Georgia Rules

by Nanci Turner Steveson

  “Thank you.”

  “Love that accent, girl. Mine’s all gone now.”

  “Are you from Georgia?”

  “Jamaica,” he said. “Gudmawninimframtimahlandofdesunanwelcumtofiyuhcriss hom.”

  “Oh, stop showing off, you’re making her blush,” Angela said. “He’s speaking Jamaican patois. Still slips back into it when he’s mad or trying to impress someone.”

  “What did that mean?”

  Bob’s eyes scrunched when he smiled. “Good morning, I’m from the island of the sun, and welcome to your new home.” He put his arm around Angela and squeezed. “And she’s right, I was showing off.”

  “I wish I could make my accent go away. People look at me funny, or they try to pinch my cheek and tell me I’m adorable. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Pinch them back,” Angela said.

  I liked these people already.

  “Anyway,” Bob said, “we already know about your track interest. What about academics—what are your favorite classes?”

  “English and history were always easiest—I’m not a math girl.”

  “A girl after our own hearts,” Angela said. “But I’ll tell you, our math is taught in a very different way. You might end up liking it here.”

  I already liked it. Not the math, but the school and these people who were going to be my teachers and my coach—because of course I was going to do track. I liked the way the school buildings were laid out on a plot of grass that was greener than any pampered lawn I’d ever seen in Atlanta. Plus, it was right smack in the middle of town, across the road from a white church with a steeple pointing like a needle to the sky.

  And once again I had that feeling that I was, and always had been, a part of this place, a part of the earth beneath my feet. Like déjà vu, only better.

  Bob and Angela took me through the rest of the buildings. Behind the gymnasium, Bob pointed to a path leading into the woods. “Once we get outside in the spring, we run the trails first, then move over to the high school in Bell Township and use their track. The team is pretty competitive, especially in cross-country. I’m hoping someday we’ll qualify for nationals. Maybe you’ll help get us there.”

  “That’s so cool,” I said. “My best event was the fifty, but my favorite was cross-country.”

  “Atta girl! We’ll have you all ready by spring sports season,” Bob said. “I push my kids, but we have fun. Do you ski?”

  “Water-ski?”

  “Snow. I guess not in Georgia. One of the best things we do to train for competition is cross-country skiing in the winter. We’ll get you set up, you’ll love it. Promise.”

  No one had to promise, I already knew I would love cross-country skiing as much as I loved to run. Maybe, if Mama saw I loved it here, that I fit in and was happy, maybe it would energize her enough to let us stay. Maybe she’d get involved herself, and get busy doing things that made her feel connected like I did. That’s when I had the most brilliant idea ever.

  “At my school in Georgia, we had a parent in charge of team uniforms,” I said. “Do you have that here?”

  Bob shook his head. “Not formally. The mom who used to do it moved on when her kid graduated and no one picked it up.”

  Angela crinkled her nose. “The uniforms are awful, gray with a burnt-orange stripe from the armpit to the hem. So last decade. Do you know someone who might want to take that on?”

  Mama was coming toward us from the main building, waving her whole arm in the air and smiling like a kid who just won a goldfish at the fair.

  “I just might.”

  TWENTY

  Mama talked a mile a minute all the way home. The people in the office knew all about my daddy donating the library and painting that ceiling, and suddenly Mama was the most popular girl in town. This was the role she was meant to play. I bet since she was getting all that attention, she talked about my daddy like he was something special, and not her damaged and discarded husband from long ago. They’d even brought her a strawberry cupcake from someone’s birthday lunch, which I now held wrapped in a napkin on my lap.

  “We’ll share it tonight, sugar.”

  When she paused to breathe, I dived in. “Remember how you hated the track uniforms at my old school?”

  “Oh my God, those things were awful! I can’t tell you how many times I tried to get them to change. For a school that costs so much money, you’d think they’d dedicate a snippet of that tuition to upgrade the uniforms, especially when their star runner got them written up in newspapers throughout the entire state! I am positive, without a doubt, that your team would have gone all the way to nationals if they’d let me get something with a little splash of color.”

