Look Out, Lancaster County

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  He shook his head. “‘Course not. Why would I take her dumb old shoe?”

  “You don’t have time to look for it now,” Mom said, glancing at the battery-operated clock on the wall. “Rachel, it looks like you have no choice but to go to school in your bare feet today.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” Rachel dropped to the floor, slipped the church shoe on her right foot, and stood. “Now I have one shoe on each foot.”

  Mom clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “But the shoes don’t match, Rachel.”

  “I don’t care. At least my feet won’t hurt on the walk to school.”

  Jacob nudged Rachel’s arm with his elbow. “You’re such a bensel [silly child].”

  She pushed his elbow away and grabbed her lunchbox from the counter. “I am not a silly child!”

  “Think what you like, but don’t complain to me if the kinner at school make fun of you today.” Jacob snickered and headed out the door. “Everyone will probably think you’re a little bensel.”

  Rachel figured Jacob would probably say things to irritate her all the way to school; but to her surprise, he walked a few feet ahead of her and never said a word. That was fine with Rachel. She’d rather daydream than talk to her brother anyway.

  As Rachel continued to walk toward the Amish schoolhouse, her mind wandered. She thought about the skateboard she wished she could ride to school. She pictured Cuddles, her sweet little kitten, and thought about how much fun they had playing together. Then Rachel spotted a fancy red car speeding down the road, and she thought about how wonderful it would feel to go for a ride in a fast-moving car with the top down. Rachel figured she’d probably never get to ride in a convertible, but it was fun to think about sitting in the passenger’s seat with the wind blowing the ties on her kapp, and her stomach jiggling up and down as the car bounced over the bumps in the road.

  By the time Rachel and Jacob arrived at the schoolhouse, she’d forgotten all about her missing shoes—until a dark-haired Amish boy who looked to be about her age stepped onto the porch at the same time she did and pointed to her feet. “Say, how come you’re wearing two different shoes?”

  Rachel frowned. She didn’t even know this boy, so why should she answer his question? Besides, he smelled funny—kind of like the fresh cloves of garlic Mom used when she made savory stew.

  “Who are you?” she asked, sucking in her breath as she stepped backward.

  He smiled, revealing deep dimples in his cheeks. “I’m Orlie Troyer. My family moved here from Indiana last week. What’s your name? And why are you wearing shoes that don’t match?”

  “My name’s Rachel Yoder.” She stared at her feet. “I couldn’t find both of my sneakers this morning, and I could only find one church shoe, so I wore one of each.”

  Orlie snickered. “Only a bensel would wear two different shoes.”

  Rachel stared into Orlie’s chocolate-colored eyes and gritted her teeth. “I am not a silly child, and I can wear whatever shoes I want!” She released her breath in one long puff of air and took another step back.

  “Ha! I say anyone who wears shoes that don’t match has to be a bensel,” he taunted.

  Rachel gripped the handle of her lunchbox so hard, her fingers numbed. It was bad enough that she’d had to put up with Jacob’s teasing. She didn’t need anyone else bothering her today.

  Orlie shifted from one foot to the other and stared at Rachel with a big grin on his face. It made her feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web. “How old are you, Rachel?” he asked.

  “I turned ten this summer.”

  His smile widened. “I turned ten last February.”

  “That’s nice.” Rachel tried to push past Orlie, but he stood with his arms folded and his legs slightly spread, blocking the schoolhouse door.

  “Are you in a hurry to get inside?” he asked in a teasing tone.

  “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “Not me. I don’t like school so much.” He wrinkled his nose. “Fact is, I’ll be glad when I graduate eighth grade and can work for my daed [dad] in the blacksmith shop he’s planning to open soon.”

  Rachel grunted. Orlie was short and thin. She didn’t think he would have enough strength to do the hard work of a blacksmith, but she kept her opinion to herself.

  When Orlie finally stepped away from the door, Rachel pushed past him. But bam! She tripped on a loose shoelace and fell flat on her face.

  “Ugh!” She pulled herself to her feet, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood her cheeks.

