”

  For a nose-picker, Fredrich Allen is very smart.

  Bobby shakes his head. “I don’t get it. Why was Alexander Hamilton in a cabinet? Didn’t he have a room?”

  For a non-nose-picker, Bobby Clifford is not very smart.

  Mrs. Holt looks at Bobby as if she is not sure if he really can’t figure it out or if he is just being stupid.

  She explains what the President’s Cabinet is.

  Brandi waves her hand.

  Mrs. Holt calls on her.

  “I’m glad that the Surgeon General said that cigarettes are hazardous to our health. I wish that my grandpa had listened. He didn’t, and he got lung cancer.”

  She looks sad.

  I feel bad for her.

  I am glad that the grown-ups in my life do not smoke, even if I am so mad at them.

  Next we talk about whether we get milk delivered or whether we get it from the store. Everyone says that their milk is from the store. No one knew that milk was ever delivered to houses.

  Jimmy says that when he was little, he got milk from his mother.

  “Gross,” Hannah Burton says.

  Mrs. Holt says, “It’s really not gross.”

  Hannah makes a face and looks disgusted.

  I stick out my licorice-covered tongue at her.

  She looks at it and again says, “Gross.”

  This time she is talking about my tongue.

  Mrs. Holt says, “I’m going to read to you all now…. This is a wonderful book.”

  She holds up a picture book.

  “That’s baby,” one of the boys says. “That’s for little kids. We read chapter books now.”

  Mrs. Holt smiles at him. “It’s never baby to read a good book.”

  We all wait to hear the book and decide for ourselves.

  Because it is Amelia Earhart’s birthday, Mrs. Holt reads Amelia and Eleanor Go for a Ride by Pam Muñoz Ryan. She also shows us the illustrations. I wish that I could draw like Brian Selznick.

  After she is done, we all decide that a good book is a good book.

  Mrs. Holt says, “Class…. now we have a special surprise!”

  She goes over to the intercom phone and picks it up. “Hello. This is Mrs. Holt. Would you please ask my friends to come to our class now?”

  She puts down the phone, and we all wait to find out who the friends are.

  The people walk in.

  Some of the kids yell out, “Mom.”

  That’s because their moms have walked in.

  Their moms are the room mothers.

  Mine isn’t because she has to work.

  I’m glad she isn’t because I definitely don’t want to see her now.

  The moms just stand there while Mrs. Holt says to us, “Listen carefully…. Today is ‘a fruit comes apart’ day. Can you think of another way to express that? If someone in this room can, we can celebrate.”

  I think about it…. a fruit comes apart.

  Vinnie yells, “Apple turnover.”

  Mrs. Holt shakes her head no.

  Everyone is quiet, trying to think about it.

  I keep saying a fruit comes apart…a fruit comes apart…a fruit comes apart…

  “Blueberry crumble.” Hannah sounds very proud of herself.


  “Very good,” Mrs. Holt says, “but in this case, not correct.”

  Hannah looks crumbled.

  Again, I say to myself, “A fruit comes apart.” And then I figure it out.

  “Banana splits!” I yell.

  Mrs. Holt smiles and then goes over to the board and writes out:

  January 11 is

  Banana Split Day!

  “Hooray for Amber.” Brandi claps her hands.

  I smile at my friend.

  The moms set up a table with banana split ingredients.

  We all go over to the table and tell them what we want.

  I get to go first because I guessed.

  My day is getting better.

  I wish that every day could be Banana Split Day.

  When we are all finished, the room gets cleaned up, and we all sit down again.

  The moms go out of the room.

  We all wave good-bye and smile at them.

  Then Mrs. Holt writes our homework assignment on the board.

  Since today is International

  Thank you Day, write a thank-you

  letter to someone you know.

  Bring it in tomorrow.

  This assignment does not make me happy.

  Who am I going to write to?….. Not my mom, not my dad, not Max….. There’s nothing that I want to thank them for, not today.

  I think about writing to Mrs. Holt, but I bet a lot of people are going to write to her.

  I make my decision.

  I’m going to write a thank-you note to Mr. Robinson….. to thank him for listening to me, for teaching me how to make a Twizzler straw and for saying that he is going to talk to Mom.

  I am thankful that there is someone that I want to write a thank-you note to.

  Chapter

  Nine

  Kelly Green and Brandi Colwin come up to me after school. “Amber, are you all right?”

  I nod my head yes and then I shake my head no.

  They are my two best friends in the whole school, in the whole town, in the whole state of New Jersey.

  They can’t be my two best friends in the country or in the world…. because of Justin Daniels, who is my best friend who moved away in third grade, all the way to Alabama.