Auntie Mo waits for me just inside the sanctuary. “Hey, sweetie. How did it go with Marilee?”
“Great! I still have a job.”
“Praise the Lord,” she says with a smile. “I really appreciate Traven bringing you to the church for me.”
I frown at that statement. “I can’t believe you’re trying to play matchmaker, Auntie Mo.”
“Who, me?”
“Uh-huh…” I loop my hand through hers and whisper, “I forgive you, though.”
Auntie Mo heads off to a classroom for the women while I join the teens in another class for a study on the Book of Matthew.
Kelly walks up to me before I enter the classroom.
“I heard you were trying out. Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands with her hands on her hips.
“Because I wasn’t sure if I was gonna do it,” I respond, staring her down. I know this chick is not trying to check me. I don’t have to answer to her about nothing. “What does it matter?”
She seems a bit taken aback by my attitude, but I don’t care. She’s not my mama, so I don’t report to her.
We walk off to an empty classroom.
“I thought we were friends, Rhyann. You know how much I want this.”
“I want to be on the praise team, too,” I respond. “I told you that. Besides, it’s only an audition. We’re not the only ones trying out. We may not even get it.”
“I’m not worried about getting the spot, Rhyann. I was just shocked that you’d be trying to get it, too.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I retort. “I wanted to be on the praise team long before you decided to do it.”
“Since you’ve been hanging with your little rich friends, I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”
I decide since I’m on holy ground that I’ll ignore her little dig. “My friends have nothing to do with me wanting to be on the Temple of Praise squad. Anyway, I’m going inside before my aunt starts looking for me.”
Kelly prances out of the room ahead of me.
I don’t know why she’s tripping like that. It’s not like I’ve already won the spot, but even if I do get it, then I deserve it. I hadn’t totally made up my mind if I was auditioning for sure, but now I’m going for it. Don’t nobody try to flip on me like that.
Kelly and I usually sit together during Bible study, but not this time. I sit near the window, while she goes to the other side of the room.
Whatever.
The way I see it, Kelly is the one who’s wrong. I wanted to be on the praise team first, and I should be the one auditioning. She just wants this because I want to do it—that’s how she is. Kelly is the type of person who wants to be constantly in the spotlight.
Before I received my scholarship to Stony Hills Prep, she and I attended the same school and had some of the same classes. Kelly and I were pretty close until I found out she was taking some of my ideas and claiming them as her own. To others, it looked like I was copying her, but that wasn’t the case.
Auntie Mo told me that I needed to just keep my ideas to myself because some people just weren’t creative enough to come up with their own stuff. She told me to forgive Kelly and move on.
I did what Auntie Mo told me, but I can’t deny that every time I see Kelly, I’m tempted to give her a good ol’ beat down because of that stuck-up attitude of hers. If she don’t stay out of my way tonight, I just might give in to temptation.
Auntie Mo and I stop to pick up hamburgers and fries for dinner tonight since she’s not in the mood for cooking and neither am I. Phillip is with Tameka, so they probably grabbed something to eat already, and Brady is working. Who knows where Chester is—he met some girl on the internet, and they are supposed to be meeting in person either tonight or tomorrow.
After I eat and shower, I spend the rest of my evening writing in my online journal.
May 14th
To My Best Friend
Although I’ve known you for a very long time,
I still remember that day we first met
You took me by complete surprise
I knew that very moment my heart was set
As years flew by and the more we talked,
You never seemed to care if I had bad hair
Or just being mean for no reason
No matter what, you were always there
The more our friendship grew and grew
I started to realize just how much I cared
But to tell you the truth, this feeling is new
It hit me, what this is all about
A different and precious love
For the person I called friend
Is an angel sent from above
The times I spend with you,
Are what makes my heart complete
One thing for sure I know,
Without you in my life,
My future is obsolete
Chapter 11
Ah, Rhyann, you’re here today,” Anne Goldberg says when she walks into the salon for her weekly appointment the Tuesday after Memorial Day.
“I’m here,” I reply quietly. I’m definitely not in the mood to see this woman, but I promised Miss Marilee that I wouldn’t tell Mrs. Goldberg off, so I’m gonna be cool. I’ll just ignore her for the most part. Thankfully, she’ll only be here for a few hours. I can deal with her for that long, I suppose.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she tells me. “I feel dreadful about what happened, and I want to apologize. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you, dear. I never meant to make you feel that we’re less than equals. I’m not like that at all.”
“It’s okay,” I respond with a slight shrug. “I’m sorry for tripping. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”
“No, it isn’t,” she counters. “It’s never okay to hurt someone, even when it’s unintentional.” She suddenly gives me a warm smile. “I noticed the last time I was here that you and I have something in common.”
“What’s that?” I ask, my eyebrows rising in curiosity.
“We both love toffee-ettes.” She holds out a See’s black-and-white canister to me. “Please accept these as a token of my sincerity.”
Stunned, I respond, “Mrs. Goldberg, you didn’t have to do this.”
