Whale Song by Cheryl Kaye Tardif Read Free Book Online

on. My stomach churned as I thought about a new classroom, new teachers and being the new kid.
    I was more than a bit nervous.
    “ Please let us get the same classroom,” I whispered.
    Lady Luck was with us in the form of an old Indian woman with a white streak in her pitch-black hair. I found out later that Nana had spoken to the principal. She’d made sure that Goldie and I were placed in the same classroom.
    I followed my friend through the arced doorway of the school and down the crowded hallway. I tried to walk inconspicuously, but my squeaking shoes betrayed me.
    “ We’re over here,” Goldie said with a giggle.
    She steered me toward a windowless door at the end of the hall. We heard laugher and deafening voices coming from inside.
    With a deep breath, I pushed open the door. A paper airplane spiraled toward me and I ducked. The boy who launched it grinned, his golden eyes gleaming mischievously.
    “ Move, Sarah,” Goldie hissed, pushing me forward. “If we hurry, we might get to sit beside each other.”
    Two of the walls in the small classroom were covered with colorful posters and small windows. The other two walls held wall-sized blackboards. There were twenty-one students and twenty-two flip-top desks.
    Goldie slid into a chair and stretched out her arm, saving me the seat across the aisle. Relieved, I sat down and emptied the contents of my backpack into the desk. Then I took out a pen and notebook and set them on top.
    The teacher clapped her hands and called for attention. “We have a new student this year,” she said, smiling.
    I let out a groan, wishing that I could slide under my desk.
    “ Sarah Richardson has traveled here all the way from the United States,” the teacher continued. “Sarah, can you please stand so we can welcome you properly?”
    There was a tentative round of applause when I scrambled to my feet. My hand slipped and the notebook toppled to the floor. I picked it up―my face feverishly hot and my legs shaking. Then I dove for my chair.
    “ I’m Mrs. Higginson,” the teacher said, writing her name on the blackboard. “Now class…shall we begin?”
    Mrs. Higginson was a wonderful, plump woman who wore neatly pressed dresses and speckled glasses that dangled from a golden chain around her neck. She was originally from England and I loved her accent so much I often imitated it.
    Most of the children in our school had lived on Vancouver Island all their lives. In my class, there were only four other kids who were not Indian. At first, I thought nothing of it. Some of my friends back in Wyoming were Shoshone. But it wasn’t long before I learned about racism. And hatred.
     
    On the second day of school, the class bully took out a pair of scissors and gave me an impromptu haircut. She sat behind me, so I didn’t even feel it. I didn’t know anything was wrong until she flung a handful of long hair on my desk after school.
    One look at her short dark hair and I knew it wasn’t hers.
    I was mortified.
    The classroom was empty. Mrs. Higginson was gone and Goldie had already headed to the boot room.
    I stood there, gazing at the butchered hair on the desk while Annie Pierce, a stocky native girl, stared at me with a smug look on her face.
    “Well?” she sneered. “Whatcha got to say, white girl?”
    As tears welled in my eyes, I battled with my raging emotions and snatched up the pieces of hair.
    What did I do to deserve this?
    Annie grabbed my shirt with her fist. Her scowling mouth was so close to my nose that I thought she would bite it off.
    “Say a word to anyone,” she warned. “And I’ll make you sorry you ever moved here.”
    She gave me a hard shove and stalked out of the room.
    Mrs. Higginson returned a few minutes later and discovered me curled up in my chair.
    “What’s wrong, Sarah?” she asked in a kind voice.
    I tried to hide my miserable tears and struggled with my options. Should I tell her what happened―or keep quiet?
    In the end, I chose