by Rob Buyea
“Okay, everyone,” I began. “Our first printing of the Lake View Times was a major success. Job well done. Now our school community is looking forward to our next release, so the pressure is on. Are there any ideas? What do we want to include?”
“How do you do it?” Gavin said.
I braced myself. “Do what?”
“Go along pretending everything’s okay when you know it isn’t? How do you do it?”
Here it comes, I thought.
Gavin turned and looked squarely at Mrs. Woods, then at Mrs. Magenta. “How do the two of you do it?” He didn’t wait for their response. “We know all about your secret,” he continued, his voice rising. “The mom and daughter who aren’t talking because of some buried past. Coach is running out of time, and all he wants is to see you two together again. You think he doesn’t know, but he does.”
Mrs. Magenta gasped, and quickly covered her mouth. She was visibly shaken. Mrs. Woods, who could normally hold eye contact even longer than I could, turned away and gazed out the window.
“All these secrets we’re keeping are only tearing our families apart,” Gavin finished.
Tears streamed down his face—and Mrs. Magenta’s, too. The anger and pain and sadness Gavin harbored had exploded from inside him. He bolted out the door, leaving the rest of us stunned. Stunned and speechless.
The word “masquerade,” a verb, meaning “to go about under false pretenses or a false character,” popped into my mind. Gavin had just called out Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Magenta for their masquerade. Our grand secret was a secret no more. And why? Because Gavin’s mother had been living her own masquerade for his entire life. Imagine learning that one of the closest persons to you is not whom you had thought them to be. I couldn’t blame him for his outburst.
Randi started to go after him.
I stopped her. “Randi,” I said, grabbing her by the arm. “There’s a lot going on with Gavin that you don’t know about.” I realized it would hurt her saying that, because she’d been his best friend for his whole existence.
“There’s more? And you know about it?” She made no attempt to hide the pain in her voice. Her shoulders dropped.
“Yes, but not because he confided in me,” I quickly explained. “I just happened to be there. It’s complicated, but it’s you he needs right now, not me. Go.”
She looked up again. “We’ve been keeping too many secrets. Gav’s right.” She pulled the door open and left.
I’d never seen Gav like this. He’d just blown up. He was crying before he even got out of the room. He was hurting so bad, and I didn’t know why. I was supposed to be his best friend, and I didn’t know what was going on. But Natalie did, and that just made me feel worse. It made me angry. This is going to sound ridiculous, but I was jealous that Natalie knew what I didn’t. Now I was one angry person going to find another angry person. You don’t need psychic powers to know that that was the ingredients for a fight.
He was where I expected, sitting in the bleachers, staring out at the football field. It didn’t matter that it was freezing out; football was Gav’s sanctuary. The ball, the field, the game—they made him feel better. Or at least they used to. What did I know anymore?
I climbed the benches and sat next to him. I shivered when the metal seat touched my butt. “Gav, what’s going on? Please tell me.”
He slid away.
That was all it took. “So your girlfriend, Natalie, is allowed to know what’s going on, but you can’t tell me? I thought I was your best friend.” I was out of there. I got up and started down the bleachers.
“Kurtsman’s not my girlfriend. And you can go and cry on Kyle’s shoulder.”
I froze. How did he know? Slowly I turned around. “Who told you about Kyle?” I asked, the fight gone from me.
“You left your backpack sitting in the cafeteria and Scott kicked it over by accident. Kyle’s picture fell out. But don’t worry, no one else saw it, and I haven’t told anybody about your stupid boyfriend. Is he the real reason you didn’t come to my first game?”
“No….No!” I said, shaking my head. “I told you why I didn’t come. Gav, Kyle’s not my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”
“What? What’re you talking about? You don’t have a brother.”
“I didn’t know I did, not until destiny had me meet him.”
“You’re making no sense.”
“Gav, you’re right, we’ve been keeping way too many secrets.” I walked back up the bleachers and sat next to him. And then I told him everything about camp, and Kyle, and our dad.
“You should’ve told me,” he said.
“Like I told you at the dance, I knew football wasn’t going well, so I felt bad about sharing my good news. And I haven’t told you about Kyle because…I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”
“What I dealt with during football was nothing compared to…”
“Compared to what? What’s going on?”
“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who’s discovered something about your family.”
My face scrunched. “You mean about your mom not having a driver’s license? Was it expired or something?” I rubbed my hands together, trying to warm them.
“No. She’s never had one. She never even tried getting one.”
“Why?”
Gav sighed. “ ’Cause my mom’s an illegal immigrant.”
I didn’t get it. “What do you mean?”
“My mom’s an illegal immigrant,” he said again. “She’s not a US citizen. She couldn’t risk people finding that out. It’s why she doesn’t have a driver’s license.”
“An illegal immigrant? But how is that possible?”
He shrugged. “She just is.”
“But why didn’t your dad help her, then?”
“ ’Cause he didn’t know she was illegal, either.”
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t believe it.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Gav said. “Surprise.”
