Jude's Music

Seven

I saw Jill that Monday, when my mother dropped me off at school. She was studying one of the bushes by the front steps. I remembered that I hadn't met her after school to let her take me to the old stump, and part of me felt guilty. Even if I didn't care about her, it wasn't very nice not to pretend I did.

Strolling over to her, I said, "Hi, Jill. I'm sorry that I didn't meet you after school on Friday."

She didn't turn to look at me, she just peered deeper into the bush.

I wondered if she'd heard me. "Jill, I said I'm sorry," I tried again.

"Shhh!" came her angry, whispering response. Backing up, she looked at me. "If you make so much noise you'll wake them up."

"Wake who up?"

"Shhh!" She motioned toward the bush. "Have a look, but don't talk. Don't even breathe."

I glanced from her serious face to the place in the bush where the leaves parted, wondering whether she was trying to fool me. Not saying anything, I leaned over and cautiously stretched my neck through the hole. At first, I saw only knobby branches and dark leaves. My eyes scanned the foliage. About to retreat in disappointment, I paused when I caught sight of something. Downward, toward the base of the thick plant where a mound of dirt was piled, was a shallow burrow. Small balls of fur were there, gray, with little pointed ears. As my eyes fully adjusted to the dimness, I saw that there were three of them, and they were rabbits.

Removing my head from the bush I turned to Jill. "There're rabbits down there! Little baby rabbits."

"Well, of course there are!" she replied all-knowingly.

"Aren't they supposed to be born in the spring? It's nearly the beginning of October."

She put her hands to her hips. "I know! Strange, isn't it? I guess we can't just assume that every animal has a set date for being born." I considered replying — thought about telling her they'd die when winter came — but before I could, she was grabbing my arm and saying, "Come on. Let's get inside before anyone else figures it out. That's all those babies need is to be bothered by a bunch of goggling kids."

We went into the building and upstairs to our classroom. I didn't mention that I was sorry again, because I was sure she'd heard me the first two times. She didn't seem to be angry with me, and I was relieved.

That afternoon, Ms. Montague told us that she was going to put us into pairs. She wanted us to write play scenes from chapters of the book we'd just read, and she didn't want us to do it alone. As strange as I knew it was, I hoped sharply that Ms. Montague would pair me with Jill. Only the day before I hadn't thought much about her at all. But since my talk with Mrs. McBride I felt as if Jillian Lee was the only chance I had at making a friend, and I had to grab it fast before it flew off. If I had some time to talk to her, maybe we could arrange a trip to the old stump again.

I was shocked, though, when the teacher called my name off of the class list and paired it with Jude Wood. Not shocked because I didn't want to be with him, but because I wasn't with Jill. I just expected that she would have been my partner. As soon as Ms. Montague spoke Jude's name, my insides emptied out. A nervousness like I'd never felt bounded into my stomach like a massive panther, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

The other students began to move. They switched seats and drew closer to their partners, but I sat still. Jude was behind me, and I knew he wasn't going to be moving toward my chair. I probably wouldn't have budged at all if Jill hadn't suddenly poked my shoulder with the words, "I'm going to use your chair. Scoot!" She nearly toppled me out of my desk the way she pulled at my arm.