Free Paper Things by Jennifer Richard Jacobson Page A

her.
    “Less than one quarter left, and we’ll no longer be students at Eastland,” Gracie offers. It’s hard to say whether she’s suggesting that our gifted problems won’t matter much in a couple of months (after all, “everyone’s
gifted
at Carter,” as Sasha likes to say) or just stating a fact, but Mademoiselle is happy to run with it.
    “How do you all
feel
about leaving Eastland?”
    “I’ve started a bucket list,” says Daniel.
    “A bucket list?” Mason says. “The things you want to do before you
die
?”
    “No. Not that. This is a list of things I want to do before I leave Eastland,” says Daniel.
    Mademoiselle presses her hands together like she’s saying a prayer. “
Excellente!
Tell us one thing on your list.”
    Daniel pulls a small notebook the size of a passport out of his back pocket and thumbs through it. There seem to be lots of lists and some sketches, too. He finds the page he was looking for. “ ‘Talk to one person at Eastland that I’ve never spoken to.’ ”
    “Magnifique,”
Mademoiselle says. She reaches for paper and suggests we each make a list and share them the next time we get together. Usually we come up with all sorts of excuses for not doing the extra tasks Mademoiselle assigns us, but for some reason, everyone seems really excited by the list idea — shouting out stuff they’d put on their list.
    I lean over and ask Daniel if he’s picked the person he’ll talk to. He shakes his head and pushes his little notebook over so I can read the whole list.
    1. Talk to one person at Eastland that I’ve never spoken to.
    2. Jump from the top of the bleachers into the pile of gym mats.
    3. Free Gerald.
    I laugh after reading number 3. Everyone at Eastland knows about Ms. Finch’s turtle, Gerald, even if they don’t have Ms. Finch. She’s had him forever, and he’s grown so much that he almost doesn’t fit in his tank. Everyone’s just a little afraid of Gerald, even though he’s not a snapper. Even Ms. Finch is afraid of him, which is why his tank is dirty all the time.
    4. Cover the halls with paper snowflakes.
    I realize that I’m not the only one missing the Eastland traditions. I grab Daniel’s pencil and write “while wearing a crazy hat,” after this item. He smiles.
    I continue reading:
    5. Get everyone to sing kindergarten songs in the cafeteria.
    6. Skid from one end of the math hall to the other (after Mr. Grogan polishes the floor).
    7.
    8.
    “How come seven and eight are blank?” I whisper. Mademoiselle glances at us. He points at the paper to keep me reading.
    9. Be brave.
    10. Persuade Arianna Hazard to do 1–9 with me.
    I look up and give him my you’ve-got-to-be kidding look.
    He takes back his pencil and writes:
You can fill in seven and eight.
    “No way,” I mouth.
    Then he writes:
    You might only go to four more schools in your whole lifetime. That’s only four last days, ever.
    I think about that for a moment. I reach for the pencil and write:
    That’s if I go to college.
    He writes:
Of course you’ll go to college.
    I force a smile, though what I’m thinking is that I might not if I don’t get into Carter.
I’ll think about it,
I write.
    Daniel smiles and crosses off numbers 9 and 10.

Gage picks me up from Head Start and calls Briggs.
    “Hey, Brigster,” he says. “What’s up?” I know he’s hoping that Briggs will tell us to come by tonight. While he talks, I travel in ever-widening circles on the sidewalk, looking for pennies.
    The conversation drags on, but still no invitation. Gage tries harder: “So, do you have plans tonight?”
    And then Gage’s voice gets louder. “You’re kidding! He can’t do that, can he? Are you going to listen to him?
    “All right,” he says. “Yeah, sure, I understand.”
    “No studio tonight?” I say when he gets off the phone.
    “Briggs’s landlord says he’s been violating the lease — that three people are living in the apartment instead of just one.”
    “But we’re