She was smiling a really shiny smile. “Such a pleasure to meet you, August,” she said, holding out her hand for me to shake.
“Hi,” I said quietly, giving her my hand, but I didn’t want to look at her face,
so I kept staring at her glasses, which hung from a chain around her neck.
“Wow, what a firm grip!” said Mrs. Garcia. Her hand was really warm.
“The kid’s got a killer handshake,” Mr. Tushman agreed, and everyone laughed above my head.
“You can call me Mrs. G,” Mrs. Garcia said. I think she was talking to me, but I was looking at all the stuff on her desk now.
“That’s what everyone calls me. Mrs. G, I forgot my combination. Mrs. G, I need a late pass. Mrs. G, I want to change my elective.”
“Mrs. G’s actually the one who runs the place,” said Mr. Tushman, which again made all the grown-ups laugh.
“I’m here every morning by seven-thirty,” Mrs. Garcia continued, still looking at me
while I stared at her brown sandals with small purple flowers on the buckles.
“So if you ever need anything, August, I’m the one to ask. And you can ask me anything.”
“Okay,” I mumbled. “Oh, look at that cute baby,” Mom said, pointing to one of the photographs on Mrs. Garcia’s bulletin board.
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