Tuesday of the Other June - Franklin Local Schools...Tuesday of the Other June By Norma Fox Mazer 1986 Norma Fox Mazer (1931-2009) was an American author and teacher known for her

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"Young girl swimming" by Tom Markham is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

Tuesday of the Other JuneBy Norma Fox Mazer

1986

Norma Fox Mazer (1931-2009) was an American author and teacher known for her young adult andchildren’s books. In this short story, a young girl name June is confronted by a bully with the same name. Asyou read, take notes on June’s feelings towards the Other June.

“Be good, be good, be good, be good, my Junie,”my mother sang as she combed my hair; a song,a story, a croon,1 a plea. “It’s just you and me, twowomen alone in the world, June darling of myheart; we have enough troubles getting by, wesurely don’t need a single one more, so you keepyour sweet self out of Kghting and all that badstuN. People can be little-hearted, but turn theother cheek, smile at the world, and the world’llsurely smile back.”

We stood in front of the mirror as she combedmy hair, combed and brushed and smoothed.Her head came just above mine; she said when I grew another inch, she’d stand on a stool to brush myhair. “I’m not giving up this pleasure!” And she laughed her long honey laugh.

My mother was April, my grandmother had been May, I was June. “And someday,” said my mother,“you’ll have a daughter of your own. What will you name her?”

“January!” I’d yell when I was little. “February! No, November!” My mother laughed her honey laugh. Shehad little emerald eyes that warmed me like the sun.

Every day when I went to school, she went to work. “Sometimes I stop what I’m doing,” she said, “laydown my tools, and stop everything, because all I can think about is you. Wondering what you’re doingand if you need me. Now, Junie, if anyone ever bothers you — ”

“ — I walk away, run away, come on home as fast as my feet will take me,” I recited.

“Yes. You come to me. You just bring me your trouble, because I’m here on this earth to love you andtake care of you.”

I was safe with her. Still, sometimes I woke up at night and heard footsteps slowly creeping up thestairs. It wasn’t my mother, she was asleep in the bed across the room, so it was robbers, thieves, andmurderers, creeping slowly... slowly... slowly toward my bed.

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1. a soft, low voice or tone

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I stuNed my hand into my mouth. If I screamed and woke her, she’d be tired at work tomorrow. Therobbers and thieves Klled the warm darkness and slipped across the Loor more quietly than cats.Rigid2 under the covers, I stared at the shifting dark and bit my knuckles and never knew when I fellasleep again.

In the morning we sang in the kitchen. “Bill Grogan’s goat! Was feelin’ Kne! Ate three red shirts, right oNthe line!” I made sandwiches for our lunches, she made pancakes for breakfast, but all she ate was onepancake and a cup of coNee. “Gotta Ly, can’t be late.”

I wanted to be rich and take care of her. She worked too hard; her pretty hair had gray in it that shejoked about. “Someday,” I said, “I’ll buy you a real house, and you’ll never work in a pot factory again.”

“Such delicious plans,” she said. She checked the windows to see if they were locked. “Do you haveyour key?”

I lifted it from the chain around my neck.

“And you’ll come right home from school and — ”

“ — I won’t light Kres or let strangers into the house, and I won’t tell anyone on the phone that I’m herealone,” I Knished for her.

“I know, I’m just your old worrywart mother.” She kissed me twice, once on each cheek. “But you aremy June, my only June, the only June.”

She was wrong; there was another June. I met her when we stood next to each other at the edge of thepool the Krst day of swimming class in the Community Center.

“What’s your name?” She had a deep growly voice.

“June. What’s yours?”

She stared at me. “June.”

“We have the same name.”

“No we don’t. June is my name, and I don’t give you permission to use it. Your name is Fish Eyes.” Shepinched me hard. “Got it, Fish Eyes?”

The next Tuesday, the Other June again stood next to me at the edge of the pool. “What’s your name?”

“June.”

“Wrong. Your — name — is — Fish — Eyes.”

“June.”

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2. Rigid (adjective): unable to bend or be forced out of shape

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“Fish Eyes, you are really stupid.” She shoved me into the pool.

The swimming teacher looked up, frowning, from her chart. “No one in the water yet.”

Later, in the locker room, I dressed quickly and wrapped my wet suit in the towel. The Other Junepulled on her jeans. “You guys see that bathing suit Fish Eyes was wearing? Her mother found it in atrash can.”

“She did not!”

The Other June grabbed my Kngers and twisted. “Where’d she Knd your bathing suit?”

“She bought it, let me go.”

“Poor little stupid Fish Eyes is crying. Oh, boo hoo hoo, poor little Fish Eyes.”

“Your name is Fish Eyes.” She pinched me hard.

