“Has Mr. Cavendish posted the results yet?” Brandy asked, finally changing the subject. “I hope he liked my poetry.”
“I messed up,” Mimi said sadly. “I don’t think my name will be on the list.”
Ziggy walked up to her then and said boldly, “Not to worry, Mimi. You sang real pretty yesterday. Really you did.” Mimi blushed and smiled.
While waiting for Jerome, Rashawn and Rico sat with Ziggy in the front hall, which looked so different when it was filled with hundreds of kids and all the conversation and variety they brought. Noisy and bright, dressed in reds and greens and blues and khaki, the students made the hall come alive. It didn’t seem like the same quiet place the boys had left the day before.
“Here comes Jerome.” Ziggy didn’t have to tell Rico and Rashawn. They, along with dozens of other kids, were staring at Jerome, who walked proudly next to Tulip up the front steps into the main hall. Instead of the torn jumper and the boots she’d had on the night before, Tulip wore a pale yellow flowered dress and matching sandals. Her hair, without the baseball cap, seemed to be a soft ball of glistening curls that bounced as she walked. The small Band-Aid on her forehead could barely be seen.
“Wow, mon!” Ziggy said softly.
“Yeah. Wow,” Rashawn and Rico said at the same time.
Mrs. Thompson and Jerome’s grandmother followed them up the steps and headed for the main office, taking Tulip with them. Jerome joined the other three boys.
“Score two points for Granny,” Jerome said as they slapped hands. “Probably more than that. Granny fell in love with Tulip and her mother. She made them both the biggest dinner we’ve had since Thanksgiving, then took them shopping to one of those stores that stays open all night, then tucked them both on the sofa for the night.”
“Your granny is awesome, mon!” said Ziggy.
Rashawn commented carefully, “Tulip looks really, uh, different today.”
“Amazing what a hot shower, a good breakfast, and a new dress can do for a person,” Jerome said. “And this afternoon Granny is taking Tulip’s mom to see about a job. Granny has a friend who owns a flower shop!”
“What would have happened if we hadn’t met them?” Rico wondered.
“I’m glad she knocked those chairs down, mon,” Ziggy said with feeling.
Tulip came out of the office with her mother just as the bell rang for the first class. “Well, they called somebody in the office of the New Orleans school district and had my records faxed here, so it looks like I’m enrolled at your school,” she said shyly as she looked at the class schedule in her hand.
Jerome asked her, “Can I see it?” He looked at it for a moment, then said with a smile on his face, “It looks like you have most of your classes with us!”
“I’ll show you how to get to math class,” Rico offered. “It’s right down this hall.”
“We’re all going to the same place, mon,” Ziggy said cheerfully. “Let the royal procession begin!” He headed down the hall as if he were marching in front of a line of soldiers. The other followed behind him.
“Is Ziggy always this silly?” Tulip asked.
“Nope. Most of the time he’s sillier!” Rashawn replied.
In math class, the teacher, Mr. Landon, shook Tulip’s hand and asked Ziggy and Jerome to introduce her.
“Uh, this is Tulip Thompson,” Jerome said, feeling a little awkward. “We met her last night.”
“She’s lived a life of danger and adventure!” Ziggy added. “Fire engines! Ambulances! Medical emergencies! And lots of fried chicken from Jerome’s grandmother.” Tulip just waved to the class and took the seat that Mr. Landon assigned to her.
Mr. Landon, a short, muscular man with a face full of freckles, began his lesson on fractions. He asked Jerome to come the front to solve a problem on the board.
Jerome whispered to Ziggy as he got up, “I hate it when he makes us do this.” He solved the problem without too much difficulty, but he was sweating when he sat down.
Mr. Landon then asked for a volunteer to do the next problem. Tulip raised her hand. Jerome turned around in surprise as Tulip made her way to the blackboard. Instead of being shy or embarrassed to do such a task on her first day, Tulip not only answered the problem correctly, but also showed two different ways to solve it. “I like math,” she said quietly when the teacher congratulated her.
Their next class was English. In that class, Mrs. Powell took time to introduce Tulip to everyone and make sure she felt comfortable. Then she continued with the lesson from the day before, which was about poetry.
“We spoke yesterday,” Mrs. Powell began, “about the power of words when we write them in poems, and how they can make us feel. I asked you to bring a favorite poem to recite to the class. Did anyone remember?”
Rico raised his hand. “I’ve got one!”
Ziggy said, “Me too! Me too!”
