Last Summer with Maizon by Jacqueline Woodson Read Free Book Online Page B

see you bright and early tomorrow with something wonderful to read to the class.”
    Margaret slid out of the chair and walked toward the door.
    â€œThat’s a very pretty dress, Margaret,” Ms. Peazle said.
    Margaret turned and started to tell her that Maizon was wearing the same one in Connecticut, but changed her mind. What did Ms. Peazle know about best friends who were almost cousins, anyway?
    â€œThanks, ma’am,” she said instead, and ducked out of the classroom. All of a sudden, she had a wonderful idea!

10
    T he next morning Ms. Peazle tapped her ruler against the desk to quiet the class. “Margaret,” she asked when the room was silent. “Do you have something you want to share with us today?”
    Margaret nodded and Ms. Peazle beckoned her to the front of the room.
    â€œThis,” Margaret said, handing Ms. Peazle the sheet of looseleaf paper. It had taken her most of the evening to finish the assignment.
    Ms. Peazle looked it over and handed it back to her.
    â€œWe’re ready to listen,” she said, smiling.
    Margaret looked out over the class and felt her stomach slide up her throat. She swallowed and counted to ten. Though the day was cool, she found herself sweating. Margaret couldn’t remember when she had been this afraid.
    â€œMy pen doesn’t write anymore,” she began reading.
    â€œI can’t hear,” someone called out.
    â€œMy pen doesn’t write anymore,” Margaret repeated. In the back of the room, someone exaggerated a sigh. The class chuckled. Margaret ignored them and continued to read.
    â€œIt stumbles and trembles in my hand.
If my dad were here—he would understand.
Best off all — It’ll be last summer again.
    Â 
    But they’ve turned off the fire hydrants
Locked green leaves away.
Sprinkled ashes on you
and sent you on your way.
    Â 
    I wouldn’t mind the early autumn
if you came home today
    I’d tell you how much I miss you
and know I’d be okay.
    Â 
    Mama isn’t laughing now
She works hard and she cries
she wonders when true laughter
will relieve her of her sighs
And even when she’s smiling
Her eyes don’t smile along
her face is growing older
    Â 
    She doesn’t seem as strong.
I worry cause I love her
Ms. Dell says, ‘where there is love,
there is a way.’
    Â 
    It’s funny how we never know
exactly how our life will go
It’s funny how a dream can fade
With the break of day.
    Â 
    I’m not sure where you are now
though I see you in my dreams
    Ms. Dell says the things we see
are not always as they seem.
    Â 
    So often I’m uncertain
if you have found a new home
and when I am uncertain
I usually write a poem.
    Â 
    Time can’t erase the memory
and time can’t bring you home
Last summer was a part of me
and now a part is gone.”
    The class stared at her blankly, silent. Margaret lowered her head and made her way back to her seat.
    â€œCould you leave that assignment on my desk, Margaret?” Ms. Peazle asked. There was a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Margaret said. Why didn’t anyone say anything?
    â€œNow, if everyone will open their history books to page two seventy-five, we’ll continue with our lesson on the Civil War.”
    Margaret wondered what she had expected the class to do. Applaud? She missed Maizon more than she had in a long time. She would know what I’m feeling, Margaret thought. And if she didn’t, she’d make believe she did.
    Margaret snuck a look out the window. The day looked cold and still. She’d tell me it’s only a feeling poets get and that Nikki Giovanni feels this way all of the time. When she turned back, there was a small piece of paper on her desk.
    â€œI liked your poem, Margaret,” the note read. There was no name.
    Margaret looked around but no one looked as though they had slipped