Lone Bean Read online

  When I got all dressed up and fluffed out my hair, I looked awesome. But no one told me how great my costume was and no one wanted to watch me put on a concert . . . except for Stanley, but he doesn’t count because I didn’t even want him to.

  When you don’t have a best friend, there is no one to stand in line with and no one to sit with at lunch and no one to talk to and no one to trade your carrots or milk with. And worst of all, no one to play with at recess, so I just plopped down on the bench and watched everyone run around in their costumes.

  Some days, though, I would go to the principal’s office at recess. Not because I was in trouble or anything, but because I liked to spend time with Ms. Gloria, the secretary.

  Ms. Gloria sits at a big oak desk and answers the phones while she files her long pink-painted nails. She’s really pretty and she wears red lipstick.

  “Hey, Ms. Gloria,” I said as I poked my head into the office.

  “Hi there, honey.” Ms. Gloria greeted me with a warm smile and the usual question. “Are things any better with Carla?”

  I always tell Ms. Gloria what’s going on. “She totally hates me.”

  “Oh, Bean, I’m sure she doesn’t.”

  “Need any help today?” I asked, changing the subject.

  I crossed my fingers behind my back because I hoped she had an errand for me to run. My favorite is when she lets me go in the teachers’ lounge to copy papers for her. No kids are allowed in the teachers’ lounge, except me when I’m on official office business.

  “I’ve got some mail to deliver to Room Four,” she said.

  “I’ll make it a speedy delivery.”

  I took the envelope and spun around to head into the hall. Standing in the doorway was goody-two-shoes Gabrielle.

  Gabrielle is the most polite person I have ever met and she never gets in trouble. Also, she is always dressed like she’s going to a party. She wears dresses with matching hair bows. I don’t think it feels very comfortable, but she sure does look nice all the time. I only have one fancy dress like that, but it’s for church. I usually just wear jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Hello, Ms. Gloria,” she said in her sweet-as-sugar voice. “I just wanted to stop by to see how you are doing today and see if maybe you might need help with anything.”

  No way! This girl was trying to take my job!

  “Oh, you girls are so nice,” Ms. Gloria said with a smile. “Bean is going to deliver some mail for me. Why don’t you go with her and make sure it gets to Room Four safe and sound?”

  “Goody, goody gumdrops!” she sang.

  “I can handle it,” I said quickly. “You don’t need to come with me.”

  “No worries at all,” said Gabrielle. “I would love to accompany you.”

  I held the envelope tight in my hand as I rushed into the hall, with Gabrielle tailing close behind.

  “I love to help Ms. Gloria,” Gabrielle said as she clip-clopped like a horse to catch up to me. “Don’t you?”

  I didn’t say anything. I just kept walking because I was on a mission. I opened the door to Room Four and handed the envelope to Ms. Charles, the other third-grade teacher.

  “Thank you, girls.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  “Our pleasure,” Gabrielle chimed in. “And don’t you look nice today. I really like your dress.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Ms. Charles said. “Aren’t you sweet?”

  Gabrielle isn’t sweet at all. She’s a suck-up. I picked up my pace and rushed back to the office to see if Ms. Gloria needed any more help.

  “No running in the halls!” Gabrielle yelled behind me.

  “Whatever,” I said as I slid into the office like I was going into home plate.

  “Got anything else for me, Ms. Gloria?” I panted, trying to catch my breath.

  “Nothing else today, girls.”

  Girls? Gabrielle was still following me like my shadow.

  “Gabrielle, your mom called. She’s running a little bit late, but she’ll be here soon,” said Ms. Gloria.

  “Thank you,” Gabrielle said. She sat down, crossed her legs, and waited.

  I’m not sure what her mom was coming for, but I didn’t want to leave her here alone, because maybe she would talk Ms. Gloria into liking her better than me. I plopped right down in the seat next to her and waited too.

  “I think you would look pretty with a bow in your hair,” said Gabrielle.

  “Really?” I never wear anything in my hair, except a rubber band to hold it in a ponytail.

  “I can tie it for you,” she said.

  “Okay,” I agreed, trying to play it cool even though I was really, really excited.

