The next day, school went as it usually did. Before homeroom, Cornelia and Chad had a few minutes to get caught up. She told him about the health fair. He was happy to see her so excited about her community service. He told her that he saw David Wharton in the hallway, so he was glad that he was going to be alright. They did not exchange words. Chad wanted to apologize but he knew it would just be a scene. There were teachers around so David didn’t do anything either.
Cornelia did her best to avoid Rebekka and Sarah who didn’t seem to be spending much time together. At lunch, Rebekka was sitting with David, but Sarah was nowhere to be found. Cornelia sat with Chad, Amanda and Admeta. Cornelia asked Admeta about Mrs. Hakim, but all Admeta knew was that she was home. Cornelia and Admeta then talked more about the health fair. Admeta related some fun stories about some of the questionnaire questions being translated incorrectly and how much confusion it caused. She told another story about having to ask a 75-year-old woman if she was pregnant. The woman looked at her for a minute and then started laughing.
In Spanish the woman said, “Lordy, young lady, I certainly hope not.” Everyone laughed.
They went their separate ways after lunch. Later, when English class was over, Admeta and Cornelia exchanged their unhappiness about Carl taking over Writers on the Storm before they went to their last class of the day. At the end of the day, Cornelia walked Chad to his bike as usual, and then she set off for classroom 97, unaware of what could possibly be waiting.
When she arrived, everyone was in a circle already and she took her seat across from Admeta. Steve was sitting next to Kenzie with his head down. He still had a black eye and some visible bruises. Cornelia could tell he didn’t want to be there, but it was probably better than being at his home.
The Turners were the only ones not there yet, but they came in right after Cornelia and took their seats as well. Cornelia was sitting quietly when Randy Turner leaned over to tell her how cool he thought it was that her boyfriend knocked the quarterback out cold. Cornelia told him to forget about it. Then Andy leaned over and said he thought it was cool too. It was common knowledge that the Turner twins had the biggest mouths of anyone on campus, so Cornelia thought the entire school must know by now. Cornelia repeated the same thing to Andy and the twins backed off, but they didn’t like it.
Just then Carl walked through the door with a huge grin on his face. “Hello, Writers!” he exclaimed. “That’s what Mrs. Hakim calls you, isn’t? Writers?” Everyone nodded. “Mrs. Hakim and I have been e-mailing back forth about all the fun you guys have been having this year,” he said, enthusiastically. Admeta hid her mouth with one hand and pretended to stick the index finger of her other hand down her throat. Cornelia let out a muffled laugh then coughed to cover it up.
“You’ll be happy to know that Mrs. Hakim is feeling better these days. I’m sure she’ll be back real soon.”
“Don’t you mean ‘really’ soon, Carl?” Admeta interrupted.
“Why, you’re right, Admeta. Thank you for the correction,” he said just as happily as can be. Cornelia was convinced it was all an act. There was no way someone could be that happy all the time.
“So, kids, I hear you were supposed to do some free writing. Is that right?”
“Uh, Carl,” Cornelia interrupted.
“Yes, Cornelia, isn’t it?”
“Yes. In our last meeting I’m the only one who didn’t get to read their paper.”
“Oh. What was that assignment?”
“We were supposed to write about discrimination.”
“Oh, how interesting,” Carl began. “Well, please go right ahead.”
Cornelia looked around the circle and saw every face staring back at her. Admeta looked worried. She had told Cornelia not to tell anyone her brothers are in a gang. Cornelia was suddenly very nervous. Her hands were shaking so she pushed them on the desk to flatten out her paper. She cleared her throat and began.
“Discrimination,” she said.
“Please speak up, Cornelia,” Carl said and then smiled a big goofy smile.
“Discrimination,” she said, louder. “My name is Cornelia Drake and I did a horrible thing,” she began and then looked around the circle again. She tried not to let the penetrating stares scare her.