Okay, now I feel smaller than an ant. My aunt’s words come back to haunt me. I definitely didn’t choose this battle well.
“I want you to have them,” she insists.
I grin, because I love the bite-size pieces of rich butter toffee with whole almonds smothered in milk chocolate and covered with bits of toasted almonds. “See’s is my favorite candy store. Thank you so much for thinking of me, Mrs. Goldberg.”
She and I are totally cool now.
I lead her to the shampoo bowl so that I can get started on her hair. When she’s seated, I pull out a plastic cape and place it around her neck, making sure to tuck her shirt collar underneath.
Mrs. Goldberg pulls a photograph from her purse. “I want to show you something. This is my mother. Do you notice anything about her?”
I note the numbers tattooed on the woman’s arm. Stunned, I ask, “Did she…live during the Holocaust?”
Mrs. Goldberg nods. “So you see, not only do we share a love for toffee-ettes—we also share a history of oppression, Rhyann. That is your name, right?” She places a hand to her temple. “My memory is terrible at times.”
When I nod, she continues. “We both have a history of being discriminated against, prevented from owning land, tortured, and murdered.”
While I wash her hair, Mrs. Goldberg shares her family history with me.
“My grandfather’s business was taken over and my mother’s Jewish school was closed. They were deported to Wester-Faengle, a Nazi concentration camp, before being transferred to Auschwitz. My mother and her sister were selected for forced labor and assigned to work on road repairs. My grandmother had a job sorting through the possessions brought into the camp.”
“Wow…,” I murmur. “It’s not much different t
han slavery and what my ancestors had to endure. The way the slaves were treated was bad, but the way the Jews were gassed and burned alive like that—”
“It wasn’t just the Jews. There were African Americans in the concentration camps, too.”
When she tells me that my people were also victimized during the Holocaust, I’m totally in shock.
“I’ve never heard about any blacks in the Holocaust, Mrs. Goldberg. Are you sure about this?”
“There were,” she confirms. “My mother told me about the ones she saw and how cruelly they were treated. Many of the African American soldiers fell in love with German women and had children. Now the Nazis…they didn’t like the notion of mixed-race children at all. The Gestapo—that was the secret German police—they had a lot of them sterilized; they experimented on some, and many of them just mysteriously disappeared.”
“I still can’t believe it,” I say.
“Have you heard of Valaida Snow? She was a jazz musician. She was in Denmark but ended up arrested and sent to Wester-Faengle.”
I shake my head no. I repeat the name over and over in my head, because I intend to Google her. I want to know more about this woman and especially her part in the Holocaust.
“My mother said she used to sing to the children. She met her when they were in Wester-Faengle.”
“As if slavery wasn’t enough…,” I whisper. I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to find out what happened to her. “Did Valaida Snow live long enough to leave the camp?”
“She did,” Miss Goldberg confirms. “She returned to the United States, but from what I understand, she was never the same after that. It’s such a shame, because I’ve listened to some of her music and it’s beautiful.”
“I can believe that,” I say, shuddering at what she went through. “I’m glad your mother survived that horrible time.”
“Yes, she did, but the rest of her family didn’t. My grandmother died in Auschwitz. My aunt was gassed a few months later. My mother was liberated in 1945…at least I think it was in forty-five. Anyway, she was liberated during a death march from the Malchow camp, where she’d been transferred. She came to America, where she met and married my father. They had seven children—me being the youngest. They were very happy until my father died last year.”
“Whew…I’m so glad to hear that she had kind of a happy ending, especially after living through all that.”
“My mother told me that there were black troops who came to help liberate the camps. Did you know that? They were witness to some of the worst atrocities.” She shakes her head sadly. “I can’t even imagine having to live through that time.”
I’m still stunned by all that I’ve learned. “The thing is, I’ve never heard anything about black troops or blacks in general being connected to the Holocaust. You’re the first person I’ve met who is even related to a survivor. Does your mother have nightmares or anything about those days?”
“She used to but not anymore. She’s always been a strong woman. I tell her she’s my hero all the time. Her courage and her strength saw her through the horror. I think I would’ve lost my mind if I’d had to go through something like that.”
I nod my head in agreement.
I gently guide her head back so that I can rinse her hair.
“The water’s not too hot for you, is it?” I inquire.
“No, it’s fine,” she responds. “It feels good. I have a lot of headaches, so please be gentle. The last shampoo girl—I can’t remember her name—anyhoo, she was much too rough whenever she washed my hair. I’d go home with the worst pain sometimes.”
I take special care, not that I wouldn’t be gentle anyway.
“You’re very good with your hands,” Mrs. Goldberg compliments as I prop her up in the chair. “My scalp feels so good. I hope Marilee keeps you around for a long time.”
“Thank you,” I respond. “I learned how to wash hair from my sister. She’s in cosmetology school.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“Stony Hills Prep.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
I nod. “I have a full scholarship. I wanted to study Latin, and the school in my neighborhood didn’t offer it. Stony Hills has one hundred percent college acceptance into the top colleges around the country.”