After that, everyone called me Fish Eyes. And every Tuesday, wherever I was, there was also the OtherJune — at the edge of the pool, in the pool, in the locker room. In the water, she swam alongside me,blowing and huMng, knocking into me. In the locker room, she stepped on my feet, pinched my arms,hid my blouse, and knotted my braids together. She had large square teeth; she was shorter than Iwas, but heavier, with bigger bones and square hands. If I met her outside on the street, carrying herbathing suit and towel, she’d walk toward me, smiling a square, friendly smile. “Oh well, if it isn’t FishEyes.” Then she’d punch me, blam! her whole solid weight hitting me.

I didn’t know what to do about her. She was training me like a dog. After a few weeks of this, she onlyhad to look at me, only had to growl, “I’m going to get you, Fish Eyes,” for my heart to slink like awhipped dog down into my stomach. My arms were covered with bruises. When my mother noticed, Imade up a story about tripping on the sidewalk.

My weeks were no longer Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and so on. Tuesday was Awfulday.Wednesday was Badday. (The Tuesday bad feelings were still there.) Thursday was Betterday, andFriday was Safeday. Saturday was Goodday, but Sunday was Toosoonday, and Monday — Monday wasnothing but the day before Awfulday.

I tried to slow down time. Especially on the weekends, I stayed close by my mother, doing everythingwith her, shopping, cooking, cleaning, going to the laundromat. “Aw, sweetie, go play with your friends.”

“No, I’d rather be with you.” I wouldn’t look at the clock or listen to the radio (they were always tellingyou the date and the time). I did special magic things to keep the day from going away, rapping myknuckles six times on the bathroom door six times a day and never, ever touching the chipped place onmy bureau.3 But always I woke up to the day before Tuesday, and always, no matter how many times Icircled the worn spot in the living-room rug or counted twenty-Kve cracks in the ceiling, Mondaydisappeared and once again it was Tuesday.

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3. a chest of drawers

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The Other June got bored with calling me Fish Eyes. BuNalo Brain came next, but as soon as everyoneknew that, she renamed me Turkey Nose.

Now at night it wasn’t robbers creeping up the stairs, but the Other June, coming to torment4 me.When I Knally fell asleep, I dreamed of kicking her, punching, biting, pinching. In the morning Iremembered my dreams and felt brave and strong. And then I remembered all the things my motherhad taught me and told me.

Be good, be good, be good; it’s just us two women alone in the world.... Oh, but if it weren’t, if myfather wasn’t long gone, if we’d had someone else to fall back on, if my mother’s mother and daddyweren’t dead all these years, if my father’s daddy wanted to know us instead of being glad to forget us— oh, then I would have punched the Other June with a frisky5 heart, I would have grabbed her arm atpoolside and bitten her like the dog she had made of me.

One night, when my mother came home from work, she said, “Junie, listen to this. We’re moving!”

Alaska, I thought. Florida. Arizona. Someplace far away and wonderful, someplace without the OtherJune.

“Wait till you hear this deal. We are going to be caretakers, trouble-shooters for an eight-familyapartment building. Fifty-six Blue Hill Street. Not janitors; we don’t do any of the heavy work. April andJune, Trouble-shooters, Incorporated. If a tenant has a complaint or a problem, she comes to us andwe either take care of it or call the janitor for service. And for that little bit of work, we get to live rentfree!” She swept me around in a dance. “Okay? You like it? I do!”

So. Not anywhere else, really. All the same, maybe too far to go to swimming class? “Can we move rightaway? Today?”

“Gimme a break, sweetie. We’ve got to pack, do a thousand things. I’ve got to line up someone with atruck to help us. Six weeks, Saturday the Kfteenth.” She circled it on the calendar. It was the Saturdayafter the last day of swimming class.

Soon, we had boxes lying everywhere, Klled with clothes and towels and glasses wrapped innewspaper. Bit by bit, we cleared the rooms, leaving only what we needed right now. The dining-roomtable staggered on a bunched-up rug, our bureaus inched toward the front door like patient cows. Onthe calendar in the kitchen, my mother marked oN the days until we moved, but the only days Ithought about were Tuesdays — Awfuldays. Nothing else was real except the too fast passing of time,moving toward each Tuesday... away from Tuesday... toward Tuesday...

And it seemed to me that this would go on forever, that Tuesdays would come forever and I would beforever trapped by the side of the pool, the Other June whispering BuNalo Brain Fish Eyes Turkey Noseinto my ear, while she ground her elbow into my side and smiled her square smile at the swimmingteacher.

No more swimming class. No more Awfuldays.... No more Tuesdays.

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4. Torment (verb): to cause severe mental or physical suNering5. Frisky (adjective): full of energy

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And then it ended. It was the last day of swimming class. The last Tuesday. We had all passed our tests,and, as if in celebration, the Other June only pinched me twice. “And now,” our swimming teacher said,“all of you are ready for the Advanced Class, which starts in just one month. I have a sign-up slip here.Please put your name down before you leave.” Everyone but me crowded around. I went to the lockerroom and pulled on my clothes as fast as possible. The Other June burst through the door just as I wasleaving. “Goodbye,” I yelled, “good riddance to bad trash!” Before she could pinch me again, I ran pasther and then ran all the way home, singing, “Goodbye... goodbye... goodbye, good riddance to badtrash!”

