Free Isabelle Shows Her Stuff: The Isabelle Series, Book Two by Constance C. Greene Page B

he’d thought of that before Becca could talk. Come to think of it, she’d been born talking. Life was full of missed opportunities, it seemed to him.
    â€œThis water’s getting chilly,” Guy’s grandmother said. “I better dry my feet before I take cold. Bring me a towel, would you please, Guy?”
    He sat on the floor and watched while she dried her feet. Her legs were very white. Blue veins ran every which way up and down them, then trailed a slender tracing across her feet.
    â€œDid you ever get sent to the principal’s office?” Guy wanted to know.
    â€œOnce or twice. Our principal was an old lady who wore glasses and her skirts to the floor. She looked like somebody’s grandmother. But she was tough.” Guy’s grandmother rolled her eyes at him. “My Lord, but she was tough. Nobody got away with anything with her. She was allowed to cane the boys and not the girls. Those were the days, you see, when girls were supposed to be the gentler sex. We both know that’s not the case, don’t we?” Guy nodded, afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell.
    â€œShe’d say to me, ‘Maybelle, it pains me to see you here again,’ meaning her office. She knew my name, you see, knew the name of every child in the school. And their family situation, too. She was a very smart woman. Hand me my slippers, will you, Guy?”
    He handed them to her and said, without thinking, “I like you.”
    â€œI like you too,” she said.
    â€œI’m not much for kissing,” he told her, so there’d be no misunderstanding.
    â€œHow about hugging?”
    He thought about that. “I guess hugging’s okay as long as you don’t hug too hard or too much.”
    â€œListen,” she said, “I’ve had lots of experience. I always hug just right.” He allowed her to give him a sample.
    â€œHow was it?” she asked.
    â€œJust right,” Guy said.

Chapter Sixteen
    The afternoon stretched slowly, slowly, like Rip van Winkle waking from his twenty years’ sleep. The clock seemed to have stopped ticking. A fat black fly beat its head against the window. Outside, someone tried repeatedly and unsuccessfully to start a car’s engine. Inside, Isabelle read about how many coffee beans there were in Brazil.
    Something was crawling around inside her T-shirt. Isabelle pulled it away from herself with one finger and peered down. There was nothing there except her undershirt. She hooked the T-shirt over her nose and looked out at the room over it, hoping someone was watching her.
    Mary Eliza Shook was paying close attention to her book. Isabelle made a few faces in that direction, but Mary Eliza never once looked up. So Isabelle crossed her eyes at Herbie over her T-shirt. But Herbie was involved in making a spitball and didn’t even notice.
    Mrs. Esposito cleared her throat loudly. Everyone jumped. Mrs. Esposito glared at Isabelle, who took her T-shirt down from her nose and went back to Brazil.
    â€œAll right, class. You can put away your books now.” At last Mrs. Esposito took pity on them. A great crashing and banging followed her announcement. They were ready.
    â€œI have counted all the votes and I’m happy to announce the name of the new art editor,” Mrs. Esposito said.
    Everyone sat up very straight, trying not to look self-conscious. A couple of kids in back starting horsing around.
    â€œThere will be no announcement, class, until everyone comes to order,” Mrs. Esposito said.
    I bet she’d make a good army person, Isabelle thought in admiration. They wouldn’t dare disobey Mrs. Esposito.
    When at last the class was totally still, Mrs. Esposito said, “When I announce the winner’s name, I would like that person to stand, please.”
    Isabelle got her feet ready.
    â€œOur new art editor is …”
    Isabelle closed her eyes and clasped her hands in front of her, as if she