Free Years by Lavyrle Spencer

He felt honored at being told something so personal.
    “Two of them. One is your age — Carrie. The other one is four years younger. Her real name is Pauline, but she’s at that age — you know — when girls sometimes get rather round and roly-poly.” Suddenly she struck a pose, bulging out her cheeks with a big puff of breath until her lips almost disappeared and she waddled and pretended to hold a fat belly. “So we call her Pudge.”
    He laughed, and she did the same.
    No, he really didn’t know much at all about how girls changed. He’d never paid any attention to them before. Except to avoid them at every turn.
    Until now.
    Miss Brandonberg sobered and went on. “She doesn’t like it when we tease her, and I suppose sometimes we do it too much, but both Carrie and I went through the same stage and had to put up with teasing, and it didn’t hurt either of us.”
    It was hard for him to imagine her pudgy. She was thin and small-boned, one of the most perfect females he’d ever seen.
    “Aw, you was never pudgy.”
    “Were never pudgy,” she corrected automatically, then added, “Oh, yes I was. I’m glad you didn’t see me then!”
    Suddenly he realized how long he’d been here dawdling away the time with her. He glanced toward the fields, hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, and swallowed. “Well, if there’s nothing else you need, I... I got to get back to help Pa and Uncle John.”
    She spun around quickly and motioned him away. “Oh, of course, Kristian. I can get along just fine now. I have plenty to do to keep me busy. Thank you for bringing me down and showing me around.”
    When Kristian was gone she went back inside and eagerly set to work. She spent the morning sweeping and scrubbing the floor, dusting the desks, and washing windows. At midday she took a break and sat on the front steps to dig into the lunch Nissa had packed for her in a small tin molasses pail. Munching a delicious sandwich made with some mysterious meat she’d never tasted before, Linnea relaxed in the sun and dreamed about Monday and how exciting it would be when she faced her first group of children. She imagined some would be eager, receptive, while others would be timid and needing encouragement, and still others would be bold and needing restraining.
    The thought brought to mind John and Theodore, so different from one another. Don’t ruin your day with thoughts of Theodore, she scolded herself. But when she had wandered down to the pump to get a drink of cold water to wash down her sandwich, she found herself gazing west. All the fields for as far as she could see belonged to the two of them. Somewhere out there they were cutting wheat, Kristian along with them.
    The land out here was so vast, treeless for the most part. To some it would seem desolate, but Linnea, gazing at the clear blue sky and munificent plains, saw only bounty and beauty.
    Her mother always told her she had the gift for finding the good in anything. Perhaps it had something to do with her imagination. In the worst of times she always had an escape ready at hand. Lately, her mother had agreed with her father that it was time to give up such child’s play. But fantasy was magic. It took her places she’d never see any other way. It gave her feelings she’d never experience any other way. And it made her happy.
    She wiped the cool water from her lips with the back of a hand and did a dance step across the schoolyard. She leaped onto a swing, sending it into motion, then leaning back and pumping, let herself glide into her own magical world again.
    “Well, hello, Lawrence. I hadn’t expected to see you so soon again.”
    Lawrence was dressed like a real dandy today, in a spiffy straw hat, a red and white striped shirt, and bright scarlet sleevebands. He had a way of standing with all his weight on one leg, one hip jutting, that often provoked her to flutter her eyelashes.
    “I came to take you on a picnic.”
    “Oh, don’t be silly — I