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January 8
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Mol ly O Ke efe
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over, limped actually. She needed hip replacement surgery but was being stubborn about it. Hello, Ms.
Monroe, she said. Welcome back.
Thank you, Mrs. Jordal. Anything exciting in the
fifth grade in the new year?
We have a new student.
Thats what I heard.
Casey?
The redhead waved with one flip of his hand. Funny,
that hormonal surge inspired all of the kids to walk that
line between being respectful and being sent to the principals office to varying degrees. Even the good kids
started fifth grade with a little attitude.
This kid was really trying hard to seem like a badass.
Nice to meet you, Casey. Shelby set down her coffee and bag beside Mrs. Jordals desk, in front of the
Regions of America bulletin board. I thought, in honor
of our new student... Every eye in the classroom went
to Casey and he shrank down in his seat, glowering.
Were going to start on a new project today and its
going to last for the next three weeks. Its called Things
About Me. From her bag she took the stapled packets
of paper and began to hand them out. You get three
images, but no words, to convey what you know to be
true about yourself.
About anything? Jessica Adams asked. She honestly looked terrified at the idea. Jessica was a girl who
needed to be told what to draw. Most of the kids did,
but that was the fun part of fifth gradethey were just
beginning to realize they had ideas of their own. Largely
inappropriate, but the ideas were tied more to identity
than ever before.
Anything.
Like I know this is lame? Scott Maxwell said, and
John James high-fived him.
If you think thats true, sure. She gave Scott the
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packet of papers and then stood next to him for a moment, her hand on his shoulder. Scott had been in her
summer art camp for three years in a row and was
doing an after-school class on Thursdays, working in
clay. He was a good kid and she liked him as much as
she imagined he liked her. The poor kid was just short-
circuiting. But you have to figure out how to draw it.
How to convey it without using any words.
A couple of the kids started to groan, realizing how
hard this was going to be.
She took out two examples and taped them to the
blackboard with masking tape.
What do you think these mean? she asked.
One was a picture shed drawn in the manner of Van
Goghs Starry Night. She stood in a field surrounded by
beautiful swirls and explosions of color and texture.
The other was a picture of her Art Barn, filled with kids
who were part human, part foxes, all mischief.
Is that me? Scott asked, pointing to one of the
kids in her picture.
She squinted at the picture. You know, I do see a
resemblance.
Are you saying were all animals?
Not exactly.
Shes saying youre all foxes, Casey said.
She smiled at Casey, who beamed at her attention before he remembered he had a sneer he was trying to
make stick.
Im on to you, she thought, and felt that surge of affection she always felt when she saw past the too big
veneer of the problem kids.
Why do you think I picked foxes?
Why do you think you picked foxes?
Shelby blinked, not at his tone, but the way hed rephrased the question. She wondered if Casey with the
shaggy red hair and freckles, slouching in his chair as if
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Chapter 2
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lounge, Joe behind her at the fridge, made her skin quake.
Bile rise in her throat.
How was Christmas? Joe asked.
She pushed it all awaythe shame, the longing, the
strange secret wish that Joe Phillips would believe what
Dean had said about her and look at her, really look at
her as a woman, as a possibility.
Good, she said after clearing her throat. Moms mind
had been pretty clear on Christmas and theyd lain
around watching kids movies on TV. Eating pizza. No
salads. Yours?
My brother had the whole family at his house in
Little Rock. My parents, brother, and sister. Ten kids.
Thats a lot of kids.
Made me happy I dont live in Little Rock. He shot
her a smile over his shoulder and her stomach fluttered.
Youre in my class this afternoon?
I am, she said. Were working on some identity
projects.
Youre a masochist, he said, walking back toward
the door with his lunch in a plastic bag and his bottle
of Coke. Its a crisis of identity in the sixth grade every
day. Half the girls will probably start crying. See you
later.
She laughed and with a wave he was out the door,
taking all the air in the room with him.
After a long moment feeling like the worlds worst
coward, she bent back down over her students work.
Hey Shelby?
Joe was half in, half out the door. He was so handsome, not in any outrageous way, but in a regular guy
way. A man who would probably lose his hair at some
point and get a paunch, but his kindness and sense of
humor made all of that unimportant. His hands were
wide, his fingers long. Handsome hands. And he wore
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