Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 Jackson ran down the halls. He'd seen the boys' room on his walk to the classroom. But now he couldn't find it. After three wrong turns he finally made it. He pushed his way into a stall and stood there. His heart pounded. Sweat dripped down his back. But the queasy feeling passed. A minute later the outside door creaked open.

"Jackson?" Miss Lawrence. Jackson stepped out of the stall. Miss Lawrence was right outside the boys' room, with the door open just a crack. "Do you need to see the nurse?" she said. Nurse? Last winter Jackson nearly cut his finger off chopping wood. The blood soaked his shirt. Mom sewed up the deep cut with a needle and thread. Jackson bit down on a stick so he wouldn't yell out in pain with every stab of the needle. Jackson didn't need a nurse for a queasy stomach. "No, thank you," he said. Miss Lawrence put her hand on his shoulder as they walked back to the classroom. "You'll feel better," she said. "First days are hard…" "Thanks," Jackson said, breaking away.

He knew Miss Lawrence was trying to be nice. But she didn't understand. He wasn't some spoiled town kid. He'd grown up in the bush. The rest of the morning went okay. Luckily, kids didn't make a big deal about him rushing out of the room. Leonor leaned over and quietly asked him if he was okay, but that was it. It turned out Jackson was way ahead of most kids in math. He whipped through his long division problems. In grammar they worked on commas, which Mom had taught him about last year. And the work wasn't boring. Miss Lawrence cracked jokes and even made stuff interesting. Jackson didn't fall asleep once. Plus, they had music class. Jackson didn't know any of the songs, but he liked listening to the other kids sing. When it was time for lunch, the kids all took their lunchboxes to the cafeteria. The noise in

there was louder than a thunderstorm in the bush. The giggles and shrieks of the kids. The shouts of the frazzled-looking teacher trying to get the little kids to stop throwing food. The banging of chairs and slamming of metal lunchboxes. And Jackson had barely bitten into his bologna-and-cheese sandwich when kids started asking him questions about the bush. "What did you eat?" "Where did you sleep?" "Did you have electricity?" "How did you take a shower?" Jackson answered as best he could. The kids were especially amazed to hear how he had to lug water from the creek just to wash dishes or take a bath. "It sounds really fun!" Leonor said. "Like a camping trip." Sure, Jackson thought. That's what Mom and Dad had thought when they first got to the bush.

Then they almost died ten times. But no reason to tell these kids any of that. "I don't know," Nora said, nibbling on a chip. "I couldn't live without electricity." "I'd miss listening to music," Mary said. In music class, Jackson had noticed that Mary had the best singing voice. "I'd miss my Twinkies," Chris added, picking up one of the vanilla cakes and giving it a kiss. The kids all laughed—even Jackson. "What's the most amazing thing you've ever seen?" Leonor asked, leaning forward. Jackson felt all their eyes on him, but surprisingly, he didn't get queasy like before. He thought about some of his favorite moments in the bush. A huge rainbow he saw after a big storm last summer. The sound of thousands of birds starting to sing at once right before a springtime sunrise. The time he saw an eagle snatch a huge salmon from the river with its

pointy talon toes. To Jackson, every day in the bush was amazing. But he was pretty sure these town kids didn't want to hear about sunsets and birds. They wanted blood, guts, and snarls. Jackson had the perfect story.