  Gabrielle got up on her knees and tied her bow around my ponytail. I shook it back and forth, and posed like I was a model in the fashion magazines that Rose reads.

  “Looking good, Bean,” said Ms. Gloria.

  Like a burst of wind, the door swung open and in came the fanciest lady I have ever seen. She was wearing superhigh heels, a dress that looked like something a queen would wear, and so much makeup, she almost looked like a clown.

  “Darling, I am so sorry I was tardy,” she said as she spun around the office.

  “No worries, Mother,” Gabrielle said. She stood up and straightened her dress. “I have had some company while I waited.”

  I just sat there, slouched in my seat, with my mouth wide open. I’d never seen a lady like this before.

  “Well, look at you,” Gabrielle’s mom stared at me with a wrinkled brow. “Aren’t you a little darling for keeping my baby company?”

  “Mother, this is Bean. She is in my class.”

  “I see,” her mom said, looking me up and down like I was some sort of slob. I sat up as straight as my back would go, flattened out my T-shirt, and crossed my legs so she would stop staring at me.

  “Well, then,” she said, peeling her eyes off me and turning back to Gabrielle. She tugged on her dress and fluffed her hair. Then she reached into her purse, and her perfectly manicured fingers pulled out an asthma inhaler. People use that when they can’t breathe very well, so maybe that’s why Gabrielle always sits on the bench during P.E. and recess. Gabrielle took it and sucked in three big, deep breaths.

  “Are you feeling better?” her mom asked as she reached again into her purse. “Do you need a Motrin? A cough drop? Hand cream?”

  “No, thank you, Mother.”

  “Sunscreen? Chapstick?”

  “Mother, I am just fine.”

  “Well, then I’ll head out. I shall see you this afternoon.”

  “Um, Mother? Do you think we might be able to meet outside on the playground today?” Gabrielle asked tentatively.

  “No,” her mother said as she shook her head in disgust. “We will meet here in the office as we always do. I cannot have you waiting out in that sun. It is very bad for the skin. Very bad for the skin, indeed. The playground is dirty . . . and all those children.” She shook her head again.

  “Please, Mother,” pleaded Gabrielle.

  “Absolutely not. See you this afternoon. A pleasure to meet you, child,” she said to me, and shook my arm, which flopped around like a noodle. Then, just as quickly as she had come in, she spun around and left.

  Gabrielle’s shoulders, which are usually stiff and straight, were slumped over. I felt bad for her. I mean the poor thing wasn’t even allowed to play on the playground.

  “Want to go see if any of the teachers need help cleaning the chalkboards?” I asked, only because I didn’t have anything else to do and I did feel a little bad for Gabrielle.

  We went back to our classroom, where Ms. Sullivan was sitting at her desk grading papers.

  “Would you like us to clean your chalkboards and erasers, Ms. Sullivan?” I asked.

  “That would be wonderful. I never get around to cleaning them.”

  “Goody, goody gumdrops!” Gabrielle sang.

  “Leave it to us,” I said.

  “Thank you. I’m going t
o go to the teachers’ lounge.” Ms. Sullivan left, and we got to work. Gabrielle wiped the boards down with a wet cloth. She was very serious about her work. I, on the other hand, was having fun slamming the erasers together and making a big cloud of dust. I danced in a circle, banging the erasers all over the place and then right in front of Gabrielle’s nose.

  “Stop that, Bean,” Gabrielle gasped. She swatted the air and coughed.

  I remembered her asthma. “Oops, sorry!” I said. I stopped right away and waved my arms so that the chalk cloud would disappear. Gabrielle kept on coughing.

  I finished cleaning the erasers without making any more of a mess just as Ms. Sullivan returned.

  “Thank you, girls. I think this is the cleanest my boards have ever been.”

  “You are very welcome,” said Gabrielle, smiling, and I couldn’t help but smile too.

  It felt good to have Ms. Sullivan happy with me for once. And even though Gabrielle was such a goody-two-shoes, it was cool to have someone to hang out with.

  “Wanna go out to the playground?” I asked hopefully.

  “First stop, the bathroom,” she said. “We have to wash our hands and clean up.”

