And so far, nobody had bothered to ask how her weekend had gone. Nobody knew about her crazed breakdown in the master bathroom. Or that she ended the night in their basement wine cellar, opening up every bottle of Neil’s most expensive wine and giving it a taste before dumping it down the drain. Some she’d given more than a taste, which was why she woke up yesterday with a pounding headache and a tongue so dry, it felt swollen in her mouth.
It wasn’t her finest hour.
She was in no hurry to repeat it, but in two weeks her children would be leaving her again, and she would have to find a better way to cope. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to think about it. She told herself that in two weeks this nightmare would be over. Neil would wake up and come to his senses.
She slowed to a stop at the traffic light. Beside her, a woman was peering into the side view mirror, attempting to pop a zit on her chin. Camille stared at her, fascinated by her lack of discretion, when a low-riding vehicle pulled up behind them.
The driver had thick cornrows that looked like fat, black caterpillars on his head, and he was playing rap music so loud, the base vibrated the steering wheel against her palms. Every other lyric contained a four-letter word and a well-known racial slur.
Appalled, Camille quickly rolled up the windows and peeked back at Paige, who had long been in the practice of asking what unfamiliar words meant. Camille didn’t want to try to explain that one.
Thankfully, Paige didn’t notice, and Camille’s phone began to ring. The screen said Deb.
Camille answered with a hello so overly cheerful, it was obvious she was compensating.
“Hey,” Deb said. “How are you?”
“Great. Just driving Paige home from piano lessons.”
“Have you checked your email today?”
“Not yet.”
“Class lists came out.” If a week-old party balloon had a voice, Deb’s would be it. “Paige and Faith aren’t together.”
Camille’s heart sank. “Who has who?”
“Faith is with Mrs. Webb. Paige is with the new teacher, Miss Jones.”
Of course.
Of course it couldn’t be the other way around. If it were the other way around, Camille wouldn’t think twice about going into Mr. Kelly’s office and asking for a transfer. In fact, she’d be quite thrilled to do so.
See, her actions would tell the world, she wasn’t racist.
Racist people didn’t want their children to have black teachers. Anaya Jones was a black teacher, and Camille wanted her to be Paige’s. It would, however, look awfully suspicious if she went into Mr. Kelly’s office and asked for Paige to be transferred out of Miss Jones’s class. It would, of course, have nothing to do with skin color. But nobody wanted to believe that.
She flipped her blinker and turned down Windamere Avenue.
She wanted to ask Deb if she’d consider transferring Faith into Paige’s class, but it would be wasted breath. Technically, transfer requests weren’t allowed. Principal Kelly’s public stance was essentially the same refrain Camille had said to her children on more than one occasion. You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit. But in Camille’s experience, there were always exceptions. The problem was, Deb wasn’t the type to ask for an exception. She hated to be a bother, and she would most definitely see a transfer request as such. Even though it wasn’t. Camille would have been happy to make the request for her, and she had no doubt it would be granted. A transfer would require nothing but a simple swap that would take Jan McCormick two seconds to accomplish.
“Faith is pretty bummed.”
“Yeah.” Paige would be too. She peeked at her in the rearview mirror. Now that she wasn’t talking a mile a minute, her expression had changed. She was staring out the window with a look so lost and faraway, Camille’s throat tightened in alarm.
“Of course, they can still eat lunch together. And play at recess. And we will do plenty of playdates.”
“Yeah,” Camille said again.
“You know I’m here, right? If you need to talk about anything?”
“Yes, of course. Thanks, Deb.”
As soon as they hung up, Camille dropped her phone onto the consul and turned onto her cul-de-sac, feeling scratchy and mean, like she was seven again and her mother was making her wear that awful wool dress from her aunt Cora. The feeling was swiftly interrupted by an unusual sight—flashing red-and-blue lights. A police cruiser sat in the driveway across the street. Neighbors had gathered outside. They stood on their front lawns in small pockets, whispering excitedly to one another.
“What’s a police car doing here?” Paige asked.
“I’m not sure.” Camille slowed to a stop in front of the neighbors next door. “What’s going on?”
“Someone tried breaking into the Robersons’ house. They busted a window and everything.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. The alarm went off. All the dogs in the neighborhood started barking.”
“Did they catch who it was?”
“It looks like they got away.”
Camille glanced back at Paige, who heard every word. Someone had been prowling around their neighborhood. A burglar attempted to break into the Robersons’ home on a Monday afternoon with Austin and Taylor across the street.
Alone and unprotected.
* * *
Camille: What is the code to the gun safe?
Neil: Why?
Camille: Because the neighbor’s house was burglarized, and the criminal is still at large. Somebody has to protect our children.
Camille’s phone began to ring. The call was immediately, and aggressively, sent to voice mail.
Neil: Please call me.
Twenty-One
Paige’s new teacher reminded Camille of that actress with the hard-to-pronounce name. Lupita something. Only she wasn’t quite as slim, and instead of short hair Anaya Jones wore hers in tiny, long braids pulled back in a thick ponytail. She had regal-looking cheekbones and straight white teeth, an athletic build, and a face entirely too young to be a teacher.
Or maybe Camille was just getting old.
She was certainly nervous and uncommonly self-conscious as she walked with Paige to her new classroom. It was Unpack Your Backpack night at O’Hare Elementary, and they had come early. When they reached the classroom door, it was only halfway open and decorated with the words Superhero Headquarters and an array of superhero logos.
