Free A Faraway Island by Annika Thor

Testament for the rest of your life,” Aunt Märta tells her. “Schoolbooks are a different matter.”
    Nellie’s books also get covered in brown paper.
    “I promise to take very good care of them,” Nellie says.
    When Auntie Alma’s back is turned, Stephie sticks out her tongue. “Butter her up all you can,” she teases.
    “You’re just jealous,” Nellie tells her. “If you were a little nicer, you might get new books, too, you know.”
    Almost immediately, Nellie regrets her words and extends her math exercise book to Stephie.
    “You can have this one if you want,” she says.
    “What would you do your math homework in, then?” Stephie asks.
    “Math’s so boring,” Nellie answers, making a face.
    On Saturday Uncle Evert comes home. He’s obviously been told that Stephie’s going to start school, because he has brought her a present wrapped in paper from a shop in Göteborg.
    The parcel contains a wooden pencil case. The sliding top fits perfectly in its grooves. Along one side of the top are measurement markings. If you slide the top all the way off, you can use it as a ruler. The box has two long, narrow compartments for pens, and a special little space for an eraser.
    “Oh, thank you!” Stephie exclaims. “Thank you so much, Uncle Evert.”
    “You’re spoiling the girl,” mutters Aunt Märta.
    Uncle Evert ignores the comment. “I think you’re going to do well in school,” he tells Stephie. “You’re so alert and interested.”
    On Sunday evening Stephie packs her things for school, putting all her pencils and her fountain pen into the pencil box, along with her new eraser. The knapsack is heavy.
    “It really is a shame you can’t ride a bicycle,” AuntMärta says. “I’d let you use mine and you could do the shopping on your way home. It would save me a trip to the village, since you’ll be there anyway.”
    Everyone on the island rides a bike, or at least all the adults and all the children Stephie’s age do. The little ones ride on the carrier or sit on the handlebars. The big kids ride in crowds, jabbering as loudly as the flocks of seagulls that come in from the ocean to gobble morsels on land.
    Stephie is the only one who can’t ride a bike. And she’s positive she’ll never learn.

On her first school day, Stephie heads off early. It’s a cold morning, so she buttons her blue coat all the way up.
    Nellie’s waiting for her by the gate at Auntie Alma’s. Her hair is in braids, with big pink ribbons tied at the ends. Auntie Alma comes out and stands on the steps to wave them off.
    The elementary school classrooms are in a white building opposite the big schoolhouse. Nellie’s teacher comes out to greet her. She’s young and pretty, with blond braids fastened around her head.
    Stephie heads across the street and stands outside the fence of the other schoolyard. She watches as lots of children run around, shouting and laughing. The clock over the door is at ten minutes to eight. Ten minutes to go. As she walks through the gate, she scours the yard for Vera,then for Britta from Sunday school, but there’s no one she knows.
    The time passes slowly. Stephie wishes she could make herself invisible. Although no one seems to notice her, she feels as if everyone is staring. She shouldn’t have worn her coat and hat. The other girls just have sweaters over their dresses and are bareheaded, even though it’s October. The boys are in shorts and knee socks, which slip down when they run and climb.
    The school bell rings. At last, Britta comes running with a jump rope in her hands.
    “Come on,” she says to Stephie. “You’re in my class.”
    The sixth-grade room is upstairs. The children form two lines, girls to the left of the door, boys to the right.
    Vera smiles at Stephie, the special kind of smile you smile at someone with whom you share a secret. Stephie tries to stand next to her in line, but the blond girl shoves her roughly.
    “That’s my place,” she says.
    Stephie