Twelve by Lauren Myracle Read Free Book Online

we took our seats up front with the other sixth graders, facing out toward the rest of the students.
    Mrs. Daly, our principal, asked for everyone’s attention. As she spoke, I looked at the scramble of cross-legged younger kids, searching for Ty. There sure was a lot of squirming going on. Had we been that squirmy when we were in the lower grades? Some of us were, no doubt. Alex Plotkin, who was even now sneakily trying to pick his nose with the old “it’s just an itch” technique, had definitely been a squirmer.
    I found Ty with the rest of the kindergartners. He waved shyly, as if he was in awe of me and my singled-out, sixth-grade status. I felt tender toward him. My own kindergarten year was impossibly distant, as distant in one direction as college was in the other.
    This was what was real, this moment right now, even though it had a feeling of unrealness. We were on the verge of something big. It was coming whether we wanted it to or not.
    â€œAnd now,” said Mrs. Daly, “we’d like to carve out some time to honor our very special sixth graders, who will be graduating in three days.”
    Hoots and whistles filled the air. Mrs. Daly made a settle-down motion, but in a good-humored way. “Each sixth grader will be asked to stand up, and the rest of you will have a chance to share memories about that particular student. Let’s keep it to three memories per person so that we have time for everybody. Louise, let’s start with you.”
    Louise, who was sitting on the far left of the semicircle, stood up looking embarrassed, but I knew it was just because she was the first one to go. Her eyes flew hopefully to the audience.
    A third grader raised her hand. “I remember that Louise won the spelling bee two years in a row,” she said. “She is a very good speller.”
    Louise beamed.
    â€œI remember Louise for always using me as an armrest,” said a fourth grader named Terrence. Everyone laughed, because that was Louise in a nutshell. She was always using people as armrests.
    â€œHow about one more,” Mrs. Daly said. She scanned the group. “Yes, Karen?”
    â€œI remember Louise for being a good friend,” Karen said, her voice trembling over the words. Someone always said that about each sixth grader, usually his or her best friend. It was boring, but sweet. Louise leaned over and hugged Karen, who was teary, and everyone went “Awww.”
    Next Karen stood up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. People remembered her for giggling a lot, which made her giggle, and for loving chocolate milk, which also made her giggle. Louise remembered her for being a good friend, and once again came the chorus of “Awwww.”
    Alex Plotkin was remembered for being obsessed with udders, which was an extremely strange comment and one I didn’t care to contemplate. Sheila Murphy was remembered for giving a fifth grader a Native American dreamcatcher. Maxine Rubenstein was remembered for being a good book partner, only not really, because the first grader who said it meant it about Sheila instead. So then a bonus person was called on for Maxine, who said that Maxine once lent her a pen. Well whoop-de-do, I thought. I sure hoped I’d be remembered for more than loaning out pens.
    â€œWinnie,” Mrs. Daly said when it was my turn. She regarded me kindly. I knew she liked me, because she liked all the kids.
    I rose from my chair. I tried to look pleasant and modest.
    A second grader named Cody raised his hand. I had no idea what he was going to say, because I barely knew him.
    â€œYes, Cody? What do you remember about Winnie?” Mrs. Daly asked.
    â€œOne time I fell on the playground and I got hurt and she helped me,” he said. “And I felt better after that.”
    â€œOh, that’s so sweet,” someone said. Amanda, of all people. She was sitting five seats down, and when our eyes met, she smiled. Surprised