by Renée Watson
I tell Ann about skipping school and going shopping with Jay. “But once I got home, it didn’t feel good having those clothes. It still doesn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I feel guilty. I got the letter in the mail about the Rites of Passage ceremony and I just feel bad. Like a hypocrite. I don’t even need new clothes.”
Ann asks, “How else do you feel?”
“Like my mom,” I say. “I feel how she must’ve felt the day she died.” Without even trying to, I remember every detail about the day my father came home early. “My momma was happy because the mail came. Every day for about two weeks my momma would get all excited when she saw the postman putting mail in our box. She’d run to see if that special envelope had come,” I tell Ann.
Ann sits back and listens and I tell her everything I remember.
“One day Momma and I went to the library. She was typing something. I was reading a book the librarian picked out for me. Momma finished whatever it was she had been typing, printed it, and we went to the post office to mail it. Momma said to me, ‘Serenity, can you keep a secret?’
“I told her I could. So Momma told me she was going to start taking classes at the culinary school downtown.”
“Why was this a secret?”
“Because my daddy thought it was a waste of time and money to take classes on how to cook. But Momma wanted to enroll in a restaurant management program,” I explain. “It wasn’t just about cooking; it was so she could learn how to own a restaurant.”
“I see,” Ann says.
“My momma came up with a plan. She told me about money that schools give to people who want to come to their school—they’re called scholarships. Momma told me to keep it a secret, just in case she didn’t get it. She didn’t want to get my daddy upset for no reason. And she didn’t want to get my grandparents’ hopes up if she didn’t get accepted.”
I stop to catch my breath because I realize I am talking really fast. “Momma was so excited when she saw that envelope. She couldn’t even open it. She handed it to me. I remember looking at the big envelope. Momma was rushing me, telling me to hurry and see what it said. I opened it and pulled out the first sheet of paper.”
Ann looks interested to hear the rest and I am enjoying telling her. So far we have mostly talked about sad things with my momma. I am glad I am remembering more of the good. I tell Ann how I read the letter out loud to my momma. “Dear Mrs. Evans, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Restaurant Management Program at Willamette Culinary Institute.”
I remember Momma jumping out of her seat. She hugged me so hard and tight, squeezing all of me in her arms. She snatched the letter out of my hand and finished reading it to herself. “Serenity, oh, Serenity, do you know what this means? This means I’m going to own my restaurant one day!” She hugged me again and reread the letter. “A full-tuition scholarship! They’re paying for everything!” she said.
I tell Ann how we turned on music and danced around the living room.
“Is that what the dinner was for?” Ann asks. “To celebrate?”
“Yes. Momma took me and Danny to the store and we filled the cart with everything she would need to make Daddy’s favorite meal. We were all so happy. So excited that Momma’s dream was going to come true. But then Daddy came home early and before Momma had a chance to sit down with him and explain it all, he saw the letter sitting on the counter.”
I scoot back on the sofa and rest my back against one of the pillows. For the first time I am completely relaxed in Ann’s office and I am not crying. “My daddy threw a wad of money on the table and said no matter what degree she had she’d never make that much money in one day.”
I stop talking and look at Ann. “You know what happened after that,” I say. “But before that, before my daddy walked in the kitchen, before he ruined her dream, my momma was the happiest I had ever seen her.”
I exhale.
All the secrets are out. I don’t feel weighed down anymore.
• • • • • • •
Talking to Ann dug up memories I buried when my momma died. I remember my momma trying to teach me to ice skate and how she fell more times than I did. I remember her singing off-key to the radio when we drove to the store or the mall or school. I remember her telling me how education is important, and every day when I came home from school, she’d make me tell her one new thing I learned. I fall asleep looking at the stars on my ceiling and for each one I count, I think of something about my momma. I fall asleep and my dreams are sweet because my momma is there with me.
The next day, Jay walks home with me and Danny. I am quiet for most of the walk. Danny and Jay are talking about going to the basketball game at Rosa Parks High this weekend. When we get to the house, Danny goes inside. It’s become a ritual now for him to make kissing noises every time he leaves me and Jay by ourselves.
I don’t even bother to fuss at him. I just follow him into the house. “I’ll be back,” I tell Jay. I go inside. When I return, I have all the shopping bags in my hands. “I can’t keep these,” I tell Jay.
I wait for Jay to yell at me. Wait for him to say if I don’t want his gifts some other girl will. But Jay doesn’t say anything. He takes the bags and walks away. And I feel like my momma right now. I don’t want anything I didn’t earn the right way.
AND THE GLORY, FOREVER
• • • • • • • • • • •
Serenity Evans
Mrs. Ross, 1st Period
Poetry Workshop
Identity Poem
SERENITY
Shy, respectful, hard-working.
Sister of one brother.
Lover of poetry, sleepovers,
and colored gel pens.
Who feels sad when people pass away,
and happy when she spends time with her best friend.
Who needs her journal, her grandparents,
and peace of mind.
Who gives help at the soup kitchen.
Who fears death.
