How to Get Dirt (7 page)

****

The school was smaller than
any she
had attended before, but it was twice as intimidating. Girls in identical uniforms swarmed the front steps, and a teacher or an administrator
stood
at the school gates in a business suit of all black. The school itself was dark brown
with the feel of a mansion instead of that of a school
.

As Pickles studied it,
Miranda grabbed
her hand
. Her palm felt hot
.

“
You scared?
”
Miranda asked.

“
A little,
”
Pickles said.
“
I
'
ve never been
to a private school
before.
”

“
I thought it might be
a good place to enroll you
,
”
Miranda said.
“
You like writing so much, and this place has the best arts program around. You
'
ll be taught things way above what a public school would teach you. Isn
'
t that amazing?
”

Pickles nodded. It was pretty amazing, and she did like to learn. Maybe she would be able to write more in David
'
s magazine that way.

Miranda began to pull her forward, toward the school. The two of them walked hand-in-hand,
so
some of the girls turned
to gawk at them
. Pickles
knew
right then
she
wasn
'
t going to fit in. Most of these girls
had
already
gathered
in groups. Pickles didn
'
t know anyone.

Shaking it off, Pickles stared straight ahead and tried to ignore the gazes of the other girls. They came to a large flight of stairs and began to walk up them.
After
they passed
through a pair of wooden doors, Pickles and Miranda headed to the right
.
Finally, she spotted an office, which they entered
.
Five women in identical black business suits lingered.

“
Ah,
here
'
s
Mrs. Barnaby,
”
Miranda said.
“
Hello.
”

The woman sitting at the desk directly in
front
of them smiled
and nodded at Miranda, but Pickles though
t
she
appeared
formidable with her tight
dark brown
bun and black glasses.

“
Hi,
Miranda,
”
Mrs. Barnaby said, hugging her. Mrs. Barnaby then stepped away
to stare
down at Pickles.
“
So this is the little girl you were talking about. What
'
s your name
, honey
?
”

Pickles grimaced. She couldn
'
t help it.

“
Pickles,
”
Miranda said without hesitation.
“
Her name is Pickles.
”

“
Pickles?
”
Mrs. Barnaby asked, raising her eyebrow at Miranda.
“
Her name is
truly
Pickles?
”

“
Yes.
”
Miranda smiled.
“
Unusual, isn
'
t it? I think it
'
s nice, though.
”

“
Right.
”
Mrs. Barnaby
'
s smile did not light up
her eyes
in the
way it
had before.
“
I
'
ll go get Mrs. Turner
. I swear I
'
ve never seen a principal who spends more time online
. I
'
ll be right back. I
'
m sure
s
he
'
ll be happy to meet with the two of you.
”

After giving Pickles one last fleeting look, as if being a girl named Pickles was a dangerous thing, Mrs. Barnaby
turned
around
then
headed out of sight. She reappeared with a plump, kind faced woman with auburn hair
which
stuck straight out of her head. Pickles stared. She had no idea why Mrs. Barnaby
appeared
so shocked at the name Pickles when the principle looked like she had just gotten into a wild fight with a hedgehog and lost.

Mrs. Turner smiled at them and
relief warmed
Pickles
'
heart
. As crazy as
the principal
'
s
hair was, she also appeared
to be
nice.
Mrs. Turner
offered her hand and Miranda shook it.
She
then offered her hand to Pickles, as if she was an adult. With a sense of pride, Pickles shook her
hand. Mrs. Turner didn
'
t treat her like a little kid like some adults did. She liked that. At t
he last
school she
had attended, they had metal detectors
. She
hadn
'
t
even
been allowed to
go to the bathroom without a lot of hassle.

“
Hello,
Mrs. Harris
, it
'
s nice to meet you in person
.
I am Mrs. Turner, the principal here at St. Anne
'
s
Middle School
. I was
told this
young woman is
… um…
Pickles
Bartley
?
”
She blinked twice.
“
I
s
this
correct?
”

“
Yes,
”
Miranda said,
“
she has never attended a private school before, so she
'
s a little nervous.
”

With a smile, Mrs. Turner
gazed
kindly down at Pickles.

“
Well, she looks like
a together
young woman.
”
Mrs. Turner beamed at her.
“
She
'
s
got all
the correct
elements of
her
uniform,
her
transcripts
show she
has
no bad record
,
and
she
'
s had
high marks in all of her classes, particularly in English.
”

“
I
'
m going to get my article published in a magazine,
”
Pickles said,
feeling her heart swell with pride
.

“
Are you
,
now?
”
Mrs. Turner
beamed
at Miranda, who
smiled and nodded
.
“
Well, that
'
s just great. We like to nurture creative talent here. When you get
the
article, why don
'
t you bring it in here and I
'
ll make a copy
to
hang up so everybody can see it.
”

Her heart warmed. She couldn
'
t believe it. She had never felt more proud of anything in her entire life. Was this
truly
happening? She half expected to blink and be back in her bunk in the dorm room
.
Maybe
she had hit her head and was living
in
one of her stories.

“
I would like that very much,
”
Pickles said,
grinning broadly
.

“
Good,
”
Mrs. Turner said.
“
Well, Miranda, you have two choices here. You can stay with Pickles while I give her a tour of the school and bring her to her classroom, or you can head home. Whatever would make
Pickles more comfortable.
”

A worried look crossed Miranda
'
s face
. She
discretely checked her watch. Pickles
knew Miranda
worked at home
on her laptop.
She
wasn
'
t sure what
Miranda
did, but she
knew
her new foster mom
wanted
to get back home.

“
It
'
s okay, Miranda,
”
Pickles said.
“
I
'
ll be fine here. I
'
ll see you at three-thirty, when school is over.
”

Miranda
'
s eyes widened in shock.
“
You sure
you
'
ll be okay? Because I can stay. I can.
”

Forcing a smile, Pickles nodded.

“
Okay.
”
Miranda appeared relieved, because her eyes glowed.
“
I
'
ll be out front at three-thirty. Look for me in the front parking lot, okay?
”

“
Yes. Thanks Miranda.
”

After checking her watch one last time, Miranda
turned
around
and left the office, leaving her and Mrs. Turner alone. Mrs. Turner beamed at her
, then
began showing her around the school.