  She waved one hand wildly in the air while she talked, and kept looking sideways.

  “Mama, watch the road.”

  “You see how good you feel driving around in this bright-red Mustang? Just imagine how fast you could have run if you were in a uniform with bright, bold colors instead of beige and navy. Really! That’s like eating plain vanilla ice cream when you’ve got a hundred flavors in front of you.”

  We pulled in the driveway. She jammed the car into park and flipped her head, looking at me over the tops of her sunglasses.

  “You really need to wear a scarf when you ride in a convertible—your hair is flying everywhere. It’s one thing to not agree to a touch of lipstick, but at least pull that mane of yours in a ponytail so you’re presentable. Now, why were you reminding me about those god-awful uniforms? Oh no, don’t tell me, are the uniforms here beige, too?”

  I smiled inside. I had her.

  “Worse,” I said, like it was the most tragic thing that could have possibly happened.

  “Worse than beige? What’s worse than beige?”

  “Bob and Angela said they’ve been trying to get a parent to volunteer to get new ones.”

  “What color are they?”

  “Gray.” I paused for effect. “With a thin burnt-orange stripe starting under the armpits.”

  The look on her face was priceless. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  I turned my mouth down at the corners and shook my head slowly.

  “Are you doing track at that school?”

  “If you’ll let me, what with those awful uniforms and all.”

  Mama swung her door open and jumped out of the car, grabbing her purse and flinging the strap over her shoulder. “You can tell them they’ve got themselves a volunteer. I’ll liven things up on that team, for sure!” Then she wagged her finger at me. “And one other thing, little missy, I don’t care what they said for you to call them, we live by the Georgia rules, so to you they are ma’am and sir.”

  She spun around and marched away, shoulders back, head high. She got all the way to the front porch before stopping to say one last thing.

  “And bring that trophy back inside. We’ve got to find a place to display those where there’s room for more!”

  I sank down in my seat, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. The Stay-in-Vermont Action Plan just scored its first win.

  My personal training program started the next day. Training for track, and training for Mama to see all the reasons we should stay. Every chance I got, I ran through the woods. I ran to the sugar shack and beyond. I ran through groves of trees with no path, breathing in clean, clear air without the oppressive Georgia humidity. I pushed myself harder every day.

  I picked tiny purple wildflowers growing in places so thick with vines and foliage, almost no light came through. I touched every new tree I discovered, took pictures with my cell phone, and looked the trees up when I got home, then memorized the peculiarities of ash and beech, maple and elm. I ran as far as the back of the old factory, but I never went any closer than that. If my daddy hated it, I hated it, too.

  As part of the Stay-in-Vermont Action Plan, I told Mama funny stories about Biz and Lucy so she’d feel like she knew them. Sometimes, I made the stories funnier than they really were. I’m not sure if she
believed all of them, but she laughed, and she never told me to be quiet. That was a good sign. She knew all about Haily and the bf—not the hickey part—and the chicken named Georgia, and the grave where James’s leg was buried, and how Kendra flapped her hand like a mouth when the little girls repeated each other. Slowly, Mama started to get interested in things around her. She joined a gym and went to Zumba classes, and asked me to take her picture so she could sign up on an online dating site. She was making it all so easy.

  The first day of school, I got on the bus at the bottom of the driveway. Kori and Sue were driving Biz and Lucy, since it was Lucy’s first day of kindergarten. James and Sonnet rode together in his truck, and Haily was getting picked up by the bf. Kendra was the only one who would be on the bus. I expected the same old silent treatment, but when I stepped up she was flailing her arm around from the back, trying to get my attention.

  “I saved you a seat.” She scooted close to the window and I sat down, baffled. “I’ll show you around when we get there. We might even have a couple of classes together. Did you get your schedule yet?”

  I shook my head. “No. Did you?”