“So you are planning to go to college? Have you thought about it yet?”
“I always think about it,” I admit. “I’ve been studying like crazy and making straight As so I can get a scholarship. There’s three of us, so I don’t think there’s gonna be enough for all of us to attend college. My aunt Cerise promised me that she’d make sure I went, but she died over in Iraq. She was in the Army Reserves.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your aunt, dear. I know losing someone is never easy, but how proud you must be of her sacrifice for this country.”
“I am proud of her, but I do miss her terribly.”
“What are you planning on studying when you get to college?”
“Law,” I answer. “I’ve always wanted to become a lawyer.”
“My husband is an entertainment attorney. We met when I was in my first year of law school.”
“So you’re a lawyer, too?” I ask, trying to imagine her pacing back and forth in front of a stern-faced judge with that flaming, fire engine red hair.
“I dropped out when I got married. We wanted to have a family right away, and I wanted to be home with them. Plus, my love for the law was never as passionate as my husband’s, so it was an easy decision for me.”
“I’m about to make a food run,” Lisa, a stylist, announces. “Give me your orders.”
“Where are you going?” one of the other stylists asks. “I have a taste for Fatburgers.”
“That sounds good,” I say. “If that’s where you’re going, then I’ll take a pastrami burger.”
“I guess I’ll be going to Fatburgers then,” Lisa states as she sweeps up a cloud of hair from around her station. “Rhyann, would you write down everybody’s order and call it in? I’d appreciate it.”
I do as she asks, making sure that I have everything down correctly. “Here you are, Lisa.”
“Thanks, Rhyann. You are on your job, girl. I really like having you around.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Lisa. Matter of fact, why don’t you take Rhyann with you?” Miss Marilee suggests. “She can help you with the orders.”
I nod eagerly in agreement.
“Rhyann, you are such a pleasure to work with,” Lisa says when we’re in the car. “I’m so glad Marilee hired you.”
“Thank you for saying that,” I respond. “I really like working at the salon.”
“All of the stylists have nothing but wonderful things to say about you. The clients, too.”
“Even Mrs. Goldberg?”
Lisa chuckles. “She’s a bit of a character, but for the most part, she’s harmless.”
“I see that now.”
We drive for a few blocks before I ask, “Have you spoken to China? Her baby is so cute.”
“She’s so happy,” Lisa assures me. “She and Mike really wanted this baby.”
“I’m not sure I want kids.”
Lisa glances over at me with a small smirk. “Well, that’s really not something you should be worrying about, especially at your age.”
“I’m definitely not giving it too much thought right now. I’m concentrating on finishing high school and planning for college.”
“I can tell that you’re very intelligent. Take it from me, there’s plenty of time for boys. They won’t suddenly disappear off the face of the earth.”
“My aunt tells me that all the time. She needs to remind my brother Brady that girls won’t disappear overnight. He’s really good in football, and he’s being courted by several colleges across the country. If he’s not careful, some hood rat is going to try and get caught up so that he’ll have to pay child support, or worse—get married.”
“That’s what
happened with my brother,” Lisa tells me. “His little girlfriend got pregnant as soon as he was drafted into the NBA. They’re married now, but I can tell he’s not happy.”
“Your brother plays for the Atlanta Hawks, right?”
She nods.
The food is ready and waiting by the time we arrive at Fatburgers. Lisa pays for the orders and we head back to the car.
“Everything smells delicious,” I say. My stomach growls loudly in response, much to my embarrassment.
Lisa laughs. “I guess your belly agrees.”
“That was so gross.”
We make our way back to the salon, fighting traffic the whole way.
Lisa parks the car. “Seems like that took forever. I hope the food is still hot.”
As I sit in the little break room in the back of the salon, eating my burger, I think back to my conversation with Mrs. Goldberg. Her mother was actually in a concentration camp. I remember having to read The Diary of Anne Frank last year. It’s hard to digest all that her mother suffered.
Mrs. Goldberg is right about us having so much in common. I’d never really thought about it before, and now I want to find out a whole lot more about it. Mrs. Goldberg will see. I can be a friend, too.
Chapter 12
Did you know that blacks were victimized during the Holocaust?” I ask Divine when I call her later that evening. She has just told me about the grade she got on her report on slavery in the 1800s and the modern-day slavery in Rwanda.
“Those were the Jews, you silly.” Divine breaks into a short laugh. “But I guess what our ancestors went through could be considered a holocaust, too.”
“I know about the Jews,” I correct her. “But it wasn’t just the Jews who died. There were also some of us killed, Dee. This woman that comes to the salon—Mrs. Goldberg told me. She’s a client of Miss Marilee.”
Divine’s voice fills with doubt. “Rhyann, I don’t know about that. I’ve never heard anything about it.”
“It’s true,” I say. “I was just looking up some information on the internet. Apparently, the French army had African soldiers during World War I. Some of them moved to Germany and fell in love with German women and had children. Well, Hitler had a problem with mixed-race children and warned that he’d have the blacks deported or placed in concentration camps.”
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