Jeremy walked through the that woods divided his house from the school, pulling his six-year-old sister, Clara, behind him by the hand.
“Slow down,” she whined, her chubby legs growing tired from trying to keep up with his long stride.
“Come on,” he said, “We’re gonna be late.” But as he spoke he slowed his pace.
“I don’ wonna gota school.”
“You’ll get to see all your friends. And your gonna be putting on that class play tomorrow, right? So you don’t want to miss the rehearsal.”
“I don’ wonna be in the play. I forgot my lines yesterday during the practice. Everyone laughed.”
“I’m sure lots of the kids forget their lines.”
She nodded and then dropped her head and stared at the water-darkened dirt of the path. “Yeah. Some. And they laughed at them too.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“The smart kids who always get their lines right. The teacher gave ‘em each a lollipop because they did their homework and memorized their lines. I told her that I did memorize ‘em but couldn’t remember ‘em. I said that it wasn’t fair and I should get a lollipop too. But she said that if I ever talked back ta her I’d have ta sit in the corner. She made Connor sit in the corner a couple of days ago ‘cause he threw a colored pencil ‘cross the classroom. At recess he told me that he hated bein’ in the corner. That it’s real bad there.”
“I’m sure you’ll do very good today and you’ll get a lollipop.”
“I don’ think so. What if I mess up again?”
“Then I’ll help your memorize them after school,” he said as they emerged from the woods into the playground of her school. The wet rubber of the ground squished under their sneakers.
As they neared the front door of the school, Clara leaned back, pulling his hand and bring him to a halt. When he turned around she said, “Will daddy be there?”
“I don’t know, but Mom said that he will.”
“She said that ‘bout my first day of school to and your birthday party.”
“Have fun at school today,” Jeremy said.
She stood on the steps of the school and watched him walk towards the high school. When he was out of sight around the corner, she turned and hopped up the remaining steps out of habit. She began to skip toward the door but she stopped suddenly and walked slowly into the building as if someone had just set a too-heavy backpack on her shoulders.

Jeremy snuck backstage and found Clara sitting with her friends on the floor in the shade of a fake tree used in the fifth grade production of the Wizard of Oz. The first grade play was not nearly so elaborate and had hardly any props and each kid had only a line or two.
When Clara saw him, she leapt up and ran over to him, grabbing his hand. “Is daddy here?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen him yet. But don’t think about that. I’m sure he’ll get here. Are you ready?”
She shook her head so vigorously a lock of hair flew out of the braid their mother had done that morning. He tucked it behind her ear and said, “Good luck. We’ll be sitting in the third row towards the middle.”
“Okay,” she said, as he led her back towards her friends. He waited until they started talking and then slipped away. She did not notice he was gone until the teacher called them all to line up behind the stage door. She tugged at the long skirt of her dress. She was dressed as a pilgrim and was unbearably hot in the costume. She wondered how the real pilgrims stood being in such clothes all the time. Her daydreaming was cut short by the teacher saying, “Show time!” and opening the door to the stage. Clara filed onto the stage with the class and took the position marked by her initials in small tape letters. She felt the minutes tick by, each one like a hand squeezing her heart. She began to get dizzy and sought her father’s face in audience. But there was only an empty seat. Instead, Jeremy caught her eye and smiled. She smiled back but it did not help her dizziness. When her turn came around she stepped forward with Connor who was dressed as an Indian.
She took a deep breath that made her small body swell. Then she said, “Squanto, we’re starving. How do you farm here?”
“Bury a fish in the ground beneath the seed. Then you will have a crop big enough to feed everyone. I’ll teach you.”
“Thank you,” she said. Then, they turned around and returned to their places.
She felt as if her heart was about to burst but not in the painful way that had ached before her part. She could barely make herself stay on stage. She longed to run off and hug Jeremy and her mother. They would be so proud of her.
At the very end, Clara sang with the rest of the children the short Thanksgiving song that the music teacher had made them learn.
“Come, come, we’ll tell you the story
Of the brave people who came to America first
How they learned how to survived from the Indians
And how against the odds overcame the worst”
When they finished, they slowly and orderly left the stage as their teacher had insisted they do. But once Clara was safely off stage she ran out into the audience and to her mother and Jeremy. Her mother bent down and hugged her close, kissing her cheek. Then Jeremy picked her up and said, “That was perfect!”
She giggled in the manner that only little kids do and she hugged his neck. She leaned back so she could see his face and said, “But I was supposed to say ‘kind Squanto’ and I only said ‘Squanto’.” Her heart began to sink deeper into her chest and go numb.
“I like it better your way. It sounded more…natural.”
She smiled and he put her back on the ground. With one more look at her mother and Jeremy she turned and dashed off to find her friends.