Later, my mother carefully untied the blue ribbon around my swimming class diploma. “Look at this!Well, isn’t this wonderful! You are on your way, you might turn into an Olympic swimmer, you neverknow what life will bring.”

“I don’t want to take more lessons.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s great to be a good swimmer.” But then, looking into my face, she said, “No, no, no,don’t worry, you don’t have to.”

The next morning, I woke up hungry for the Krst time in weeks. No more swimming class. No moreBaddays and Awfuldays. No more Tuesdays of the Other June. In the kitchen, I made hot cocoa to gowith my mother’s corn muMns. “It’s Wednesday, Mom,” I said, stirring the cocoa. “My favorite day.”

“Since when?”

“Since this morning.” I turned on the radio so I could hear the announcer tell the time, thetemperature, and the day.

Thursday for breakfast I made cinnamon toast, Friday my mother made pancakes, and on Saturday,before we moved, we ate the last slices of bread and cleaned out the peanut butter jar.

“Some breakfast,” Tilly said. “Hello, you must be June.” She shook my hand. She was a friend of mymother’s from work; she wore big hoop earrings, sandals, and a skirt as dazzling as a rainbow. Shecame in a truck with John to help us move our things.

John shouted cheerfully at me, “So you’re moving.” An enormous man with a face covered with littlebrown bumps. Was he afraid his voice wouldn’t travel the distance from his mouth to my ear? “Youlooking at my moles?” he shouted, and he heaved our big green Lowered chair down the stairs. “Don’tworry, they don’t bite. Ha, ha, ha!” Behind him came my mother and Tilly balancing a bureau betweenthem, and behind them I carried a lamp and the round, Lowered Mexican tray that was my mother’sfavorite. She had found it at a garage sale and said it was as close to foreign travel as we would everget.

The night before, we had loaded our car, stuMng in bags and boxes until there was barely room for thetwo of us. But it was only when we were in the car, when we drove past Abdo’s Grocery, where theyalways gave us credit, when I turned for a last look at our street — it was only then that I understoodwe were truly going to live somewhere else, in another apartment, in another place mysteriously calledBlue Hill Street.

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Tilly’s truck followed our car.

“Oh, I’m so excited,” my mother said. She laughed. “You’d think we were going across the country.”

Our old car wheezed6 up a long, steep hill. Blue Hill Street. I looked from one side to the other, trying tosee everything.

My mother drove over the crest of the hill. “And now — ta da! — our new home.”

“Which house? Which one?” I looked out the window and what I saw was the Other June. She wassprawled on the stoop of a pink house, lounging back on her elbows, legs outspread, her jaws workingon a wad of gum. I slid down into the seat, but it was too late. I was sure she had seen me.

My mother turned into a driveway next to a big white building with a tiny porch. She leaned on thesteering wheel. “See that window there, that’s our living-room window... and that one over there, that’syour bedroom...”

We went into the house, down a dim, cool hall. In our new apartment, the wooden Loors clicked underour shoes, and my mother showed me everything. Her voice echoed in the empty rooms. I followedher around in a daze. Had I imagined seeing the Other June? Maybe I’d seen another girl who lookedlike her. A double. That could happen.

“Ho yo, where do you want this chair?” John appeared in the doorway. We brought in boxes and bagsand beds and stopped only to eat pizza and drink orange juice from the carton.

“June’s so quiet, do you think she’ll adjust all right?” I heard Tilly say to my mother.

“Oh, deKnitely. She’ll make a wonderful adjustment. She’s just getting used to things.”

But I thought that if the Other June lived on the same street as I did, I would never get used to things.

That night I slept in my own bed, with my own pillow and blanket, but with Loors that creaked instrange voices and walls with cracks I didn’t recognize. I didn’t feel either happy or unhappy. It was as ifI were waiting for something.

Monday, when the principal of Blue Hill Street School left me in Mr. Morrisey’s classroom, I knew whatI’d been waiting for. In that room full of strange kids, there was one person I knew. She smiled hersquare smile, raised her hand, and said, “She can sit next to me, Mr. Morrisey.”

“Very nice of you, June M. OK, June T., take your seat. I’ll try not to get you two Junes mixed up.”

I sat down next to her. She pinched my arm. “Good riddance to bad trash,” she mocked.

I was back in the Tuesday swimming class, only now it was worse, because every day would beAwfulday. The pinching had already started. Soon, I knew, on the playground and in the halls, kidswould pass me, grinning. “Hiya, Fish Eyes.”

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6. Wheeze (verb): to breathe with a whistling or rattling sound

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The Other June followed me around during recess that day, droning7 in my ear, “You are my slave, youmust do everything I say, I am your master, say it, say, ‘Yes, master, you are my master.’”

