Free Libby and the Class Election by Ahmet Zappa

opened, and a teacher with a sweet round face and short curly brown hair looked down at her curiously. Libby remembered her line. Before the teacher could say a word, she announced,
“I am Libby, your new student.”
    To Libby’s relief, the teacher ushered her right in (after sniffing the air and exclaiming how it smelled just like red velvet cake, that is). “Class, this is Libby, our new
student,” she told everyone. She pointed to an empty desk in the back of the room. “You can sit right there,” she said.
    Libby made her way down the aisle, looking at the students curiously. The kids all had different skin colors, just like at home. And when she pictured them with brightly colored hair—reds,
oranges, yellows, greens, blues, and purples—and a layer of glitter on their skin, they looked an awful lot like Starlings. Wishlings and Starlings weren’t that different at all.
    She settled herself into her seat, noting how uncomfortable Wishling school furniture was.
    “My name is Ms. Blackstone,” the teacher said. “And you are Libby…”
    Oh, great. This again.
“Liverwurst,” Libby said miserably.
    As she had feared, the class burst into laughter.
    “Class!” said the teacher. “I am very disappointed in you. We don’t laugh at people’s names! That is completely unacceptable. Please apologize to Libby Liv—to
Libby,” she said.
    “We’re sorry, Libby Liverwurst,” the class said in unison.
    Libby wasn’t quite certain, but she had a sneaking suspicion that her new teacher was trying hard not to laugh.
    “That’s okay,” said Libby. “It
is
a pretty funny name.”
    Ms. Blackstone had a sympathetic look on her face. “I’m sorry, Libby, but we’re about to head out for a class trip. And since you don’t have a signed permission slip, you
won’t be able to come along with us. I’ll see if I can get you a seat in Mr. Dilling—”
    Libby thought fast. She couldn’t be separated from her Wisher! “I already gave you the permission slip,” she said, looking into the teacher’s eyes. “So I
can
come.”
    Ms. Blackstone thought for a moment. “Oh, that’s right,” she said, nodding. “You already gave me the permission slip. So you can come.”
    The young male Wishling in the seat ahead of Libby’s turned around. “Wait a minute, how did you do that?” he asked.
    “Do what?” asked Libby innocently.

    At the front of the bus, a small girl, her hair cut close to her head in a very cute shaggy style, stood and kneeled on her seat so she faced the rest of the bus. She began to
sing:
    Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall…
    The class cheered and joined in.
    Ninety-nine bottles of beer,
    If one of those bottles should happen to fall,
    How many bottles of beer on the wall?
    Ninety-eight bottles of—
    “Inappropriate!” Ms. Blackstone called out from her seat in the front of the school bus.
    There was a short silence, then the girl grinned and started singing again.
    Ninety-nine bottles of root beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of root beer…
    The class laughed and sang along.
    “That’s better!” called Ms. Blackstone.
    Libby took a furtive look at her Wish Pendant. She had taken a seat next to a young female Wishling with curly red hair and freckles who was staring out the window, a pensive look on her face.
Libby was hoping that the young female Wishling’s preoccupied look was due to deep thoughts about an unfulfilled wish. But when Libby sat down and introduced herself, she realized that her
Wish Pendant was still dark. Not wanting to be rude, she tried to strike up a conversation.
    “So what’s your name?” Libby asked brightly.
    “Susie,” she said.
    “And where are we going on our class trip?” Libby asked.
    “Aquarium,” Susie answered.
    Libby had no idea what that was, but obviously she couldn’t ask. Maybe her next question would clear things up. “Um…what’s your favorite thing at the
aquarium?”
    “Fish,” Susie said.
    No such luck.