I tried to tell my mom everything that has been going on while she has been away. But not enough to worry her.
Calligraphy is hard to do, like lots of things. But if you are super-concentrated like me and Miss Stella, you will find it easier to do.
I pick up my book from Mr. Howarth’s desk and hold it open so everyone can see the title page.
This is the book Miss Stella made me. It is very special. It is one of a kind.
It is my own calligraphy book.
Maybe when I am as famous as Miss Stella, I will teach the kids I babysit how to do calligraphy.
If you ask me later, I can show you too.
CHAPTER 19
One Letter at a Time
I am all out of breath when I finish. When I look up, Parveen claps so hard her braid swings. Then Mr. Howarth applauds too, and everyone in the class joins in.
Devin and Ryan look at each other. Since I gave Devin the pea butter sandwich and the cookie manufactured in a nut-free facility, he stays away from me. Like he is scared of me, maybe.
Perhaps Mr. Howarth gave Devin and Ryan a good talking to. I think Miss Stella was right that it is his job to stop the bullies. I feel better now I have told him about it.
These days I hardly ever think about being allergic because, as Dad says, I don’t have time to worry about everything.
“That was an excellent report,” Mr. Howarth says again at the end of the day. There’s still gunky collage glue all over my fingers, and I’m trying to pick it off. “Thank you for telling us about your famous Miss Vickers,” he says.
“I call her Miss Stella,” I tell him. “But you’re welcome.”
Parveen is standing by the lockers, waiting to walk home with me.
“And I hope your mother gets better soon,” says Mr. Howarth. He pats my arm and heads for the staff room.
I look at the papers in my hand. It took forever to write my report in perfect calligraphy. I am going to save it for Mom to read, when she is up to it. Until then, I will keep it safe with the letter in the back of my special calligraphy book.
Parveen and I walk home together as far as the corner. Now that Bebe-ji knows Miss Stella has not actually met the Queen, maybe Parveen will not be able to come to my house again.
I pull the key from around my neck and open the front door. My hand does not go to the intercom anymore unless I want it to.
A little yellow stickie flaps from my door, so I head down the hallway to Miss Stella’s apartment.
Only three more days before Dad takes me to spend the summer at Grandpa’s. I wonder what the summer will be like now that Mom is almost well.
What will it be like without Miss Stella?
I know she will be here waiting for me on her jungly balcony when I come back. Meanwhile, we can write the most beautiful letters to each other. Word by word. One letter at a time.
I will be super-concentrated as I write each one.
But right now, I knock on the door of apartment 405 and waggle my fingers over the peephole so Miss Stella knows it is me.
Lois Peterson wrote short stories and articles for adults for twenty years before turning to writing for kids. Recently retired from her job in a library, she lives in Surrey, British Columbia, where she writes, reads and teaches creative writing to adults, teens and children. Check out her website at www.loispeterson.net.
Meeting Miss 405 Page 6