  Orlie held his sides and howled. “That’s what happens when you don’t tie your shoes. Maybe you should have come to school in your bare feet!”

  Rachel jerked open the schoolhouse door.

  Hope I don’t have to sit near him today! she thought, glowering.

  The schoolteacher, Elizabeth Miller, greeted Rachel inside the door. “Guder mariye [Good morning], Rachel.” When Elizabeth smiled, her blue eyes twinkled like fireflies.

  “Good morning.” Rachel was glad to have such a kind young woman as her schoolteacher. Elizabeth was a pretty woman with golden hair. She’d taught at the Amish one-room schoolhouse for two years, and Rachel had never heard her say an unkind word to any pupils, whom the Amish referred to as “scholars.”

  Soon everyone was sitting behind desks. Rachel knew Elizabeth might rearrange the seats, but for now, she was happy to be seated at a desk across the aisle from her cousin Mary.

  “How come you’re wearing two different shoes?” Mary whispered, pointing at Rachel’s feet.

  Rachel grimaced. She was beginning to think wearing the mismatched shoes was a bad idea. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Teacher Elizabeth tapped her desk with a ruler, and everyone got quiet. “Good morning, boys and girls.”

  “Good morning, Elizabeth,” the scholars said in unison.

  “We have a new boy in our school this year. His name is Orlie Troyer. He recently moved here to Pennsylvania from the state of Indiana.” The teacher smiled at Orlie. “I hope everyone will make him feel welcome.”

  All heads turned toward Orlie, whom Rachel soon discovered had taken a seat at the desk directly behind her. Orlie grinned and nodded at Rachel. She turned back around. I hope Teacher moves that fellow to a different desk.

  Elizabeth opened her Bible and read from 1 Corinthians 13:11: “‘When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.’”

  Rachel cringed. Jacob thought she was a silly child for wearing mismatched shoes, and so did Orlie. Did God think she was a silly child, too?

  She shook her head. No, she knew she was a child of the King, and that meant she wasn’t silly in God’s eyes.

  After the scripture reading, the scholars stood by their desks and repeated the Lord’s Prayer. After the prayer, everyone filed to the front of the room and stood in rows according to their ages. Then they sang a few songs in German, the language Amish children spoke at home. Orlie, who was in the third grade, just like Rachel, had somehow managed to stand right beside her. He kept staring at her, and every time he opened his mouth, the smell of garlic drifted to Rachel’s nose.

  Rachel leaned away, but Orlie moved closer. Was he trying to pester her? Did he dislike her so much that he wanted to make her miserable?

  Rachel was relieved when the singing time was over and she could return to her seat. At least with Orlie sitting behind her, she couldn’t smell his breath so much.

  Teacher Elizabeth wrote the math lessons for grades three to eight on the blackboard. Then she and her sixteen-year-old helper, Sharon Smucker, worked with the first and second graders, who needed to learn the English language better. When the clock on the wall behind the teacher’s desk said ten o’clock, Elizabeth dismissed the scholars for morning recess.

  Eager to be outside and away from Orlie, Rachel hurried to the swings with Mary.

  “That new boy is sure a pescht [pest],” Rachel said, glancing over at Orlie, who stoo
d across the schoolyard talking to Jacob and some of the other boys. She bit off a piece of her fingernail and spit it to the ground.

  Mary wrinkled her nose. “That’s so gross. Why do you have to do that to your fingerneggel [fingernails], Rachel?”

  “I only chew my fingernails when I’m nervous or upset. That Orlie has me upset,” Rachel explained.

  “So, why do you think Orlie’s a pest?” Mary asked.

  “He made fun of me because I’m wearing two different shoes.”

  Mary giggled and pointed to Rachel’s feet. “That is pretty strange.”

  “Can I help it if I couldn’t find matching shoes this morning?” When Rachel looked across the yard, she noticed that Orlie was staring at her instead of talking to the other boys. “He’s doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “He’s staring at me, just like he was doing before school started.”

  “Maybe he likes you.”

  “He doesn’t even know me.” Rachel shrugged. “Besides, I don’t like him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he likes to tease and stare at me.” Rachel wrinkled her nose and made a choking sound. “He smells like garlic, too.”

