A Magic Elevator of Her Own I will never go to fifth grade. I got to skip it. It is as if I took an elevator up from fourth, and everyone else took the stairs. At first I liked the idea. But that was in the spring, when Principal Garrison told my parents and me. I got to wonder about what sixth grade might be like while still in the normalness of fourth grade. School started on the Tuesday after Labor Day. Principal Harrington called me into his office before first period. Youre kidding me, he barked into the phone. I waved. He shot out of his seat and glared at me. No. No. There isnt still time to find someone else. Marcia, its the first day of school and I need you here! I stood in his doorway, waiting. Last night hed called my parents and told them I should come talk to him first thing in the morning. Hed said to. What was I supposed to do? On his desk, a half-eaten blueberry muffin sat on stacks and stacks of file folders. The office was a tiny rectangle, but Principal Harrington didnt take up much space. I had worried about sixth grade all summer. Not the school part of itthe friend part. In fourth grade I was best friends with Principal Garrison. She turned sixty-five in May. They had a party for her but I wasnt invited. In third grade I got to know the librarian, Miss Phillips, really well, because I was always in there. She lived with her sister, Maude, and they took care of their old mother. But lets just put it this way: you cant invite a real grown woman over for a sleepover. Well, fine, then. Go to Cherryvale. You know they dont need you there like we need you here, Marcia! he shouted. And dont expect a recommendation from me! He slammed down the phone. Argh, he growled.I took one step back and attempted to tiptoe out the door. Id come back later.Lie-lice Martin, he said, snatching the blueberry muffin and hurling it into the trash. Welcome. Mrs. Garrison has told me all about you. He flopped into his seat and started rubbing his forehead, smiling a little. Were both glad youre here.Thank you, Principal Harrington, I said. Sorry your first day of school isnt going so well.His smile got bigger but it seemed like the feeling behind it got smaller. Im glad Im here, too, I said quickly. But I wished it wasnt happening yet. I wished there was time for more wondering and dreaming about what sixth grade might be like. And I wished his day wasnt going so badly, because he was making me want to be back at Catalina Foothills Elementary School with Mrs. Garrison, not here with him at Susan B. Anthony Middle School. You wanted to see me? I asked.Through the whole conversation we had about striving for excellence, he opened and slammed drawers, flipped through folders, and scribbled on Post- Its. He called me Lie-Lice three times. Finally I said: Its Lylice. Like Phyllis. I said Id been called worse. He didnt laugh. But he did tell me to come in and visit whenever I wanted. I was not sure I would.We had Senora Schwartz for firs Excerpted from Next to Mexico by Jennifer Nails All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
