Free Intentions by Deborah Heiligman Page A

reading teacher, not one of the volunteers. She’s got pink reading glasses on, and she’s wearing black pants and a bright blue scoop-neck sweater. She has short jet-black hair with silver streaks in it. I go over to her.
    “Excuse me, I’m Rachel.”
    The lady picks up her head. “Oh, good, Rachel. I was worried you weren’t coming.” She gives me an appraising look, doesn’t say anything more.
    “I’m sorry. The bus was slow.”
    She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. “Sorry, but I don’t have time to give you all the instructions—I don’t want to take time away from Ashley.” She nods at the little girl with her. “Why don’t you take Randy here and read to him. If you can stay after school, I’ll give you the lowdown.”
    “OK,” I say.
    “I’m Mrs. Glick, by the way. The reading teacher.”
    “I know. I mean, hi.” I promise myself never to get here late again.
    She turns to the boy with her. “Randy, this is Rachel—I’m sorry, Rachel what?”
    “Greenberg,” I say. “I’m Rachel Greenberg.” I look at Randy.
    “Randy, tell Rachel your whole name.”
    Randy looks up at me. He is about eight, I’d say, with red hair and freckles, a round face. “I’m Randy Gamez,” he says in a loud voice.
    “Randy, why don’t you take Rachel over to the shelf you like and pick out a book for her to read to you? Then you can go sit wherever you want.”
    Randy grabs my hand. His feels sweaty, sticky. I look down; it’s really dirty. I want to pull away, but I don’t. The shelf he takes me to is lined with books about cars. He picks one out, seemingly at random, and then takes me over to the beanbag chair shaped like a car.
    “You like cars?” I ask him.
    “I LOVE cars,” he practically shouts, and grins at me. He hands me the book, and I start to read it to him.
    “This is the hood of the car. Open it up. What is inside? The engine!” I look at him, sure he must be bored, but he is riveted. I keep going, reading about pistons and rods and steering wheels, and I kind of zone out as I’m reading. Finally I reach the end:
    “And that is how cars go!”
    I look at Randy. He looks back at me and smiles. It is a satisfied smile. OK.
    I tell him to put this book back and get another one. This time he’s very serious about choosing a new book—he picks one up, looks at it, and puts it carefully back.
    Finally, he finds the right one and starts back toward me. For the first time I see his T-shirt. It’s green, has a picture of a cactus and a snake on it, and says, WILD WEST ADVENTURE. ELIJAH’S BAR MITZVAH. APRIL 10, 2010 . Is Randy Jewish? How can such a poor kid be Jewish?
    “I haven’t read this one before!” Randy yells, all excited.
    “You noticed!” Mrs. Glick says, looking up from the book she’s reading to Ashley. “I had to get you some new car books, Randy! But let’s use our inside voice, OK?”
    Randy nods and sits back down next to me, this time cuddling closer.
    I read him a total of five books about cars. I have learned some things about cars I never knew I wanted to learn. I’m relieved when Mrs. Glick says, “Time’s up, everyone. Kids, put your books back. And have a great weekend.”
    The other volunteers say good-bye to their kids, most of them with hugs, and leave. But I stay so Mrs. Glick (is she Jewish?) can give me the lowdown.
    “So, what did you think?”
    “Well, I read him all of those books about cars. He seemed to love hearing them, and I think he got what I was reading. I should have asked him some questions.”
    “Next time, that’s what you’ll do. He wants to learn to read, but it hasn’t happened yet. His classroom teacher has worked with him, and she wasn’t making any progress, so she asked if we could help, too.”
    “What grade is he in?”
    “Second.”
    “Huh.” I was reading Harry Potter in second grade.
    “Yeah, and he really should be in third grade—he’s almost nine. But he didn’t quite get to school until he