I stared out at the empty field, trying to wrap my head around everything he was telling me. I took a deep breath of cold air and asked the scary question. “Gav, what happens to illegal immigrants? They can’t deport your mom, can they? I mean, she’s married and has you and Meggie.”
“Ready for the next whopper?…My parents aren’t married.”
“What!”
“They never got married. Neither one of them had the money for a wedding, and my dad says my mom didn’t like the idea of going to city hall. Too unromantic. Truth is, she didn’t want to ’cause she was worried they’d find out about her being illegal and deport her back then. My old man didn’t know about her immigrant status, and he didn’t make a stink about getting married. He said he didn’t need to tie the knot to love my mother any more than he already did. My parents are more in love than most married people, for crying out loud, but now the government might take her away from us. How’s Meggie supposed to be okay if that happens? Tell me that.”
Tears ran down Gav’s cheeks again. I cried with him. It was just like him to be thinking of Meggie. There was nothing I could say, so I just slid closer and hugged him.
We stayed that way, our bodies pressed together and warming each other, until Gav rubbed his eyes and wiped his face. “What happened with Woods and Magenta after I stormed out?” he asked.
I let go and sat back. “I don’t know. I rushed out after you before they said or did anything.”
“We’d better go check on them.” And just like that he got up and started climbing down the bleachers. Apparently he was done with feeling sad. I followed him, happy to go inside where at least there was heat.
“Randi, what did your mother say when you told her about Kyle?” he asked over his shoulder.
When I didn’t answer, he stopped and turned around. I couldn’t look at him. I
stared at the ground.
“You haven’t told her, have you?”
I shook my head.
“You need to. You said it yourself, we need to stop with all these secrets. It just causes problems.” Gav spun around and continued his march back to the school.
I stood there for a second before following him. I wanted to tell Mom, but it was going to be hard.
I still wasn’t allowed to return to school. In hindsight Dr. Pirani decided the football game hadn’t been a good idea. I’d been having a relapse of headaches ever since. It was too much too soon, but I told Dr. Pirani it had been worth it. My headaches were happening less again now. The thing I didn’t like was that I couldn’t remember everything about the game, but I didn’t tell anyone that.
So I was at home with Mom again. Mickey was at preschool for the morning, which normally was Mom’s chance to get some work done, but not that day. She was glued to the TV. I wasn’t supposed to do screen time, but I walked into the living room to see what had her so interested. I saw Coach Holmes standing in a parking lot outside an empty factory. He held a sign that said DEPORT DAVIDS. There were other people holding signs, too. The reporter asked Coach Holmes to explain what was going on.
“I’ll tell you what this is about,” he said. “This factory behind me”—he thumbed in its direction—“used to be the place where I worked. It was the place where all of us worked. But now it’s closed and our jobs are someplace south of the border, where those Mexicans will work for less money. And if that’s not bad enough, we’ve got other Mexicans sneaking up here illegally and taking our jobs. They’re nothing but trouble. That Davids lady is one of those illegals. She got caught, and now she needs to be sent back where she belongs. It’s time to clean this country up.”
“Did you know that Mrs. Davids is a mother? She’s been here for seventeen years,” the reporter said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Coach Holmes barked. “Just because she snuck over here and got pregnant doesn’t mean she gets to stay. We’ve got laws. She broke them, and now she needs to pay the price.”
Mom huffed in disgust and clicked off the TV. When she turned around, she was surprised to find me standing there. “Scott!” she exclaimed.
“What were you watching?” I asked.
“Just the news. Nothing much.”
“Was that Gavin’s mom that Coach Holmes was talking about?”
“You’ve been standing there for a few minutes?”
I nodded.
She sighed. “Yes, he was referring to Gavin’s mother, Mrs. Davids. She was in a car accident with someone he knows, and it was discovered that she not only was driving without a license, but it seems she is also an illegal immigrant.”
“What does that mean? How can she be illegal anything?”
“You need to fill out forms and apply for citizenship when you come to our country. For some reason, it appears Mrs. Davids never did that.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can they really kick her out and make her go back to Mexico, like Coach Holmes was saying?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, either. Immigration laws are complicated. I hope not, but I don’t know.”
“Mom, the Recruits are meeting after school for the newspaper. I need to go. I need to be there. I have to check on Gavin. He checked on me.”
Mom gave me a weak smile. Then she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
After Randi hurried out the door, Natalie got down to business. Even though Gavin had just spilled everything to Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Magenta, there was no time for cleanup.
“I need to tell all of you what’s going on,” she began, “because Gavin’s going to need us now more than ever.”
Natalie gave us the down and dirty, the true hard facts and none of the baloney that was flying around school. I couldn’t even move when she got done explaining. Things were way worse than any of us had realized.
“Gavin’s going to need us,” Natalie repeated.
I can’t say if what happened next was a result of Gavin’s explosion, Natalie’s speech, or something else, but when Natalie finished, Mrs. Woods got out of her chair and started across the room. Mrs. Magenta met her halfway.
