Free Maizon at Blue Hill by Jacqueline Woodson

going to start with your suggestions,” she said to the class. “Then we’ll do my reading.”
    The class groaned again, but underneath the complaining I could feel everybody’s excitement, especially my own. I couldn’t wait to reread The Bluest Eye.
    After English, I made my way back to the main hall for the debate meeting. Some of the cross-country team were already doing half-mile sprints on the field. I watched them for a moment, wondering why anyone got a thrill running back and forth. Running only made me tired. Charli rushed by in her field hockey skirt.
    â€œMiss Norman said to tell you to come by tomorrow if you have any interest in playing junior varsity.”
    I nodded.
    â€œI help her coach them sometimes,” Charli called, taking off into a jog.“ She lifted her shades and winked. ”They’re so cute and tiny,“ she mocked. I rolled my eyes. I hated being the youngest person, anywhere.
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    â€œHey, Maizon!” Sybil said, opening the door and stepping back to allow me to enter. The room was a corner one, surrounded by windows and covered with dark blue carpeting. The windows let in a lot of sun. There were pictures of explorers on the wall. Chairs were set up in a semicircle the way they had been in all of my classes, except English, where there were no chairs. As I stood in front of one to peel my knapsack from my shoulder, the rest of the girls in the circle stared at me.
    â€œHi,” I said softly, feeling strange. “Hi, everybody.”
    â€œHey, Maizon,” different people murmured. I recognized a few of the faces from different classes, but only knew two or three names.
    â€œWe’ve been talking about some of the issues we’re going to be debating this year,” Sybil said brightly. “But now, I guess, since this is everyone, I hope, we should give our names and stuff before we go on.”
    I nodded, figuring she was leading the group. “I’m Maizon,” I said, nodding toward the circle. “I’m a lower school freshman.”
    The group murmured a hello and similar introductions followed.
    â€œYou’re the only freshman, Maizon,” Sybil said, after all the introductions had been made.
    â€œI’m used to being the only someone,” I said.
    The other girls laughed uneasily. I shrugged. The room suddenly felt hot to me and I pulled my collar away from my neck a little and pushed the sleeves of my blouse up to my elbows. Everyone watched this.
    â€œHow does it feel?” someone asked me, a girl whose name I didn’t remember.
    I shrugged again. “I haven’t really thought about it much.”
    â€œI’d be interested in knowing what it’s like here, actually . . .” Sybil said. “I mean, for you.”
    I said, “I’d be interested in knowing what it’s like for you.” Sybil gave a quick look around the room and shrugged. “I don’t think that would be too interesting,” she said.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œâ€˜Cause for me, it’s the same as it is for everybody, I guess. Except you and Charli and them,” she said.
    â€œHow do you know how it is for me?” The room was still. Eyes had stopped moving from me to Sybil then back again and had dropped. The others listened without making their listening seem obvious. They were the heart of our conversation, the edges and the middle of it. “I mean, you and I have never even talked to each other, Sybil. That’s why I want to know what it’s like for you, and then I can see if it’s the same for me.”
    Sybil looked up at me, her small dark eyes moving from one place on my face to another without meeting mine. “You know why it’s different for you, Maizon,” she said.
    â€œI don‘t,” I said, crossing my legs and leaning toward her. “I am smart, but I don’t know everything. What makes Blue Hill so different for