  “No, I have to get mine in the office. Yours should be there, too.”

  She looked out the window and the familiar distance crept in between us. Before the next stop, still facing away from me, she said quietly, “It’s because I’m a foster.”

  “What is?”

  “That I didn’t get my schedule mailed. Everything has to go through the state. It’s a big pain in the butt.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d never known a foster kid before. “I’m sorry.”

  She glanced sideways at me. “It’s not your fault.”

  As soon as we got to school, we ran into Sonnet standing in the middle of a group of girls. Kendra pulled me by the elbow and led me away. “Those are her art friends,” she said. “They’re totally cliquey.”

  “I thought you and Sonnet hung out together.”

  “We do at home. Not at school. I’m an outsider here. Just like you.”

  She turned into the office and left me standing alone in the hallway.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Autumn seized everything that was green, and turned the earth into vibrant oranges, yellows, and reds. The woods took on a different face. Everywhere was brilliance, every day a new experience. When I woke in the mornings, the air was brisk and chilly, but by midafternoon the temperature rose so my runs through the woods could still make me sweat. As soon as the sun started its decline, that warmth went with it. Frosty air nipped at my heels as I jogged the whole way home. Kori said it was called Indian summer. Kendra instantly objected.

  “That name is derogatory to the Native Americans.”

  “There’s no proof it has anything to do with them,” James said. “It could have been referencing the country of India. No one knows for sure.”

  “Well, I know for sure,” she grumbled.

  With everything changing outside, my body was changing, too. Not in an Irene kind of way, but running tightened up muscles that had gotten soft over the summer. I could run longer without getting out of breath, and felt in control of my long limbs again. Angela noticed and stopped me one day in school.

  “You must be training hard,” she said. “I can see it. Only a couple of months before the snow flies. Bob will get you fixed up with skis and such in plenty of time.”

  I could not wait.

  The last Tuesday of September, Biz and I were sitting on the fence behind the barn watching Lucy struggle with the pony. Sassy Pants had slammed on her brakes and thrown her head down to eat grass.

  Biz put her face so close to mine I could smell her bubblegum breath. “Saturday is Sue and Kori’s anniversary!”

  On the far side of the field, Lucy lurched forward and nearly toppled over the pony’s neck. “Remember what James says, pull one rein,” I yelled. “Make her head go to the side and kick.”

  Lucy grabbed the left rein with both hands and tugged and jerked and yanked and kicked with her heels, until finally Sassy’s head came up and they trotted off again. Biz bounced on the fence rail, pretending to post to the trot.

  “The moms want your mom to come to the party,” Biz said. “I told them she looks like a movie star.”

  “What party?”

  “It’s a cookout. BYOCDS.”

  “BYOCDS?”

  “Bring your own chair, drinks, and song. Sue plays the ukulele and Kori sings. You bring a song instead of a present and they play it for everyone.”

  “That’s real nice, but I don’t think—”

  “Deacon’s coming. He always comes. He brings his banjo.”

  It was nice that Mama didn’t mind me spending so much time at the Parkers’; it was all part of the plan. But putting her into the mix was not. The Parkers were mine. Except for telling her stories, I wasn’t willing to share them with her. Besides, hard as she might try, Mama could not warm up to Deacon. As long as he controlled her money, that wasn’t going to change. If she came, I’d have to hear all her complaints about him for days after the party. That could easily be two steps back in progress. No, Mama would not hear about this shindig from me.

  Lucy brought Sassy Pants back and jumped off. “Your turn,” she said to Biz.

  Biz climbed onto the first rail of the fence, stuffed her left foot into the stirrup, and swung her leg over the pony’s back. Lucy handed her the helmet and Biz perched it on top of her head.

  “I can’t buckle this anymore.” She held out the strap to show me how it didn’t fit under her chin.

  “Her head got too big.” Lucy giggled.

  “You have to buckle it. Your moms said it was the rule.”

