The Shark Tooth

Normally in February, you know your teacher. You know who your friends are. You know which lunch lady will give you extra chocolate milk and which one will make you try the eggplant delight. You know that the eggplant delight is not delightful.

But if you’re me and your family moves to Florida and you have to change schools in February, you start from zero. You don’t know anything about anything. 

Today I start the second half of third grade. At a brand-new school right next to the beach: Oceanside Elementary. That’s about as scary as going to the deepest, darkest part of the ocean. 

As my dad drops me off, I try to smile. But it’s hard to smile when your heart is pounding a billion times a second. I walk into the school and find the cafeteria for breakfast. Then I sit at a table by myself, trying not to look totally terrified.

“Hey!” says a girl who looks like she’s in third grade. She slides into a seat next to me. Maybe she could be my friend!

“I’m Sabrina,” she says.

“My name’s Austin,” I say. I glance at the giant shark on her T-shirt.

“Do you like sharks?” she asks, noticing my stare. “I LOVE sharks.”

“Sharks? Yeah, I love them,” I hear myself say. I don’t love sharks. I don’t know anything about sharks. I know about every creature in Star Wars, but I couldn’t tell you anything about sharks. 

“Did you know some sharks are pink?” Sabrina asks.

“Uh, yeah, of course I knew that,” I say. I didn’t know that. I just lied. What am I doing? I don’t feel like myself. 

Before I can tell Sabrina that I actually didn’t know that some sharks are pink, the bell rings.

“Whose class are you in?” Sabrina asks as we get up from the table.

“Mr. Kumar’s,” I respond.

“Aw, I’m in Mrs. Ross’s. Do you want to go hunt for shark teeth at the beach after school?” Sabrina asks excitedly.

“Sure!” I say.

Then she’s gone, and I’m swallowed by a sea of kids.

Whenever I feel lonely during the morning, I open my pencil case and glance at the tooth. It makes me smile. It reminds me I might just have a new friend after all. But then, before lunch, Mr. Kumar makes an announcement.

“One of the shark teeth is missing. Can everyone look around and see if it fell on the floor?” he asks. My cheeks burn. Everyone looks under their desks. No one finds the shark tooth.

I peek at the tooth in my pencil case. Suddenly, it doesn’t make me smile. It doesn’t belong to me. I stole it. I don’t feel like myself.

At lunch, I order a tuna fish sandwich. Fish remind me of sharks, which remind me of the shark tooth. A kid beside me is chomping on carrots. That makes me think about a time when I ate a carrot and my tooth fell out. That makes me think about the shark tooth. 

There has to be something in this school that doesn’t remind me of sharks! I spot a few kids swapping flavors of pudding. But that reminds me of the time my friend Zeke took a chocolate pudding from my lunch without asking. He felt so bad he brought in two for me the next day. 

I know I should give the tooth back. But I really want to show it to Sabrina!

Just then, I hear the school loudspeakers crackle. 

“This is Mr. Kumar speaking.” My stomach feels like it has dropped to the bottom of the ocean. “A shark tooth is missing from my classroom. If anyone sees it, please return it to me!” he says. 

I feel like I’m drowning in guilt. I know what I have to do. 

After lunch, I write Mr. Kumar a note. I confess that I took the tooth. I explain that I was trying to make a new friend and tell him I’m really sorry. I slip the note and the shark tooth into his desk. 

Later I see him open his desk. My heart pounds like a drum in a rock band. He looks down at the note. Then he looks up at me. He gives me a thumbs-up. He understands. Phew. 

I feel a little better. Phase one of my apology plan is complete. Now I just have to talk to Sabrina.

After school, I tell my mom what happened. We’re walking along the beach to meet Sabrina and her mom. The ocean glistens like diamonds.

“I’m proud of you, Austin,” she says.

“Why? I messed up . . . a lot,” I say. 

“It takes courage to admit you did something wrong,” she replies. 

I see Sabrina and her mom sitting on a towel. It has sharks on it, of course. 

“Austin, over here!” Sabrina shouts. “I was just telling my mom that the smallest shark can fit in your hand. But I bet you knew that already.”

I take a deep breath and gather that courage. Then I say, “No, I didn’t know that. I actually don’t know much about sharks. I kind of faked it this morning.” 

“You did? Why?” Sabrina asks.

“I don’t have any friends here. So I thought if I pretended to like sharks . . . you’d like me,” I say nervously.

I know what’s coming. She’s going to walk away and never talk to me again. She’s going to say she doesn’t want to be my friend. But that’s not what happens.

“That’s OK. Making new friends can be scary,” she says. She pauses and then asks, “Well, if you aren’t into sharks, what are you into?” 

So I tell Sabrina that I love Star Wars and talking like Yoda. It turns out that Sabrina is awesome at doing the Yoda voice. We spend the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing and drawing pictures in the sand. I have to admit, it’s pretty cool to go to the beach in the middle of February. 

As we’re leaving, I turn to Sabrina.

“Sorry about lying to you, I am,” I say in my Yoda voice. 

“OK, it is. Friends, we are,” she says back in her Yoda voice.

For the first time since moving to Florida, I feel like myself.