went back to the waiting lines.
Anastasia saw Ms. Willoughby rise from her seat in the bleachers and start forward. Well, it was now or never; she knew Ms. Willoughby was about to say thank you to the girls and to the visitors, and then everyone would be dismissed.
"
PHWEET!
" Anastasia blew very hard on the whistle. Ms. Willoughby looked startled. The lady in the sari jumped slightly in her seat. All twenty-two girls in their gym suits stared at Anastasia to see what was going on. Daphne formed the words "Go for it!" silently with her mouth.
Anastasia stepped forward and faced the small audience on the bleachers. Ms. Willoughby was starting to sit down, starting to stand up again, and finally sitting back down, puzzled.
"Ah," Anastasia began, "there's going to be one final brief demonstration, and it will be me."
No one was taking notes. But their hands, with pens in them, were all poised over their notebooks.
"I want to explain," Anastasia went on, "that the reason I was only blowing the whistle was because I couldn't seem to climb a rope.
"I tried and tried but all I could do was dangle because I couldn't get the feet part right, and then my arms would start to hurt.
"And, ah, Ms. Wilhelmina Willoughby, the gym teacher sitting there on your right—well, she kept encouraging me so that I began to practice a lot at home. She told me that one day I'd just keep right on going up the rope to the top. And I didn't really believe her, I guess, but I kept trying, and, ah, well—"
She stopped. She couldn't think what else to say. "Well, you watch," she said, finally. "I'll show you."
Anastasia turned and went to the closest rope. Suddenly she remembered the one final thing she had intended to say.
"I owe it all to my gym teacher, Ms. Wilhelmina Willoughby," she said. Then she leaped and grabbed the rope as high as she could.
For a moment she dangled, the way she always had. But carefully she felt for the rope with her legs and feet, remembering how, last night in the garage, everything had come together for her.
There. There it was—the rope, in the correct position, and her sneakers grasping it just right. The feeling came back, the same feeling of power and control she had had last night, and she knew she would make it.
Up. She hauled herself with her arms, and felt herself rise along the rope. Up farther. Her feet grasped again, and the muscles in her legs pushed.
Up some more. Now her hands were more certain, and her legs moved just the right way, and she went faster.
Up and up. She had passed, now, the height of her garage rope, she knew. But she still had a distance to go, and she was sure now that she could make it. Below her, she could hear her classmates murmur. For them, it had been nothing, this trip up a rope—but each of them had seen Anastasia fail at it again and again.
Her glasses shifted on her nose and she realized that she was sweating a bit. It didn't matter. She didn't need to see. All she needed was the feel of the thick rope in her newly confident hands and then the feel of the knot in the upper end which would tell her she had made it to the top.
There: there it was, the knot. She was at the very top of the rope, the place she had thought she could never, ever achieve. Ms. Wilhelmina Willoughby had been absolutely right when she had said, "One of these days, Anastasia, you'll amaze yourself."
I have, Anastasia thought; I've amazed myself. A week ago I thought I could never in a million years get to this spot, and now here I am: in front of a whole audience. I did it! This is the happiest moment of my life. And I'm just as glad that there wasn't time for me to say my poem in English class, because
this
is the absolutely right time for that poem, and won't they all be truly astounded now, because here goes:
"'O world!'" Anastasia exclaimed. " 1 cannot hold thee close enough!'"
Sure enough, it was just as Mr. Rafferty had predicted. Suddenly, now that she was overcome with emotion, the
Anastasia saw Ms. Willoughby rise from her seat in the bleachers and start forward. Well, it was now or never; she knew Ms. Willoughby was about to say thank you to the girls and to the visitors, and then everyone would be dismissed.
"
PHWEET!
" Anastasia blew very hard on the whistle. Ms. Willoughby looked startled. The lady in the sari jumped slightly in her seat. All twenty-two girls in their gym suits stared at Anastasia to see what was going on. Daphne formed the words "Go for it!" silently with her mouth.
Anastasia stepped forward and faced the small audience on the bleachers. Ms. Willoughby was starting to sit down, starting to stand up again, and finally sitting back down, puzzled.
"Ah," Anastasia began, "there's going to be one final brief demonstration, and it will be me."
No one was taking notes. But their hands, with pens in them, were all poised over their notebooks.
"I want to explain," Anastasia went on, "that the reason I was only blowing the whistle was because I couldn't seem to climb a rope.
"I tried and tried but all I could do was dangle because I couldn't get the feet part right, and then my arms would start to hurt.
"And, ah, Ms. Wilhelmina Willoughby, the gym teacher sitting there on your right—well, she kept encouraging me so that I began to practice a lot at home. She told me that one day I'd just keep right on going up the rope to the top. And I didn't really believe her, I guess, but I kept trying, and, ah, well—"
She stopped. She couldn't think what else to say. "Well, you watch," she said, finally. "I'll show you."
Anastasia turned and went to the closest rope. Suddenly she remembered the one final thing she had intended to say.
"I owe it all to my gym teacher, Ms. Wilhelmina Willoughby," she said. Then she leaped and grabbed the rope as high as she could.
For a moment she dangled, the way she always had. But carefully she felt for the rope with her legs and feet, remembering how, last night in the garage, everything had come together for her.
There. There it was—the rope, in the correct position, and her sneakers grasping it just right. The feeling came back, the same feeling of power and control she had had last night, and she knew she would make it.
Up. She hauled herself with her arms, and felt herself rise along the rope. Up farther. Her feet grasped again, and the muscles in her legs pushed.
Up some more. Now her hands were more certain, and her legs moved just the right way, and she went faster.
Up and up. She had passed, now, the height of her garage rope, she knew. But she still had a distance to go, and she was sure now that she could make it. Below her, she could hear her classmates murmur. For them, it had been nothing, this trip up a rope—but each of them had seen Anastasia fail at it again and again.
Her glasses shifted on her nose and she realized that she was sweating a bit. It didn't matter. She didn't need to see. All she needed was the feel of the thick rope in her newly confident hands and then the feel of the knot in the upper end which would tell her she had made it to the top.
There: there it was, the knot. She was at the very top of the rope, the place she had thought she could never, ever achieve. Ms. Wilhelmina Willoughby had been absolutely right when she had said, "One of these days, Anastasia, you'll amaze yourself."
I have, Anastasia thought; I've amazed myself. A week ago I thought I could never in a million years get to this spot, and now here I am: in front of a whole audience. I did it! This is the happiest moment of my life. And I'm just as glad that there wasn't time for me to say my poem in English class, because
this
is the absolutely right time for that poem, and won't they all be truly astounded now, because here goes:
"'O world!'" Anastasia exclaimed. " 1 cannot hold thee close enough!'"
Sure enough, it was just as Mr. Rafferty had predicted. Suddenly, now that she was overcome with emotion, the
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