It’s a sharp challenge, but I don’t react. I keep to my plan.
“First I want to say something…about this.” And I open my hand to show her the pieces of the broken pinwheel button. “When I pushed my way into the middle of your trade with Brooke, that was totally wrong. And selfish. And I’m sorry I did it, and I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”
Ellie starts to say something, but I quickly pull a brown envelope out of my backpack and empty it onto the table between us.
“Eighteen bracelets, three necklaces, and two anklets. All made by you.”
She tries to hide it, but she’s surprised.
“I…I knew you had some of these, but I didn’t know it was so many. Why were you…”
“Because I was mad at you for breaking the pinwheel button, and for not letting me sit with you at lunch.”
“I still don’t see…”
“I was going to smash all the buttons with a hammer, and cut all the ribbons to bits, and then give the pieces back to you. To get even.”
“Really? You were going to do that?”
“Yes, until I saw that this whole mess was actually my own dumb fault.”
“Well…I did break the pinwheel, and then I sent it back with that note. Which was super mean of me.”
“Yeah, but yesterday, when I thought about how mad you had to be to break the button that way, and that I had gotten you that upset? I felt so bad for you that it made me cry. I’m really sorry I made you so angry.”
Ellie shakes her head. “But I’m the one who makes everybody mad…because I show off too much. Don’t you think that’s true, that I show off too much?”
It’s a dangerous question. But I have to be honest.
“Well…maybe…sometimes. But you do have a lot of very cool stuff. And if I had as many beautiful things as you do? I might have trouble not showing off, too.”
“You?” Ellie gives me a smile, the kind that melts icebergs. “No way, that’s just not like you—it’s not. And that’s how I want to be!”
I feel a lump in my throat, but I don’t want to start blubbering. So it’s good that the first bell rings.
We pick up our things and head for the hallway, and it feels like the struggles of the past week never happened. But, of course, they did. And because they did, I don’t think Ellie and I have ever been better friends than we are right now. Walking together toward homeroom feels like the most natural thing in the world.
“So, at lunch today, do you maybe want to come over and sit with me and Hank?”
Ellie smiles again, playful this time.
“I’ve noticed you and Hank!”
I don’t answer, but just kind of lean her way so that our shoulders bump. And then we both burst out laughing.
Right before we get to the room, she says, “So, what are you going to do with all my bracelets and stuff?”
“I’m going to try to remember who I got them from and give them back. For free.”
“See? That’s what I mean about you. I think I would have used them for trading all over again!”
“Oh, I thought about that, believe me. Kids really love these things. But I’ve got enough buttons to last a lifetime—I’m kind of tired of them.”
“Yeah, I get that. But…do you have any like this yet?”
And she pulls a brilliant red-and-white button out of her pocket and hands it to me. It’s vintage celluloid, and the two colors are swirled to look like an old-fashioned peppermint lollipop.
Then Ellie says, “Oops! See? I’m showing off again—I can’t help it!”
“Actually…this button? It started out as mine, and I’ve got tons more like it, some even prettier. This is the kind of button I’ve been trading with.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the way I got kids to give me all your bracelets and necklaces was by trading with buttons like this!”
Ellie pulls six other buttons from her pockets. “And these?”
I look and then nod. “All except that big green one started out belonging to me!”
“So that means I’ve been trading my bracelets to get more of your buttons, and you’ve been trading your buttons to get more of my bracelets!”
We both start laughing again, and then I say, “But I was going to crush your bracelets to bits!” And somehow that seems hilarious now.
We sort of stumble into homeroom together, and we’d have kept on laughing, but the PA speaker up on the wall makes a loud ding, and everyone gets quiet.
“Good morning. This is Mrs. Porter, and I have an important announcement about a change in our schedule for today. At eight-forty-five, everyone in grades one through six is to come to the auditorium for an assembly. Sixth-grade students should stay with their homeroom teachers rather than go to first-period classes. Thank you, and I will see you soon.”
Ellie looks at me. “I wonder what that’s about.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I say that, but I would bet a hundred dollars that I know exactly what the principal wants to talk about today.
At every big assembly, the lower grades sit down near the stage, and the upper grades stack up toward the back of the auditorium. So this is the first year I’ve ever sat in the very back row. And I have to say, I like it back here. I feel sort of hidden.
Mrs. Porter is on the stage, and the room gets quiet as she steps to the microphone.
“Good morning, girls and boys, and thank you for finding your seats in such a calm and orderly way. I’ve asked you here to talk about buttons.”
There’s a quick buzz of chatter and a little bit of laughing, but Mrs. Porter shakes her head and frowns, and the auditorium goes silent again.
