Even Jess wore his one pair of corduroys and an ironed shirt.
The reaction didn’t seem to bother her. She stood there in front, her eyes saying, “OK, friends, here I am,”
in answer to their openmouthed stares while Mrs. Myers fluttered about trying to figure where to put the extra desk.
The room was a small basement one, and five rows of six desks already filled it more than comfortably.
“Thirty-one,” Mrs. Myers kept mumbling over her double chin, “thirty-one. No one else has more than twenty-nine.”
She finally decided to put the desk up against the side wall near the front.
“Just there for now uh—Leslie. It’s the best we can do—for now. This is a very crowded classroom.”
She swung a pointed glance at Mr. Turner’s retreating form.
Leslie waited quietly until the seventh-grade boy who'd been sent down with the extra desk scraped it into position
hard against the radiator and under the first window.
Without making any noise, she pulled it a few inches forward from the radiator and settled herself into it.
Then she turned once more to gaze at the rest of the class. Thirty pairs of eyes were suddenly focused on desktop scratches.
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