Another fairly young man jogged every day and always held his head to the left side. I used to wonder why he always held his head like that, until one day it dawned on me that maybe something was wrong with him. But I still called him Sidewinder. I had never learned his name, and Mom didn’t talk to him, probably because she was uncomfortable with his deformity.
Then there were the two elderly sisters, Rose and Maybelle. I didn’t know their last names. They walked with a big black dog and stopped to chat with everybody they met. Needless to say, they didn’t get much walking done. I called them Old Women.
Mr. Isom, a hefty guy, wore shorts in all types of weather, but they were knee length. He had a potbelly stomach and never looked like he lost any weight. Chunky was my name for him. I never saw him talking to men, but he lit up when any woman came along, especially Mom. Then he turned into a prince.
Mr. Wolff wore long tailored pants when he walked and sported white hair and a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard. I called him Professor because he looked like one.
I decided to run today, even though Mom and I usually had a leisurely walk and talked over my day and what was going on with me. I knew all the park regulars must have seen the news reports. I didn’t feel like stopping to talk to anyone.
I put on my sneakers and took off, passing all the regular gang of runners and walkers. The cold wind felt good on my face. The brisk air cut through the numbness that had settled throughout my body.
I heard questions like, “Where is your mother today?” and “How is your father?” but I ignored them. I kept running, my legs swiftly carrying me into my own world where I could let my feelings take center stage.
Tears flowed freely, and I didn’t care who saw me. I cried for Dad and his lost reputation. I cried for Mom and her state of discombobulation. But most of all, I cried for me and the shame I felt having to face my schoolmates and teachers. I couldn’t stop the tears no matter how I tried. I just ran and ran and ran some more until no more tears came out.
Then I got in my car and went to school.
I parked in the stadium parking lot. I grabbed my gym bag and went to the field house for a quick shower. The girls’ track team had just finished morning practice and was coming in the building as I dressed. My best friend, Callie Kim, one of the stars on the track team, saw me before she hit the showers.
“I heard about your dad,” she said. “I don’t believe the news reports because your dad is a good, honest man.”
“Thanks,” I told her, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.
It felt good to have a really good friend. I had to hold it together. From now on, my tears had to be confined to home. They were not for public consumption.
I waited for her while she showered and dressed. We walked out to the parking lot together. There wasn’t any need for words. I was glad to have Callie’s support as I faced the day. I had thought I could do it on my own. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone with me until it was time to start the school day.
She got into her car, and I got into mine. We followed each other to the students’ parking lot and our assigned spaces.
The bell sounded just as we walked through the heavy oak entrance door. A din of voices comforted me, as if this were a regular school day. However, as I made my way to my locker the voices lowered considerably. By the time I’d put in the combination and opened the door, there was silence. I gathered books for my morning classes and placed my backpack inside. All around me, I heard whispers but could only make out a few words. “Arrested by the Po-Po.” “Her daddy on TV.” “Crook.”
I wanted to turn around and go back home. My eyes locked with Callie’s. She had come to stand beside me.
“We can do this,” she whispered.
The students parted as we left our lockers and started to our classes. I could feel their piercing eyes on my back. I felt as if their stares penetrated clear through to my bones. Callie had calculus first period, so she turned to enter the math wing, but not before making sure I was OK. I tried my best to hold my head up on my way to physics class. I slid into my chair just as the tardy bell rang.
Physics class proved to be a welcome respite from the stares and whispers in the hall. Mr. Dawkins was a no-nonsense guy, and the properties relating to matter, energy, force, and motion were all that he tolerated in his class. I loved this class and lost myself in the physical processes and interactions of what we were studying. Mr. Dawkins was a good teacher. He explained complex concepts in an understandable way. His classes were always full, even early in the morning.
I dreaded the bell ringing, signaling the five minutes we had to get to our next class. At the door, I steeled myself for what I might face out in the hall. To my surprise, everyone was rushing to their next class, too. I breathed easier. On my way past my homeroom, I stuck my head in the door to let Mrs. Stevens know that I was present.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I was just on my way to turn in today’s roster. How are you? Are you OK?”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said.
“If you need to talk, I’m here for you.”
Mrs. Stevens was one of five African-American teachers in the entire school and my mentor. She taught journalism classes. She was also advisor to the school newspaper, The Fairfield Oaks Sentinel. Last week she told the newspaper staff that she wouldn’t be on the faculty next year. More people were getting their news online through the Internet than through reading newspapers. This had caused many newspapers around the country to go out of business. And those newspapers that had survived were constantly laying off staff. Following this trend, our school decided that the school newspaper would go online only and would replace Mrs. Stevens with a journalism teacher proficient in digital publishing.
I was sad that she wasn’t going to be here for my senior year. But at the rate things were going, I might not be here either.
At that moment, another friend, Stephanie Granger, came up. I hastily waved good-bye to Mrs. Stevens.
“Where were you this morning?” asked Stephanie. “I waited for you in the parking lot at our usual time. I didn’t think you were coming to school today because of what happened.”
