"Meggie Cleary," she whispered back.

  "You there!" came a dry, harsh voice from the front of the classroom. Meggie jumped, looking around in bewilderment. There was a hollow clatter as twenty children all put their pencils down together, a muted rustling as precious sheets of paper were shuffled to one side so elbows could be surreptitiously placed on desks. With a heart that seemed to crumple down toward her boots, Meggie realized everyone was staring at her. Sister Agatha was coming down the aisle rapidly; Meggie's terror was so acute that had there only been somewhere to flee, she  would have run for her life. But behind her was the partition shutting off the middle grade's room, on either side desks crowded her in, and in front was Sister Agatha. Her eyes nearly filled her pinched little face as she stared up at the nun in suffocated fear, her hands clenching and unclenching on the desktop.

  "You spoke, Meghann Cleary."

  "Yes, Sister."

  "And what did you say?"

  "My name, Sister."

  "Your name!" Sister Agatha sneered, looking around at the other children as if they, too, surely must share her contempt. "Well, children, are we not honored? Another Cleary in our school, and she cannot wait to broadcast her name!" She turned back to Meggie. "Stand up when I address you, you ignorant little savage! And hold out your hands, please."

  Meggie scrambled out of her seat, her long curls swinging across her face and bouncing away. Gripping her hands together, she wrung them desperately, but Sister Agatha did not move, only waited, waited, waited . . . . Then somehow Meggie managed to force her hands out, but as the cane descended she snatched them away, gasping in terror. Sister Agatha locked her fingers in the bunched hair on top of Meggie's head and hauled her closer, bringing her face up to within inches of those dreadful spectacles. "Hold out your hands, Meghann Cleary." It was said courteously, coldly, implacably.

  Meggie opened her mouth and vomited all over the front of Sister Agatha's habit. There was a horrified intake of breath from every child in the room as Sister Agatha stood with the disgusting sick dripping down her black pleats onto the floor, her face purple with rage and astonishment.