Karen's School Picture

by Ann M. Martin

  Of course everyone wanted to know what Hank and I were doing when they saw us taking the things out of our desks. Finally Ms. Colman said, “Karen is moving to the front row, boys and girls. She will be able to see the board better from there.”

  When Hank and I had traded places, I was sitting right in front of Ms. Colman’s desk. I liked that. But I did not like leaving Hannie and Nancy behind. And I bet they did not like sitting next to Hank. Hank bites the erasers off of his pencils.

  As if these things were not bad enough, Ricky thought of a new nickname for me. When school was over that day, he walked by me singing, “Teacher’s pet, teacher’s pet. Karen is the teacher’s pet.”

  I will get you, Ricky Torres, I thought.

  I put on my pink glasses and left the classroom.

  Baby Karen

  I thought about Ricky Torres all weekend. How could I get back at him? He had called me Four-eyes and Bat-woman and the teacher’s pet. I already called him Yicky Ricky. And I had called him Mr. Smarty-pants. But those things did not seem bad enough. Besides, it was not at all nice of him to tease me just because I had to get glasses. Nobody teased him when he got a cast on his ankle. On Sunday afternoon, Nancy came over. She found me in my room, sitting in my rocking chair. Goosie was in my lap. I was wearing my pink glasses. Goosie was wearing the blue ones.

  “What are you doing?” asked Nancy.

  “Goosie and I are thinking of ways to get back at Yicky Ricky. He is so mean.”

  “And picky and sticky,” added Nancy. (She had seen Hannie’s note.)

  Nancy and I laughed.

  “What ideas have you thought of?” asked Nancy.

  “None,” I answered. “Not one single good one.”

  * * *

  The next morning I could think of just one thing to do about Ricky and my glasses. I forgot to bring my glasses to school. Actually, I forgot them on purpose. I left both pairs of glasses on the bureau in my bedroom. Mrs. Dawes was driving Nancy and me to school, so Mommy did not see me run out of our house without my glasses.

  I smiled all the way to school. If I didn’t wear my glasses, then Ricky couldn’t tease me, could he? He would look pretty silly calling me Four-eyes or Bat-woman when I didn’t even have glasses on.

  But the first thing Ms. Colman said when I walked into our classroom with Nancy was, “Karen, where are your glasses?”

  “Huh?” I replied, as if I had just realized I wasn’t wearing them.

  “Are they in your book bag?” asked Ms. Colman. “You’d better put the pink ones on right now. You know you’re supposed to wear them all the time.”

  I pretended to look through my book bag. “I — I guess I left them at home,” I told Ms. Colman.

  “Both pairs?”

  I nodded.

  “Karen,” she said firmly, “you must remember them from now on.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “Tomorrow I will wear them for sure.”

  I thought that was the end of that. Ricky came in and couldn’t find anything to tease me about. I felt very happy. Until someone knocked on the door to our classroom during subtraction time.

  In walked … Mommy! She called me over to the doorway.

  “Ms. Colman phoned,” she whispered. (I just knew everyone was watching Mommy and me. I was gigundo embarrassed.) “She said you forgot your glasses today. So here you go.” She handed me both pairs. “And from now on, no more forgetting. You must wear your glasses all the time. It’s very important.”

  Mommy was forgetting to whisper. I know everyone heard her.

  So I whispered, “Okay,” and, “Thank you.”

  Then Mommy left.

  * * *

  In the cafeteria that day, Ricky came to the table Hannie and Nancy and I were sitting at.

  “Ha-ha, Bat-woman,” he said to me. “Now you have to wear your glasses when we have our pictures taken. Your mother said you must wear them all the time. If you don’t, she’ll be really upset … Baby Karen.”

  Oh, no. What a problem. Ricky was right. I would have to wear my glasses. And he had a new name for me. Baby Karen.

  What was I going to do?

  Mean Things to Do to Ricky Torres

  I was so mad that when I got home after school that day I went right to my room. I put on my blue glasses. I sat at my desk with a piece of paper in front of me. Across the top of it I wrote:

  Then I thought for a while. Finally I wrote:

  That wasn’t true, but so what. I was not as blind as a bat, either.

