The New Kid

The new girl arrived at our school just before lunchtime. The principal walked her into our classroom and introduced her as Jane. He told the class she was from Uganda and had been in the United States for less than a month. Our teacher sat her in a chair off to the side until desks could be rearranged in order to better accommodate the girl. Everyone was certainly very curious about Jane, especially the girls. Jane was very tall, taller than all the girls as well as most of the boys in our sixth grade class. Her hair was very short and her dark eyes seemed to dart around the room trying to digest everything. Her clothing was very different as well. It appeared to have been purchased outside of the United States. Not that it looked bad by any means. It was just different. I knew her clothes would be talked about and criticized for days to come, especially if all her outfits were as such. Oh and did I mention she was the one and only black girl in our little private school?


You could hear the whispers as Jane took her seat. As she sat at her desk the entire class took turns sneaking looks in her direction, myself included. I can only imagine how she must have felt. It was obvious she was a little scared, well, probably a lot scared.

I felt bad for her. No one wants to be the new kid in school, especially one like this one. It was more of an elitist academy known for its snobbery than its academic prowess. Attended mostly by rich kids it could be a gauntlet of cruelty and criticism, especially if you didn’t come from money.

The whispering about the new girl continued until lunch. When the lunch bell rang the class lined up and walked single file to the lunch room. Our school had a very nice indoor lunch room and the food was great. And why the heck wouldn’t it have a nice lunchroom? Our parents paid enough in tuition every year. The least this place could do was feed us generously. As we walked I noticed that Jane was at the back of the line walking with her head down. I kept looking back at her and ended up tripping, falling down and, ripping a small hole in the seat of my pants. Of course most of the class saw this and I quickly became the subject of ridicule and laughter.

Upon our arrival at the lunchroom everyone immediately stopped talking. There was a very strict procedure that one followed when entering the lunchroom. Students would silently form a line in front of what was referred to as the serving section. Starting at one end one would receive a plastic tray along with utensils and move down the line in front of five lunch ladies. Each well over sixty years of age and attired in matching white uniforms. The uniforms resembled those of a nurse. I’m sure they weren’t really nurse’s uniforms. Back then they looked like they were and while I waited in line for my food I would ponder it constantly.

Each lunch lady had their own responsibility. From one you would get your vegetables. From another your fruit and so on. Until you stood in front of the last lunch lady who would serve the entrée and you had better not forget to say thank you either. This woman had an amazing memory. It appeared she had memorized every name within the student body and would loudly point out your indiscretion by saying your full name, grade, and teacher. Then smiling sweetly, remind you that you had forgotten to say thank you. All eyes in the lunchroom would instantly go to whoever that unlucky person. Please believe me when I tell you no one at that age needs that type of publicity.


As I made my way through the line I looked back to see how Jane was faring. She was surrounded by the “popular girls” a small group of girls, well known for their snobbery and snotty dispositions. They seemed to be firing questions at her at once. From the looks of it they didn’t seem that they were being very friendly about it either. It was obvious from the expression on Jane’s face she was not enjoying herself. I wished a teacher would step in and rescue her. Instead of being just another new kid in school the girls were treating her like some sort of weird science experiment, who instead of eating lunch should be poked and prodded with sharp sticks.

It was almost my turn to get my plastic tray. I turned my attention back to the line. I was able to successfully navigate my way through all five lunch ladies without suffering any nonsense and went to find a seat. I saw my friend Tony sitting alone at one of the tables shoveling lasagna into his mouth. He already had red sauce on his chin and some on his shirt. He was a fat little Italian kid who annoyed teachers to no end. Tony was noted for “fidgeting, fooling about” and for passing gas whenever and wherever the mood struck. Tony could care less what others thought of him, especially the teachers. I’m sure he took secret pleasure in causing angst amongst the faculty.

Tony grinned when he saw me approach, with red sauce all over his teeth he asked. “Hey man, what’s up? This lasagna is good today eh?” as he continued wolfing spoonfuls into his mouth. “Yeah I’m sure it is, hey what do you think of the new girl man? I asked. Tony paused for a moment, looked at me in mid-chew and asked “what new girl man?” then went back to slurping his lasagna. “The new girl man, Jane the one from Uganda, ya know? She came in right before lunch. Remember? The principal came in with her?” I yelled. Tony frowned for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. Tony didn’t care. He was too busy feeding to be concerned with new girls or guys or anything other than lunch.

I looked up to see where Jane was and spotted her at a table still surrounded by the girls. Jane wasn’t smiling and sure wasn’t touching any of her food. I looked back at Tony who now was deeply involved with the pineapples on his tray and said “hey man, check it out; those girls are really putting the new girl through the ringer.” Ignoring my request he asked “hey we gonna play handball at recess or what?” Continuing to look in Jane’s direction I shook my head and said “yeah sure man, handball.” Tony finished his lunch long before I did and said “I’ll see ya out there k?” He stood up, belched loudly and yelled “Hooray for me!” Then walked away from the table and turned in his dirty tray.

