Free Swan Place by Augusta Trobaugh

Finally, we both got free from it, but when I left the room, I suddenly realized that while I had been writing about Mama, it was almost the same thing as having Mama right there again with me. Then I remembered what Miss Madison had said about always talking in the present tense and how a story happened over and over again, every time you read it. Yes, it was almost as good as really having my mama there with me. So I went about the rest of my school day with a gladdened heart.
    During math class, Michelle went up in front of the classroom to sharpen her pencil. When she passed my desk, she whispered, “I don’t know where you’re hiding, but I’ll find you!” I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t hiding at all. But I didn’t, because right then and there, I started practicing what I knew I had to do. I completely ignored her.
    “I’ll find you!” she hissed, but I pretended that I didn’t even hear her.
    Every day at lunch time for that whole week, I went to Miss Madison’s classroom, ate my sandwich, and wrote about my mama until Miss Madison would tell me the time was up. Sometimes, I hated to go to my other classes, because I really wanted to keep writing. But I always did as Miss Madison said.
    On Friday morning, when I got to school, the homeroom teacher told me that Miss Frazier wanted to see me. I didn’t even feel the least bit alarmed, because I knew for a fact that I hadn’t said or done anything that Michelle could twist around and use against me. So I went right down to Miss Frazier’s office. When I opened the door, Michelle and the same friend of hers that had lied about my sticking out my tongue were sitting in chairs in front of Miss Frazier’s desk. Miss Frazier’s face was like a stone, and Michelle smiled at me just the least little bit. The mean smile. Her friend was looking a little nervous.
    “You wanted to see me, Miss Frazier?” I asked, keeping my voice calm. She didn’t invite me to sit down.
    “Dove, Dove, Dove  . . . ” she moaned.
    “Yes’m?”
    “What do I have to do to make you see how serious this is becoming?”
    I didn’t know what to say. So I asked, “What’s this about, Miss Frazier?”
    “You know good and well what it’s about,” Miss Frazier’s voice was rising. I stayed as calm as possible.
    “No ma’am, I don’t,” I insisted.
    “You’ve said nasty things to Michelle again ,” I looked at Michelle and her friend. Michelle wasn’t smiling that mean smile anymore, and her friend was blinking her eyes and biting her lip.
    Michelle spoke. “You know good and well, Dove Johnson, that you called me a  . . . a witch with a capital B.”
    “When?”
    “At lunch time yesterday.” Michelle turned to her friend. “Isn’t that right? Didn’t you hear her call me that?”
    The friend hesitated and then nodded her head the least little bit. I turned to Miss Frazier and took a deep breath.
    “Miss Frazier, I have not spoken a single word to Michelle, and I have spent every single lunch time sitting in Miss Madison’s room, doing some extra work.” Miss Frazier’s eyes went wide and locked onto Michelle.
    “You can ask Miss Madison,” I concluded. Michelle’s face was as white as milk, and her friend had turned beet red and was starting to cry.
    “Dove, you may go,” Miss Frazier said, still with her eyes locked onto Michelle. And so I did, but not before I gave Michelle a mean smile of my own.
    That afternoon, when I got Molly and little Ellis from Aunt Bett, I told her all about how the plan she made up had worked. She nodded and smiled, but then she said, “Now, Dove, the weekend is here, and you’ll have Molly and Little Ellis all by yourself, you sure you can handle everything?”
    “Yes’m,” I assured her. And I had absolutely no doubt in my mind at all that I was equal to the task.

Chapter Five
     
    That first Saturday, I made believe to myself that Mama was working in her little beauty parlor, so that taking care of Molly and