The Winds of Autumn by Janette Oke

from a green velvet-looking coat, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, and blue, blue eyes peering out at us from under a white fluffy hat. She took the hat off to shake the snow from it, and brownish-red curls tumbled down all around her shoulders.
    Guess Avery found his voice first.
    “Who is that?” I heard his hoarse whisper.
    I was too busy just looking.
    She glanced again over our way and instead of lowering her eyes and flushing in embarrassment or giggling like the other girls, she gave us a flashing look with just the hint of a teasing smile in it and then she was gone through the door.
    “Who was that?” Avery croaked again.
    “Oh,” said Jack with a real smart-alecky grin, “that’s just the teacher’s daughter.”
    “Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Avery.
    “You weren’t interested in the teacher’s kid. Remember?”
    I gave Jack a withering look and pushed my way past the other boys. The bell hadn’t rung yet, but I couldn’t wait to see if I was dreaming or what.
    I found my way to the desk I considered mine at the back of the room and managed to sit down without stumbling over anyone. My books slid carelessly onto the wooden tabletop in front of me and my eyes traveled over the room.
    Sure enough. There she was. She had removed her green coat and was wearing a blue dress that brought out the blue of her eyes. Every eye in the room was on her.
    Somewhere a bell rang and through a mental fog I saw other students bringing themselves to attention. A voice at the front of the room was speaking to us. Somehow the words got through to me and I suppose I obeyed the orders I was given.
    I read when asked to read—answered when spoken to— worked the sums I was given—took part in a spelling bee—even said “No, sir” and “Yes, sir,” and somehow made it through the morning, but my mind sure was on other things.
    When we were dismissed for the noon hour, all us older fellas clustered together talking, and a good share of the talk was about the teacher’s daughter. I listened but did not take part much. I mean, it seemed sorta crude to be discussing her in such a fashion.
    Skeet Williams had Jack Berry by the front of the shirt. “What’s her name? What’s her name?” he was persisting. Jack had suddenly taken on a swaggering air, knowing he was the only one who had really seen this new girl before classes had begun.
    Jack hated to admit it, but he didn’t know her name.
    “It’s Camellia,” piped up Andy Johnson, with a measure of authority.
    “How do you know?” Jack challenged him, hating to grant any further knowledge of the new girl to anyone but himself.
    “The teacher—her pa—called her that. Didn’t ya hear him?”
    Jack hadn’t heard him. I hadn’t either. But then, I hadn’t heard much the teacher had said that morning.
    “Camellia,” said Avery in a sort of whisper. “That’s a flower, ain’t it?”
    There were many knowing nods and cute comments. I walked away from it all. The way the fellas were carrying on was almost as bad as girls giggling. I just didn’t like the feel of it all.
    Avery followed me. I walked over the frozen schoolyard kicking up clumps of roughed-up snow, dried grass and anything at all that showed.
    “What’s the matter, Josh?” Avery said at my sleeve. “You mad about somethin’?”
    “Naw,” I said. “I ain’t mad.”
    “You’re not gettin’ those there measles, are you?”
    My head jerked up. “No, I’m fine—what gives ya a silly idea like that anyway?”
    “Well, yer so quiet-like. Usually you join right in the funnin’.”
    “Funnin’!” I said sourly. “Is that what that was?”
    Avery looked at me in surprise.
    He started to say something back but I cut in, “I mean, it don’t seem fair somehow to stand talkin’ about—about people with them not even there to defend themselves or nothin’.”
    “We weren’t saying nothin’ bad,” argued Avery.
    “Well—‘bad’ all depends,” I continued. “I mean,