  Then I wrote:

  That was really mean, plus it would be lying. I would never do it. But I left it on the list anyway.

  Next I wrote:

  I paused to think. I decided I needed ten mean things. So I added:

  * * *

  The next day, I folded my list up eight times. I put it in my lunch box. I brought it to school. I felt very smug, even with my glasses on.

  I was all set to get back at Ricky Torres.

  But Ricky was absent.

  Ricky’s Glasses

  Okay. So Ricky had a cold or something. I was sure he would be in school the next day. Since I was so sure, I brought the list with me again. I was right. Ricky was in school. And — and he was wearing … glasses!

  At first I thought he was making fun of me. His glasses were pretty ugly. They were brown and squarish.

  “Very funny, Ricky,” I said, as he slumped down at his desk. “Okay, you can take them off now.” I was about to add, “By the way, did you know that you smell?”

  But Ricky looked like he was trying not to cry. So I closed my mouth. When I opened it again, all I said was, “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re real,” Ricky whispered. “The glasses. They’re real. I had to get them, just like you. That’s where I was yesterday. At the eye doctor’s and everything. Only I just have one pair of glasses.”

  I hardly knew what to say. Ricky had called me Four-eyes and Bat-woman. I could call him a name now. If I wanted. Only I could see how bad he felt.

  Plus a big group of kids was gathering around Ricky. Ricky looked like he wished he were anywhere but sitting at his desk, wearing glasses.

  “Four-eyes!” said Hank Reubens.

  “Bat-man!” cried Nancy gleefully.

  “Square-eyes!” added Hannie.

  My friends were getting back at Ricky for me. Fine. He could stay in the back of the room with his glasses, and I could stay in the front with my glasses, and we would not have to bother each other at all.

  That was what I thought. But guess what Ms. Colman did as soon as she had taken attendance that morning.

  She smiled at our class. Then she said, “Boys and girls, we have another new glasses-wearer, so we will have to switch some places again. Ricky, you need to sit up front with Karen and Natalie.”

  Ricky groaned.

  I could have told him there was no point. A few minutes later, he was sitting right next to me. Jannie Gilbert had moved back to Ricky’s old seat.

  Ricky and I looked at each other. Ricky narrowed his eyes. Then he stuck his tongue out at me — just the tip, so that Ms. Colman wouldn’t see.

  I stuck the tip of my tongue out at him. Then I passed him a note. It read: LEAVE ME ALONE!

  Ricky passed one back. His read: REMERBER SKOOL PICSHERS. (Ricky is not a very good speller.)

  I took Ricky’s note, corrected it, gave him a D+, and passed it back to him.

  Ricky stuck the tip of his tongue out at me again.

  I did not pay one speck of attention.

  Later, Ms. Colman handed back some spelling tests. I got another 100 percent. Ricky got a 55 percent. He had spelled almost half of the words wrong. So he threw a spitball at me. It was disgusting. I knocked it on the floor. It rolled under Ms. Colman’s desk, but she did not see it.

  I raised my hand. “Ms. Colman?”

  “Yes, Karen?”

  “Ricky threw a spitball at me. It’s under your desk.”

  Ricky looked like he wan
ted to kill me.

  “One more spitball, Ricky,” said Ms. Colman, “and you will miss recess.”

  Ricky waited until Ms. Colman was helping someone in the back of the room. Then he opened his mouth. I think he was going to call me a name. But he closed his mouth instead. No matter what name he called me, I could call him one back.

  I made a decision. No matter how mad I was at Ricky, I would not make him feel worse about his glasses.

  Just before lunch, I threw away my list of mean things to do to Ricky.

  Ricky Is a Gir-irl!

  During recess on most days, Hannie and Nancy and I play hopscotch. We are very good. Sometimes we can get all the way to the fourth square on one turn. And we never miss on the hopping part, only the stone-throwing part. On the day Ricky first wore his glasses to school, we were having an especially good game. It was my turn. My playing had gotten a lot better since I started wearing glasses. I was about to throw to the fifth square when I heard:

  “Aughh! Cut it out!”

