Free A Whole Lot of Lucky by Danette Haworth, Cara Shores Page B

and to open the door when we hear the buzzer.
    I would like to tell you that the buzzer sounds like a chain saw going through green wood or the dentist’s drill breaking your teeth, but I can’t. The buzzer sounds like an electric organ holding a note.
    Mom heaves the old door open with a big
whoosh
as the inside air gets sucked into the outside air and for a moment I think we could still change our minds because our feet have not yet crossed the threshold.
    Mom presses her hand against the small of my back and pushes me toward my future.

Chapter 9
    The first time I ever went inside Palm Middle was on a field trip in fifth grade. They loaded us up in buses and drove us across the back roads, and we got to see what it was going to be like to be middle schoolers. The tour started outside the office area, where a red-shouldered hawk stares out from a mural. The teachers gathered us in front of it and gave a speech about the red-shouldered hawk being Palm Middle’s mascot and about school spirit and pride. When we walked away, I felt the hawk’s eyes following me wherever I went.
    I don’t know what Magnolia’s mascot is, probably a magnolia. The red-shouldered hawk would rip off its leaves, tear its bark, and strip the branches, carrying the scraps somewhere high and safe to make a nest.
Kee-aah! Kee-aah! Take that!
it would screech.
    â€œEverything you need is in this folder: schedule, map, and student ID,” the lady behind the counter says. She has a wrinkle for every year she’s been here—I figure about a hundred.
    â€œWell,” Mom says. If she could go with me to every class, I know she would.
    â€œWell,” I say back. I love her, but the longer she stays, the more anxious I’ll get. I kiss her on the cheek to make her feel better and then watch her shadow follow her out, slipping through those double doors right before they close on its neck.
    My first class is math, which is room 221. I hoist my backpack up, a ridiculous effort because in it is only one binder with loose-leaf paper and dividers, a composition book, and a brown lunch bag, which, if I’m correct and I know I am, has a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, a banana, a juice box, and a note from Mom that probably says
I love you!
or
You can do it!
    Wrinkles stares at me from the counter. “Do you need some help with the map?”
    I come from Palm Middle. I am a red-shouldered hawk. “I can find my way.”
    Wrinkles smiles at me. “Good luck. You’re going to love it here.”
    I have to admit I do kind of like this building. The pine floor is poured like syrup on a waffle, and its sweet, knotty smell brings a peace to my heart. As I walk over it, I see the scuffs and dents left by a history of girls,maybe even Wrinkles herself. I wonder what mark I will leave here. If I even stay here, I mean.
    Once I’m outside, the buildings look the same as one another, but definitely not like a regular school. The two-story buildings are stuccoed with pale gold and accented with white. Cobblestone paths cut through lawns so green, if you tried to draw it, you’d have to press hard with your green crayon to make sure you didn’t leave any white spaces. Girls stroll in pairs or hang in groups under the trees.
    The red-shouldered hawk is solitary.
    I’m about to unfold my map when I see a number 1 on the building to my left. The building behind it must be number 2, so I start down the path while tucking the map into the side of my backpack.
Bam!
The red-shouldered hawk smashes into a Magnolia and causes her to stumble.
    Everything happens fast, but my hawk eyes take it all in like a computer scan. Magnolia girl: golden brown hair; tall; no knee socks; and her blouse is filled out in a way that embarrasses me for noticing. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to knock you down.” Oh, great—way to go, Hailee. My legs lock as I wait for her to turn