For every girl who finds her voice and makes a difference
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1: Parallel Universe
Chapter 2: Valentine Troubles
Chapter 3: Unexpected Call
Chapter 4: A Bad Joke
Chapter 5: Llamas and Girls
Chapter 6: Monday Mess
Chapter 7: Bzzz
Chapter 8: Magic Wand
Chapter 9: S’mores
Chapter 10: Secret Notes
Chapter 11: Disaster
Chapter 12: Principal’s Office
Chapter 13: A Good Cause
Chapter 14: Solidarity
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Letter from American Girl
Real Girls, Real Letters
Discussion Questions
Preview of Chrissa Stands Strong
Copyright
The yellow bus wheezed to a stop at the end of Nana’s winding driveway, where two stone lions stood guard. Taking a deep breath of icy air, I climbed the bus steps and dropped into the green padded seat three rows behind the driver. My brother slid in beside me.
Thirty pairs of eyes bored into us.
“Who are they?” someone whispered.
“New kids. Fourth- and fifth-graders.”
“From Iowa, I heard!”
I resisted the urge to sink down into the seat to escape the stares. Instead, I pulled off my red mittens and scratched a tic-tac-toe board on the frosted window. “Hey, Tyler, wanna play?”
“Nah.” When he removed his hat, Tyler’s brown hair sprang up like cornstalks after a windstorm—tilting every which way. He bent over his library book, Secrets of the Solar System. It smelled of glue and fresh ink. His glasses sat crookedly on his nose as he thumped his forefinger on a page. “Could be a parallel universe out there,” he said. “Someday we could travel into another dimension of space and time.”
“Changing schools is like entering a parallel universe,” I said, staring out the window and thinking of my old school. Back home, I could walk to school with my friends instead of having to ride a bus. Although we’d moved only a few days ago, my old home seemed like a distant planet. On the drive north to Minnesota, Dad had tried to reassure me, “Before you know it, summer will be here and you can have Amanda come visit.” But summer was light-years away.
I marked an X in the grid’s upper left corner and then an O in the center, and then I rubbed it all away. I didn’t want to play alone. I put my mittens back on and pressed them to my nose. The damp yarn reminded me of Cosmos and Checkers, Nana’s new mini llamas. When I had met them a few days ago, I’d stood nervously outside of their stalls. “Do they bite?” I’d asked.
My grandma had laughed. “No, but if they’re upset, they might spit. But only at each other—not at people.”
Checkers is black and white, and Cosmos, who’s going to have a baby this fall, is white all over. Nana had said that in a few months she would shear them and then wash, card, and spin the fleece into yarn. I would be around to help, now that we’d moved in with Nana.
As the bus hummed with chatter, a pinching emptiness filled my chest. I missed my old school and my friends Haley and Amanda. I missed Grandpa, too, and all his dumb jokes. Since he had died last fall, Nana’s big house just hadn’t been the same.
This morning Mom had poked her head into my room and said, “Time to get up, sleepyhead!” Mom is a doctor, just as Grandpa had been, and she was wearing her white medical coat over her regular clothes. She sat on the edge of my bed.
“Doctor Meg Maxwell?” I asked, tapping at her plastic name tag.
“Yes, Miss Chrissa Maxwell?” She smiled.
“Do you have a shot or a pill for new-school pain?”
Like a brown-feathered hen, she had pecked my forehead with a kiss. “There,” she said. “Chrissa, I know you’re a little scared, but you’ll do just fine.”
The bus driver slowed to a stop and cranked the doors open. “Here you go! Slowly now—no pushing!”
I paused outside the brick building, reading the name: Edgewater Elementary. Tyler was already heading through the doors. “C’mon, Chrissa,” he called. He’s only eleven months older than I am, but nothing seems to scare him. “You can’t put it off forever. Time for liftoff!”
Red and pink hearts decorated the hallways. Next to my birthday, Valentine’s Day is my favorite day of the whole year. It’s actually tomorrow, but our new teachers had let us know that the school would be celebrating today, which is why Tyler and I were starting school on a Friday—Friday the thirteenth!