Mark and I always make stupid jokes and say dumb things during the sappy parts in movies, be we didn’t do any of that when Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Magenta hugged. There was nothing funny about this special moment.
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” Mrs. Woods whispered.
“Me too, Mom. I’m sorry, too.”
It was a long hug that was long overdue, and before it ended, things got even better. Out of nowhere the one and only Scott burst into the classroom. When he spotted Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Magenta holding each other, he got so excited that he ran over and wrapped his arms around both of them.
“You did it!” he cheered. “You’ve forgiven each other. You’re all better.”
Now Mark and I laughed, and so did everyone else. Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Magenta squeezed him tight.
It was only then that I began to wonder what Scott was even doing there. He was supposed to be home, resting. Before I got the chance to ask him, the classroom door swung open again, and this time it was Randi and Gavin. They froze in their tracks when they saw the three-way hug. I bet they were full of questions, but as soon as Scott saw them, he hit Gavin with the latest news.
“Coach Holmes was on TV with a bunch of people who want to send your mom back to Mexico because she’s an illegal immigrant,” he blurted.
And just like that the whole Gavin thing got worse still. Talk about a punch in the gut. Talk about adding fuel to the fire. This was a staggering blow. The whole thing was getting so hard to believe that it didn’t seem real, or even possible. Gavin had dealt with unfair treatment all through football, and now Coach Holmes was going after his mother. I always thought having one of your parents die when you were a kid had to be the worst, but having your mom taken from you when she was still alive was a close second.
Gavin’s knees buckled. Randi caught him by the arm, and I jumped up and helped her get him to a nearby chair. He sagged forward and buried his face in his hands. Randi stood next to him rubbing his back.
“I told everyone what was going on,” Natalie confessed. “I’m sorry, Gavin.”
“It’s okay,” Randi assured her. “No more secrets.”
The girls reached out and grasped hands. And the next thing I knew, the rest of us were holding hands and standing near Gavin.
“No more secrets is right,” Mrs. Woods said. “You kids have been trying to help Olivia and me all along. Your hearts have shown through no matter how much you tried hiding it.”
“Thank you for not giving up on us,” Mrs. Magenta said.
“Mr. Davids, you’re not alone,” Mrs. Woods told him. “We’re here for you. All of us. Together.”
NATALIE KURTSMAN
ASPIRING LAWYER
Kurtsman Law Offices
BRIEF #15
December: The Story Comes to Us
Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Magenta finally appeared ready to move forward—together. Inside I was ecstatic. This major victory would’ve been cause for celebration under normal circumstances; sadly, “normal” wasn’t in our description. I still had so many questions for my teachers, but Gavin and his mother were our concern now, not my wonderings. This was not the time or the place—unless, of course, you were Gavin. He was the exception.
He was looking at Mrs. Woods. “Who’s Eric?” he asked, wiping his face. “Coach called me Eric during the last time-out.”
“He was my son,” Mrs. Woods answered.
“My twin brother,” Mrs. Magenta replied.
“The quarterback towel Coach gave me was his, wasn’t it?” Gavin said.
Mrs. Woods nodded.
“You’re a lot like he was,” Mrs. Magenta said.
The word “was” hung in the air.
“What happened?” Scott asked. It was the question on all our minds.
Mrs. Woods squeezed her daughter’s hand. “The story will come to you on its own, when it’s ready,” Eddie had said. This was it.
“After all these years the pain is still with me every day,” Mrs. Woods said. “The pain and also the shame.” She glanced at Mrs. Magenta.
“You’re not alone in this, Mom,” Mrs. Magenta said.
Mrs. Woods responded with a weak smile, then turned to us. “You kids deserve an explanation after all you’ve done for us—and Coach.” She took a deep breath, and then she started letting the past out. “Eric was a remarkable boy. He excelled in the classroom and on the field. He was a smart player. When your husband is the head coach and your son the star quarterback and captain of the team, you live and breathe football in the house, and Olivia was not to be left out.”
“Dad was great at including me,” Mrs. Magenta said. “We had our special time every day that he called ‘visiting hour.’ We did more than talk football, but that was when he shared plays with me and taught me the game. I became his first official stats woman.”
Scott grinned from ear to ear. Yes, figuratively, but he came close to making it literally.
“Coach was great with Olivia, but I wasn’t,” Mrs. Woods admitted. “Growing up, I wanted to be a journalist, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it. That was no place for a woman. End of discussion. I hated her for that, and yet…I became her.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I thought. People might say the same about Mother and me.
“Olivia was good with numbers, but her passion was for art, which was something I didn’t want to hear about,” Mrs. Woods continued. “Art wasn’t a reliable profession. She was talented, but I was so scared that she’d fail, that she’d be struggling for work. I wasn’t going to let that happen, so I tried to squash her dream. I told her she was foolish and that she wasn’t good enough. And I kept reminding her of that, hoping she’d change her mind. But the more I pushed, the more she resisted and withdrew—like I did with my own mother. Olivia and I were constantly fighting. I knew better, but I couldn’t help myself, and then—”
