“Molly how was your first day of middle school?” her father asked as they sat down for supper.
“It was different,” she answered him as she reached across the table for the bowl of mashed potatoes.
“Oh young lady,” her mother’s voice stopped her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Oh, yeah,” Molly reached her left hand toward her Dad and her right toward her Mom. She looked across the table at her nine-year-old brother, Billy, who was doing the same thing, grinning back at her. The family had formed a circle around the table and began to say grace together. When they were finished, they dropped their hands.
“We also ask for items to be passed to them. We don’t reach across the table,” Mom continued to remind them how to behave at the table. “So, Molly, how was your day?’
“As I was saying, please pass the mashed potatoes,” she interrupted her story looking at her Mom. “It was different but what I expected. It was a little nerve wracking going from class to class every hour. Tomorrow I have different classes to do it all over again.”
“Different classes? And please pass me those potatoes when you are done,” Dad asked her.
“Please pass the green beans, Mom?” Molly asked as she handed the bowl of mashed potatoes to her father. “Yeah, Dad, on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I have Choir and Home Economics along with the required classes but on Tuesday and Thursday instead of Home Economics and Choir, I have Resources and P. E.”
“Resources? What’s that?” Billy asked her he stuffed a piece of pork chop into his mouth.
“I don’t know. I guess I will find out tomorrow,” Molly answered him. “Mom, can you pass me the pork chops, please?”
The dining table remained quiet except for the sounds of people eating. The forks clinked on plates, spoons plopped potatoes on them, too, and the slurping of Billy drinking his milk.
“My day,” Billy suddenly stated. “Was interesting, too. You know, I am fourth grade now and in my reading group we are using computers to read books.”
“Really?” Mom said. “Books on computers? How does that work?”
“There are about twenty kids in our class…”
“How do you know that?” Dad interrupted him.
“I counted,” Billy paused in his story. He was a numbers freak. “We are divided into groups of four and during the day we rotate around the room for our various topics and, for reading, we use the corner of the room that has the four computers.”
“You don’t have a desk?” Dad asked.
“We do have desks, but they are spread out along the outside of the room. It is weird. Mrs. Weatherby is a little weird. We start the day by dragging our chairs into the center of the room and then divide into groups in each corner of the room.”
“This is new to me,” Dad said.
“To me, too.“ Billy agreed with him.
“How do you keep things straight?” Molly asked him as she reached for her glass of milk.
“I don’t know,” Billy looked across the table at her. “It is only the first day of school.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Molly put her milk glass back down on the table. “They have after-school clubs and if I want to participate, I have to have you sign a permission slip.”
“Why me?” Billy asked her.
“Not you! Mom or Dad,” Molly shook her head at him.
“But I was talking,” Billy argued.
“He’s right, Molly,” Mom said to her and then looked at her son. “Go on, honey,”
“I don’t have anything else. I am done,” Billy spooned some potatoes and stuffed them into his mouth. He opened his mouth wide and looked at Molly.
Molly shook her head at him, looked at her Mom and then her dad.
“What club are you interested in?” Dad asked her.
“It meets on Mondays and apparently it is a new club. It’s called The Whodunnit Club.”
The next morning, Molly, Harold and Bev entered Spanish Lake Middle School through the main door. They were silent on the bus.
“Well, see you guys later,” Harold said to the two girls and headed toward Hall 03.
Molly and Bev turned toward Hall 02 and English class. Molly paused at the doorway to the Sixth Grade Office.
“I have to leave my permission slip here,” she said to Bev.
“I’ll come with you,” Bev said to her and walked into the room.
Molly followed her inside. At the desk, a group of students were lined up listening to Mrs. Young on the other side of it.
“If you want to change a class, you have to talk to your Guidance Counselor. If your name begins with A to N, visit Mr. Quitman in Hall B, Office 01. If your name begins with O to Z, your counselor is Mrs. Rea in Hall B, Office 02. Before you ask, people, Hall B is the hall where the cafeteria is. This Hall is A. Hurry along.”
The group turned and scampered past Molly and Bev out into the hall. Mrs. Young shook her head and noticed the two girls standing before her.
“Well, hello Molly,” she said to Molly and leaned on the top of the desk. “Who is this?”
“Mrs. Young, this is my friend Bev, Beverly Matthews,” Molly introduced her friend.
“How do you do, Bev,” Mrs. Young stretched her hand toward Bev.
As Bev reached to shake it, the door inside the office opened and out stepped Miss Marvel.
“Well, hello again Molly,” she paused in front of the sixth grader. “How are you today?”
“Fine, Miss Marvel,” Molly grinned at her. “I came in to leave my parent permission slip to join a club.”
“Really? Which one?” Miss Marvel asked her.
“The Whodunnit Club.”
“Ahh, I see,” Miss Marvel replied, smiled at her, looked at Bev and turned to Mrs. Young. “When the first bell rings, Mrs. Young, will you come see me in my office?”
“Sure will, Mis Marvel,” Mrs. Young confirmed the request. “At first bell.”
“Thank you,” Miss Marvel looked back at the two girls. “Now, girls, don’t be late to class.” She turned and went back into her office.
Molly could see into the office and spied the corner of a desk that had one of those “In” and “Out” baskets on the corner of it. In the corner of the room that she could see, behind the desk, was a file cabinet with a plant with long vines reaching down from the top of it. Miss Marvel turned in the doorway and quietly closed the door.
“Is she our class principal, Mrs. Young?” Bev asked the older woman at the desk.
“Yes,” Mrs. Young answered. “And I like her. She is right about class and you don’t want to be late. Molly, hand me your slip and show Bev where she can get her own parent permission form to take home.”
“How did you know?” Molly asked the secretary as she handed her the slip.
“You just told Miss Marvel, silly,” Mrs. Young laughed. “And I know Bev is your friend and she just got interested in clubs.”
To be continued…
My First Stories 