I pressed my lips together, clapped my hands over my ears, but without hope. Wasn’t it only a matterof time before I said the hateful words?

“How was school?” my mother said that night.

“OK.”

She put a pile of towels in a bureau drawer. “Try not to be sad about missing your old friends, sweetie;there’ll be new ones.”

The next morning, the Other June was waiting for me when I left the house. “Did your mother get youthat blouse in the garbage dump?” She butted me, shoving me against a tree. “Don’t you speakanymore, Fish Eyes?” Grabbing my chin in her hands, she pried open my mouth. “Oh, ha ha, I thoughtyou lost your tongue.”

“Oh, no! No. No. No. No more.”

We went on to school. I sank down into my seat, my head on my arms. “June T., are you all right?” Mr.Morrisey asked. I nodded. My head was almost too heavy to lift.

The Other June went to the pencil sharpener. Round and round she whirled the handle. Walking back,looking at me, she held the three sharp pencils like three little knives.

Someone knocked on the door. Mr. Morrisey went out into the hall. Paper planes burst into the air,Lying from desk to desk. Someone turned on a transistor radio.8 And the Other June, coming closer,smiled and licked her lips like a cat sleepily preparing to gulp down a mouse.

I remembered my dream of kicking her, punching, biting her like a dog.

Then my mother spoke quickly in my ear: Turn the other cheek, my Junie; smile at the world, and theworld’ll surely smile back.

But I had turned the other cheek and it was slapped. I had smiled and the world hadn’t smiled back. Icouldn’t run home as fast as my feet would take me. I had to stay in school — and in school there wasthe Other June. Every morning, there would be the Other June, and every afternoon, and every day, allday, there would be the Other June.

She frisked9 down the aisle, stabbing the pencils in the air toward me. A boy stood up on his desk andbowed. “My fans,” he said, “I greet you.” My arm twitched and throbbed, as if the Other June’s pencilshad already poked through the skin. She came closer, smiling her Tuesday smile.

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7. Drone (verb): to make a dull continuous sound8. a small portable radio9. to skip or leap playfully

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“Tuesday of the Other June” by Norma Fox Mazer. Copyright © 1986 by Norma Fox Mazer. Reprinted by permission of Anne Mazer. All rightsreserved.

“No,” I whispered, “no.” The word took wings and Lew me to my feet, in front of the Other June.“Noooooo.” It Lew out of my mouth into her surprised face.

The boy on the desk turned toward us. “You said something, my devoted10 fans?”

“No,” I said to the Other June. “Oh, no! No. No. No. No more.” I pushed away the hand that held thepencils.

The Other June’s eyes opened, popped wide like the eyes of somebody in a cartoon. It made me laugh.The boy on the desk laughed, and then the other kids were laughing, too.

“No,” I said again, because it felt so good to say it. “No, no, no, no.” I leaned toward the Other June, putmy Knger against her chest. Her cheeks turned red, she squawked something — it sounded like“Eeeraaghyou!” — and she stepped back. She stepped away from me.

The door banged, the airplanes disappeared, and Mr. Morrisey walked to his desk. “OK. OK. Let’s getback to work. Kevin Clark, how about it?” Kevin jumped oN the desk, and Mr. Morrisey picked up apiece of chalk. “all right, class — ” He stopped and looked at me and the Other June. “You two Junes,what’s going on there?”

I tried it again. My Knger against her chest. Then the words. “No — more.” And she stepped backanother step. I sat down at my desk.

“June M.,” Mr. Morrisey said.

She turned around, staring at him with that big-eyed cartoon look. After a moment she sat down at herdesk with a loud slapping sound.

Even Mr. Morrisey laughed.

And sitting at my desk, twirling my braids, I knew this was the last Tuesday of the Other June.

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10. Devoted (adjective): very loving or loyal

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Text-Dependent QuestionsDirections: For the following questions, choose the best answer or respond in complete sentences.

1. PART A: Which statement best expresses the main theme of the short story?A. Sometimes people don’t realize that they are being a bully to others.B. It’s important to stand up for yourself against people who mistreat you.C. It’s better to ignore a bully than to confront them in any way.D. Don’t let fear keep you from doing the things that you love.

2. PART B: Which detail from the text best supports the answer to Part A?A. “‘Oh well, if it isn’t Fish Eyes.’ Then she’d punch me, blam! her whole solid weight

hitting me.” (Paragraph 35)B. “‘Oh, sweetie, it’s great to be a good swimmer.’ But then, looking into my face,

she said, ‘No, no, no, don’t worry, you don’t have to.’” (Paragraph 54)C. “Turn the other cheek, my Junie; smile at the world, and the world’ll surely smile

back.” (Paragraph 89)D. “‘No,’ I said to the Other June. ‘Oh, no! No. No. No. No more.’ I pushed away the

hand that held the pencils.” (Paragraph 94)

3. PART A: In the beginning of the story, June doesn’t speak up for herself when the Other Junemakes fun of her. Why does she take the Other June’s abuse?