  It was Ricky, and he had made me miss.

  I whirled around. “What did you have to scream like that for?” I shouted to him. “You made me — ”

  I stopped. I looked at Hannie and Nancy. They looked at me.

  Ricky was in trouble.

  The other boys in our class had crowded around him.

  “Four-eyes!” cried Hank Reubens.

  “Bat-man!” called someone else.

  Then Bobby Gianelli, who is a big bully, made a grab for Ricky’s glasses. He tried to snatch them right off his face. “Cut it out!” yelled Ricky again. He darted away from Bobby.

  “Hey!” hooted Hank. “Guess what. Ricky is a gir-irl! Karen wears glasses, Natalie wears glasses, Ms. Colman wears glasses. Now Ricky’s got ’em!”

  “Yeah, he is a girl!” cried Bobby.

  Bobby grabbed for Ricky’s glasses again. That time, he almost got them.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. I raced over to the boys.

  “You stop that!” I yelled. “You leave Ricky alone! Don’t touch his glasses, Bobby. Glasses are very, very expensive.”

  “Yeah,” said Hannie and Nancy firmly. They were standing beside me.

  Ricky looked miserable. I knew just how he felt. Or anyway, I knew almost how he felt. I sure was glad that nobody had made a ring around me on the playground and tried to take off my glasses.

  “And Ricky is not a girl just because he wears glasses,” I added.

  Everyone had stopped yelling. They were staring at me. “My daddy wears glasses,” I said, “and my stepdaddy wears glasses…. So there.”

  Ricky was just staring at me. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  Bobby backed away from Ricky. He looked sort of ashamed.

  But Ricky yelled, “Shut up, Karen! Just shut up! I don’t need help from a girl. Go back to your dumb old hopscotch game.” Then he pushed his way through the circle of kids. “I can stand up for myself, Karen!” he cried. And he added, “Ugly-duck.” He ran away to the swings and sat by himself.

  I stood where I was. I felt like I had been stung.

  A couple of the boys snickered at me, but Hannie said, “Come on, Karen. Let’s go back to our game.”

  “Yeah,” added Nancy. “You can take your turn over. Ricky made you miss before. That wasn’t fair.”

  But all I could say was, “Ricky has a new name for me. Ugly-duck.”

  “Call him Ugly-duck back,” suggested Hannie.

  “No,” I replied. “What’s the point?”

  Hannie and Nancy and I finished our game. Nancy won.

  “Are you having trouble seeing?” Nancy asked me.

  I shook my head. I could not say anything.

  But it didn’t matter. The bell rang. Recess was over.

  Ricky and I did not speak to each other all afternoon. We did not stick the tips of our tongues out at each other. We did not even look at each other. I guess we were too embarrassed.

  I could not wait to get home.

  Ugly-duck

  As soon as I got home that afternoon, I ran upstairs to my room. I did not stop for a snack. I did not stop even when Andrew said, “Hey, Karen, Mommy bought peanuts today.” I love peanuts, but peanuts would not make me feel better.

  “No, thank you,” I said to Andrew.

  I closed the door to my room.

  “Ugly-duck,” I said out loud. Was I really ugly when I wore my glasses?

  Then I thought a horrible thought. What if I was ugly without my glasses? What if I was just plain ugly? Maybe I was silly to think I could be a movie star.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Someone was at my door.

  “Go away, Andrew,” I said. I still didn’t want any peanuts.

  But somebody who wasn’t Andrew said, “It’s not Andrew. It’s me.”

  Nancy.

  I did not really want to see Nancy, either. But I said, “Come in.”

  Nancy opened the door. Then she closed it behind her.

  “Am I really ugly?” I asked Nancy.

  “You? Ugly? Of course not.”

  “But Ricky called me an Ugly-duck.”

  “He was just mad because he has to wear glasses now, too.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Karen, you hardly look any different when you wear your glasses,” said Nancy.

  “I don’t? Watch this.” I was wearing my pink glasses. I put the blue ones on Goosie. “There,” I said. “See how different Goosie looks?”