I glanced over at Jane again. She still had not touched her food as the girls continued yapping at her. One girl waved a spoonful of lasagna in her face. It looked as if she was trying to force feed her. The girl was so loud with her demands that Jane eat the food I was able to hear her from where I sat.


“Try it, try it, it’s really good. I mean like, what do you eat in your country? Oh my god just try it. Do you not like American food or what? ” She screeched. The rest of the girls laughed and Jane looked as if she was about to cry. I looked away. I’d had enough. If I’d any guts I would have strode over and invited her to sit at my table. At least it was quiet and I wouldn’t have treated her like an exhibit. But like most guys my age I was a big chicken and could only fantasize about doing something like that.

I knew their fascination with Jane would pass. Most likely within a few hours they would begin to ignore her and then start treating her badly. I’d seen them do it time and time again.

I finished my lunch and turned in my dirty tray. I took my time walking out to the playground. I wasn’t really in the mood to play handball with Tony. He became somewhat intense when it came to competitive sports. I can’t begin to count how many times I watched him go berserk on the court when he thought he was being wronged. And heaven help you if you were on the receiving end of his wrath” It was on the line! I tell ya, on the line! I’m serious it counts, It counts!” he would scream. Tony would continue his rant until his opponent would give in and let him have his way. Aside from his on court theatrics and chubby physique, Tony was probably the best handball player the school had ever seen.

I slowly walked across the quad toward the huge playground. It consisted of two large baseball diamonds, a football field and three handball courts. As I arrived I saw all three handball courts already filled to capacity. Tony was already immersed in a handball game, pitted against some kid from the fifth grade class and it was obvious from his frantic motions he was bent on winning. I stopped at the drinking fountain and took a long drink. The water was cold and I could feel it hit the bottom of my belly. As I slurped at the cold water I heard a gaggle of female voices coming from behind. I stopped drinking and looked up. The voices belonged to the group of girls that had been sitting with Jane in the lunchroom. They were busy yapping at one another while Jane sluggishly followed. Her head was down and her hands thrust deep in her pockets. I watched the girls walk to the benches near the baseball diamond. It was their proverbial hallowed ground. Not just anyone was permitted to sit at the benches after lunch. You had to belong to the cool crowd in order to gain invitation. I watched Jane take a seat near the end of one of the benches and continue staring at the ground. The girls seemed to ignore Jane. Wiping some excess water from my chin I imagined how lousy she must have been feeling, new kid, new school, and new country all in less than a month.

Begrudgingly I made my way toward the handball courts and took my place in line. As I waited my turn I looked toward the benches from time to time. Jane was in the same position each time I looked. This was really starting to bother me. I had never been in her position before but for some reason I really felt bad for this girl.

Tony had just finished beating the fifth grader and was hollering at his next opponent. “I know you ain’t ready for this.” I am King Tony, I will never be beaten. You will bow down to the master!” He yelled. His next opponent was a girl from the other sixth grade class named Lisa. Lisa was a regular at the handball courts and was very much used to Tony’s antics. “Just gimme the ball you fat lil galoot” she said. Tony gyrated his hips from side to side as he sang “who’s the King? I’m the King, that’s right. Who’s the king?” With a bored look covering her face Lisa stood there watching him until she had enough. Then like a snake in the grass she quickly tried to grab the ball from Tony’s hands. Tony, chubby yet agile danced away laughing, clutching the red rubber handball against his chest. Lisa gave chase as Tony zig zagged away from her laughing so hard a giant strand of drool escaped his mouth landing on his shirt. Lisa chased him into the corner of the playground. Tony was laughing so hard he did not realize he was about to be cornered. Lisa was just about to pounce on him when Tony threw the ball straight up in the air. Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched the red ball sail upwards.

As I watched the ball blend with the blue sky an idea flashed across my brain. I leapt from my position in line and ran to where I hoped the ball would begin its descent. As the ball hurled toward the ground I was right there. I caught it before either Tony or Lisa could react. With the ball in hand I looked in the direction of where Jane sat. She was still in the same position, eyes downcast and hands in her pockets. The group of girls seemed to have moved even further from her. I threw the handball as hard as I could in Jane’s direction and yelled “Jane, Jane, get the ball!”

Jane looked up to see who was screaming her name. I began to run after the ball pointing at it as I yelled “Jane, Grab the ball, c’mon grab it.” Jane stood up and ran to meet the ball. Bending over to pick it up she held it in her hands as if it were something from outer space. I continued running toward her and when I was within fifteen feet from her I said “Hey, c’mon come play some ball with us, its fun, c’mon.” Jane looked at me and then back down at the ball. As she looked at the ball I closed the distance between us and said “hey c’mon, let play handball it’s a blast. I’ll introduce you to fat Tony.” Jane looked up at me and for the first time that day I saw just how white her teeth were as she smiled. She walked with me to the handball court and for the rest of recess we played handball. Jane turned out to be an excellent player. She even gave Tony a run for his money. At the end of the school year Jane left our small school and returned to Uganda with her family. It’s been over twenty years and from time to time I still think about that one perfect year where almost everyone in our class made a new friend.