Mrs. Powell smiled. “Let’s begin with your poem, Rico. Ziggy, we’ll hear yours on Monday, okay?” Ziggy nodded in agreement.
Rico walked up to the front of the room, took a deep bow, and said, “This poem is called ‘I Went to the Zoo with My Brother Magoo.’”
The kids in the class started to giggle.
“I WENT TO THE ZOO WITH MY BROTHER MAGOO
AND A BOTTLE OF GLUE—AND WHAT DID WE DO?
WE PUT EELS ON MY EYEBALLS, LIZARDS ON MY LIPS,
SPIDERS ON MY STOMACH, AND HIPPOS ON MY HIPS!
I WENT TO THE ZOO WITH MY BROTHER MAGOO
AND A BOTTLE OF GLUE—AND WHAT DID WE DO?
WE PUT BULLFROGS ON HIS BELLY, TURTLES ON HIS TOES,
FALCONS ON HIS FOREHEAD, AND RHINOS ON HIS NOSE.
I WENT TO THE ZOO WITH MY BROTHER MAGOO
AND A BOTTLE OF GLUE—AND WHAT DID WE DO?
WE PUT AARDVARKS ON MY ARMPITS, TIGERS ON MY TONGUE,
SEAGULLS ON MY SHOULDER, AND GORILLAS ON MY GUMS.
I WENT TO THE ZOO WITH MY BROTHER MAGOO
AND A BOTTLE OF GLUE—AND WHAT DID WE DO?
WE PUT ANTS ON HIS ANKLES, EAGLES ON HIS EYES,
FERRETS ON HIS FINGERS, AND TURKEYS ON HIS THIGHS.
I WENT TO THE ZOO WITH MY BROTHER MAGOO
AND A BOTTLE OF GLUE—AND WHAT DID WE DO?
GOT KICKED OUT OF THE ZOO!”
Rico took another bow and everybody in the classroom cheered for him, but as Rico sat down, Ziggy jumped up and shouted, “I shoulda done that one, mon! That’s a Ziggy kind of poem! Really awesome, Rico!”
Mrs. Powell seemed to agree as she made notes in her grade book. “Good job, Rico,” the teacher said, still smiling, “And sit down, Ziggy!” He plopped back down in his seat. “Does anyone else have a poem to recite?”
Surprisingly, Tulip raised her hand. “Is it okay if I wrote the poem myself?” she asked.
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Powell replied. “Please come to the front. What is the title of your poem?”
“I call it ‘The Blues for Kids.’” She stood without speaking for a moment, then began. She recited the poem from memory.
“I HEARD ABOUT THE BLUES, AND I THINK THAT’S WHAT I’VE GOT,
BUT I’M NOT REALLY SURE WHAT THAT MEANS.
I KNOW THAT I LIKE ALL THE COLORS BLUE CAN BE:
BLUE LIKE VELVET, BLUE LIKE OCEAN, BLUE LIKE JEANS.
IF WE DIDN’T HAVE THE BLUES, WE COULDN’T SEE THE STARS.
WE COULDN’T SEE A RAINBOW IN THE SKY.
NO GOLD OR RED OR PURPLE; NO ORANGE, PINK, OR GREEN;
JUST SHADOWS HUGGING RAINDROPS AS THEY SIGH.
I HEARD ABOUT THE BLUES, AND I THINK THAT’S WHAT I’VE GOT,
BUT I’M NOT REALLY SURE WHAT THAT MEANS.
I KNOW THAT I LIKE ALL THE COLORS BLUE CAN BE:
BLUE LIKE VELVET, BLUE LIKE OCEAN, BLUE LIKE JEANS.
Most of the kids in the class applauded enthusiastically. Brandy crossed her arms across her chest. Mrs. Powell looked stunned. “That was truly amazing, Tulip.”
Tulip shrugged. “I like poetry.”
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“When did you write that?” the teacher asked.
“After the hurricane, when things looked really bad for me and my mom. I’ve been writing poems since I was five or six.”
“Me too!” blurted Brandy, who looked a little upset that Tulip was getting so much attention.
“Brandy is also a very fine poet,” Mrs. Powell told her. “You two should get to know each other.”
Tulip smiled at Brandy, but Brandy reached down to dig in her book bag.
“We’ll recite some more poetry Monday, class,” Mrs. Powell said. Right now, let’s turn to our grammar book. It’s time to work on nouns and verbs.” The class groaned as they reached for their books.