A. She is afraid of what the Other June will do to her.B. She doesn’t like speaking in front of other people.C. June’s mother encourages her to be kind to the Other June.D. June’s mother tells her not to get into trouble.

4. PART B: Which section from the text best supports the answer to Part A?A. “‘Be good, be good, be good, be good, my Junie,’ my mother sang as she combed

my hair; a song, a story, a croon, a plea.” (Paragraph 1)B. “‘No we don’t. June is my name, and I don’t give you permission to use it. Your

name is Fish Eyes.’ She pinched me hard.” (Paragraph 22)C. “Before she could pinch me again, I ran past her and then ran all the way home,

singing, ‘Goodbye... goodbye... goodbye, good riddance to bad trash!’”(Paragraph 51)

D. “I pressed my lips together, clapped my hands over my ears, but without hope.Wasn’t it only a matter of time before I said the hateful words?” (Paragraph 79)

5. PART A: Which of the following describes how June feels about the Other June’s bullying?A. She doesn’t allow the Other June to have an impact on her.B. She wishes one of her friends would stand up for her.C. She wants to have the courage to stop the Other June.D. She wants to understand why the Other June is mean.

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6. PART B: Which detail from the text best supports the answer to Part A?A. “She had large square teeth; she was shorter than I was, but heavier, with bigger

bones and square hands.” (Paragraph 35)B. “My arms were covered with bruises. When my mother noticed, I made up a

story about tripping on the sidewalk.” (Paragraph 36)C. “oh, then I would have punched the Other June with a frisky heart, I would have

grabbed her arm at poolside and bitten her like the dog she had made of me.”(Paragraph 42)

D. “Alaska, I thought. Florida. Arizona. Someplace far away and wonderful,someplace without the Other June.” (Paragraph 44)

7. How do paragraphs 38-39 contribute to the development of the story?A. They reveal how much June’s fear of the Other June aNects her daily life.B. They show how June’s mother protects her daughter from the Other June’s

bullying.C. They prove that June is able to put her interactions with the Other June behind

her.D. They show how important spending time with her mother is to June.

8. What advice does June’s mother give to her early in the story? How does her mother’sadvice aNect how June responds to the Other June throughout the story?

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Name: Class:

"IMG_1128" by xMizLitx is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Seventh GradeBy Gary Soto

1990

Gary Soto is an American poet, novelist, and memoirist. In this short story, a boy tries to impress a girl onthe 9rst day of seventh grade. As you read, take notes on what Victor does to try to impress Teresa.

On the Jrst day of school, Victor stood in line halfan hour before he came to a wobbly card table.He was handed a packet of papers and acomputer card on which he listed his one elective,French. He already spoke Spanish and English,but he thought someday he might travel toFrance, where it was cool; not like Fresno, wheresummer days reached 110 degrees in the shade.There were rivers in France, and huge churches,and fair-skinned people everywhere, the waythere were brown people all around Victor.

Besides, Teresa, a girl he had liked since theywere in catechism1 classes at Saint Theresa’s, wastaking French, too. With any luck they would be in the same class. Teresa is going to be my girl thisyear, he promised himself as he left the gym full of students in their new fall clothes. She was cute. Andgood in math, too, Victor thought as he walked down the hall to his homeroom. He ran into his friend,Michael Torres, by the water fountain that never turned oL.

They shook hands, raza-style,2 and jerked their heads at one another in a saludo de vato.3 “How comeyou’re making a face?” asked Victor.

“I ain’t making a face, ese.4 This is my face.” Michael said his face had changed during the summer. Hehad read a GQ magazine5 that his older brother had borrowed from the Book Mobile and noticed thatthe male models all had the same look on their faces. They would stand, one arm around a beautifulwoman, and scowl. They would sit at the pool, their rippled stomachs dark with shadow, and scowl.They would sit at dinner tables, cool drinks in their hands, and scowl.

“I think it works,” Michael said. He scowled and let his upper lip quiver. His teeth showed along with theferocity of his soul. “Belinda Reyes walked by a while ago and looked at me,” he said.

Victor didn’t say anything, though he thought his friend looked pretty strange. They talked about recentmovies, baseball, their parents, and the horrors of picking grapes in order to buy their fall clothes.Picking grapes was like living in Siberia, except hot and more boring.

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1. a summary of the principles of Christian religion in the form of questions and answers2. Spanish for “between friends,” meaning they shared a secret handshake3. Spanish for “greeting between dudes”4. Spanish slang meaning “man”5. a men’s fashion and style magazine

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“What classes are you taking?” Michael said, scowling.

“French. How ‘bout you?”

“Spanish. I ain’t so good at it, even if I’m Mexican.”

“I’m not either, but I’m better at it than math, that’s for sure.”

A tiny, three-beat bell propelled students to their homerooms. The two friends socked each other inthe arm and went their ways, Victor thinking, man, that’s weird. Michael thinks making a face makeshim handsome.

