It seemed to Hanna that there were always a hundred reasons for disliking people and not nearly as many for liking them. For the moment, it was looking as if Dolly might be her best chance at a friend.

That afternoon, Miss Walters chose a few of the older students to read aloud from the Fifth Reader. Hanna stared down at her book, following every word.

Dolly and Ned took their turns. Then the teacher called on Bess.

Bess had brown hair braided and coiled at the back of her head. From the size of the coil, Hanna could tell that when unbraided, Bess’s hair would fall to at least her hips. She was the shortest of the big girls, sturdily built, with a round face and a chin dimple. She chose a poem called “Minot’s Ledge,” about a lighthouse keeper and the shipwreck of his son’s boat.

Like spectral hounds across the sky,

The white clouds scud before the storm;

And naked in the howling night

The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form.

Bess read beautifully, her voice rising and falling like the sea’s waves. There was not a sound in the room as she reached the closing stanzas: Young Charlie, with the chestnut hair and hazel eyes—would he survive the storm?

The other pupils had abandoned any pretense of attending to their own studies. They were all staring wide-eyed at Bess. When she finished reading, the whole room seemed to heave a sigh. Hanna stole a quick glance at Miss Walters, who seemed to be trying not to smile.

She knows that everyone is listening, Hanna thought, but that’s what she wanted.

“Nicely done, Bess,” Miss Walters said.

Hanna saw Bess blink a few times, almost as if waking, then blush at the teacher’s praise and lower her head a little.

Why, she’s a bit shy. But not while she was reading.

Sam was next. Although he was not much taller than the other students, he looked to be the oldest in the class, with wide shoulders and a firm brow. He was blond and brown-eyed, his face tanned and hair bleached by the sun. He had a very quick smile that might have been called cheeky if it weren’t so friendly. “‘The Blind Men and the Elephant,’” he announced.

Sam had chosen one of Hanna’s very favorite selections from the reader, a funny poem about six blind men and their mistaken assumptions about an elephant. By the third stanza, most of the pupils were hiding their giggles behind their hands; by the fifth, many were chuckling out loud.

“Hush,” Miss Walters said. Her voice was stern, but she had that same smile behind her eyes. Everyone quieted down to listen to Sam recite the last verses.

And so these men of Indostan

Disputed loud and long,

Each in his own opinion

Exceeding stiff and strong,

Though each was partly in the right,

And all were in the wrong!