7th grade

 

 

Looks like I’ve got a new nickname now, thanks to Dana Padgett.

 

I came into my 7th grade homeroom this morning dressed in my old corduroy jumper. I also had on my brown sweater, and there was a hole in the sleeve so you could see my yellow shirt poking through. Mom had pointed that out to me earlier this morning and told me I should go up and change, but I told her I didn’t care. Maybe Mom was right, though.

As I passed by Dana’s desk, I heard her say to Marla Preuss, “Look, she’s wearing that same outfit again, and look at that hole in her sweater. Going to have to start calling her ‘Shabby St. Claire!’“

 

“Hey, yeah, that’s clever,” said Marla. “Morning, Shabby!”

 

I looked around for an empty table to sit at. There was nothing except for one in the back, where just one boy was sitting and eating alone. I’ve never seen that boy before; I guess he’s new. I walked up to his table and sat down at the far end from him.

As I started opening my sack and pulling out my tuna fish sandwich and apple, he said to me, “My name is F-F-Fred D-DeNapoli. I think we’re in the same science class.”

I looked over at him. He had dark hair and a friendly face. “I haven’t noticed you before. Are you new here?”

“I j-just started yesterday. M-mind if I come join you?”

“Um, okay. My name is Abby St. Claire. Where are you from?”

He picked up his tray, moved it down, and sat across from me. “M-my family just moved here from P-Pittsburgh. My dad’s a salesman for Wesco Distribution.”

“I’ve lived here in Butler all my life. My dad and grandpa own St. Claire & Son Hardware. I work there too.”

“Really? W-what do you do there?”

“Pretty much everything. I wait on customers and show them where stuff is. I stock the shelves and ring up sales. I also clean up a lot around there; it gets pretty dirty!”

We kept talking together, and I noticed that, after a while, he hardly stuttered at all.

It was right then when Tommy Boes came over to our table and said, “Well, if it isn’t F-F-F-Fred and Shabby! How’s things, kids? Are you enjoying your lunch?”

I just looked down, but Fred said, “We were until y-you came. Why don’t you j-just leave us alone?”

Tommy picked up my apple and took a bite out of it then. “Hmm… not my favorite kind,” he said, and put it back on the table.

Right then, Mr. Campbell, my natural science teacher, came over and told Tommy to take a hike. He then turned to Fred and me and said he’d see us both later in 7th period.

“How does Tommy know you? He’s not even in our grade,” I asked Fred.

“My locker is next to his in the hall. I said hi to him yesterday and st-stuttered a little when I told him my name.”

“Well, I’ve known him for years, and he’s always been a bully.”

“Say, Abby, you may not have noticed me, b-but I noticed you yesterday,” said Fred. You seemed to know a lot of answers to Mr. Campbell’s questions.”

“Yeah, science and math are my favorite subjects. I like to read a lot about them both. What’s your favorite subject?”

“Probably art.”

“Really? What do you like to do in art?”

“Mostly draw. I like to ice skate too. D-do you skate?”

“A little. My Great Aunt Helen taught me and my sister how to skate a couple years ago when we visited them in DuBois. She’s my grandpa’s sister. She and my Uncle Bert have a little pond in their backyard they call Olsen’s Pond. That’s their name--Olsen. We learned to skate on that pond.”

“Is there a good place to skate around here?”

“Yeah, my sister and I usually skate at the mill pond down off Cumberland Avenue. It’s frozen over now, so you can skate on it. Do you know where that is?”

“No, but my mom probably does. She used to live here in B-Butler.”

Right about then, the bell rang for 6th period, so we got up and threw our trash away, including the half-eaten apple that I wouldn’t touch after that hyena took a bite out of it. I told Fred I’d see him later in 7th period, and we said goodbye to each other. I left the cafeteria smiling.

I might have made a friend!

 

 

 

Next morning at breakfast, I was reading a book at the table. When Mom came in with a pot of oatmeal, I was so absorbed in it that I kind of tuned her out. I kept reading when she said in a loud voice, “Abby, now! Meals are family time.”

Dad came in right then from the kitchen, holding a plate of bacon and eggs for himself, when Lester, who was now a big 12-pound cat, suddenly ran right for his legs. Dad lost his balance trying to avoid him, and the plate of food went flying as Lester bounded over to the back door and meowed loudly to be let out.

“Damn it!” shouted Dad as the plate hit the floor and his breakfast spilled everywhere. “I’m tired of that damn cat! He’s always tripping me up and meowing to go in and out. Plus, he bites you if you try to put your hand on him. I’m getting sick of him and have half a mind to get rid of him.”

“Don’t say that, Dad! I’ll let him out and clean up the mess,” I said as I got up from the table. I opened the door to let him out and started choking up at the thought of losing my cat.

He really is my cat. He isn’t friendly to anyone else, not even Lisa—just me. Maybe it's because I’m the only one who plays with him. He sleeps on my bed at night, and I’m the one who feeds him too. I also clean out his litter box.

After I let him out the back door, I got out the kitchen garbage can and a broom and dustpan to clean up the mess on the floor. Dad could see how upset I still was, so he reached out and pulled me in for a hug. I didn’t feel like hugging, so I just shrugged him off and went back to cleaning. I could tell he felt sorry about what he’d said, but I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. We didn’t talk to each other during breakfast.

In the pickup truck on the way to school, I said to Dad, “I’ve been thinking… how about if I build Lester a cat door so he can go in and out of the back door by himself?”

He thought about this for a minute, then said, “You know, that’s a great idea. I could help you build it.”

“I won’t need any help; I know how to do it.”

He looked at me doubtfully. “You think you can get that heavy door off by yourself to cut a hole in the bottom?”

“Well… maybe I’ll need your help for that. But once we get it up on some sawhorses, I can do the rest.”

“Okay, you draw it up first for me to approve, and if it looks like a good design, I’ll let you do it.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll sketch it out for you soon.”

By this time, we had arrived at my junior high school. He pulled me in for a hug and a kiss goodbye, and I let him this time.

Later that day at lunchtime, I walked into the cafeteria and saw Fred sitting by himself again, so I went over to his table and sat down across from him, and we started talking as we both ate our lunches. I told him all about what happened at breakfast today. He told me he had a dog who sometimes gets into trouble too.

Fred was real easy to talk to. He didn’t even stutter that much when we were talking. It would have been a perfect lunch hour until Dana Padgett and some other “cool girls” came over to the table and sat down with us.

Dana said, “Hi Shabby. Looks like you’ve got a b-b-b-boyfriend now. Aren’t you a cute couple?”

Fred jumped right in. “W-why don’t you j-j-just leave, D-D-D-Dana.”

“Good idea, F-F-F-Fred. I’m dying of boredom here listening to you get a sentence out. Let’s g-g-g-go, girls,” she said, getting up to leave. The others laughed as they got up too and followed her out.

“Morons,” I said.

“Idiots,” Fred said.

“Nimrods!”

“Dummkopfs!”

We laughed and laughed as we came up with more and more names for them. Pretty soon the bell rang for 6th period, and it was time to go. Fred said to me, “Hey, Abby, would you like to go skating together this Saturday at the m-mill pond?”

 

“Sure. That’ll be fun. What time should we meet?”

“My mom could probably pick you up after lunch. Maybe 1:00?”

“Okay. I’ll be at St. Claire & Son Hardware. Do you know where that is?”

“My mom will know. Okay then!”

“Okay then! See you at 7th period.”

“Bye, Abby.”

We both walked away, smiling. Maybe Dana was right. Maybe I do have a boyfriend.