Free Gib and the Gray Ghost by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

writing on the blackboard. “Elocution Class,” she wrote. “Recitations from the Romantic Poets.” And after that in large print, “ LAST CHANCE !!!”
    “Your very last chance,” she told the class. Then she paused and added, “Except for Olivia and Gibson, of course. Olivia,” she went on, “and you too, Gibson. See me after class for your assignment and we’ll expect to hear from you next week.”
    Then Miss Elders went on to explain that everyone had been given a poem to memorize and recite before the class. Your final grade, she explained to Gib and Livy, would be based not only on how thoroughly you had memorized your material, but also on pronunciation and projection, and most of all on stage presence and dramatic presentation. The four P’s, Miss Elders called them—Pronunciation, Projection, stage Presence, and dramatic Presentation. She went on to explain why the four P’s were so important when you had any sort of public speaking to do. “As most of you will, at some point in your life,” the teacher told the class. Gib’s mind wandered for a moment while he considered what kind of public speaking an orphan farm-out might be expected to do. But he pricked up his ears in time to listen to Miss Elders tell about how well everyone had done. Nearly everyone, at least.
    Actually, Miss Elders said, the recitations had been due last week and nearly everyone had been well prepared. Except for a few people who’d needed more time to complete their memorization, or because they’d forgotten to bring a stage prop they needed for their presentation.
    She looked then at a paper on her desk before she said, “Matilda. I trust you’ve not forgotten your skylark again?”
    Matilda Reed, a big blond girl with a twitchy smile, jumped to her feet. “No, Miss Elders. Got it right here.” Reaching into her desk, she brought out what looked to Gib like a stuffed crow. Then she scurried to the front of the room and began to recite. Matilda’s poem was by a poet named Shelley, and it was a long one. Every time Matilda mentioned the word skylark she held the stuffed bird way over her head and gazed up at it.
    Gib thought she seemed a bit nervous and jittery, so maybe her grade for stage presence might not be too good, but you had to admit her presentation was mighty dramatic. All the girls and most of the boys clapped like crazy when Matilda finished. Everyone seemed to think that having a stuffed bird as a stage prop was a clever idea, and Gib did too, but he couldn’t help wondering if a skylark really did look that much like a crow.
    The next recital was by a fifth-grade boy named Jack who waved an American flag while he recited a poem about patriotism by Sir Walter Scott. It was a short poem but Jack’s presentation was very dramatic and he got a lot of applause too. The next name Miss Elders called was Rodney Martin.
    Gib had been keeping an eye on Rodney during the first two recitations. Slumped down low in his seat, Rodney had been dabbing at his forehead with what looked to be a red-and-white bandanna. But when Miss Elders called his name he quickly stuffed the bandanna into his pocket and got to his feet. Holding his head at a strange angle to keep the right side of his face turned away from the teacher, he walked slowly to the front of the room.
    Miss Elders looked at her list and said, “I believe Rodney has chosen to favor us with a recital of ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade.’ Is that right, Rodney?” With his head still turned sideways, Rodney nodded stiffly and began, “ ‘The Charge of the light Brigade’ by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.” Rodney did have a good loud speaking voice, and he seemed to have the start of his poem pretty well memorized, but he’d hardly gotten to the part about “Cannon to right of them,/Cannon to left of them,” when Miss Elders stopped him.
    “Rodney,” she said sharply, “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but ... Hurrying across the room, she took Rodney’s