Real Carol Cujec (if you liked this book txt) đ
- Author: Carol Cujec
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Everyone gathered closer to hear Momâs words.
Mom continued. âThe classroom that is always so spotless and cheerful every year for parentsâ night . . .â
Did you SEE it? DID YOU SMELL IT?
Mom snapped her head toward Dad and spit out her words rapid-fire. âSteve, I tell you it was a pigpenâfilthy, stinking, full of broken toys and . . . and . . . not a place of learning at all. Nothing but scribbles on the chalkboard. Puzzles with missing piecesâwooden baby puzzlesâwere scattered on the floor along with mismatched Legos . . . and . . . and shoeboxes of broken crayons and dried-out markers. And a closet . . . a storage closet . . . labeled âTIME OUTâ in big, red letters.â She shook her head. âI couldnât believe it.â
Dadâs face turned white, Momâs red.
âIt made me so angry!â She pounded her fist on the counter.
SHE KNOWS? SHE FINALLY KNOWS?
Now I was the one in shock.
Big tears welled in Momâs eyes. âI took out my phone to take pictures of this so-called classroom. Thatâs when Miss Marcia burst in and started yelling at me. She said I wasnât allowed to be there. That I had no right to take pictures. Then Mr. Toll came in and threatened to report me to the police for trespassing. So I yelled back at them. âWhat kind of classroom is this? How could you possibly lock kids in storage closets for time-outs? I should call the police on you!â And Miss Marcia said, she actually said, and I quote, âYou donât get it, do you? These kids are lost causes. Your kid was sent here because no other school wants her.ââ
Mom put her head in her hands and inhaled like she was catching her breath. Aunt Kiki handed her a napkin from the dispenser. Mom blew her nose and continued. âWell, I donât want to tell you how I responded, it may have included a few four-letter, pardon-my-French words, but the last thing I said was âCharity will never set foot in Borden Academy again. Just you wait until I tell the district what kind of school youâre running here.ââ
Mom dabbed the tears on her cheek and squeezed me tight again.
Even without a red cape, Mom did a pretty good job of kicking butt.
In my mind, I heard the squeak of an iron jail cell door opening wide.
Freedom? Is it possible?
My mind could hardly soak it in.
A tidal wave of emotion crashed inside my chest, and my entire ice cream shake spewed onto the floor.
Barbecued
Mason slinked into Gramâs kitchen and stacked four cheese-loaded crackers into his palm, probably hoping to make a quick getaway before someone spoke to him.
âGood news, Mason.â Mom put her arm around his shoulder. âCharity might be going to your school in a few weeks.â
Masonâs pale face turned even whiter, but he just stared straight ahead and said, âK.â
Page 239: Startled rabbits freeze to assess the danger then run away.
âThat will be fun, wonât it, sweetie?â Aunt Kiki, in a teal pantsuit, smiled big. âYou two could eat lunch together.â
Poor Mason. Hard enough being the new kid at his school. Having me there would be like diagnosis: explosive diarrhea.
Mason glanced toward me. I sat at the table tapping my fingers to the song in my headâBeethovenâs Fifth Symphonyâand munching my cracker in rhythm.
Tap, munch, tap, munch.
He ended the conversation by ducking outside.
âPublic school?â Aunt Elvi stood in the doorway making her pity face. âSeriously, Gail, howâs this gonna make any difference?â
Aunt Kiki whispered, âCome on, Elvi, be sensitive.â
Mom clenched her jaw. âDonât start with me, Elvi. Iâve tutored Charity at grade level since she was three. Sheâll be able to understand. I know she will.â
Elvi shook her head. âWhen are you gonna wake up, Gail?â
âStop talking like that in front of her,â Mom hissed.
Elvi put her hand on her hips. âGet real, Gail, what makes you think she understands a word weâre saying? I wish she did. I wish to heck she did, but she doesnât.â Elvi turned to me and smiled. âCharity, honey, blink twice if you understand what Iâm saying. Just blink twice.â
Everyone stared at me.
Of course, my eyelids did not obey.
Elvi went up to Mom and held both her hands. âLook at me, Gail. This isnât gonna work. Youâve been killing yourself for years and nothing works. Not only are you wasting your life, youâre torturing the poor kid.â
Mom looked her in the eyes. âYou donât understand because youâre not a mother yet, Elvi. Just wait. Thereâs nothing you wonât do for your child.â
Elvi huffed a big sigh and held up her hands. âYouâre killing me, Gail. Literally killing me.â She turned and walked away.
At least they were talking again.
âWhen will she start?â Aunt Kiki asked, smiling, as if the previous conversation never happened.
âWell, weâre still not sure theyâll accept her,â Mom said. âIf I could bribe someone, I would.â
For the past two weeks, Mom argued with district administrators. They were the ones who kicked me out of public school in the first place and pressured my mom to put me in Borden. My mother, who could hardly bring herself to send back a bowl of soup with a fly swimming in it, roared into the phone every day.
âAshamed, you should be ashamed! How can you call Borden a school? I canât believe you would let this abuse continue. You donât care what happens to these kids as long as theyâre hidden away where you canât see them.â
I imagined Mom as a Marine drill instructor screaming at the top of her lungs. Drop and give me fifty pushups, you useless maggot! You worthless pile of cat puke! You miserable excuse for a school administrator!
âWe are fully prepared to sue for damages unless our daughter is admitted to a public school. That is her legal right. And she needs a full-time aide to support her. Hiring an aide costs a fraction of the tuition that the district doled out to send her to that prison.â
A real public school with actual learning?
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