  “I can’t. They know. It stays on, so it’s okay. They ordered a new one for me on the internet.”

  Kori came around from the side of the barn. “Hi, Maggie! Thanks for helping the girls again.”

  “No problem.”

  I didn’t tell her that the afternoons I spent supervising Biz and Lucy with the pony were often the highlight of my week. Without knowing if we’d be staying here, I’d taken my cue from Kendra and avoided making new friends at school.

  Biz pulled the pony’s right rein, kicked with both heels, and trotted away. “We can’t go inside yet—I just got my turn!”

  Lucy looped her arm through my elbow. “And I just got to be with Maggie, so I’m not coming either!”

  Kori bent to pick up some red and orange leaves from the ground and smoothed out the lobes. “Look, Lu, these are a perfect color for your project.”

  “I’m still not coming, not until Maggie can come with us, and Biz is riding—we’re not allowed to ride alone, so I’m staying out here.”

  “Manners, young lady,” Kori said.

  At the other end of the field, Biz pushed the pony into a canter. In three beats, they sailed alongside the fence. Biz’s body swept up and down, up and down, with each stride. Over her head, branches dripped with yellow and orange leaves. The smell of smoke from a neighbor’s chimney mingled in the air. Lucy snuggled against my arm.

  I’m happy here, I thought. I belong.

  “—seemed a little confused about the song part,” Kori was saying. “But she’s game, so we’ll see you on Saturday for sure!”

  “I’m sorry?” I said. “Who was confused?”

  Sassy Pants jerked to a halt and thrust her head into the grass again. Biz had broken a stick from a tree to use like a crop. She tapped Sassy gently with it on her rump and kicked.

  “Your mom,” Kori said. “The two of you can come on Saturday to the cookout. We roast a pig on a spit.”

  The back of my neck kinked. “You talked to her?”

  Lucy bounced up and down on the fence rail, waving her arms at Biz. “Whack her harder! Whack her harder!”

  “Earlier today. She came in the store to introduce herself.”

  “She did?”

  Kori smiled. “Don’t worry, Maggs, we’re used to people who don’t un
derstand us. She was quite charming.”

  I had no doubt. Mama could charm the snakes off Stone Mountain if she wanted to. I also had no doubt whatever criticisms she could dig up about Kori and Sue and their lifestyle would be the topic of discussion for the next several dinners.

  Biz yelled from the far end of the field. “Sassy!”

  Kori and I turned at the same time. Biz smacked the pony’s hindquarters with the stick so hard it broke in two. Sassy bolted forward, Biz jerked back, and the helmet flew off her head. She toppled to the side and hit the dirt with her head and shoulder. Her left foot was trapped in the stirrup. Sassy snorted and spooked, trying to run away from Biz’s body, which ricocheted off the ground, then landed with a thud, again and again as the pony galloped across the field.

  Kori launched herself over the fence and ran, screaming, waving her arms, trying to block the pony. Sassy Pants spun around and flung Biz’s body against the fence before taking off in the other direction.

  Lucy screamed and clawed her way into my arms. Haily and Kendra ran from the other side of the barn. Haily’s face drained of color. She pointed at me and yelled, “Go get Sue. Take Lucy and call nine one one. RUN!”

  She and Kendra sprinted across the field to Kori, who was kneeling where Biz had finally landed on the ground. The pony panted wildly in a corner, her head high and eyes bulging. Biz’s shoe dangled from the stirrup by her side.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Sue took one look at my face, one look at Lucy clinging to me, and bolted out the back door. I punched 911 on the phone and waited for someone to answer, then burst into tears trying to explain what had happened.

  “An ambulance is on the way, stay with me,” the lady said. “Stay on the phone until they get there—can you do that?”

  “Yes.” I was trying hard to stop crying because it was making everything scarier for Lucy, but every time I thought I’d gotten myself under control, I’d hiccup, then cry again.

  “Is anyone else with you?”

  “Her little sister, Lucy.”

  “How old is she?”