On the way to his homeroom, Victor tried a scowl. He felt foolish, until out of the corner of his eye hesaw a girl looking at him. Umm, he thought, maybe it does work. He scowled with greater conviction.6

In the homeroom, roll was taken, emergency cards were passed out, and they were given a bulletin totake home to their parents. The principal, Mr. Belton, spoke over the crackling loudspeaker, welcomingthe students to a new year, new experiences, and new friendships. The students squirmed in theirchairs and ignored him, they were anxious to go to Jrst period. Victor sat calmly, thinking of Teresa,who sat two rows away, reading a paperback novel. This would be his lucky year. She was in hishomeroom, and would probably be in his English and math classes. And, of course, French.

The bell rang for Jrst period, and the students herded noisily through the door. Only Teresa lingered,talking with the homeroom teacher.

“So you think I should talk to Mrs. Gaines?” she asked the teacher. “She would know about ballet?”

“She would be a good bet,” the teacher said. Then added, “Or the gym teacher, Mrs. Garza.”

Victor lingered, keeping his head down and staring at his desk. He wanted to leave when she did so hecould bump into her and say something clever.

He watched her on the sly. As she turned to leave, he stood up and hurried to the door, where hemanaged to catch her eye. She smiled and said, “Hi, Victor.”

He smiled back and said, “Yeah, that’s me.” His brown face blushed. Why hadn’t he said, “Hi, Teresa,” or“How was your summer?” or something nice.

As Teresa walked down the hall, Victor walked the other way, looking back, admiring how gracefullyshe walked, one foot in front of the other. So much for being in the same class, he thought. As hetrudged7 to English, he practiced scowling.

In English they reviewed the parts of speech. Mr. Lucas, a portly8 man, waddled down the aisle, asking,“What is a noun?”

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6. the quality of showing that one is Jrmly convinced of what one believes or says7. Trudge (verb): to walk slowly and with heavy steps8. having a round body; somewhat fat

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“A person, place, or thing,” said the class in unison.

“Yes, now somebody give me an example of a person — you, Victor Rodriguez.”

“Teresa,” Victor said automatically. Some of the girls giggled. They knew he had a crush on Teresa. Hefelt himself blushing again.

“Correct,” Mr. Lucas said. “Now provide me with a place.”

Mr. Lucas called on a freckled kid who answered, “Teresa’s house with a kitchen full of big brothers.”

After English, Victor had math, his weakest subject. He sat in the back by the window, hoping that hewould not be called on. Victor understood most of the problems, but some of the stuL looked like theteacher made it up as she went along. It was confusing, like the inside of a watch.

After math he had a Jfteen-minute break, then social studies, and Jnally lunch. He bought a tunacasserole with buttered rolls, some fruit cocktail, and milk. He sat with Michael, who practiced scowlingbetween bites. Girls walked by and looked at him.

“See what I mean, Vic?” Michael scowled. “They love it.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

They ate slowly, Victor scanning the horizon for a glimpse of Teresa. He didn’t see her. She must havebrought lunch, he thought, and is eating outside. Victor scraped his plate and left Michael, who wasbusy scowling at a girl two tables away.

The small, triangle-shaped campus bustled with students talking about their new classes. Everyone wasin a sunny mood. Victor hurried to the bag lunch area, where he sat down and opened his math book.He moved his lips as if he were reading, but his mind was somewhere else. He raised his eyes slowlyand looked around. No Teresa.

He lowered his eyes, pretending to study, then looked slowly to the left. No Teresa. He turned a page inthe book and stared at some math problems that scared him because he knew he would have to dothem eventually. He looked at the right. Still no sign of her. He stretched out lazily in an attempt todisguise his snooping.

Then he saw her. She was sitting with a girlfriend under a plum tree. Victor moved to a table near herand daydreamed about taking her to a movie. When the bell sounded, Teresa looked up, and their eyesmet. She smiled sweetly and gathered her books. Her next class was French, same as Victor’s.

They were among the last students to arrive in class, so all the good desks in the back had alreadybeen taken. Victor was forced to sit near the front, a few desks away from Teresa, while Mr. Buellerwrote French words on the chalkboard. The bell rang, and Mr. Bueller wiped his hands, turned to theclass, and said, “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” braved a few students.

[25]

[30]

[35]

3

“Bonjour” Victor whispered. He wondered if Teresa heard him.

Mr. Bueller said that if the students studied hard, at the end of the year they could go to France and beunderstood by the populace.

One kid raised his hand and asked, “‘What’s ‘populace’?”

“The people, the people of France.”

Mr. Bueller asked if anyone knew French. Victor raised his hand, wanting to impress Teresa. Theteacher beamed9 and said, “Tres bien. Parlez-vous francais?”10

Victor didn’t know what to say. The teacher wet his lips and asked something else in French. The roomgrew silent. Victor felt all eyes staring at him. He tried to bluL his way out by making noises thatsounded French.