“Over the past week or so, many of you have become very interested in buttons. But with almost every fad that finds its way to school, there comes a moment when that fad begins to get in the way of our work. And we have now reached that moment. Therefore, starting tomorrow morning, any buttons that are seen here at school will be taken away by your teachers and will be held for you until the end of the school year. And today I expect any of you who may have buttons here at school to take them home and leave them at home. Of course, I’m not talking about the buttons we all wear each day, but the buttons that are being traded and collected and used as toys and game pieces. So I’m going to say this again: I expect all of you who have buttons here at school today to take those buttons home with you this afternoon and leave them there. Please raise your hand now if you understand what I have just asked everyone to do.”
I put my hand up in the air, and so does every other kid in the auditorium.
So…that’s it. My wish has come true. Mrs. Porter says that the buttons fad is over, so it is—at least at school.
“You may put your hands down now, and thank you all very much.”
The auditorium is filled with a sudden buzz, because every kid here knows that the assembly is over. Some of the younger kids down front even begin to stand up.
“Please, quiet—quiet, and take your seats.”
The room gets quiet, but it’s not the same full silence as before. And it makes me wonder if anyone has ever done a scientific study about large groups of children all together in the same room. Because this makes me remember a nature show about bees that Grampa and I watched, and how any little disturbance will go rippling right through a whole beehive.
Mrs. Porter has more to say, but now the bees are restless.
“As many of you know, a very large quantity of buttons was found on our school playground on Wednesday.”
That one sentence sets off a burst of chatter, a lot of nodding, a lot of reaching into pockets.
That one sentence also makes my stomach tighten up into a knot.
Ellie’s sitting right next to me, and I’m afraid she’s going to b
e able to hear my heart as it thumps inside my chest, my throat, my head.
“Quiet, please, everyone settle down. I know that a lot of you picked up buttons when you were outside yesterday, but there were still many left on the ground. After school, I walked around with our custodian and with the town employees who mow the grass. They were concerned that the buttons might damage the lawn mowers. And when they began mowing, several cars stopped to complain that bits of buttons had struck their cars as they drove past. I had to call the police and ask them to close off the street next to the playground until the mowing was finished.”
I’m trying to sit very still, trying not to breathe too fast, trying not to faint, trying not to jump out of my seat and run screaming from the auditorium.
And Mrs. Porter keeps talking.
“After the mowing was finished, two police officers and I studied the school’s security video recordings from Tuesday night. We saw that someone came into the schoolyard, not once or twice, but four times to throw buttons all over the field. It was dark when this happened, so it was impossible to identify the person who did this. The police department is now calling this a case of littering on public property, and they have opened an investigation. Any student who has information that might help the police should speak to a teacher or to me.”
A deep hush settles over the auditorium.
Mrs. Porter lets the silence go on.
And on.
My jaw is clamped so tightly I feel like I might crush my teeth.
Hank is sitting in the row ahead of me, about three seats to the left. I’m just praying that he doesn’t turn around and wink, or smile, or give me a thumbs-up. But he’s too smart to do something like that.
Actually…he’s probably freaked out, too! If you know about a crime, then you’re just as guilty as the person who did it!
Unless you tell.
Finally, Mrs. Porter speaks.
“I want to thank you all for paying such careful attention this morning. The first graders may leave now, and everyone else, please remain seated until your teachers ask you to stand up.”
The auditorium begins to buzz again, and Ellie whispers, “Somebody’s going to need a lawyer! Or not. The fine for littering can’t be a big deal, right? Maybe like a hundred dollars or something? Anyway, pretty exciting, don’t you think?”
My mouth is so dry I can barely talk.
“Yeah…it’s exciting.”
But the correct word is terrifying—it’s terrifying!
I’ve never been in trouble at school before, never been sent to the principal, never had to stay after school—I can’t even remember the last time a teacher yelled at me! And this? This is real trouble…the kind where parents have to come for a meeting in the principal’s office!
And the police will be there—the police!
As this thought slams into my skull, Hank turns around and catches my eye.
I smile and try to look brave and calm.
And totally fail.
I don’t know if Hank looks worried or sad. Or terrified.
Like me.
But I know one thing for sure—I can’t sit still for one more second.
I whisper to Ellie, “See you in social studies,” and then I stand up and scooch my way along the row of kids until I get to Mrs. Lang, who’s standing in the aisle.
“Mrs. Lang, may I go to the office? I…I don’t feel well.”
Which is not a lie. I’ve never felt worse in my life.
She stares into my face for a second, and I can see the flash of concern in her eyes. I must look awful.
“Of course—you go right ahead, Grace. Do you need someone to walk with you?”
“No, I’ll be okay. Thanks.”
The halls are filled with third and fourth graders leaving the auditorium, but I barely see them, can barely feel my feet on the tile floor.
And when I get to the office, the doors leading outside are just to the right, and I feel like making a break for it, like a convict in a prison movie.
But I don’t.
In the main office, the school secretary looks away from her computer screen and gives me a big smile. “Hi, Grace. What can I help you with?”
In second grade, and again in fourth, I got picked a lot whenever my teachers needed to send something to the office. Because I was such a good little girl. Back then.
