Emma Jean Lazarus Fell in Love by Lauren Tarshis Read Free Book Online

pressure. I mean, look at her!”
    The girls leaned forward to inspect Emma-Jean, who did her best to maintain her usual unperturbed expression.
    â€œShe looks gorgeous,” Colleen pronounced. “As usual.”
    Kaitlin opened her mouth to comment, but the sound of Laura Gilroy’s voice called their attention to the other side of the cafeteria.
    â€œCome on, lazy butts,” Laura called, pointing in their direction and shaking her hips, the dreaded signal that it was time for the girls to report to the blacktop for a dance rehearsal. The girls did not enjoy these sessions, during which Laura bullied and belittled them as they attempted to follow her complex choreography of shimmies and kicks. And Emma-Jean knew they did not relish Laura’s company. They complained about her when she was out of earshot, and quietly rejoiced when she failed a pop quiz in language arts or split her pants performing a particularly showy leap.
    But for some reason they admired Laura, and feared her. And now, like dutiful soldiers, they rose out of their chairs.
    Colleen lingered as the other girls returned their trays and disappeared out the back door.
    â€œI hate dancing with Laura,” Colleen sighed.
    â€œI know you do,” Emma-Jean said, which caused Colleen to smile.
    â€œYou know everything about me, don’t you, Emma-Jean?” Colleen said.
    â€œNot everything,” said Emma-Jean, who would never presume to have total knowledge of any subject.
    â€œWell, I know some things about you too,” Colleen said. “And one thing I know for sure is that you’re a really good friend.”
    â€œThank you,” Emma-Jean said, surprised by the compliment. Emma-Jean had many areas of expertise—geometry and watercolor painting and the flora and fauna native to Connecticut. But her knowledge of friendship was still rudimentary. Colleen, on the other hand, was an expert.
    Kaitlin appeared at the back door of the cafeteria, and began calling to Colleen and waving her arms.
    â€œColleen!” Kaitlin called. “Laura’s waiting!”
    â€œComing!” Colleen replied, hoisting her backpack onto her back and grabbing her tray. She paused for a moment, leaning in close to Emma-Jean.
    â€œI just have this feeling,” she said, her voice rich with portent. “I think amazing things are going to happen, for both of us. I just feel . . . if you really believe in your heart, then anything is possible, you know?”
    And then she scurried off.
    Emma-Jean was dumbstruck by Colleen’s words, for they reminded her of her father’s favorite quote by Poincaré,
    It is by logic that we prove, but it is in the heart that we discover life’s possibilities.
    The meaning of those words had perplexed Emma-Jean. The heart, after all, was simply a muscle. It could not observe or analyze. One could not look inside one’s own heart without the use of sophisticated machinery. And even then, what would one discover other than four chambers pulsing with blood?
    But now Emma-Jean considered her own heart. Were there possibilities waiting to be discovered? How could she know?
    These questions troubled Emma-Jean. But then she was struck by an intriguing notion: that her heart was like a poem.
    She thought of the poems she often discussed with Ms. Wright, and how she had learned to look beyond simple words and fanciful rhymes to discover hidden meanings, profound ideas about life and death.
    And just as Emma-Jean had learned to understand poetry, she believed, she would someday learn to read her own heart.
    At that moment, Will Keeler went careening by on his way out to the blacktop, and the sight of him sent Emma-Jean’s heart into its predictable frenetic rhythms.
    She wondered if Poincaré had experienced a crush when he was young.
    Probably yes, Emma-Jean thought, though she doubted that the object of the Frenchman’s affections had chocolate milk stains on her