“La me vave me con le grandma,” he said uncertainly.

Mr. Bueller, wrinkling his face in curiosity, asked him to speak up.

Great rosebushes of red bloomed on Victor’s cheeks. A river of nervous sweat ran down his palms. Hefelt awful. Teresa sat a few desks away, no doubt thinking he was a fool.

Without looking at Mr. Bueller, Victor mumbled, ‘Frenchie oh wewe gee in September.”

Mr. Bueller asked Victor to repeat what he said.

“Frenchie oh wewe gee in September,” Victor repeated.

Mr. Bueller understood that the boy didn’t know French and turned away. He walked to the blackboardand pointed to the words on the board with his steel-edged ruler.

“Le bateau,”11 he sang.

“Le bateau,” the students repeated.

“Le bateau est sur l’eau,”12 he sang.

“Le bateau est sur l’eau.”

Victor was too weak from failure to join the class. He stared at the board and wished he had takenSpanish, not French. Better yet, he wished he could start his life over. He had never been soembarrassed. He bit his thumb until he tore oL a sliver of skin.

[40]

[45]

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9. Beam (verb): to smile brightly10. French for “very good. Do you speak French?”11. French for “the boat”12. French for “the boat is on the water”

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“Seventh Grade” from In Baseball in April and Other Stories ©1990 by Gary Soto. Reprinted with permission of Houghton Mi:in Harcourt.

The bell sounded for Jfth period, and Victor shot out of the room, avoiding the stares of the other kids,but had to return for his math book. He looked sheepishly at the teacher, who was erasing the board,then widened his eyes in terror at Teresa who stood in front of him. “I didn’t know you knew French,”she said. “That was good.”

Mr. Bueller looked at Victor, and Victor looked back. Oh please, don’t say anything, Victor pleaded withhis eyes. I’ll wash your car, mow your lawn, walk your dog — anything! I’ll be your best student, and I’llclean your erasers after school.

Mr. Bueller shuKed through the papers on his desk. He smiled and hummed as he sat down to work.He remembered his college years when he dated a girlfriend in borrowed cars. She thought he wasrich because each time he picked her up he had a diLerent car. It was fun until he had spent all hismoney on her and had to write home to his parents because he was broke.

Victor couldn’t stand to look at Teresa. He was sweaty with shame. “Yeah, well, I picked up a few thingsfrom movies and books and stuL like that.” They left the class together. Teresa asked him if he wouldhelp her with her French.

“Sure, anytime,” Victor said.

“I won’t be bothering you, will I?”

“Oh no, I like being bothered.”

“Bonjour,” Teresa said, leaving him outside her next class. She smiled and pushed wisps of hair fromher face.

“Yeah, right, bonjour,” Victor said. He turned and headed to his class. The rosebuds of shame on hisface became bouquets of love. Teresa is a great girl, he thought. And Mr. Bueller is a good guy.

He raced to metal shop. After metal shop there was biology, and after biology a long sprint to thepublic library, where he checked out three French textbooks.

He was going to like seventh grade.

[55]

[60]

[65]

5

[RL.2]

[RL.1]

[RL.4]

[RL.3]

[RL.1]

Text-Dependent QuestionsDirections: For the following questions, choose the best answer or respond in complete sentences.

1. PART A: How do Victor’s actions develop the story’s theme?A. Victor makes funny faces throughout the school day, as he believes that making

people laugh is the most important thing.B. Victor is willing to do anything to get Teresa’s attention, even if it means lying,

because he likes her so much.C. Victor goes as far as lying to get Teresa’s attention, but Jnds that honesty is the

best way to make a good Jrst impression.D. Victor spends his Jrst day of school trying so hard to be someone that Teresa

would like that he realizes he is no longer being true to himself.

2. PART B: Which detail from the text best supports the answer to Part A?A. “On the way to his homeroom, Victor tried a scowl. He felt foolish, until out of

the corner of his eye he saw a girl looking at him.” (Paragraph 12)B. “Mr. Bueller asked if anyone knew French. Victor raised his hand, wanting to

impress Teresa. The teacher beamed and said, ‘Tres bien. Parlez-vous francais?’”(Paragraph 41)

C. “A river of nervous sweat ran down his palms. He felt awful. Teresa sat a fewdesks away, no doubt thinking he was a fool.” (Paragraph 45)

D. “Victor couldn’t stand to look at Teresa. He was sweaty with shame. ‘Yeah, well, Ipicked up a few things from movies and books and stuL like that.’” (Paragraph58)

3. How does the phrase “Great rosebushes of red bloomed on Victor’s cheeks”contribute to the text in paragraph 45?

A. It stresses how excited he is to show oL his French skills to Teresa.B. It reveals that Victor does not enjoy being the center of attention.C. It emphasizes how embarrassed Victor feels as he tries to impress Teresa.D. It shows how worried Victor is that he will get in trouble with the teacher.

