Page 27

She continued to read as I set out the bowls for our cereal and Noble got the cereal from the panty, both of us moving as quietly as mice in the shadow of her anger.

" 'Home-instructed students are not eligible to participate in interscholastic sports. Districts are not required to loan textbooks to home-instructed students,'

" Primary responsibility for determining compliance with Section 100.10 rests with the superintendent of schools of the school district.' As if he really cares about you two," she added and crumpled the letter in her hands.

Noble's face was full of confusion. I could see he was disappointed, too.

"I want to go to school," he dared say. "I want to play baseball."

"You're not ready," Mommy said. "and you can play baseball here with Celeste,"

"She can't play baseball, and you need more people," he insisted.

"Noble!"

Mommy leaned over and slapped her palm on the table, and we both felt our insides jump.

"I have enough to do without your whining today. I want you both to eat your breakfast and then go back upstairs and put on your Sunday clothes."

She called our nice clothes that even though we never went to church. It was what her mother and her mother before her had called their best clothing.

"I'll be up to brush your hair properly, Noble," she added.

Noble hated Sunday clothes because he couldn't get them dirty, and he always complained that his Sunday shirt collars irritated his neck.

"Eat, get dressed, and well go." she concluded. "I have some forms to fill out quickly," she added and left us.

"I want to go to school," Noble muttered after he began to eat his cereal.

"We'll go when Mommy tells us to go," I told him. He glared at me.

"You don't want to go, so you don't care. Celeste."

"That's not true. I do."

"No, you don't," he said with eyes narrowed in accusation. "You're happy with your spirits. I want friends."

I shook my head.

"No. Noble, you're wrong."

He grimaced and continued to tat, still mumbling complaints about putting on his Sunday clothes. Afterward, he was at least happy about going for a ride. Mommy let him sit up front, and he sat with his face against the window, looking at everything.

"Stop gaping at people," Mommy ordered. "It's not polite, and you look like a refugee."

"-What's a ref --"

"Never mind what it is. Stop gaping!" she yelled, and he sat back unhappily. Neither of us could remember seeing her so upset about taking us somewhere.

I was quiet in the rear. It wasn't that I was uninterested in everything. I was probably as excited inside as Noble was about going for a ride and seeing other houses, stores, traffic, and people. but I knew how much Mommy wanted us to love our home and our world.

What really surprised me, however, was seeing Mr. Kotes waiting for us at the school parking lot when we pulled up. We didn't actually see him until we were parked. Both Noble and I were fascinated by the sight of dozens of children our age or a little older out in the play area. Their screams and laughter were like music we never heard. Even I was pressing my face to the window now.

Mommy stopped the car and turned off the engine. Mr. Kotes approached us quickly.

"I've already put in a call for you. Sarah. I don't expect you'll have any great difficulty. but I thought I'd come around just in case you needed something."

"Thank you. Taylor," she said, getting out of the car. She opened the rear door for me. Noble had already hopped out and was looking at the children. He looked poised to run to the play area if someone would just beckon. "Noble," Mommy snapped. "Come on."