  My hands were a little chalky. Usually, I would’ve just wiped them on my jeans, but if I had been wearing a dress like Gabrielle’s, I wouldn’t have wanted to get it dusty either.

  We washed up, and since the bell hadn’t rung yet, we headed out to the playground.

  “Wanna climb the jungle gym?” I asked.

  “No, thank you,” she responded quickly, without even thinking it over.

  “What about hopscotch?”

  “No, Bean, I do not want to dirty my shoes,” she said.

  I looked at her patent leather slippers. They were pretty, but they were definitely not for running at the playground. I slumped down on the bench next to her.

  “Maybe do you wanna come play at my house after school?” I asked hopefully.

  “I’m not allowed to have play dates,” Gabrielle told me.

  She wasn’t allowed to play on the playground, go to other people’s houses, or even talk on the phone. What kind of a friend was that?

  Chapter 7

  Maybe Bad Isn’t So Bad

  “Good morning, Chrysanthemum,” said Gabrielle one morning when she slid next to me in line.

  We’d been hanging out for a couple weeks, and she should’ve known my name by now. I reminded her in my most serious, I-mean-business tone of voice, “My name is Bean.”

  “Don’t you think Chrysanthemum is a much prettier name for a girl?” she asked, all excited like she had come up with some great idea.

  “No!” I yelled back. “And don’t call me that!”

  “Well, I just thought it might be nice if you used your pretty name and maybe wore a dress once in a while.”

  “No way,” I said. I looked down at my jeans with the rips in the knees, my favorite Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, and my dirty sneakers. “I’m Bean and this is how I dress.”

  “Fine,” she said. She pouted her lips and turned away.

  I crossed my arms and marched to the back of the line so I wouldn’t have to stand anywhere near her. I stomped past Carla and Sam without even a glance and stood behind Tanisha. The line started to move, and I dragged my feet all the way to the classroom.

  “Good morning, everyone,” said Ms. Sullivan. “Please take out your math books and turn to page fifteen.”

  I pulled out my book, but before I could open it up, I got hit in the head with a crayon. I spun around in my seat and spotted the culprit. Terrible Tanisha was chucking broken crayons! She is such a bully. I turned around and tried to focus on the first math problem.

  Then another crayon hit me smack in my head. Now I was really steamed. I turned around to give her my meanest, dirtiest, nastiest glare, but—smack! A green crayon hit me right in my eye. Well, not really in my eye because, luckily, it was protected by my glasses.

  Now, this made me so mad that I forgot how scared I was of her. I grabbed my box of pencils and erasers and stuff and scooped up all the broken bits of crayons at the bottom. I pulled my arm back like a baseball pitcher and hurled all of them at her as hard as I could.

  “Chrysanthemum, what do you think you are doing?”

  I froze at the sound of Ms. Sullivan’s voice. I felt everyone’s eyes were glued on me.

  “Um . . . nothing,” I said. “And it’s Bean, remember?”

  “Since you can’t seem to remember the rules, maybe staying in for detention at recess will help refresh your memory,” she said, looking sternly at me. “We do not throw crayons or anything else in this classroom.”

  I had never gotten a detention before, ever!

  “But Tanisha was throwing crayons at me and one hit me in the head and then in my eye, well not my eye, but only because I wear glasses.” Ms. Sullivan was still mad, so I kept talking. “And she wouldn’t stop, so I—”

  “Bean, that’s enough.”

  “But, Ms. Sullivan . . . ,” I groaned as I dropped my head onto my cold desk. Then she called on Stanley, who was raising his hand.

  “It’s true,” he said timidly. “Tanisha started it. She was throwing crayons. One hit me too.”

  “I wasn’t throwin’ nothing,” Tanisha growled.

  I turned around in my seat and gave Stanley a big thank-you smile. It was supercool of him to have my back, even though Tanisha would definitely clobber him after school.

  “Thank you, Stanley,” Ms. Sullivan said. “Looks like Bean and Tanisha will both be in detention during recess.”

  “But,” I said, “that’s not fair. She started it.”

  Ms. Sullivan ignored me and said, “Everyone please get back to work.”

  The room settled down, but I couldn’t do my math problems, because Tanisha was glaring at me from across the room with fire in her eyes.