4. PART A: Which of the following best describes how Teresa responds to Victorspeaking up in French class?

A. She thinks he was joking and Jnds his comments funny.B. She knows he was lying, but she pretends to be impressed.C. She believes he is speaking French and admires his abilities.D. She realizes that he can’t speak French and teases him.

5. PART B: Which quote from the text best supports the answer to Part A?A. “‘I didn’t know you knew French,’ she said. ‘That was good.’” (Paragraph 55)B. “He remembered his college years when he dated a girlfriend in borrowed cars.”

(Paragraph 57)C. “Victor couldn’t stand to look at Teresa. He was sweaty with shame.” (Paragraph

58)D. “‘Bonjour,’ Teresa said, leaving him outside her next class. She smiled and

pushed wisps of hair from her face.” (Paragraph 62)

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[RL.5]6. How does Paragraph 57 contribute to the meaning of the short story?

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Name: Class:

"Peach" by Jackson's Orchard is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

PeachesBy Adrienne Su

2015

Adrienne Su is a Chinese American author who grew up in Georgia. In this poem, a speaker describes theirexperiences as the child of immigrant parents. As you read, take notes on the signi.cance of food to thespeaker.

A crate of peaches straight from the farmhas to be maintained,1 or eaten in days.Obvious, but in my family, they went so fast,I never saw the mess that punishes delay.

I thought everyone bought fruit by the crate,stored it in the coolest part of the house,then devoured2 it before any could rot.I’m from the Peach State,3 and to those

who ask But where are you from originally,I’d like to reply The homeland of the peach,but I’m too nice, and they might not look it up.In truth, the reason we bought so much

did have to do with being Chinese — at leastChinese in that part of America, both strangersand natives4 on a lonely, beautiful streetwhere food came in stackable containers

and fussy bags, unless you bothered to driveto the source, where the same money landeda bushel5 of fruit, a twenty-pound sack of rice.You had to drive anyway, each house surrounded

by land enough to grow your own, if lawnshadn’t been required. At home I loved to stareinto the extra freezer, reviewing mountainsof foil-wrapped meats, cakes, juice concentrate,

[1]

[5]

[10]

[15]

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1. to be kept in good condition2. Devour (verb): to eat food hungrily or quickly3. Georgia4. Native (noun): a person born in a speciDc place5. a measuring unit for dry foods equal to 8 gallons

1

Copyright © 2015 by Adrienne Su. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on October 23, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets.

mysterious packets brought by house guestsfrom New York Chinatown,6 to be transformedby heat, force, and my mother’s patient eGort,enough to keep us fed through Eood or storm,

provided the power stayed on, or Dre and icecould be procured,7 which would be labor-intensive,8

but so was everything else my parents did.Their lives were labor, they kept this from the kids,

who grew up to confuse work with pleasure,to become typical immigrants’ children,taller than their parents and unaware of hungerexcept when asked the odd, perplexing question.

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6. a neighborhood in New York City that has a large population of Chinese people7. Procure (verb): to get something8. requiring a lot of work

2

Text-Dependent QuestionsDirections: For the following questions, choose the best answer or respond in complete sentences.

1. PART A: Which statement identiDes the main theme of the poem?A. Being the child of immigrants can lead a person to feel confused about their

identity.B. Food has the ability to bring people together, no matter what country they are

from.C. It can feel isolating when someone asks where you’re originally from.D. It is diFcult for immigrants to feel accepted in a new country and new

community.

2. PART B: Which detail from the text best supports the answer to Part A?A. “A crate of peaches straight from the farm / has to be maintained, or eaten in

days.” (Lines 1-2)B. “But where are you from originally, / I’d like to reply The homeland of the peach”

(Lines 9-10)C. “Chinese in that part of America, both strangers / and natives on a lonely,

beautiful street” (Lines 14-15)D. “but so was everything else my parents did. / Their lives were labor, they kept

this from the kids” (Lines 31-32)

3. What does stanza 8 reveal about the speaker?A. The speaker had to work just as hard as their parents, being a child of

immigrants.B. The speaker does not think their life has been any diGerent from the lives of

children born in America.C. The speaker never realized how hard their parents had to work as immigrants in

America.D. The speaker does not understand why their parents had to work harder than

other Americans.

4. Which sentence describes the speaker’s relationship with food in the poem?A. The speaker rejects food commonly eaten in America and is more drawn to

Chinese food.B. The speaker has a lot of food in the house, but they realize later it’s a sign that

their family didn’t have a lot of money.C. The speaker primarily eats peaches because they remind them of their family’s

roots in China.D. The speaker tends to eat American food to avoid people further questioning

their origins.

3

5. Reread the following section: “But where are you from originally, / I’d like to reply Thehomeland of the peach, / but I’m too nice, and they might not look it up” (Lines 9-11). Whatdoes this reveal about the speaker and how they are viewed by other people?

4