by Janet Walker
* * *
Tracy normally did not go up to Miz Grace’s office unless there were few other students in the gym. Now, she did not care—there was no need to, anymore. At the threshold, she knocked and listened for the familiar voice on the other side of the door. There was no voice. Rather, the door opened and Grace looked out, first with a curious expression, then with a pleased smile when she saw the identity of her visitor. “What are you doing up here?” she scolded lightly.
Tracy sighed and held up the page for Grace to see. “This was taped to my locker.”
The woman’s eyes fell on the page and a knowing half-smile appeared on her face. “Come on,” she said, taking Tracy by the wrist and drawing the girl inside. Grace closed the office door and Tracy walked over to the guest chairs, where she plopped down and waited.
The woman came to her burgundy swivel throne and sank into it. “I’ve seen that issue,” she said. “I just didn’t know anyone else here would see it, too. It’s not released to the general public.”
Tracy gazed worriedly at the woman.
Grace saw the girl’s expression and chuckled. “Don’t worry about it,” she reassured. “It’s no big deal.”
“But people know,” the girl said fearfully.
“So we went to one Majestics game together—no big deal. You’re my player.”
Tracy hesitated.
“All right?” Grace prodded.
“Kisha called my house Saturday and my uncle told her I was spending the night with you.”
Grace’s mouth popped open in surprise, her air of assurance disrupted.
“He didn’t know he was supposed to keep it secret, ’cause my aunt and me never told him. We didn’t ’cause he don’t never answer the phone. But that time he did.”
Grace grew thoughtful. “That explains something. The girls were behaving differently toward me at Saturday’s game, and I wondered why. That explains it,” she repeated.
Tracy watched the woman anxiously.
“Well,” Grace finally said in a sigh, “that might be a big deal.” She continued grave a moment more and then smiled warmly and assured, “But don’t you worry about it. It’s not a catastrophe. I’ll handle it.”
The girl was still fearful. “But you didn’t want people to know.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t a realistic expectation. And it wasn’t fair of me to lay that burden on you. If I’m going to break one of my rules, I have to be prepared to accept the consequences. And not expect you to shield me from them. I apologize for that.”
Tracy nodded, salved by the words.
“But,” Grace added, using the affectionate tone Tracy had come to expect from the woman, “it doesn’t mean our weekends together have to come to an end.”
Tracy quickly slipped back into anxiety, clasping her hands and gazing at the teacher with eyes that pleaded with penitence.
“What?” the woman asked.
“Yes, they do. Not ’cause of the magazine but ’cause my aunt and mama say I need to be home on the weekend. Spend more time with my family.”
Grace sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap. “I see,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Miz Grace. I want to be with you—I do! I like being at your house, I told ’em that, but they—” Tracy sighed heavily, hesitated, then finished, “They be trippin’.”
Grace stared at the girl, thinking. “That explains something else,” she finally said. “When I called your aunt this morning to ask if I could come over and talk to her this evening, she sounded hesitant. She must have thought that’s what I wanted to discuss.” Grace hesitated. “Well, I think your aunt will change her mind about you visiting me after she finds out the truth about your mother.”
Tracy kept her head lowered.
“And as for our little secret…”
The teen looked up.
“As far as you know, the girls only know that we went to the game and that you spent one weekend with me. Right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You didn’t tell them any more than that?”
“Nope. I got mad and left.”
“Why’d you get mad?”
“’Cause they was accusing me of cheating—um,” she stammered quickly, realizing too late that she had alluded to the gambling game.
“Cheating?”
The teen’s brain worked quickly. “Oh, um, not cheating, but lying. You know—acting like I’m not your friend when we really are.”
The woman nodded with understanding. “Well, do me a favor. Don’t tell them anything more than they already know. Don’t confirm or deny anything they ask. They ask you a question about my personal life, tell them, ‘No comment.’” She chuckled. Tracy smiled weakly in return. “Can you handle that?”
“Yeah—I mean, yes, ma’am.” the girl promised, but she kept her head lowered and continued to look troubled.
Grace hesitated, watching the girl’s bowed head and feeling suddenly poked with guilt and regret. It wasn’t fair, what she was doing to the child, not fair at all. Knowing this, she pondered a decision before speaking again.
“Tracy.”
The girl raised her head.
“Never mind what I just said. Tell the girls anything you want about us. About our weekends. I’ve nothing to hide, and I shouldn’t make you feel as if you do.”
The girl’s expression instantly opened into a hopeful smile. “Really? I can tell ’em about your house?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “Just,” she added quickly, “not about my Sunday errand. Do keep that between us. Okay?” She smiled.
Tracy smiled back. “Yes, ma’am!” The sigh the teen released had a light and cleansing sound to it.
“Now get out of here and down to the floor.”
Tracy stood. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied and hurried to leave.
“And Tracy.”
The girl paused and looked back.
“I’m happy that you’re my friend. That hasn’t changed.”
The teen’s smile was consuming.