Who would like to travel
to Puerto Rico one day.
Resident of the City of Roses, a place where
windy roads lead to mountains and waterfalls.
A place where Douglass firs and pine trees
stand tall, kissing the sky. A place where
home is not a house
but wherever friends and family are.
EVANS
May is a busy month for Grandpa and Grandma. Besides the normal activities at the church, the Rites of Passage ceremony is tomorrow and Mother’s Day is next week. Grandpa hasn’t decided what he wants to do for Grandma. She keeps saying she doesn’t want anything, but Grandpa insists. While Grandma is out grocery shopping for the soup kitchen, Grandpa talks to me and Danny in the kitchen, real low and soft, like what he’s saying is top secret. “Here’s some money so you and Danny can get your grandma something nice,” Grandpa says to me. “And I want my change back,” he says, smiling. I ask Danny what he wants to get.
“I don’t know. Not perfume,” he says. Grandma hates perfume. “And no flowers or anything like that,” he adds. We try to think of something special. “You want to go to the mall now?” Danny asks.
“I can’t. Maria’s on her way. We’re practicing one last time for tomorrow.”
Danny and I start brainstorming a list of gift ideas. Grandma comes home and Danny runs to hide the list. Grandma tosses her purse and keys on the coffee table. “Whew,” she sighs. “I’m tired. I need a day off.” Grandma yawns and sits on the sofa. She takes her shoes off and turns her ankles around in circles, stretching them. “My feet are so tired,” she says. “Serenity, baby, when is Maria coming?”
“She’s on her way,” I tell her.
“Well, I guess I better get something on the stove for dinner.”
My grandpa picks up the phone. “We’re ordering pizza tonight.”
“James, I don’t mind cooking—”
Grandpa h
as already dialed. “Hello, ah, yes, I’d like to place a delivery order,” Grandpa says.
Grandma chuckles to herself, stretches out on the sofa, and falls asleep by the time the pizza arrives.
When Maria gets to the house, we eat dinner and drink so much soda we are too full to practice or do anything else but lie on my bed and talk. “So,” I ask. “How are things with your mom?”
“Things are better,” Maria says. “Not perfect, but better. Miguel moved out, so that’s good.”
“Are you still going to Puerto Rico for the summer?” I ask.
“Yeah. I can’t wait to see my grandma and my aunts, uncles, and cousins,” Maria tells me.
“When do you leave?”
“The day after school gets out,” Maria says. “I’m going to bring you something back,” she tells me. “Next summer, we should ask if you can come with me.”
“Yeah. We should,” I say.
Maria and I change into our night clothes. “I invited Jay to come tomorrow,” I tell Maria.
“You think he will?” Maria gets in my bed.
“I don’t know.” I turn the lights out.
We lie in bed trying to go sleep but we keep talking. “What are you going to do this summer?” Maria asks.
“Grandma says I can take art classes at the community center,” I tell her. “And I’ve been thinking about rearranging my room. I want to change it, you know, make it look different before we start high school in the fall.”
Maria gives me all kinds of ideas about how I should change things around. We talk about a new color of paint and new bedsheets. I hear my grandma walking to the foot of the stairs. “Girls!” my grandma shouts. “Go to sleep! It’s late. Tomorrow is a big day.”
We lower our voices. Maria says, “I can’t wait to start high school.”
“Me neither.” I take the cover off because it’s warmer than I thought. “Do you think we’ll stay friends throughout high school?”
“Of course. We’re like family. We’ll be friends forever.” Maria is snoring soon after that and then morning comes.
• • • • • • •
The church is packed with people to see the candidates for the Rites of Passage. All of us who are being promoted to Teen Disciples are sitting in the front row. I am between Maria and Karen.
Maria’s name is called first. Mrs. Mitchell reads an introduction about Maria, tells how many community service hours she worked, and then calls Maria up to the platform. Maria takes the mike. I can tell she is nervous. We’ve rehearsed so many times, I am saying the scripture with her as she recites it—Ecclesiastes 4:9–11: “Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up. Furthermore, if two lie down together they keep warm, but how can one be warm alone?”
She did it perfectly. The congregation claps and says, “Amen.” Maria explains why she chose this scripture and what it means to her. She talks about Ricky and Danny and her friendship with me and she says that she’s learned that friendship is important and that she thanks God for sending people in her life that she can count on.
Mrs. Mitchell is crying and the entire church is on their feet clapping. Maria closes with a song, and Mrs. Mitchell and my grandma hand her a plaque. Maria steps down and comes back to sit next to me. She whispers, “I’m so glad that’s over. I was so nervous.”
“You did great.”
“I didn’t know we got plaques,” Maria says. We look at it. The scripture Maria quoted is inscribed on the plaque in cursive writing. Maria turns it over and it has her full name inscribed on it. Under her name it says Rites of Passage Ceremony, Restoration Baptist Church. I think to myself that the first thing I’m going to do when I get home is look on the back of my momma’s plaque.