“At the beginning of the school year,” she continued reading, “I was on top of the world. I had made the cheerleading squad. I had a really cool boyfriend, and I was starting my first year in high school. I finally felt like an adult. I thought I was going to skate through the next four years on my looks and my father’s money. I was an idiot.
“I didn’t care about anyone except myself and my boyfriend, Chad. I was mad at my mom for divorcing my dad and I missed my grandma who I lost last summer, but other than that I was flying high. I had everything a 14-year-old could want, a great boyfriend, girlfriends I could depend on, and cool stuff to do. But all that changed when we received our progress reports.
“Mrs. Hakim had given me a ‘D’ in English. English was my native tongue, not hers and I resented her for the grade,” she said. The entire group was listening and staring unblinkingly at Cornelia. It was the first time she had ever spoken about her crime to anyone except when she apologized to Mrs. Hakim.
“I was convinced that I didn’t deserve that ‘D.’ I thought Mrs. Hakim had it out for me because she was jealous. She has to wear a hijab to cover herself at all times and I can wear anything I want. She speaks with an accent and I speak perfect English. I have blonde hair and she’s stuck with black hair. I thought I had everything she wanted and that’s why she gave me a bad grade. I was so conceited that I thought a teacher was jealous of a child. And that’s what I was, a child, no matter how grown up I thought I was.
“I went home that day with my progress report in hand, but I didn’t show it to my mother. I thought I would wait until the last possible moment. I wasn’t ashamed; I was angry. I was absolutely convinced that I didn’t deserve that grade and I was determined to make Mrs. Hakim pay for what she did.” Cornelia’s eyes were welling up. The students were riveted and Carl’s smile began to fade.
“I thought about it all weekend. What I could do to get back to her. I knew it had to be big and it had to be public. Nothing else would do. I thought about it and thought about it. I even went out on a date with my boyfriend on Saturday and couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“So when he dropped me off that night I asked him if he could drive me to school on Sunday for cheerleading practice. That was the first of many lies I would tell that day. Since he loves me and he trusted me, he agreed. I knew he would. I told my mom the same thing, that I had cheerleading practice. Neither one of them questioned me about having practice on a Sunday.” The circle was perfectly still, with every eye still on Cornelia.
“So the next afternoon, I went to the garage and picked up some spray paint my dad left there. I put the cans in my gym bag and later on Chad dropped me off at the school. I told him to pick me up at the end of the long driveway in half an hour. Cheerleading practice is never just a half-hour long but he didn’t question me even then. He’s so sweet. He trusted me. I failed him. I failed everyone.
“After he left, I walked up to the front wall of the school, the side without windows, and I spray painted the nastiest thing I could possibly think of to write. It was something I had heard in a movie once. I have never said it, myself, until now,” Cornelia said. “Please forgive me for using these words, but this is what I wrote: Mrs. Hakim is a Sand Nigger.”
A few people gasped at the sound of those words. Everyone looked surprised that Cornelia had actually said them out loud. Most of them had heard about what she did but few people were willing to speak the words themselves. Valerie and Carl were the only ones who looked surprised as if they hadn’t heard the story before. Amanda lowered her head as if she was ashamed to be Cornelia’s friend.
“Uh, Cornelia,” Carl interrupted. He was sweating and looked nervous.
“Please let
me finish,” Cornelia pleaded.
“Yeah, let her finish, Carl,” Admeta chimed in.
“Is it o.k. with the group if Cornelia continues?” Carl asked and everyone nodded their head.
“Well, o.k., the group has spoken. Just let me say that the reading of anyone’s paper in no way reflects my opinion or the opinions of Storm River High School. Now please continue, Cornelia.”
Cornelia apologized again, “I’m sorry, those words are as hard to say as they are to hear. I can’t imagine how hard they were to read and I hope that Mrs. Hakim didn’t actually see them. I still can’t believe I really wrote it. It was a horrible thing to do and nothing I do or say can ever make up for it. I wasn’t thinking about anything except how much I hated Mrs. Hakim. All I could think about was writing the most hateful thing I could think of, and that’s what I did.
