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6

    "Sam," said his mom one day after they were settled in the new house, "we're going to do something exciting today. We're going to visit your school. Next month you're going to start school, and today we'll go there to visit."
    Sam looked up from his trucks with surprise. "Will I go to Anastasia's school?" he asked.
    He wasn't sure he wanted to. Anastasia's school was going to be called junior high, and his sister had confessed to him, "Sam, I am
terrified
about going to junior high."
    But his mother said no. Sam would not be going to junior high.
    "Will I go to Daddy's school?" Sam asked.
    Daddy's school was not called junior high. Daddy's school was called a very complicated name: Harvarduniversity. Daddy had gone to Harvarduniversity a million years ago, when he was young and didn't have a beard. And later he had gone to another school called Yaleuniversity, and later he had gone to
another
school called Columbiauniversity; and now that he was an old guy with a beard, he was back at Harvarduniversity again. Sam had been there to visit Daddy at his office. Daddy's office door had his name on it.
    "Can I go to Harvarduniversity? Can I have my name on my door?" Sam asked. "Like Daddy?"
    But his mom laughed and said no. Sam would not be going to Harvarduniversity.
    She tied Sam's shoe. "Sam," she said, "your shoes are always untied. I think I'll get you some of those sneakers that have fasteners made out of—what is that stuff called, the stuff that sticks together?"
    Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he said.
    "Xerox?" asked his mother. "No, that's not it." She gave him a cookie. "You're going to
nursery
school," she told him.
    Sam picked the raisins out of his cookie, to save them till last, and thought about that. Nursery school.
    "Is it Rolex?" his mother asked. She was still thinking about the sneakers. "I think that's it. I'll get you sneakers with Rolex fasteners, so that when you're in nursery school—no, darn it. Rolex isn't right."
    Nursery school. Sam thought about it some more. Sam knew about nurses. Every time he went to the doctor, there was a nurse there. She was a pretty nice nurse, and Sam liked her just fine, and sometimes she gave him a lollipop before he went home.
    "Spandex?" his mother said. "Lastex?"
    Sam wondered if he would wear a uniform at nursery school. He didn't want to wear a white dress, the way the nurse in the doctor's office did. But he liked the idea of a uniform. He would like an army uniform, maybe. Or a Red Sox uniform.
    "Lego? No, Lego is that toy," Sam's mom said. "What the heck is that sticky stuff called?"
    Sam ignored his mother and continued thinking about the nurse. She
did
give lollipops, that was true. But she did something else, something Sam didn't like to think about very much.
    She gave shots.
    Sam hated shots.
    But now that he thought about it, he liked the idea of being the guy who gave shots to other people. And after he went to nursery school and learned how, he would be able to do that.
    He wasn't sure that he wanted to be a nurse because he still thought he would like to be a mover. And lately he'd been thinking about airplane pilot. But he would go to nursery school anyway, he decided, to learn to give shots.
    "Okay," he said to his mom. "Let's go have a look at nursery school."
    "Velcro!" his mother said.

    Mrs. Krupnik pushed Sam in his stroller to the school. He carried his newest favorite book on his lap—the one with airplane pictures in it. Anastasia had told him that there would be lots of books at nursery school, but he was afraid that there might not be one with airplane pictures.
    "I'm not going to
do
anything at the school," he told his mother before they left home. "I'm only going to sit and look at my airplane book."
    "Well," said his mom, "that would be okay, I guess. But I'm sure they'll have toys there. I would think you'd like to play with the toys."
    "No," said Sam. "I wouldn't."
    "And there will be other children, too.