Free Addie and the King of Hearts by Gail Rock

rudely.
    â€œOh, shut up!” I said to them.
    â€œHey, glamor girl,” one of them called to me. “You got a great pair of legs!”
    None of the boys in our class had ever said anything like that to me before, and I was furious. They were mocking me somehow, trying to embarrass me for having tried to look good. I hated them for it.
    â€œJust shut up!” I repeated.
    â€œWhatcha gonna do, kick me with your high heels?” one of them said sarcastically,
    â€œYou’re disgusting!” I said. At that, they all roared with laughter.
    â€œDisgusting!” one of them shrieked, mocking me.
    I was so angry that without thinking I grabbed a basketball that was sitting on the bleachers and heaved it at one of them. He just laughed and caught it, and tossed it to one of the others.
    Suddenly one of them started bouncing it on the gym floor toward the basket and took a shot. He missed.
    â€œBad shot!” I said, pleased that he had failed at showing off.
    â€œLet’s see you do better,” he said and threw the ball at me angrily.
    I caught it easily. I was a whiz at basketball, and I wasn’t about to let them humiliate me for another second. I kicked off my shoes, put my corsage on the bleachers, then dribbled a couple of steps, and made a perfect one-handed jump shot.
    One of the other boys grabbed the ball under the basket and in a second I was in the middle of an impromptu basketball game with them, all thoughts of high heels and taunting remarks left behind.
    A couple of the other boys standing along the sidelines joined in, and without realizing it we had broken up the whole dance. I was lurching around wildly under the basket, sliding in my nylon stockings, my dress flying. We weren’t even aware that Mr. Davenport was striding across the floor toward us.
    â€œAll right,” he shouted. “That’s enough!”
    We kept right on playing.
    â€œThat’s enough!” he said angrily. “Stop this now!”
    We stopped, and the boys withdrew to the sides of the gym. I was left standing under the basket, holding the ball.
    â€œThis is a dance, not a basketball game!” Mr. Davenport said, looking at me.
    Everybody was staring at me, and my face was burning.
    I turned away and went to put my shoes back on.
    â€œAddie, I’m surprised at you,” he said, following me. “What a childish thing to do.”
    Nothing he could have said would have hurt me more than that.
    â€œWell, I’d rather play basketball than dance any day!” I said, close to tears. I knew I had made a fool of myself in front of him, and I ran for the door.
    â€œAddie …” Mr. Davenport called after me, but I rushed past him and out the door.

Chapter Eight
    I took the shortcut through the playground, heading for our house, which was only two blocks away. I heard someone call my name, and I looked around. Dad was coming toward me from the schoolhouse door, carrying my coat.
    I sat down in one of the swings and waited for him, tears running down my face.
    â€œIs that any way to behave at a dance?” he asked as he approached me.
    â€œI don’t care. I’m going home.”
    â€œWhy’d you run out like that?”
    â€œThat stupid Mr. Davenport. He embarrassed me in front of everybody! Calling me childish!”
    â€œWell, what in the world are you doing playing basketball at a dance?”
    â€œThey started it!” I said, still crying.
    He put the coat over my shoulders and sat down in the swing next to me.
    â€œBeing called down is nothing to get so upset over,” he said, handing me his handkerchief.
    â€œI hate this dance!” I said, blowing my nose noisily. “I hate looking like this! It’s not me!”
    â€œI think you look real nice,” he said.
    â€œIt’s disgusting!” I said angrily. “Those boys are so stupid and mean! They whistled at me like a bunch of idiots. It made me feel