were digging into my palms. And they were hot. I was just thinking of climbing down when somebody shoved me. I was right by the edge, trying to see the kindergarteners better. And I fell.
Mrs. Waverly got there first. I remember she rolled me over. I saw my arm. It was twisted. And my head was bleeding. But at first it didn’t hurt. I didn’t feel anything.
“Get down from there, all of you,” said Mrs. Waverly. But they were already climbing down.
“Jimmy pushed her,” Curtis said. “I saw him do it.”
I kept looking at my bent-backward arm.
“You broke it,” I cried. “You broke my arm, Jimmy.”
Now Principal Lundahl was there. He was putting his hands under my armpits. That was when everything started to hurt. He lifted me up and my arm hung down. My hand wasn’t going the right way, and I couldn’t make it turn around. Jimmy was crying. Babs was really crying.
“I only pushed her ’cause she tried to push me off,” said Jimmy.
“Claudia didn’t try to push you,” said Curtis. Now he was crying too. “Babs did. Babs pushed you.”
And then Babs really cried.
Mr. Lundahl was kind of running with me. I remember bouncing. And the bouncing hurt. And I couldn’t open one of my eyes.
I remember the nurse’s office and the scratchy gray blanket on the cot and Mr. Lundahl calling my mom at her work where now she had to go every day. And then the nurse, Mrs. Hannagan, put two pieces of wood on my arm and wrapped it up tight. And she put wet paper towels, the brown kind, on my head. And I wondered why brown paper when it’s wet smells different. And then we waited for my mom. I wanted my dad too. Only he didn’t live with us anymore. And when I told Mr. Lundahl I wanted my daddy, he asked me what his phone number was. I didn’t know. He asked me where he worked. I only knew he had an office.
“Maybe your mother can call him,” he said.
Mr. Lundahl carried me outside to wait for my mom. So he could put me right in the car when she got there.
My mom had a station wagon. I kept looking down the street. No cars were coming. We sat on the steps in the shade.
Then there she was. I knew my mom’s car. I saw it when it came around the corner. Mr. Lundahl picked me up and put me in the front seat by my mom and we drove away.
My mom carried me into the hospital. She smelled like perfume. Like my mom. There were bright lights and doctors and they took me to a room and changed my clothes right over my arm in the wood.
“Can you get Daddy?” I asked my mom.
She said she would call. A nurse was with me. And then a doctor. And then my mom was gone.
She came back and told me he was on his way. But it might take a little while.
Then they wheeled my bed, and a doctor said he was going to make me fall asleep. And when I woke up my arm would be in a cast and I would feel much better.
But I wanted to see my dad first. I wanted to see my dad.
My mom came in and told me we could wait just a little while. She waited with me. We watched the door.
She looked at my head where it was hurt. She kissed it.
And then they made me go to sleep.
When I woke up I had a patch over my eye. I had a cast on my arm. And there was a new stuffed lamb in bed with me. My daddy had brought it.
I still have it.
Birthday Girl
I didn’t know who the heck Trader Vic was, maybe a friend of my dad’s, but that was where we were going for dinner. For my tenth birthday dinner. We were going to Trader Vic’s.
But first I had to go to school. Right on my birthday, which I didn’t think was fair. Birthdays should be school holidays. Except people do make a big deal about you and you get to open presents in the morning before school, at least I do, and then if you get something new to wear, you can because it’s your birthday. You are the BIRTHDAY GIRL!
I got this new red cardigan sweater with ribbon trim. So I’m wearing it today. It goes perfectly with my favorite skirt and blouse, which used to belong to my cousin Sandy. The blouse has a pin you can wear with red plastic cherries with green leaves. And with the sweater on, you can’t even tell I am missing the belt that goes with the skirt. I like the skirt ’cause it is quilted. I like how that feels when I sit in class and rub my hand over it when we are listening to stories. If I thought nobody would notice, I’d suck my thumb. I don’t care if I am ten today. I just would.
So tonight, I’m telling my best friend, Babs, my dad is coming over to our house to take us to Trader Vic’s for dinner. Me, the twins, my mom, and my dad. And Ellie isn’t coming. Ellie is my stepmom, who used to be my mom’s friend and my dad’s secretary. And Ellie’s husband, Chuck, was my dad’s partner in their business, which is being lawyers.
“So why is he coming and take you all out to dinner?” asked Babs. We were right at the top of the hill where you could see the school. Sometimes Teddy would be at the gate waiting. He lives closer to school and gets there before I do.
“Because I asked. I just asked him when he came up last Saturday. And then he talked to my mom. And I don’t care if he talked to Ellie. Who cares about her? And now we’re going.”
We heard the first bell ring. It was the warning bell.
It meant we had five minutes to get to class. We ran down the hill. It always scared me to run down the hill. It was steep. And felt like you could tip over and fall on your face. I could imagine the scrapes. I could imagine my teeth falling out. Even though it had never happened. I could imagine things. I think that made my dad mad. Because I could think about what might go wrong.
Sometimes when he comes to visit on a Saturday he takes Carol and Cheryl and me up into the hills to rent horses. We each get our own. They’re poky old things. And dusty. And their tails swat back and forth because of the flies. And we ride on the trails in a single file. And I imagine the horse running away with me and tripping in a hole and then I fly off and land on my face and then the horse steps right on my head. This is what I think about while we ride and my dad is saying, “Hurry him up a bit. Give him a kick.”
He can tell I’m scared, and he thinks, What’s wrong with her? Doesn’t she know I was a marine in the war? I can do anything. And she is my daughter. So she should be brave.
I know this is what he is thinking when we finally get back to the stables and I get to turn in my horse and finally I can smile and maybe even laugh. And then I try to make him laugh.
But one thing we both like is books. I love to read, and so does my dad. And when he takes us all to the bookstore, then I think he does like me. Because I show interest. And I always read the books he buys me. And I don’t even care if they’re used.
So those are the best Saturdays, when we go to Holmes Book Store downtown.
And tonight he is coming to take us all to dinner.
