From those conversations, Hanna understood that it was better to simply avoid the subject around Papa. Getting her into school had been a big enough hump; he didn’t need other reminders of the trouble that occurred because she was half-Chinese. He might well have heard that most families were keeping their children home from school, but he hadn’t said anything about it to her.

Hanna rolled out the biscuit dough. A sudden pain seared through her, like a blow to her stomach.

She knew exactly what it was. It had happened before and would doubtless happen again. It was a piece of her heart breaking, from missing Mama.

To Mama, the fact that Hanna was half-Chinese had been the most beautiful thing in the world.

13

IN SOME WAYS THE REST of that week was wonderful. Hanna, Bess, and Sadie were the only students at school. Miss Walters tailored the lessons to their needs. She had both of the older girls spend more time on arithmetic, and Hanna paid extra attention to history.

Besides the enjoyment of school, her work at home held a little extra interest when, on Tuesday evening, she cooked the prairie turnips. Softened after their three-day soak, they boiled up nicely. Hanna was so eager for a taste that she burned the roof of her mouth.

Papa had said that they tasted of half potato, half turnip, and she agreed. More substantial than a turnip, not as starchy as a potato. She was charmed by the addition of a new flavor to what often seemed like a never-ending, never-changing menu of cornmeal and beans.

That week, Miss Walters always found time during the school day for a reading session, which all of them enjoyed. On Wednesday, they spent an entire hour reading aloud to one another, with Bess and Hanna taking it in turns to choose pieces from the Sixth Reader.

Not the Fifth.

Hanna wondered why Miss Walters had made the switch. Near dismissal on Friday, the teacher finally spoke about it.

“Bess and Hanna, I have an idea that I’d like to put to you. Hanna, your father told me that you would need one or two more terms of school before you could graduate. In assessing your studies, I find that I disagree. I think you’re very nearly ready now.” She smiled.

Hanna shifted a little in her seat, unaccustomed to praise. “I—um, thank you, miss.”

“Bess, in my opinion, you are in a similar position. And I know that you are hoping to become a schoolteacher yourself.”

“Yes, miss,” Bess replied.

Hanna was surprised. Of the oldest girls, Edith seemed to Hanna the most likely to become a teacher. Edith was friendly and vivacious and never seemed nervous when singled out to respond, while Bess often looked like Hanna felt—as if she were forcing herself to speak. Yet although Bess’s voice was quiet, she always spoke clearly.