Free Tallahassee Higgins by Mary Downing Hahn Page A

gets that from her mother. Liz could draw anything, especially horses."
    "We're not here to talk about her mother," Aunt Thelma said. Turning back to Mrs. Duffy, she went on, "But you indicated there were problems with her language arts, too."
    Mrs. Duffy nodded. "Tallahassee fails to hand in many of her assignments. And the ones she does give me are often incomplete or poorly done. Take her foreign-country report, fifty percent of her social studies grade this quarter."
    I squirmed uncomfortably at the sight of the report she passed to Aunt Thelma. It was only a few paragraphs copied hastily out of an encyclopedia; my pencil had smudged, making my sloppy handwriting even harder to read. My map was half-finished.
    The only good thing about it was the cover. I had drawn a little boy in lederhosen walking his German shepherd. It was definitely one of my best pictures, and I was proud of it. It wasn't enough to save my report, though, and I didn't blame Mrs. Duffy for giving me an F.
    "When Tallahassee first came to Magruder, I thought she was going to be with us for a short time," Mrs. Duffy said to Aunt Thelma. "I didn't push her as hard as I should have. I realize that she misses her mother, but she'll have to work harder if she wants to go on to the seventh grade next year."
    I lowered my head, feeling my cheeks turn red. My stomach knotted up and my mouth got dry. "I can do sixth grade all over again in California," I mumbled.
    "Instead of falling back on that hope, Tallahassee," Aunt Thelma said, "I think we'd better see what you can do to improve."
    "Yes," Uncle Dan agreed. "What can we do to help?"
    Staring at the blocks of linoleum on the floor, I listened to them discuss setting up a contract. It sounded pretty awful—sitting down with either my aunt or uncle every night while they supervised my schoolwork—but to pass, I had to do it.
    When we left the school, Aunt Thelma told me how embarrassing it was to hear so many awful things about me. "I simply do not understand you," she said. "Mrs. Duffy says you're smart, that you could do all the work easily if you'd put your mind to it. As far as I can see, you just don't care about anything!"
    I played with the zipper on my sweatshirt, running it up and down the track. It was a beautiful day, and I wished I were in the park with Jane instead of trapped in Aunt Thelma's car.
    "Now, Thelma." Uncle Dan looked at me in the rearview mirror and smiled. "You heard Talley. She signed the contract. She doesn't want to fail any more than we want her to."
    Turning my head, I gazed out the window as the Hyattstown houses drifted sadly past, softened now by a mist of tiny, green buds. It was April. Where was Liz?
    ***
    The next day was Saturday, and Jane and I went to the park. We were sure we'd see Mrs. Russell there with her dog.
    "I'll go right up to her," I told Jane as we walked down Forty-first Avenue past Mrs. Russell's house, "and tell her who I am."
    "Really?" Jane was impressed, I could tell. "Or you could ring her doorbell right now." She stopped, one hand on Mrs. Russell's gate.
    I looked at the brick sidewalk marching straight across the lawn to the big, white house, at the neatly trimmed bushes flanking the front steps, at the door painted dark green, brass knob and knocker gleaming in the morning sunlight. Except for a few birds fluttering around a feeder hanging from a dogwood tree, nothing stirred.
    "I don't think she's home," I said, hoping Jane wouldn't guess that I was scared to set foot beyond the wrought-iron gate.
    "Her car's there." Jane pointed at a shiny Buick in the driveway.
    "Yes, but she's probably at the park." I edged away up the hill, suddenly afraid that Mrs. Russell would notice me loitering in front of her house. Suppose she didn't recognize me?
    The park was crowded with families. It was the first really nice day I had experienced in the state of Maryland, and I guess everybody was anxious to be outside. Jane and I walked around for a while, then