Free Something to Hold by Katherine Schlick Noe

giant, hard-soled rats rattling and bumping above my head. Something heavy is being dragged across the ceiling.
    Miss Anthony's head snaps up. "
Good Lord!
" She reaches out to steady herself on my shoulder and lets go an instant later when the ceiling explodes with a sharp crack. Plaster splatters all over my desk as everybody ducks for cover.
    I look up to see a kid's pant leg and sneakered foot dangling from a jagged hole in the ceiling. Somebody must have pulled him to safety, as the shoe disappears.
    In seconds, Mr. Reeser appears in the doorway, his face white. Then Mr. Shanahan pushes through. "What
happened?
" he asks Miss Anthony.
    She shrugs. "Children do not belong in the attic," she says calmly. "It's dangerous." Like he should have known better.
    Mr. Shanahan considers the mess. "We need to clean this up," he says to Mr. Reeser.
    "Yes, you do," says Miss Anthony, as the noon bell rings. "We will go to lunch now and be back promptly at one o'clock."
    With half the ceiling sprayed across the room, I don't see how they'll get it cleaned up in an hour. But that's not my problem.
My
problem is staying out of Raymond's way. Just my luck that today Mom decides to go visit a friend in Madras and I have to eat lunch at school.
    Miss Anthony marches our straggly line out the front door. I duck in behind her and stick close all the way across the playfield to the dining hall. I want to stay as far away from Raymond as possible. I have no idea what he might do, but I'm not taking any chances.
    Shorty, the cook, looks up when his big doors swing open.
    "Mr. Walsey." Miss Anthony gives a curt nod. "We've had a
situation,
and we are here early for lunch."
    Shorty grins. "Well, today you're in luck. We got plenty of meatballs!"
    "Thank you." Miss Anthony motions for me to hold the door open.
    Oh, man!
Now I have to stand here while everybody passes by. Including Raymond. I'm thinking maybe I can yank Pinky out of line to protect me, but just then Miss Anthony holds out her hand like a cop and stops the line from moving forward.
    "Raymond," she calls, "come hand out the milk cartons." This is Raymond's regular job. He has to wear a hairnet and everything.
    Raymond is slouching against the concrete wall of the dining hall, hands in his pockets. He pushes himself away from the wall, elbows Orin to the side, and comes up the steps.
    ***
    It is unusually quiet in the dining hall when I pull the doors shut and pick up a tray. The few times I've eaten here, I've been surprised by the racket that a roomful of kids with metal trays can make. Now all I hear is Shorty at the far end of the line cheerfully spooning up spaghetti and sauce. The kids don't jostle and clank like they normally do as they wait for food. As I reach for a fork and spoon, some of the boys are already banging out through the doors to the playground. Miss Anthony is nowhere in sight.
    In his spot handing out the milk, Raymond sets one carton on each tray that passes. Nobody has the nerve to tease him, even with a net thing mashing down his hair.
    Jewel is the last person ahead of me in line. Her ponytail hangs far down her back, held in place with a beaded clip. A rose deep red in a circle of white. This is the first time I've been close enough to see the delicate lines of pink that form folds in the petals, the tiny gold beads framing the outline. The work is tight and perfectly even.
Someone must really care for her to make something so beautiful.
    Raymond pushes milk across the counter and onto her tray. "Leave her alone," Jewel says to him. "She didn't do anything to you." Then she slides her tray on down the line.
    I follow fast behind her. Jewel sets her tray down at an empty table. She climbs over the bench, sits, and begins to pick through the food.
    I hesitate, standing behind her with my tray. "Were you talking about me?"
    Jewel glances over at Raymond. He has whipped off that hair net and is hunching over his tray at the far end of the next table.
    "Yes,"