Getting Along & Making Things Right
The Page She Never Turned
Rain. So recess was indoors. Which meant a LONG one. Wren had brought in the rock box, and she was explaining every rock to Kimi, in the exact order she’d sorted them. She’d gotten as far as the fourth compartment. The quartz.
Kimi said “cool” about the first eight rocks. Then “mm” about three more. Then she started saying “yeah” without even looking at the box. Wren hardly noticed.
When Wren reached for the fifth compartment, Kimi stood up. Nothing unkind. Just, “I’m going to read for a bit,” in a completely ordinary voice. Over she went to the reading corner by the window. Flump, onto the beanbag.
Kimi opened a book on her knees, the fat one about volcanoes she’d been reading all week. And she read the way people do when they mean it: no looking up, one finger under the line, shoulders turned a bit toward the window.
Wren was still standing at the table, box open in both hands, at the fifth compartment. The best one. It had the rock with the STRIPE. She’d been saving it, on purpose, for last. Because it was the good one.
The reading corner was about one step away. There was lots of recess left. The rain was still going, pitter-patter. And the stripy rock was sitting right there in the fifth compartment, where nobody had looked at it yet.
Kimi: reading. Wren: holding the box. One whole compartment left, with the best rock in it. And about eleven minutes of rain still to go.
What does Wren do?
Every choice costs something. Let’s see what.
Go over and keep going from the fifth compartment
Wren took the one step and sat on the edge of the beanbag, box balanced on her knee. “So THIS one,” she said, straight into the fifth compartment, “is the one I was saving.” Kimi kept her finger under her line.
“Mm,” said Kimi. She looked at the stripy one for about a second and a half. Her finger didn’t move. It stayed on the same line, holding her place on the page she wanted to get back to.
Wren got all the way through the fifth compartment. She explained the stripe. And where she found it. And the best part: the stripe means it was two rocks before it was one! She got to say all of it, out loud, to somebody.
BRRRING. Kimi shut the volcano book and put it back on the shelf. She’d been on the same page the whole recess. The finger had never moved. “Bye,” she said, in the ordinary voice, and went to line up.
Ask Kimi whether she wants the rest now or later
“Do you want the last part now or after lunch?” said Wren, from where she was, still holding the box. It came out a bit fast. Kimi looked up properly for the first time in about ten minutes. Finger still under the line.
“After lunch,” said Kimi. Then, because Wren was still standing there: “I do want to see it. I just want to finish this chapter.” And back to the page. This time her finger came off the line and moved down.
The rest of recess was EXTREMELY long. Wren put the lid on the box. Click. She sat at the table with it shut in front of her. The stripy one waited in the fifth compartment. Outside, the rain kept going. Eleven whole minutes. Wren counted some of them.
After lunch Kimi came and found her. Wren hadn’t been sure she would. “Okay. The stripy one,” said Kimi. She picked it up and turned it over. Then she had to go, before Wren could explain how two rocks became one. “Tell me that part tomorrow,” said Kimi, already at the door.
Take the box to a different table instead
Wren turned around and took the box to the other table, where Leyla and Felix were doing the puzzle. “Do you want to see a rock with a stripe in it?” “Sure,” said Leyla, and slid a puzzle piece over to make room.
It went fine. Leyla liked the stripe. Felix asked how you get one. Wren explained how two rocks became one. And she didn’t have to wonder, not once, whether they wanted to listen.
Across the room Kimi read her volcano book the rest of recess. Turning pages. Getting through most of the chapter. She didn’t look over. Wren checked twice, without meaning to, right in the middle of explaining something else.
At the end of the day Kimi walked past her to the coat hooks. “Bye,” she said, in the ordinary voice. “Bye,” said Wren. She wanted to ask about the rocks. Or the book. Or anything. Not today, though. All the way home the box went clonk, clonk in her bag, and Wren worked out how she would start tomorrow: “Was the volcano book good?”