  “Goosie,” said Nancy, “is a stuffed cat. No one expects cats to wear glasses. That’s why he looks different.”

  “But maybe I really am ugly,” I said to Nancy. “Even without glasses.”

  “Just because Ricky said so?” replied Nancy. “Do you believe everything Ricky says? If he told you you were a cow, would you believe him?”

  I giggled. “No.”

  “Okay. Then forget what he said. I am your friend. And I am saying you look just fine, with your glasses on or with your glasses off.”

  “Like a movie star?” I asked.

  Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know. Some people in the movies wear glasses, some don’t.”

  “That’s true,” I admitted. I felt better. “Want some peanuts, Nancy?”

  “Sure,” she replied, and we ran downstairs to find Andrew.

  * * *

  The next day, I did not want to wear my glasses in school. But I wore them anyway.

  I did not want to sit next to Ricky, but I sat next to him anyway.

  I didn’t look at him. I didn’t talk to him. I just did my work. And I got 100 percents everywhere. Switching my glasses helped a lot.

  That day, Ricky called me a name every time I switched my glasses. That was seven times — five times in the morning, and two times in the afternoon.

  On Friday, he didn’t bother.

  I felt like I wasn’t even sitting next to him.

  I had almost forgotten about glasses and movie-star smiles and Ricky. Then Ms. Colman said, “Boys and girls, remember that we will have our pictures taken on Monday. So get ready to look your best, and practice your smiles.”

  Oh, no. School pictures. Somehow, I had almost forgotten about them, too.

  Next to me, Ricky began to snicker.

  Ms. Colman heard him. “Mr. Torres?” she said. “Is there something funny that you’d like to share with the class?”

  “No,” answered Ricky. I peeked over at him just long enough to see that his face had turned red.

  Good.

  But what was I going to do about Monday? I would have to think very hard over the weekend.

  Karen’s Problem

  That Friday wasn’t just any Friday. It was a special Friday. It was a Going-to-Daddy’s Friday. I was excited and nervous. I was excited because Andrew and I are always excited about going to Daddy’s. I was nervous because no one at the big house had seen me in my glasses yet. Not even David Michael. (He doesn’t go to my school.)

  Would
David Michael tease me? He might, since sometimes he can be just like Ricky. Sam is a big tease, too. So I was nervous.

  When Mommy let Andrew and me out of the car at Daddy’s, she called, “Good-bye, Karen! Good-bye, Andrew! Have fun!”

  “Good-bye, Mommy! We will!” we called back.

  But I did not run to Daddy’s front door as fast as usual.

  Andrew did, though. He opened it and stepped inside.

  I followed him. I did not call out, “We’re here!” like I usually do.

  So Andrew did it. “We’re here,” he said.

  Even though his voice is not as loud as mine, everyone came running.

  “Oh, Karen. Your glasses!” exclaimed Daddy. “I like them very much.”

  “You chose the perfect frames,” said Elizabeth.

  “I did?” I began to smile.

  “You look distinguished,” added Sam.

  “Really?” I didn’t know what “distinguished” meant and I was afraid to ask. Sometimes Sam teases me with big words.

  But Charlie helped me out. He said, “Sam means you look dignified and important. Like a professor or something. A pretty professor,” Charlie added quickly. (Charlie doesn’t like to hurt people’s feelings.)

  “Kristy?” I asked.

  “You look like my Karen,” she said.

  That was just what I needed to hear.

  The rest of the evening was fine, except for one little thing. When my big-house family sat down to dinner, David Michael began calling me Professor. I do not think he was being mean. I think he was trying to be nice. He had heard Charlie say I look like a professor. And he knows that Charlie is usually nice and doesn’t tease.

  But I did not want to look like a professor. I wanted to look like a movie star.

  I decided to talk to Kristy.

  Bedtime is usually a good talking time, so after we had finished our reading, I said, “Kristy?”

  “Yes?” Kristy was plugging in the night-light that I got at Disney World.

  “Monday is school-picture day,” I told her.