Our parking spaces were next to each other.
“I was running late,” I said.
“Wasn’t that your dad who was arrested yesterday?” she said. “My dad says your dad is going to prison. He might go to a white-collar prison, but he is definitely going to prison. Will you be leaving school?”
“I’m not leaving school,” I said through clenched teeth.
Who was this girl? She was supposed to be my friend, although a recent friend. Stephanie’s father owned a huge car dealership on the outskirts of Fairfield that sold new and used cars, and he owned another dealership in Kansas City. She drove a different car to school every couple of weeks. Whenever a new car came in that she liked, her father let her drive it. She had transferred here this year from a private girls’ school on the East Coast. She was in homeroom with my other close friends, Melanie and Stacie, who were twins. Stephanie, Steffy, as she liked to be called, also lived in their neighborhood. They befriended her when she came home during summer vacations and holidays. It was natural that she became part of our group when she transferred to our school. She said she had transferred here because her mother had to have surgery, and she wanted to be close by.
I hadn’t expected Steffy to be so insensitive. She already had Dad tried and convicted. At least her father had said so. That must be how everyone felt. They thought Dad was guilty just from seeing the news reports. I don’t know what I expected. I had hoped everyone would give him the benefit of the doubt. Or at least wait until he actually had a trial before drawing any conclusions.
I was glad when I reached my Communications class so I could escape Steffy. I didn’t need people with her attitude around me. As I entered my class, she flounced her long blonde hair and stalked down the hall.
I was apprehensive ab
out eating lunch in the school cafeteria. Although it was set up like a bistro with tables that seated four, six, or eight and had numerous nooks for privacy, I dreaded entering the fray.
Callie, Melanie, and Stacie were waiting for me at our usual six-chair table near the north window. I wasn’t hungry, but I got a turkey sandwich, a pear, and a bottle of cranberry juice.
“Where is Steffy?” Melanie asked.
I shrugged. I couldn’t even tell them about my encounter with her earlier. It was better left unsaid.
Soon loud laughter drifted over to us. We looked in the direction of the laughter. Across the room were Rick and Jared eating lunch with Steffy. Usually voices can’t be distinguished in the noise of the cafeteria. Today their laughter seemed extraordinarily loud. Coupled with that, they were looking my way and laughing. Any other day I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but today was different.
“What’s wrong with her?” Callie asked.
And those are Jay’s friends,” said Stacie. “Where is Jay anyway?”
I shrugged. Jay was my boyfriend, and I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days.
Another stream of laughter erupted, and looks our way.
“We don’t know what they’re talking about,” Melanie said, trying to bring reason to the situation. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
She was right, of course. But deep down inside, I knew that I was the brunt of their jokes.
I felt a tightening in my throat. I couldn’t eat anything.
“I’ll see you after school,” I said, fleeing as quickly as my legs would carry me.
It seemed to take forever to navigate the long hallway and reach the door that would take me outside. The walls seemed to be closing in. I had to hold onto one to steady myself. Once outside, the brisk air assaulted me. I walked around the school grounds to clear my head. Long deep gulps of fresh air brought me back to myself. I passed groups of students, but they were a blur. Nothing registered. I walked quickly, going nowhere, yet walking as if with purpose. When it was time for afternoon classes, I re-entered the warmth of the school. Although my body was warming, I still felt coldness deep inside my heart.
The rest of the school day was uneventful. I began to feel like the worse was over. After school, I met Callie, Melanie, and Stacie in our usual spot under a sprawling oak tree that stood in the center of campus.
Steffy came up. “I have to work on a project, so I’ll catch up with you later.”
She turned and went into the science building.
Callie, Stacie, Melanie and I walked to the parking lot together. They were making plans for later. I told them I had to go home. Our after school forays easily surpassed one hundred dollars. That was all I had to spend for the entire week.
As we walked through the gates, my eyes immediately went to my car. The white streaks were unmistakable. My car was all marked up.
On my red convertible in white paint were the words “Crook’s Daughter.” I was so angry and ashamed at the same time. Who would do such a thing?
“We have to report this to the principal,” Callie said.
“No, it’s all right,” I said.
“It’s not all right!” said Melanie. “You stay here. I’m going to tell Mrs. Clancy.”
As Melanie ran across the parking lot into the school, I saw groups of students milling around, looking our way. Evidently, they had seen the words, too. Maybe some of them had even written on my car. However, they all got in their cars and left when Melanie ran into the building. They didn’t want to get involved, especially with an issue involving a crook’s daughter.
“There’s a note on the windshield,” Stacie said. She went around to retrieve it and handed it to me. Reluctantly, I opened it.
So that is how your daddy got enough money to send you to Fairfield Oaks. He stole it!
My face burned with embarrassment. I dropped the note. Callie picked it up, read it, and passed it to Stacie. By this time Melanie and our principal, Mrs. Clancy, had come up. Stacie handed the note to her.
“We will not tolerate vandalism on this campus,” Mrs. Clancy said. “I’ve called the police. They’ll be here shortly. I also called your parents. They’re on their way.”
