A New Beginning: My Journey with Addy

I tell Addy that I know my letters, but I don’t think I want to read on my first day, and my voice trails off as I pass the reading book to the boy beside me.

Addy pats my arm and tells me it’s all right, that Miss Dunn allows it. Relief washes over me, and I settle back to listen to the rest of the group. A few students read confidently, but most stumble over a word or two. No one laughs at them. Instead, several students lean over to help one another sound out the hard parts, and I’m struck by how patient and motivated everyone is.

After reading, we return to our seats for arithmetic. Addy shows me a wooden frame strung with beads called an abacus, and explains how the bottom row counts ones, the next tens, and the next is hundreds. The top three rows count fives, fifties, and five hundreds. When Miss Dunn chalks a problem onto the board, Addy’s fingers fly across the rods until she lands on the right answer.

Miss Dunn writes a new problem and hands me the abacus. I already know the answer in my head, but I want to work it out the way everyone else does it. But my fingers freeze over the beads without any idea where to start. Harriet raises her hand and answers correctly, then swivels around to watch me fumble, remarking that not everyone is as good at arithmetic as she is. The girl beside her snickers, and my face burns so hot with embarrassment that I bolt from my seat and run straight for the cloakroom.

I plop down on the floor between the coats and shawls, wanting nothing more than to disappear. Addy kneels beside me and tells me not to feel bad, that the abacus takes practice. I tell her I’m usually good at arithmetic, though what I really mean is that I’m usually good at school. And suddenly it isn’t the abacus upsetting me at all, it’s the memory of my social studies test. Addy just grins and tells me not to listen to Harriet, who thinks she’s the best at everything when really she’s only the best at being Harriet. I can’t help giggling, but when Addy offers her hand to walk back to class, I shake my head, too ashamed to face everyone after making such a scene.

Miss Dunn finds us a few minutes later and crouches down in front of me. She reminds me, gently, that this is only my first day, and there’s no shame in not knowing something yet. She says everyone learns at their own pace, and my job is only to do my best. It’s the same thing Gran told me after my social studies test, and I sniff one last time before scrambling up and asking if I can try the abacus again. Addy loops her arm through mine, and we walk back to our desks together. I decide right then that once I’m home again, I’ll give social studies another try too.

With Addy’s help, the rest of the morning flies by, and soon Addy, Sarah, and I are pulling out our lunch pails and settling near the big windows where the sun warms our spot on the floor. Addy’s mother has packed a cold meat pie and two apples to share. My half of the meat pie is gone after a few bites, and I’m almost done with my apple when Addy reaches into the lunch pail and pulls out a cookie. She breaks it carefully into three nearly equal pieces and hands one to each of us, and I don’t know anybody who shares as willingly as she does. Between bites, Sarah mentions that cookies just like this one will sell at the church benefit, and Addy explains that the benefit raises money for people who are new to freedom, people like her own family. I think about Addy and her mother arriving in Philadelphia with nothing, and I tell her I hope the benefit raises a lot of money. Addy corrects me, teasing that I mean I hope we raise a lot of money. After all, I’ll be helping with the benefit right? I agree before I’ve even thought through what that might mean.

We put our pails away, grab our shawls, and follow the rest of the class outside for recess, where a crowd of girls has gathered around a game of Double Dutch. Harriet is the one jumping, sailing between two ropes turning furiously in opposite directions while her curls bounce with every hop. I know some kids at school who jump like that too, but I haven’t quite gotten the swing of it.

Harriet spots us watching and calls out that the new girl should have a turn. Every face turns toward me, and though my stomach flips, Sarah and Addy both give me an encouraging nod. Addy grabs one rope end while Sarah reaches for the other, but Harriet snatches it first, insisting she’ll turn instead since Sarah is always too slow. I watch the ropes carefully, waiting for my moment, and manage to weave in and jump. For a few beats I actually keep pace, but the ropes only speed up faster and faster until my boot catches one and I trip flat onto the ground.

Addy rushes over to help me up, brushing the dust from my dress and insisting the ropes were turning much too fast. She shoots a glare at Harriet, who only rolls her eyes in response. “Oh, you’re just making excuses for your pretend sister,” Harriet says, tossing her curls. “It’s too bad you don’t know where your real sister is…”