“I wrote the most disgusting, sickening, putrid words I could come up with,” Cornelia said, wiping a tear away from her left eye. “And I’m ashamed of myself. I’m glad I got caught,” she said and everyone except Admeta looked at her in confusion. She found herself becoming stronger, less nervous. She was glad to finally put the truth out there.
“I was sentenced to community service when I should have been put in juvenile hall. What I did was a hate crime and I deserved punishment. The judge let me off easy because Mrs. Hakim of all people stood up for me. She asked the judge for leniency. How could she do that?” Cornelia asked.
“How could she ask him to give me a light sentence after finding out what I wrote about her?” Cornelia asked and looked around the circle with tears still welling in her eyes.
“I’ll tell you how. Because Mrs. Hakim is a forgiving person. I didn’t understand it at the time and I certainly didn’t appreciate it because I was still only thinking of myself. I was appalled by my sentence. I couldn’t even appreciate the judge’s leniency. But I do now.
“Because of Mrs. Hakim’s generous nature I was given a second chance. A chance to see where I went wrong. A chance to make some good out of what I did. I know it sounds dumb, but some good has come out of all of this.
“My community service has taught me a lot about compassion and humility. Mrs. Hakim inviting me to join Writers on the Storm, even after what I did, taught me about forgiveness. And Mrs. Hakim has taught me a lot more that I can’t really talk about,” Cornelia said and Admeta gave her a knowing look.
“I am ashamed of what I did and I would like to ask forgiveness not only from Mrs. Hakim but the entire school and especially all of you. You accepted me into this group even though most of you knew what I did and didn’t like me very much because of it. Through your stories you taught me a lot about myself. I could see myself in your story, Ralph,” Cornelia said and looked at Ralph. His eyes were big but he said nothing. Cornelia’s tears dried up as her sadness turned to determination.
“I was just as bad as that man you met in the store that day. But I’m willing to bet that man is still the same. I’m not the same person who wrote those ugly words that day and I would never do anything like that again. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but Mrs. Hakim has taught me that I can at least ask for it. She believes that everyone deserves a second chance. That’s part of what makes her an amazing person.
“My name is Cornelia Drake, I did a horrible thing, and I’m asking for your forgiveness,” Cornelia concluded.
Everyone sat quietly for a moment then Admeta began to clap and the others followed. When the clapping died down, Carl said, “Yes, that was a nice paper, Cornelia,” but the look on his face was a very uneasy one.
“They’re not clapping for my paper, Carl,” Cornelia said.
“No?” he asked.
“No. They’re clapping for Mrs. Hakim,” Cornelia said and then smiled. Carl looked confused for a moment but then he smiled back.
“O.k. Writers, does anyone have any free writing they would like to share? Preferably on a lighthearted topic?” he asked, nervously.
The group continued as about half the group shared their writing. Some were funny stories, some were poetry and some were just random thoughts. Andy Turner wrote, “Life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer you get to the end, the faster it goes.” Everyone laughed. Andy said he read it in a comic strip somewhere. That was all he wrote and Cornelia laughed at the absurdity of it.
They had a good time reading and listening and Carl let them go after an hour and a half. He instructed them to write about their favorite thing for the next meeting. As the students filed out they were chattering about what their favorite things were and they wondered which one to pick to write about. Admeta and Amanda walked out with Cornelia. Steve had jetted out ahead of everyone and left without a word.
“I really liked your paper, CC,” Amanda said before heading toward the front door.
“Me too,” Admeta said.
“Thanks,” Cornelia said, and then she and Admeta said good-bye to Amanda.
“Do you want to go to Mrs. H’s house?” Admeta asked after Amanda had walked away.
“Do you think it would be o.k. at this hour? They might be having dinner or something?” Cornelia asked.
“Maybe you’re right. I guess she would like a call first. What about tomorrow after school?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Cornelia said. “I don’t have cheerleading practice anymore. I’m not doing basketball season.”
