Solo Girl

Ma Lettie called from the upstairs window.

“Cass, don’t you stray too far, now. You’re still learning these streets.” Ma Lettie’s holler mixed with the noise coming [rom Haskins Row, one block over.

Cass and her family had just moved to the neighborhood, where Cass didn’t know a soul. Well, she of course knew Ma Lettie, her foster mother, and her twin brothers, Jackson and Bud. But they didn’t count. They were family-friends by relation.

“I’ll stay close, Ma Lettie, I promise,” Cass called back.

As she walked to the corner, Cass swung her lucky whistle. Back home, Cass had won the silver whistle in an end-of-the-school-year math bee. She had been the best math student in the whole second grade. She was smarter in math than most third graders, even Jackson and Bud.

Cass knew her times tables as sure as she knew her own name, and she could reel them off faster than a jazz-band drumroll.

 

“Three times five– fifteen!”

“Nine times four– thirty-six!”

“Seven times eight– fifty-six!”

And that wasn’t all. Cass could do division in her head; she could count by twos; and she always knew how much change she was owed when she went to the store for Ma Lettie.

Ma Lettie was always saying, “The good Lord has blessed my Cass with the numbers gift. And that’s what Ma Lettie asked the jeweler to put on the whistle after Cass won it–”Blessed with the numbers gift.”

Cass kept her whistle on a string around her neck. She wore it proudly, as if it were a million-dollar pendant. Sometimes, Cass blew her own whistle music, little toots that helped her memorize her times tables while she walked.

“Five times five is twenty-five.” Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot.

“Seven times seven is forty-nine.” Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot.

“Four times eight is thirty-two.” Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot.

Cass’s whistle helped her numbers gift grow. As far as times tables went, nobody, not even Jackson or Bud, could mess with Cass. When her brothers heard her whistle toots coming down the street, they knew Cass was making math music.

“Quick-three times three!” Bud would say.

Without blinking, Cass would answer, “Three times three is nine.”

“Three times three– times three,” Jackson would say.

Cass would think really fast, and the answer would come. “Twenty-seven.”

Cass didn’t shy away from math problems. But when it came to playground stuff– kickball, hopscotch, and jump rope– Cass was as shy as they come. Shy because she had slow feet.