Karen goes next, then Sabrina, then two more girls, and now it’s my turn. My heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty. I get up to the podium and recite my scripture, Matthew 6:9–13, The Lord’s Prayer. As I say it, everything I’ve been through flashes through my mind and I tell my story. When Mrs. Mitchell and Grandma hand me my plaque, I hold it close to my heart and go sit back down in the front row.
Mrs. Mitchell congratulates all of us and asks us to stand. Grandpa and a few other ministers say a prayer, and after the service is over we go to the fellowship room for a reception.
“It’s official,” Maria says. “We’re young adults now.”
Sabrina smiles. “No more youth Sunday school class.”
Karen adds, “Or youth choir.”
“Yeah, I get to sing in the teen choir,” Maria says. “I can’t wait to travel with them and open up for gospel concerts.”
Mrs. Mitchell comes over to us and gives each of us a hug. “I’m just so proud,” she says. “Remember, this means you have to be good role models for the middle school kids now.”
We smile. I think all of us like the sound of that. When the reception is over, everyone goes their separate ways. “See you later,” Karen says.
“Bye!” Danny and I get in the car with Grandma and Grandpa.
Danny takes a look at my plaque. “You two did really good,” he says.
“They did great,” Grandpa says.
On the drive home Danny falls asleep. The sun has set and I am starting to feel tired from all the excitement of the day. We ride past the park near my school. Jay is standing on the corner with two taller, older boys. His hands are in his pockets and his hat is turned to the side. He sees me passing by and I wave at him from the backseat. He tosses his head, saying what’s up. I wonder if Jay found the envelope I left for him. I put the prayer I wrote for him in one of the bags. I think he’d like to know someone is praying for him.
When I get home, I rush to my room, take my momma’s plaque off the wall, and turn it over. I don’t know how it is I never looked at it before, or why Grandma never told me, but here it is—my momma’s name with the words Rites of Passage Ceremony, Restoration Baptist Church under it.
I hang my plaque on the wall, to the right of my dresser. My momma’s is to the left side. I think no matter how I rearrange my room, I will never take those down.
AMEN
• • • • • • • • • • •
Serenity Evans
Mrs. Ross, 1st Period
Poetry Workshop
Ode: a poem that gives tribute to something or someone. Write an ode about something you love.
Ode to Cake
You’re always there on my birthday,
And most holidays too.
No matter how good dinner is,
I save a place in my tummy for you.
I sometimes forget all the painful things
You’ve been through.
The beating, mixing, and baking
Just so I can taste you.
You’re perfect plain,
Or with frosting on top.
I like you with ice cream.
I like you a lot.
There are many desserts I love to eat.
But a homemade cake is my favorite sweet.
It’s Mother’s Day weekend and it’s taken hours for Grandpa to convince Grandma to leave the house for the afternoon. Her cookbooks arrived yesterday and he’s been hiding them in the basement. He’ll be taking them to local bookstores and to the street fair next week, but first he wants to present her with one—make it special.
“Okay, your grandma will be back soon. Are you almost finished?” Grandpa asks me and Danny.
“Almost,” we say. Our gift to Grandma is giving her a day off. When her cookbooks arrived, I picked out one of the recipes, and Grandpa took me to the store to get all the ingredients. I’ve been cooking most of the afternoon. The kitchen is hot and there are pans and pots all over the countertop. When Grandma cooks, she keeps everything so neat, but somehow I’ve made a mess of things. Danny and I clean it all up and put the food on the serving trays. We
set them on the dining room table.
Grandpa dims the lights. Lit candles sit on the table making pretty patterns on the tablecloth. Danny sets the table with Grandma’s best dishes. I take the bread out of the oven.
“It looks beautiful,” Grandpa says. “Your grandma is going to be so surprised.”
I look at the table, making sure everything is perfect. The salad, pasta, sauce, and garlic bread are all on the table. Grandpa even bought sparkling cider and nice glasses. We set Grandma’s cookbook on her chair. Grandpa has slid his gift to her in the front flap—a weekend of rest at a bed-and-breakfast.
“They’re here,” Danny says. He’s looking through the curtains in the living room. “Erica’s car just pulled up.”
“Okay, just a minute, just a minute. Don’t let them in yet.” I run into the kitchen and get the red velvet cake.
“Hurry up!” Danny says.
I put the cake on the buffet table next to the vase of roses. “Okay, I’m ready.”
RED VELVET CAKE RECIPE
• • • • • • • • • • •
Ingredients
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ cups granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
1 ½ cups vegetable oil
1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons red food coloring
1 teaspoon white distilled vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Cream cheese frosting
Crushed pecans for garnish
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Lightly oil and flour two 9-inch-round cake pans.
In a large bowl, sift together the flour, sugar, baking soda, salt, and cocoa powder. In another large bowl, whisk together the oil, buttermilk, eggs, food coloring, vinegar, and vanilla. Mix the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients until a smooth batter is formed.
Divide the cake batter evenly among the prepared cake pans.
Place the pans in the oven. Bake for 30 minutes.