I couldn’t say anything. I nodded. I didn’t want Mom and Dad involved. I didn’t know how I felt about Dad showing up.
The parking lot was almost empty when the police and my parents arrived. Dad and Mrs. Clancy talked to the police. Mom thanked Callie, Melanie, and Stacie for staying with me. She told them they could go home.
After the police had finished their report and taken the handwritten note with them, Mom drove my car, with me in the passenger seat, and Dad followed us to make sure nothing else happened between school and home.
When we got home, tension filled the air. “I’ve been embarrassed once again,” Mom said. “It’s one thing after another. When is it going to end?”
“I’m doing my best to deal with this,” Dad said. “It takes time!” He went off to his study and closed the door.
I was right on his heels. I went straight to my room. I didn’t want to talk about anything with anybody, not even Mom and Dad.
3
My room was wrapped in color.
Pale butter yellow striped wallpaper with bronze pin striping covered one wall. The other three walls were painted yellow, enveloping my room in sunny easy-to-live-with color. Detailed in yellow, my white dresser and white bed created a striking contrast in a room that had been my personal refuge. Now it seemed to be my prison. When I wasn’t at school or in the park or hanging out with my friends, I was here. I used to love my room because it was a symbol of life and youth and vibrancy and energy.
Now I wished I could paint it dark blue or black to match my mood. There was emptiness deep inside me. It felt like I had nothing to hang on to. To make matters worse, the posters my friends and I had made for my run for senior class treasurer were lined up against the wall, mocking me.
Lying across my bed, I checked my iPhone for text messages. The first was from JayVonne, my boyfriend. Everybody called him Jay. Only his parents and relatives called him JayVonne. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in a couple of days, ever since the scandal broke.
He said he was in Atlanta. His grandmother had died suddenly, and his family went for the funeral. He wouldn’t return until next week.
Hearing from Jay made me smile. At least something good in my life was still happening. But I wished he were here.
I could hardly wait until prom. I hoped to escape into fantasyland on that magical night with Jay as my prince and I as his princess.
Mom and I were supposed to go shopping for prom dresses next weekend with Aunt Ira and my cousin, Tiffany. We were both eleventh grade except she went to Lincoln Prep, a public school in Kansas City, and I went to Fairfield Oaks. Tiffany and I got along well enough, but we didn’t hang out.
I went back to checking my text messages. Callie had sent one. She was worried about my car.
That was just like Callie to be worried about my car. If only that was all I had to worry about. I sent her a text back to let her know that Dad was putting it in the shop tomorrow.
Another text message came in. From Tiffany. She said she didn’t believe the news. Just a one-word reply to Tiffany.
Thanks.
Since we were family I didn’t think more was needed.
I wanted to talk to Jay but didn’t want to intrude on his family, so I dashed him a quick text. Sorry about Grandma. Glad you are AAK. I want to go into airplane mode but can’t IRL. H&K.
A text came in from Steffy. IMHO ur OM is corrupt.
What’s wrong with her? I replied, DEGT.
Steffy responded PMJI.
She was getting on my nerves. My family and our affairs didn’t concern her. Even if she was supposed to be my friend. I threw my iPhone across the bed. At that moment, Mom called me to dinner.
Take-out again. Chinese this time. Boxes of shrimp fried rice, moo goo gai p
an, chancho, chicken lollipops, egg rolls, and noodles. Mom absently ate from a box while she watched the muted pictures on TV. She seemed to be obsessed with the coverage of Dad’s firm. She watched TV day and night so she wouldn’t miss any breaking bit of news.
Me? I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Apparently, Dad felt the same way. Every time he came into the kitchen, he turned off the TV. He wanted us getting our news from him, not from outside sources that might be wrong. So far, he had nothing new to report.
He said he was working with his lawyers to prove that he had done nothing wrong. He said he could prove that all of his clients’ money was safe. He hadn’t misused any of his clients’ power of attorney, and he could prove it. His lawyers were going through his clients’ records now and would soon present the findings to the federal authorities.
Mom announced that she was thinking about canceling the shopping trip for prom dresses. She said I could still go with Aunt Ira and Tiffany if I wanted a new dress. They would probably shop around here or go to St. Louis.
“Mom, you can’t back out. You promised that you were going to buy Tiffany’s dress, too.”
“We have to save money,” Mom said.
“We’ll be all right,” Dad said, as if sensing my horror at having to go back on the promise to Tiffany.
“We can take the money from my savings account,” I said.
“Honey, it’s not the end of the world. Your Aunt Ira can certainly afford a dress for Tiffany,” said Mom.
“I know, but you promised,” I said. “You can’t cancel.”
I fled to my room and to the comfort of my bed. It would be just horrific if we cancelled. I hadn’t treated Tiffany as an equal. I thought of her as my poor cousin. Last year, Mom had promised her that we would all go to Chicago and shop on Michigan Avenue and visit the boutiques on Rush Street and get designer prom dresses, her treat. I couldn’t bear for her to go back on her word.
The People in the Park Page 2