As Tyler headed off down the hall, I stepped through the doorway of Room 103. At the chalkboard, a man wearing a jacket, khaki pants, and loafers scribbled away. Then he twisted around, craning his head of thinning hair toward me.
“You must be Chrissa Maxwell! I’m Mr. Beck. Everyone’s excited to have you here. Did you get the list I sent?”
I nodded. He’d sent a list of twenty-four names, including mine, so I would know everyone’s names and how many valentines to bring. Since arriving at Nana’s, I’d worked hard to make special ones for my new classmates. Right now he pointed to a desk near the door. “In January, I let the class choose cluster partners,” he explained. “There’s one open seat in Cluster Four.” Then he went back to writing on the board.
“Okay,” I said, moving my things right in. I unpacked my button-decorated notebooks and organized my cloth-covered containers of markers, pencils, pens, and crayons. As other students arrived, I looked around, wondering who in this class might become a friend.
Three girls sauntered in and sat down at my cluster. I glanced up and smiled. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Chrissa.”
No response, but the girl with long dark-brown hair offered me a halfhearted smile.
As more students arrived, whispers fluttered around the room.
“Uh-oh.”
“The new girl’s stuck with the Queen Bees!”
“You mean the Mean Bees,” someone else whispered. “Bzzz!”
This didn’t sound good, but I remembered Nana’s advice. If you want a friend, be a friend. Don’t wait for others to say hi. Just introduce yourself. She has so many helpful tips, she should write her own book, Just Ask Nana.
I tried again. “Hi, I’m Chrissa Maxwell.”
The three girls, who all wore ponytails, were busy talking to one another. Grandpa had always had a joke, so I tried humor. “Hey, is it Ponytail Day?”
They glanced my way but shifted their backs toward me. Since they weren’t going to be friendly, I studied the names on their desks and tried to match them with their traits.
Tara. Long pale-blonde hair. Probably the prettiest girl in the class. And very petite. Tara. T for Tiny.
Jadyn. Round face, wavy hair, and intense green eyes. Jadyn. J for Jade-green eyes.
Sonali. Silky dark-brown hair and dark-brown eyes. Sonali. S for Silky hair.
And me. Chrissa Marie Maxwell. C for Curious about these unfriendly girls. M for Missing my old friends. And M for Missing my old school.
Lucky me. I’d just fallen into an unfriendly hive.
After morning announcements, Mr. Beck introduced me and asked, “Chrissa, would you come to the front and tell us a little about yourself?”
I hesitated, feeling shy, but forced myself from my seat toward the board and faced the class. “Um, hi, I’m Chrissa. My brother, Tyler, is in Mrs. Ratworth’s fifth-grade class. We just moved here from Iowa to live with Nana—my grandma—on Lake Chandler.”
I wasn’t sure what else to say.
I was relieved when a hand rose. “Why’d you move?” someone asked.
“Um, well, after my grandpa died last fall, Nana said the house was too big for he
r all alone. Plus, my mom was interested in working at a bigger hospital.”
Mr. Beck asked, “Any more questions?”
A boy’s hand shot straight up, even though he slouched so low in his seat, I thought he might slide to the floor.
“Joel?”
“So, did you live on a farm with tractors and combines and stuff like that?” His question made it sound like I’d lived on another planet.
I fidgeted with the ribbon on my dress. “No. We lived in town, but now, at Nana’s, it’s a little like a farm. She has two mini llamas.”
From Cluster Four, Jadyn raised her hand. “I heard llamas spit, which would be, like, so gross?”
“Some do,” I said, trying to remember what Nana had told me, “but it’s usually at each other and only when they’re mad. But they’re really cute. Um, I guess that’s all.”
Everyone clapped politely. As I sat down, Tara whispered to Sonali and Jadyn, but loudly enough so that I could hear, “Rich kid. Everyone who lives on Lake Chandler is a snob.” She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and then tapped her polished nails on her desk.