  Mary nudged Rachel’s elbow. “Didn’t you hear what the bishop said during church last Sunday?”

  “What was that?” Rachel had been daydreaming during part of the service and had missed hearing most of the bishop’s sermon, so she wasn’t sure what Mary meant.

  “He said we’re supposed to love everyone. Even those who are dirty or smell bad.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t have to stand beside Orlie during singing. He’s not sitting behind you, either.” Rachel grabbed the chain on her swing, pushed off with one foot, and spun around until the ground began to whirl. “I’m flying,” she hollered, leaning her head way back. “I feel like a bird soaring up in the sky.”

  “The ties on your kapp are flying, too,” Mary said. “If you’re not careful, you’ll lose it.”

  Rachel ignored her cousin and continued to spin. But suddenly, her stomach churned. She climbed off the swing as the teacher called them inside, and she could barely stand.

  Rachel took a couple of shaky steps, stumbled backward, and held her stomach. “Ach [Oh], I don’t feel so good.”

  “What’s wrong?” Mary asked, reaching for Rachel’s hand.

  Rachel pulled back. “I—I think I’m gonna be sick.” She turned and dashed for the outhouse.

  When Rachel stepped out of the outhouse several minutes later, Orlie stood right outside the door, as though he’d been waiting for her. “Your face looks kind of green, Rachel. Are you grank [sick]?”

  Rachel clenched her fingers so hard they ached. “I’m not sick. Just got dizzy from too much twirling on the swings, and I—I lost my breakfast.”

  “You should know better than to spin like that, little bensel,” Orlie said, shaking his head. “Didn’t your mamm [mom] teach you anything?”

  “My mom’s taught me plenty, and I am not a silly child!”

  “My mom’s taught me plenty, and I am not a silly child,” Orlie repeated with a grin.

  “It’s not polite to mimic,” she said.

  Orlie shook his head. “It’s not polite to mimic.”

  “Then stop doing it.”

  “Then stop doing it.”

  Rachel was tempted to say something more, but she figured Orlie would just copy her if she did. So she hurried to the schoolhouse and took a seat behind her desk. This day couldn’t be over soon enough as far as she was concerned. She’d had enough first-day troubles!

  Chapter 2

  Lunchbox Surprise

  I don’t feel like going to school today. Can I please stay home?” Rachel asked her mother when she entered the kitchen the following morning.

  Mom turned from the stove, where she was frying bacon. “Are you grank?”

  Rachel shook her head. “I’m not sick, but I—”

  “If you’re not grank, then you’ll go to school, same as always.”

  “But, Mom, Orlie will be there, and he’ll probably tease me again.”

  “Who’s Orlie?”

  “He’s a new boy at school. His family moved here from Indiana,” Jacob said as he came into the kitchen.

  “I see. Son, have you finished your chores?” Mom asked, turning back to the stove.

  “Jah, but Henry and Pap are still doing theirs, and Esther’s milking the cows. Pap said to tell you they’d be in for breakfast in about ten minutes.” Jacob hung his straw hat on a wall peg near the door and went to the sink to wash his hands.

  “The bacon and eggs should be done by then, so that will work out fine and dandy,” Mom called over her shoulder.

  Rachel sighed. Didn’t anyone care about her problem with Orlie?

  Mom looked at Jacob. “Would you please set some juice out?”

  Jacob pointed to himself. “Who, me?”

  She nodded. “Jah, I was talking to you.”

  “Okay.” He dried his hands on a towel and headed to the refrigerator.

  Mom nodded at Rachel. “I’d like you to set the table.”

  “I was just about to.” Rachel pulled a stool to the cupboard. Then she climbed up and removed six plates and six glasses, which she placed on the counter. As she opened the silverware drawer, she decided to bring up the subject of Orlie Troyer again. “Orlie made fun of me yesterday, just because I was wearing two different shoes.”

  “Well, you can wear matching ones today,” Mom said, “since soon after you left for school yesterday I found both of your shoes out in the barn. I figure that mischievous cat of yours must have hauled them there, because I discovered her playing with the sneaker.”