“Cool,” Admeta replied.
“Do you want a ride home?” Cornelia asked.
“Sure,” Admeta said and the two girls walked to the office so Cornelia could call her mother to pick them up.
While they were waiting outside, Admeta said, “Did you see Carl’s face when you said the n-word? I thought he was going to have a heart attack or something. He turned bright red.”
“I was trying not to make eye contact with him. I was nervous.”
“Me too. I thought you were going to tell everyone about my brothers.”
“I promised I wouldn’t,” Cornelia protested.
“Yeah, I know. I was just nervous anyways,” Admeta said.
“Don’t you mean, ‘anyway,’ Admeta?” Cornelia said, mocking Admeta’s earlier comment to Carl.
“Oh, why yes I do! Thank you for correcting me, Cornelia!” Admeta said and then put on a big fake smile like Carl. The girls cracked up laughing.
“Seriously, though, Cornelia. It took a lot of guts to write what you did.”
“It was long overdue. I think that’s the first time I ever really took responsibility for what I did. I was an idiot.”
“Speaking of being an idiot,” Admeta began. “I have a confession to make.”
“Ut Oh,” Cornelia said. “What’s that?”
“Since we’re being honest and all, I should tell you that I’m not just the person who cleaned up your graffiti,” Admeta said and then looked at her friend sympathetically. “I’m sort of the one who called the police.”
Cornelia was silent this time. Her ears were burning with anger. Admeta looked worried as she wrung her hands and then let them fall to her sides. She was teetering on her tip toes awaiting Cornelia’s response. There was an awkward silence. Cornelia didn’t know what to say. She was upset that Admeta would call the police on a friend, but then she remembered that they weren’t friends. Cornelia didn’t even know Admeta’s name before she was sentenced to community service even though Admeta had been in her English class. Cornelia’s features softened as she realized that now she probably would have done the same thing in Admeta’s place.
“CC, I’ll admit that putting the sign on your locker was juvenile and stupid, but I can’t apologize for calling the police. I think it was the right thing to do.” Cornelia was again silent, but her facial expression hadn’t changed.
“Would you just say something? Yell at me if you want to. I saw you spray painting the wall and I used the emergency phone next to the business wing to call the police. Then I waited until they came. The next morning
I got up really early and painted over what you wrote. That’s it. That’s everything. So let me have it,” she said, waving her hands.
“I’m not going to let you have it,” Cornelia said, finally. “You did the right thing. What I was doing was illegal and like I said in my paper, I deserved to be punished. Actually I probably deserved a lot more. I got off easy, thanks to Mrs. Hakim.”
“Yeah,” Admeta said and both girls became solemn thinking about their teacher.
Veronica soon arrived and then dropped Admeta off at home. The girls said their good-byes and Cornelia let Veronica know where she was going after school the next day. Veronica said she had better not find out that Cornelia is using Mrs. Hakim as a front so she could sneak off and see Chad.
“Mother!” Cornelia protested.
“I’m serious, CC, you’d better not be.”
“I’m not, mom. You can ask Admeta.”
“Oh, and Admeta wouldn’t lie for you?”
“As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t,” Cornelia said, proudly. “She’s about the most honest person I know.” Cornelia had just realized that another good had come out of horrible deed. She made a new friend. One that will never let her get one over on her. Someone who will keep her stay honest. The girl she once hated was now her best friend. That brought another tear to Cornelia’s eye.
“What’s wrong, CC?” Veronica asked as they got out of the car.
“Nothing mom, you wouldn’t understand,” Cornelia said.
That night Cornelia could have snuck in a quick phone call to Chad before going to bed but instead she found herself calling Admeta. She was sad when she heard a recording, “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.” Admeta’s phone was still shut off. Cornelia went to bed that night wishing she could help the Vasquez family but she didn’t know how.
Chapter 22
Learning Curve
Writers on the Storm Page 21