I frowned. Snob? My grandpa hadn’t been a snob, and Nana is the kindest person I know. Just because someone has a big house doesn’t make her a bad person. I couldn’t understand why these girls were being so mean. Before I had a chance to reply, Mr. Beck announced, “Class, please take out your math books.”
I was actually happy to work on division. Anything to get my mind away from the rest of my cluster.
The day passed at the speed of a glacier. Several kids smiled at me, but no one really took the time to talk to me. Near the day’s end, Mr. Beck finally said, “Okay, now it’s time to pass out your valentines.” Along with the rest of the class, I jumped up from my seat.
“Oh, wait,” Tara whispered, waving the rest of Cluster Four closer as she scribbled on the back of a heart-shaped piece of construction paper. “I totally forgot about one for Gwen!” Then she showed us. It read:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
You’re the Loser Girl
And no one likes you!
Ha ha—just kidding!
Happy Valentine’s Day
from Guess Who?
The other girls all laughed and for a second, I giggled, too, feeling part of an inside joke. This must be a joke between Tara and this Gwen girl. At least I hoped so. Because if I got that card, I sure wouldn’t like it.
Then we moved from desk to desk, tucking cards and candies into the “mailboxes” made from decorated paper milk or juice cartons. I thought it was nice of Mr. Beck to have put one on my desk, too. I navigated the desk clusters and mailboxes, delivering silver-wrapped chocolate kisses attached to hearts. I’d spent hours in Nana’s sunroom cutting heart shapes from red and purple felt, and then gluing and stitching on pink lace, iridescent sequins, and buttons for decoration.
At one desk, a girl with sunny blonde hair and overgrown bangs sat hanging her head. Either she’d made it speedily around the room or she hadn’t given out any valentines. Maybe she was part of a religious group that didn’t celebrate holidays. I put a valentine in her mailbox anyway. When she glanced up with big brown eyes, she reminded me of a cute little mouse.
“Hi. Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said with a smile.
I was the last to sit back down, and I couldn’t wait to see what was in my mailbox. I looked in.
It was empty, except for one card.
Heat rushed up my neck to my face. It didn’t make any sense. I didn’t expect to get tons of valentines, but only one? I thought everyone exchanged treats or cards with everybody. Mr. Beck had put my name on the valentine list—I’d seen it there. When I opened the one lonely envelope and pulled out the card, it was signed “G.T.”
“Who’s G.T.?” I whispered aloud.
Jadyn squeaked over my shoulder. “Oh, Gwen Thompson?” She pointed to the girl I had just noticed, who now was tucked into her shoulders like a cornered mouse.
My valentines mailbox was empty, except for one card.
“Ohhh,” Tara said in a voice just quiet enough not to draw attention from Mr. Beck, who was on the other side of the room. “Gwen Thompson is the Loser Girl. Yeah, you two could have your own club. You certainly aren’t in ours.” Jadyn and Sonali cracked up.
I’d seen older girls like this before. On the playground, they whispered and giggled about others and on the bus they refused to give up saved seats. They treated other kids as if they were invisible—or worse, lowly as worms. I ached to be around my old friends instead of these girls. But I met Tara’s eyes and spoke up. “Who says I want to be in your club anyway?”
Tara mimicked me with a toss of her head. “Who says I want to be in your club anyway?”
I groaned in frustration.
Just then, Mr. Beck turned toward us.
Tara’s expression changed to mock hurt. “C’mon, Chrissa. Don’t overreact. I’m just having a little fun.”
“Yeah,” Jadyn whispered. “She’s just joking around? She didn’t, like, mean anything by it?”
I didn’t want to argue with them. Besides, it bugged me the way Jadyn turned every sentence into, like, a question? To avoid them, I glanced back inside my mailbox. That’s when I noticed that the whole back had been cut into a big flap!
“Wait a second—the back of my mailbox opens up.” I bent down to examine the floor between our clustered desks. No valentines had fallen there.
Tara popped her head under the desks, too. “Didn’t get any valentines?” she whispered. “How sad!”
And then Sonali and Jadyn started giggling.
I sat up straight, too upset to speak. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. It was possible that I had received only one valentine, but my gut told me they had been stolen.