So I know Mrs. Sterling pretty well.
“I have to talk with Mrs. Porter, please.”
“She just got back from the assembly, and there’s a busy morning ahead. Can this wait until lunchtime, say about twelve-fifteen?”
“I really have to talk to her now. It’s about the buttons. On the field.”
Mrs. Sterling’s eyebrows jump halfway up her forehead. “Oh. I see. Just sit over there on the bench, and I’ll tell Mrs. Porter you’re here.”
I’ve looked into the office and seen kids sitting on this bench before, and I always felt sorry for them. And now I’m feeling sorry for me.
Mrs. Porter’s door opens, and she gives me a smile.
“Good morning, Grace. Please come in and have a seat there at the table.”
It’s a small round table to the left of her desk, and I take the chair facing the window that looks out at the bus turnaround.
Mrs. Porter sits across from me. She’s not a scary person. She reminds me of Mom’s friend Carla—warm, friendly, nice smile.
Mrs. Porter is wearing a gray wool skirt and jacket with a pale blue shirt.
And right away, I start counting the buttons—I can’t help myself.
“So. You wanted to see me, right?”
Before I can answer, there’s a knock at the door, and Mrs. Sterling opens it and sticks her head inside. “Sorry to interrupt.”
She walks over and bends down and whispers something into the principal’s ear.
And this time, it’s Mrs. Porter’s eyebrows that go shooting upward.
She looks at me and says, “It seems that we need more chairs at our table.”
I’m confused, and Mrs. Porter is on her feet, getting chairs.
I look over at the doorway, and suddenly I’m really confused.
Because two kids walk into the office and sit down—Hank Powell on my right and Ellie Emerson on my left.
All my logic, all my ability to reason and think like a scientist, none of that is working. But I feel like I have to say something anyway, so I say it fast.
“Mrs. Porter, I don’t know what Ellie and Hank are doing here, because they didn’t have anything to do with those buttons outside on the playground. I put them there by myself, and it was totally my idea. So they shouldn’t even be here. At all.”
She looks from Hank to Ellie. “Is that true—that Grace put those buttons on the playground completely by herself?”
They both nod, and Mrs. Porter says, “Then it seems like this matter is between Grace and me—and her parents. So, why are you here? Hank, you first.”
“We’re here because we’re witnesses. Grace wasn’t littering. She was just giving away a lot of buttons. And the only reason she was doing that was to try to stop the fad, which is the same thing you wanted—right?”
“And how do you happen to know all this?”
“Because yesterday I went over to Grace’s house after school, and she told me that she was the one who put the buttons on the field, and she explained why she did it. It was an experiment about supply and demand. Because if the supply of something goes up, then the demand for it is supposed to go down. And she wanted the demand for buttons to go all the way down to zero. So the fad would be over. And when I saw Grace heading for the office a few minutes ago, I told Ellie everything, and here we are.”
Mrs. Porter looks at me. “Why did you want the fad to end?”
Ellie rai
ses her hand and starts talking before I can say a word.
“So, I’ve been best friends with Grace ever since second grade, but last week? We got into an argument about this pretty button that we both wanted, and Grace traded for it before I could, so then I was really mean to her, and she was really mean back to me, and it just kept getting worse and worse and worse, and we were both miserable about everything, but then Grace decided to actually do something to make the whole buttons thing go away, so that we could be friends again. And that’s why it wasn’t littering.”
Mrs. Porter starts to say something, but Hank jumps in again.
“And Ellie and Grace and I? We’ll go over the whole playground every day after school, and we’ll keep on working until every single button out there is picked up.”
Mrs. Porter shakes her head. “Actually, that won’t be necessary. After mowing yesterday, the crew went back over the area with a leaf vacuum, and there are hardly any buttons left.”
Ellie says, “Then Hank and Grace and I will chip in and we’ll pay for the extra time it took them to vacuum up the buttons, and we’ll also pay what it cost to have the police close off the street during the mowing—how about that? Is it a deal? Can we shake on it?”
Ellie leans forward and puts her hand out toward Mrs. Porter.
Then Hank puts out his hand, and so do I.
And Mrs. Porter? She’s surprised.
But she smiles, and she shakes with each of us—Ellie, Hank, and then me.
Except after we shake, she keeps hold of my hand.
“I’ll call the police department, and after I explain, I’ll ask them to drop their investigation. That ought to be the end of it.”
I can’t keep my eyes from filling up. “Thanks, Mrs. Porter.”
She nods at Ellie and Hank. “They’re the ones you should thank. It’s a great thing to have one good friend, but to have two looking out for you? That’s nothing short of wonderful. Now, go ask Mrs. Sterling for passes, and get back to class. And have a happy day.”
We’re out of the office in less than a minute, walking together toward the sixth-grade hall.
And with Ellie on my left and Hank on my right, I have to agree with Mrs. Porter: This is nothing short of wonderful.
The Friendship War Page 11
