Chapter 5: The Cake

By Monday morning neither of my parents had come to get me, and neither had called.

Aunt Dot said she was proud of the way I'd slept, which was badly, in a bed with a quilt made of old shirts.

At seven-thirty she walked me down to the end of Quarry Road to wait for the bus.

A girl was already there, sitting on the guardrail with a wet braid and a swim bag.

"This is Polly Hedman," Aunt Dot said. "She lives in the white house. She'll show you where everything is."

"I can show him where everything is," Polly said, "but he's got to stop looking at me like I'm going to grade him."

"I'm not."

"You are. What happened to your arm?"

"I fell down some steps."

"Cool. Was it a staircase or a flight of stairs?"

I thought about it.

"A staircase," I said. "Five steps."

"Five is boring. Next time do ten."

"Okay."

"That was a joke."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry."

"You said sorry for my joke." She grinned at me. "You apologize like it's your job. Do they pay you?"

I didn't know what to say.

Then, without really meaning to, I laughed.

It came out sounding rusty.

Polly looked more pleased than the joke deserved.

"There," she said. "That wasn't so hard."

Marlow Middle School is a brick building with a flagpole and a smell of floor wax.

The front office had my name on a list, which surprised me.

A teacher with a yellow lanyard asked how I was settling in.

"Fine, thank you."

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