Before I could say a word, Mr. Beck returned to the front of the room and sat on the edge of his desk. “Fourth grade, listen up! We have only a few more minutes. If anyone still needs to turn in registration forms for swimming, Monday’s the deadline.” He walked to my desk and handed me a form. “Chrissa, if you’re interested in a two-week practice for Edgewater’s Swim Club, you’ll need to bring this back on Monday. It’s fun— and I heard there’s a really great coach.”
Other students chuckled.
One boy shouted, “You’re the coach!”
“Anyway, don’t forget the form on Monday,” Mr. Beck added. “Swimming starts that afternoon.”
When the bell rang, Mr. Beck stood at the door, shaking hands with students as they poured out. I scanned the classroom. Maybe I could find a stash of valentines with my name on them. I stalled until I was the last one to leave, wondering if I should tell Mr. Beck—but then I’d be tattling and I figured that the mean Queen Bees might make things worse for me.
Mr. Beck shook my hand. “Chrissa, I hope you had a good first day. Have a great weekend!”
“You, too,” I said. Still I lingered. “Um, Mr. Beck, do you need help cleaning up after school today?” It would give me time to search.
He laughed. “Thanks, Chrissa, but not today. I’m surprising my wife with a day-before-Valentine’s-Day date, so I’m heading out, too.” He scooted me out the door as he turned the lights off. “Now don’t miss your bus!”
I found a seat and Tyler soon settled in beside me, book in hand, as always. I was about to ask him if he’d gotten many valentines when two of the Mean Bees—Tara and Jadyn—hopped on the bus. My stomach turned like a corkscrew.
“Hi, Tyler!” Tara said, nearing our seat. “Heard you’re new!” She smiled sweetly at him. She was pretty—on the outside.
He looked up from his book in surprise. “Uh, oh—hi.”
Jadyn followed behind and smiled at Tyler, too. I’d just landed on Planet Weird. Why were they being so friendly to my brother?
He’s smart about lots of things, but not about how things work with other kids. When they were beyond earshot, I whispered in his ear, “Tyler, don’t trust th
em.”
He flipped a page. “You’re just jealous they said hi. Y’know, not everyone thinks I’m a geek.”
I gazed outside and chewed on my lower lip. The bus rumbled along winding roads past houses, old and new, and pine, oak, and elm trees frosted white. Snowflakes fell against the windows and melted into tiny puddles.
As the bus dropped us off, Tara and Jadyn chorused, “Bye, Tyler!”
I rolled my eyes. They had to be doing it to bug me.
Three inches of fresh snow topped the two stone lions. With my mitten, I brushed off their stone ears, muzzles, and manes. “Tyler, remember how Grandpa said they protect everyone who passes through the gate?”
“‘Guardians of the realm,’” Tyler added, waiting for me. “I miss Grandpa. It’s not the same here without him.”
“I know.”
When I was little, I had imagined the lions coming to life at night to prowl around the rose hedges, the gazebo, and the shoreline to keep out intruders and keep everyone inside safe. I wished they could guard me at Edgewater Elementary now. They would sit on either side of me. Then, when the girls in my cluster made mean comments or stole from me, the lions would stare them down and roar. I knew it was just a stupid wish, but after only one day at Edgewater Elementary, I never wanted to return.
“Chrissa, what’d’ya think of the art teacher?” Tyler reached into a snowdrift and packed a snowball. “Did you have her today?”
The image of Ms. Rundell—with her purple glasses, hearty laugh, loosely pulled-back hair, and sparkly wand—made me smile. After she’d given us our assignment, she’d walked around with her wand and in an all-knowing voice had said things like, “You will create something marvelous!” and “True genius lies within you!” and to me she’d said, “I see true talent, Christina!” When the class laughed, she corrected herself. “I mean, Chrissa!”
“I have her fifth hour,” I said. “She’s really fun.”
We kicked snow as we walked up the driveway. Grandpa’s old John Deere tractor rumbled toward us like a green beetle with a lopsided antenna. As snow arched through the air from its shoot, Dad waved from the cab.
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