“Hey, mon!” Ziggy whispered to Jerome. “That Tulip girl is something else!”
Jerome grinned. “Yeah. I know.”
MR. CAVENDISH’S MUSIC CLASS, WHICH WAS CHOIR instead of band this class period, was just before lunch. “Where’s the list, mon?” Ziggy asked the teacher as he burst into the band room. “Who’s going to be in the talent show?”
“Hold your horses, Ziggy,” Mr. Cavendish said. He took attendance, introduced Tulip, who by now everybody already knew, and had everyone sing a few scales to settle the class down. “Now, class,” the teacher said. “Let’s work on our songs for the talent show. As you know, the audience will be expecting a wonderful show from not just the individual performances, but also from our choir. I’m very proud of the music awards you young people have won in the past couple of years. You are wonderful singers—all of you. Tulip, we welcome you to the choir.”
“Do I have to try out for the choir?” she asked.
Mr. Cavendish chuckled. “No, we take anybody who signs up for the class—even Ziggy!”
“Hey, mon! I’m a dynamite singer! Want to hear a solo?” Ziggy stood and opened his mouth.
“No!” the whole class yelled as they burst into laughter.
Ziggy sat down then, laughing with them, and said, “You’ll be sorry you missed this great opportunity before I go to New York and get famous!”
Mr. Cavendish announced then, “Let’s try ‘Mockingbird,’ class. Are you ready?” Everyone nodded. “Remember now, even though our theme for the program is Stars and Sparks, this song is a lullaby, so let’s sing it like we’re trying to put a baby to sleep, okay?” He hit a note on the piano, and the room was filled with the pure, clear voices of the children in the class.
“HUSH, LITTLE BABY, DON’T SAY A WORD,
MAMA’S GOING TO BUY YOU A MOCKINGBIRD.
AND IF THAT MOCKINGBIRD DON’T SING,
MAMA’S GOING TO BUY YOU A DIAMOND RING.
AND IF THAT DIAMOND RING TURNS BRASS,
MAMA’S GOING TO BUY YOU A LOOKING GLASS.
AND IF THAT LOOKING GLASS GETS BROKE,
MAMA’S GOING TO BUY YOU A BILLY GOAT.
AND IF THAT BILLY GOAT WON’T PULL,
MAMA’S GOING TO BUY YOU A CART AND BULL.
AND IF THAT CART AND BULL TURNS OVER,
MAMA’S GOING TO BUY YOU A DOG NAMED ROVER.
AND IF THAT DOG NAMED ROVER WON’T BARK,
MAMA’S GOING TO BUY YOU A HORSE AND CART.
AND IF THAT HORSE AND CART FALLS DOWN,
YOU’LL STILL BE THE SWEETEST LITTLE BABY IN TOWN.”
“Lovely!” Mr. Cavendish said with pleasure, beaming at the class. “This is going to be the best program we’ve ever done! Now, we have one more person who wants to audition for the talent show,” the teacher told the class then.
“Who’s that? Everybody had their chance last night!” Ziggy said impatiently.
“Not everybody. Last night I met a young lady who whispered in my ear her desire to try out for our show, so if she’s willing, I’m going to let her do that right now during class. Then I’ll post the list this afternoon.”
“Tulip?” Jerome asked.
“Tulip,” Mr. Cavendish replied, nodding his head and motioning for the girl to come up to the front of the room. The rest of the class clapped for her in support.
Tulip walked slowly to the front, her eyes a little cast down, moving slowly and gracefully. She took a deep breath and began. When she began to sing, everybody in the room looked at each other in surprise.
Tulip belted out the song. Her voice was a deep alto, full and rich and strong. It was so loud and so dominating that Miss Blakely, who taught next door, peeped her head in the door just to listen.
“SWING LOW, SWEET CHARIOT,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME.
SWING LOW, SWEET CHARIOT,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME.
I LOOKED OVER JORDAN, AND WHAT DID I SEE,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME?
A BAND OF ANGELS COMING AFTER ME,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME.
SWING LOW, SWEET CHARIOT,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME.
SWING LOW, SWEET CHARIOT,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME.
IF YOU GET THERE BEFORE I DO,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME,
TELL ALL MY FRIENDS I’M COMING TOO,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME.
SWING LOW, SWEET CHARIOT,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME.
SWING LOW, SWEET CHARIOT,
COMING FOR TO CARRY ME HOME.”
