It was like Dianne had popped out of a book. Everything about her looked like a picture. The whole class stared as she hung by the door while her Grandmother talked to the teacher. Her Grandmother turned to leave and the teacher took Dianne’s hand to show her to her desk. Before our astonished eyes, Dianne kicked the teacher. Everyone sat up a little straighter. If I had done something like that, I would never have made it back to school the next day. My Daddy would have killed me.
We missed recess that day, but Dianne was better than recess. She pitched a fit every time her Grandmother brought her to school and tried to leave her. So the Grandmother would sit in the back of the classroom until it was time for us to go to the lunchroom. Then she would take Dianne home. I never understood why Dianne didn’t go to lunch with us. She might have liked school if she had tried that part. You could always have an extra piece of cake, if you cleaned your plate.
Sometimes, after school, spinning around in the yard by myself, I would think about all the pretty things I would have when I was grown. My house would be filled with shoes and sweaters and watches. There would be stacks of presents everywhere and lots and lots of cake.
We never saw Dianne again.
I don’t know why she was always pitching such a fit – I would have wanted to go somewhere and show off all those pretty things.