  Rachel frowned. She knew Mom didn’t like Cuddles to be in the house, and now that she thought the cat had taken Rachel’s shoes, Rachel hoped Mom wouldn’t say Cuddles couldn’t come inside anymore.

  “I don’t think Cuddles could have taken them,” Rachel said. “She’s just a kitten. I don’t think she’s strong enough. And I think they’re too big for her to carry.”

  “That cat is big for a kitten, though,” Mom pointed out. “She might have dragged the shoes out there by the laces.”

  “Even if it was Cuddles, she didn’t hurt my shoes,” Rachel said. “She probably wanted something of mine to keep her company.”

  “Puh!” Mom waved the spatula like she was batting a fly. “That cat’s been nothing but trouble since the Millers gave her to you.”

  Rachel didn’t think her kitten had been a bit of trouble. In her opinion, Cuddles was a nice little kitten, who had kept Rachel company and helped her not to feel so scared when she’d been locked in their neighbor’s cellar. But there was no use saying all that to Mom. What really mattered was how Rachel was going to get out of going to school.

  She hurried to put the dishes, glasses, and silverware on the table, then moved over beside her mother. “I’m done setting the table now. Do you need my help with anything else?”

  “You can scramble some eggs while Jacob pours the juice.”

  Jacob grunted. “I think I should have stayed in the barn and helped Pap and Henry with their chores.”

  Mom squinted her blue eyes as she glared at Jacob. “What was that?”

  “Nothing, Mom,” Jacob mumbled. He picked up the pitcher of juice and poured some into the first glass, while Rachel went to the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs. She’d just finished mixing them in a bowl, when she decided to bring up the subject of Orlie again.

  “Orlie teased me when I threw up after twirling on the swings yesterday. He mimicked me, too, and kept staring and whispering to me all day.”

  “He probably has a crush on you, sister,” Jacob said before Mom could respond. “Boys tease when they’re trying to impress a girl.”

  “He doesn’t have a crush on me, and he certainly doesn’t impress me!” Rachel’s forehead wrinkled, and she fought the urge to bite a fingernail. “I
don’t like him much, either.”

  “That’s not nice to say, Rachel,” Mom said with a click of her tongue. “If you give the boy a chance, you might find that he’s quite likeable.”

  “I doubt it,” Rachel said with a huff. “Besides, Orlie’s a pescht, and his breath smells funny—like he gargled with garlic juice.”

  Mom’s glasses slipped to the end of her nose as she pursed her lips. “The Bible says we are to love everyone, Rachel.”

  “It’s hard to love someone who’s making your life miserable.”

  “God wants us to love even our enemies.”

  “I could like Orlie better if he didn’t tease me, stare at me, or smell like garlic.” As though Rachel’s fingers had a mind of their own, one of them slipped right between her teeth.

  “No nail biting, Rachel,” Mom scolded.

  “Biting your nails is a disgusting habit,” Jacob put in.

  Rachel pulled her finger out of her mouth and held her hands tightly against her sides. She felt more nervous today than any other time she could remember. She dreaded what Orlie might do to tease her. She’d always liked going to school—until Orlie Troyer had come and ruined it all.

  “Can’t I stay home from school just this once?” she begged, ignoring Jacob’s nail-biting comment. He was no better than Orlie Troyer. Jacob just wanted to upset her.

  Mom shook her head so hard the ties on her kapp swished from side to side. “You may stay home only when you’re sick. Is that clear?”

  Rachel nodded and sighed deeply as she reached for the stack of napkins in the center of the table. She realized she wouldn’t get her way on this, so she could only hope and pray that Orlie wouldn’t bother her again today.

  When Rachel entered the schoolyard with Jacob later that morning, she noticed Mary playing on one of the teeter-totters with some other girls. Rachel was about to join Mary, when Orlie stepped out from behind a bush, blocking her path. “I see you’re wearing matching sneakers today,” he said, smirking and pointing at her feet.

  She merely shrugged and fought the temptation to plug her nose as the strong aroma of garlic greeted her yet again.