Free November Blues by Sharon M. Draper

know. Get fat. Get talked about. Get a job, I guess. I just hope I can graduate next year with the rest of you.” She scraped at the red fingernail polish on her thumb.
    â€œYou seem to have a handle on things, sort of.”
    â€œNot hardly! My life is one huge, red-glowing question mark sitting in front of me like a neon sign. What am I supposed to do with a baby ?”
    â€œI feel for you, girl. I’ve got your back, but I gotta tell you—I’m glad it’s not me.”
    â€œYou know, it’s like I’ve lost control of my whole body. One minute I’m laughing like a crazy bird, not even aware I’m peeing in my pants, and the next minute I’m on my knees in tears. So is my mother, and she’s not even pregnant!”
    Dana hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œDid you ever think about, you know, like, getting rid of the baby?”
    November scraped the polish off another nail before she answered. “When I first figured out I’d got myself knocked up, I gotta admit, the thought crossed my mind. I was stupidscared, and I’d never felt so alone in my life. I got to thinking maybe I could just delete this mess-up in my life like I delete a computer file. It sure woulda made everything easier.”
    â€œSo why didn’t you?”
    â€œWell, I was terrified of going to one of those places where protesters picket out front with pictures of dead babies on posters. And the thought of somebody digging inside my body to scrape a human being out scared me even more. I just couldn’t do it.” She blew the fragments of red polish onto the floor.
    Dana started to answer, but the rattle of a food tray crashing to the floor, a huge thud, and someone screaming, “Quit it!” caught her attention. Sudden silence followed in the noisy lunchroom.
    Only one teacher was monitoring the cafeteria—a short, thin, first-year teacher named Mr. Price, who seemed to be scared of the kids. Once they’d all figured that out, it was over. Kofi and Jericho used to run up behind him and shout, “Hey, Mr. Price! Hey, Mr. Price!” The little man would jump every single time. They all predicted he wouldn’t be back next year.
    November watched Mr. Price scurry out of the lunchroom, and then she and Dana rushed to the far side of the cafeteria. Arielle and Logan were there, laughing and pointing at Olivia Thigpen, who sat in the middle of the floor. The school lunch special, which today had been spaghetti and meatballs, decorated her hair. A few students started to join in the laughter but stopped when they saw Dana stomping toward them, and the fire in November’s eyes.
    November marched over to where Olivia sat and reached out to help her up, but Olivia shook her off.
    â€œI got this under control,” she said, her voice tight.
    â€œYou ought to try to keep that waistline under control,” Arielle snipped, hands on hips.
    â€œWhat are you doing, Arielle?” Dana asked her furiously. “Are you crazy? Leave her alone!”
    â€œLogan told me all about her—the tramp!” Arielle replied angrily.
    November glanced over at Arielle with amazement. Could Arielle actually be jealous of Olivia?
    Finally Olivia stood up with amazing dignity, even though chocolate milk ran down her arms and spaghetti sauce dripped down the back of her red-striped T-shirt. “I can fight my own battles, Dana,” she said with quiet menace.
    Arielle scooted over to Logan. “I’m not scared of a pigpen like you,” she told Olivia. “If you weren’t so big and clumsy, you wouldn’t have spilled your food.”
    Olivia took a deep breath and stepped toward Arielle, who seemed to shrink as Olivia got closer. Olivia was like an approaching electrical storm—thunder and lightning and extreme danger. November figured she had a hundred pounds on Arielle. No one spoke.
    Olivia stopped only when