Drina walks into my room with her mother, who is suddenly no longer pregnant. She's carrying the tiniest infant I've seen in person, wrapped up in a sling of sorts. She continues her not-smiling routine. Drina goes over to her desk and pulls out a few folders and a book. Hands them to her mother, who walks out without saying anything to me or acknowledging my presence (or anyone else's in the whole room).
Drina sits blankly through math class and goes with her classmates to other classes and sits blankly there, too.
The next day she's not there.
"New baby," Sr. Agneta guesses. "Number 6. I don't know how some women do it."
"I'm the oldest of 15," Sr. Fern mentions. Agneta shudders at this. So do I, but only in my head.
The following day Drina and her siblings are still not there. When a full week passes, Fern sighs loudly in the faculty lounge. "I'll call Ben, see what's going on."
Conversations with Middle Schoolers #55
9 years ago
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