For a moment everyone in the classroom sat in stunned silence. Then, gradually, they began to clap, then cheer, then whistle and stomp with approval. Tulip smiled shyly and bowed again before she took her seat.
“Man,” Rashawn said as he leaned over to whisper to Ziggy. “You’d think a little bitty thing like Tulip would have a teeny small voice like one of those talking dolls. But she’s got a voice like one of those big church ladies whose voice sounds like it came from the bottom of a volcano. That girl can really blow it out!”
The boys looked at one another with concern. “She’s good, really good,” Ziggy whispered. The other three nodded.
“Where did you learn to sing that like, Tulip?” Mr. Cavendish asked.
Tulip shrugged. “I don’t really know. We used to sing it in church back in New Orleans. I like music.”
By the end of the day, everybody in the school either wanted to be Tulip’s friend or was a little jealous of her because she seemed too perfect to be real. She was the fastest runner during gym class when the teacher timed them on sprints.
“I like to run,” she said when she finished, barely breathing hard.
In science class she knew the name of every single flower the teacher pointed to. “I like flowers,” Tulip said with a smile.
Tulip suddenly became the most talked-about girl in the school. She was good at everything, but she was so sweet and shy that most kids ended up not resenting her at all. She also carried an air of mystery that made her the topic of many conversations.
“I’d hate to be homeless,” Samantha whispered to Mimi as Tulip walked past them in the hall.
“Must be awful,” Mimi replied. “No place to go to the bathroom or wash your hair.”
“No television or microwave or video games or computer or telephone or CD player. No trips to the mall to get new clothes,” Samantha said sadly.
“All you think about is stuff. With her mother out of work, they couldn’t buy food. I hate being hungry,” Mimi said.
“That would be terrible,” Samantha replied. “No bed to sleep in. I heard they slept in her mom’s car.”
If Tulip overheard their conversation, she didn’t let them know. She just quietly continued down the hall to her next class.
When the bell finally rang for the end of the school day, everyone who had tried out for the talent show ran to Mr. Cavendish’s room to see the list of names of those who had been chosen to participate. Ziggy and his friends rushed to the front of the line. Tulip remained in the background.
Ziggy jumped with joy. “We’re in, mon!” he cried with excitement. “The Black Dinosaurs are on their way to stardom!” Rico, Rashawn, and Jerome slapped hands with Zigg
y, then they let other kids get close to the list to find their own names. Brandy was chosen to recite her poetry, and Mimi’s name appeared on the list as well. She sank to the floor in relief. Brandy sat next to her and gave her a hug.
Several kids who had performed dance routines, three rap groups, a couple of rock groups, and Simon the juggler were on the list. Even Tito and Bill, the Snakes and Spiders, had been chosen. The very last name on the list was Tulip.
“You made it, Tulip! You’re going to be in the talent show!” Jerome told her.
“I’m glad,” she said quietly. “I like talent shows.”
Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, and the Black Dinosaurs had decided to have an early meeting. Ziggy got to the clubhouse first with a broom he had borrowed from his mother. As he swept the dust and leaves off the dirt floor, he thought back to how he, Rico, Rashawn, and Jerome had worked together to build this little shed in Ziggy’s backyard.
Using wood from an old fence, they had hammered and nailed and struggled to get the walls to stay up. The windows were simply holes cut into the wood, and the door, which was closed with a piece of bent wire hanger, didn’t really lock anything in or out, but the clubhouse was theirs alone and therefore special.
Putting on the roof had been the hardest part, because the piece of fence they had used had been very heavy. Plus, it had been covered with little brown bugs that scrambled everywhere when they lifted it up, and Jerome hate insects of any kind. He had threatened to quit right then. With the help of lots of bug spray, they had been able to get the roof on, aided by two stepladders, a two-by-four balanced on a rock, and quite a bit of luck.
The clubhouse was about ten feet by twelve feet, which wasn’t really big, but it was large enough for four boys to sit and talk. Their seating consisted of an old lawn chair, a folding chair that had been left over from a church picnic, a three-legged kitchen chair that used a big rock for the fourth leg, and an old bicycle with two flat tires. They also had a soft blanket to sit on that Ziggy’s mom had given them.
Yeah, mon, Ziggy thought as he worked. We sure could use that money to fix this place up.
The four boys had held meetings here, done homework, goofed off, and even slept in the clubhouse overnight. In the winter Ziggy’s father covered it with a big blue tarp, but little animals still managed to get in and try to make themselves at home.