  The rest of the morning was awful. All I could think about was detention, as I watched the hands of the clock move. Finally, the bell rang and everyone jumped out of their seats, like they always do before Ms. Sullivan could even say, “Recess!”

  “Okay, ladies,” Ms. Sullivan said to me and Tanisha. “Stay in your seats while I take the rest of the class to the playground.”

  I stood up, though, and walked toward her. “I can’t stay in for recess because . . . um . . .” I stopped for a second and tried to think of a good excuse. Then I remembered Gabrielle’s asthma. “The doctor said I need fresh air or . . . um . . . my lungs will explode and then I’ll puff up like a balloon and maybe even die.”

  “Bean, when you break the rules, you must pay the consequences,” Ms. Sullivan said to me, like she didn’t even care about my lung problem. “Sit down, because you are staying in for recess.”

  And just like that, she left the room and so did all the kids and I was left all alone with Terrible Tanisha. I hoped Ms. Sullivan would come back soon. I’m not a scaredy-cat, but Tanisha is c-r-a-z-y CRAZY!

  “I’m gonna make you wish my name never came out your mouth,” Tanisha said. She circled my chair and poked me with her pencil.

  “You started it.”

  “I’m gonna make your life miserable,” she said. She shoved me to the floor. But just as her fist flew at my head, the classroom door swung open.

  “What is going on in here?” bellowed Ms. Sullivan.

  I kept my mouth shut, because I knew that if I tattled again, Tanisha was gonna kill me for sure.

  “Bean, answer me,” she said, like she knew Tanisha had knocked me down.

  “I fell,” I said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right, then,” said Ms. Sullivan said as she sat at her desk. “Get back in your seats. I want you to write I will not throw crayons twenty-five times.”

  I didn’t want to get in any more trouble, so I moved quickly. I pulled out a paper and started writing in my squiggly, not-so-great handwriting. I will not throw crayons. I will not throw crayons. T
anisha started writing too, but every time Ms. Sullivan looked away, Tanisha stared at me with an I’m-going-to-kill-you kinda look.

  “I have to use the bathroom, but I’m going to leave the door open and I don’t want any more trouble. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Ms. Sullivan,” I said, wishing she wouldn’t leave us alone again.

  Just as she stepped out of sight, another crayon came flying through the air and hit me in the back of my head.

  I will not throw crayons. I will not throw crayons. I kept writing.

  Tanisha got up from her seat and started moving around the room. I tried to focus on writing, but I couldn’t help but sneak a peek. I spotted Tanisha squirting paste onto Stanley’s chair. When I looked again, she was chomping on a huge piece of bubblegum. She blew a huge bubble and then stuck it right in Gabrielle’s spelling book. Next, she hopped over to Aisha’s desk and drew hearts that said, “I Love Stanley!” on it with a red marker.

  Now, I know it’s not a good idea to write on tables and put gum in books and paste on chairs, but you have to admit it was kind of funny and really brave of her. I would never have the nerve to do stuff like that.

  Tanisha saw me smile, and I guess it made her not want to kill me so bad, because she left me alone. She rushed to her seat right as Ms. Sullivan came inside, and we both got back to writing.

  It took forever to finish twenty-five lines of I will not throw crayons, but I got the last one done just as the bell rang and everyone came into the room.

  I spent the rest of the day waiting for someone to mention Tanisha’s pranks, but no one did. Stanley went home sick after lunch, so the paste on his chair dried up. We had already had spelling in the morning, so Gabrielle didn’t notice that the pages of her book were all stuck together. I saw Aisha scrubbing her desk with a tissue, but she must have been too embarrassed to say anything.

  A crayon flew through the air and hit Sam right in the back of the head. Ha! Served her right for stealing my best friend. I looked over at Tanisha and she was smiling. Our eyes met and she winked at me. I smiled and winked back. Maybe Tanisha wasn’t so bad after all.

  Chapter 8

  The Dinosaurs Are Closed

  TGIF! That means “Thank God it’s Friday,” and boy, do I love Fridays! Mostly, I think they are great because it’s almost the weekend, but today was even better because my class was going on a field trip to the Natural History Museum!