I know Mrs. Grimaldi, the lady who’s always sitting by her window, and the old guy who walks up and down the street whistling like a bird.
I know the deli on the corner where Mom gets our bagels, and the waitresses at the coffee shop
who all call me “honey” and give me lollipops whenever they see me.
I love my neighborhood of North River Heights, which is why it was so strange to be walking down these blocks feeling like it was all new to me suddenly.
Amesfort Avenue, a street I’ve been down a million times, looked totally different for some reason.
Full of people I never saw before, waiting for buses, pushing strollers.
We crossed Amesfort and turned up Heights Place: Via walked next to me like she usually does, and Mom and Dad were behind us.
As soon as we turned the corner, we saw all the kids in front of the school—hundreds of them talking to each other in little groups,
laughing, or standing with their parents, who were talking with other parents.
I kept my head way down. “Everyone’s just as nervous as you are,” said Via in my ear.
“Just remember that this is everyone’s first day of school. Okay?”
Mr. Tushman was greeting students and parents in front of the school entrance.
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