And indeed, it was.
One bulletin board was covered in green with a large 3-D Hulk at the top and letters that read “Our Work Is Incredible.” Another showcased a darkened skyline made up of black rectangular skyscrapers with yellow rectangular windows and twenty small capes flying overhead with twenty neatly written names. “Miss Jones’s Super Second Graders.” Off to the left, an entire corner of the room had been made into its own reading wonderland with beanbags and black walls and peel-and-stick stars and a vertical banner that said “A Good Book Will Take You to a Galaxy Far, Far Away.” An impressive collection of Funko Pop Star Wars lined the top of the two bookcases.
Paige loved Funko Pop.
But these weren’t what caught her daughter’s attention. Her eyes were fixed on a large, mysterious object near the exit door.
“What’s underneath that sheet?” she asked.
“It’s a secret,” Anaya said with a tantalizing wink as she stood from her seat behind her desk and stuck out her hand to shake Paige’s. “I’m Miss Jones, and you would be…?”
“Paige Amelia Gray.”
Miss Jones straightened, her attention landing on Camille, and for one blip of a second, her expression faltered, revealing it for what it was—a mask. The kind that was so well done, it came as a shock when it slipped out of place.
“I’m Paige’s mother, Camille,” she said, injecting confidence into her tone as she stepped
forward for a handshake of her own. She refused to sound self-conscious, even if she felt it. “She’s very excited to be in your class this year.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Paige!” High-pitched laughter bubbled from Camille’s throat. “I’m so sorry. It has nothing to do with you. She’s upset that she’s not in the same class as her best friend.”
Miss Jones nodded coolly.
“Anyway, I know we’re here a little early. I don’t want to bother you. We came to set out the goody bags the PTA made for all the students and wanted to introduce ourselves before we got to work. I’ll be your room mother this year. If you need anything—anything at all—let me know. I’m happy to help.”
“Thank you.”
Camille tightened her grip on her daughter’s hand and, with a stiff smile, pulled her into the hallway, where she’d left the box of goody bags earlier this morning. Each one was tied prettily with purple ribbon and had a picture of a wildcat on the front. She and Deb had spent the last three nights stuffing them. Thankfully, Deb didn’t ask about Neil. They were too busy postulating about the neighborhood robber.
“I bet it was a silly prank that got out of control,” Deb had offered.
Camille didn’t think so.
She certainly wasn’t going to take any risks. Which was why she called Rebecca and asked if Patrick knew of any good firearm classes she could take around the area. If a robber tried to break in, he wouldn’t find Camille defenseless.
Paige lifted the box onto the table outside Miss Jones’s classroom. Camille supervised, trying not to think too hard about Anaya’s icy greeting. She probably recognized Camille from the unsavory media coverage. They certainly replayed the clip of her at the public meeting often enough. The unfair portrayal left Paige’s new teacher with an equally unfair impression.
As Camille watched Paige organize the goody bags, she told herself it was nothing. So what if Miss Jones didn’t like her? As long as she treated Paige fairly and kindly, it didn’t matter. And besides, there was a good chance Camille was misinterpreting the entire exchange. She’d walked into the classroom paranoid. Of course she would have paranoid thoughts. Maybe Anaya had the kind of personality that took a while to warm up.
An unfamiliar black woman and her daughter turned down the hallway, hand in hand. The little girl had a bounce in her step and a head full of braids and colorful beads that clacked when she walked.
Camille smiled extra big at them both.
“Are these for us?” the mother asked.
“They sure are,” Camille said.
The woman encouraged her daughter to take one, then prompted her to say “thank you” after she did.
“You are quite welcome,” Camille said.
The mother-daughter duo walked inside the classroom.
“Wow,” the little girl said, elongating the word in a wonder-soaked way.
Camille watched inconspicuously from the hallway as Anaya’s eyes went wide and warm at the sight of them, blowing Camille’s personality theory to smithereens. “I wondered if the Nia on my class list was the same Nia who came into my Auntie Trill’s salon.”
The mother and Anaya fell into a laughing, enthusiastic hug.
All Camille got was a stiff handshake.
She turned her attention back to the goody bags, but it was hard not to eavesdrop. The women had the kind of voices that carried.
“Look Nia,” the mother said. “You know Miss Jones.”
“Mama says you give the best head rubs in the whole state of Missouri.”
This had Nia’s mother slapping her thigh. “She sure does. She sure does. Oh girl, I can’t tell you what an answer to prayer this is. I’ve been so nervous, wondering if I made the right decision. It’s like the good Lord done took me by the shoulders and said, ‘Relax, daughter. I got you.’ ”
“That blesses me more than you know.”
“What’s under that sheet?” Nia asked.
“It’s a secret,” Anaya answered. It was the same answer she gave Paige, but it sounded warmer somehow. Like it wasn’t just a secret but a secret between the two of them.
“Can we unpack my backpack now?” Paige asked.
Camille blinked.
Paige had finished setting out all the goody bags, and the hallway was slowly starting to fill with parents and children.
They walked inside just as another family arrived. Lacy Cunningham, with one of her two identical boys. Her husband must have the other. Was she still upset that her cousin hadn’t gotten the job? Secretly, Camille found herself wishing she had. Miss Jones didn’t seem to like her, and as much as Camille tried to tell herself she didn’t care, of course she did. Her children’s teachers always liked her. Camille was their unspoken favorite.
“Look, Paige, Jubilee is sitting at your table group. And Sarah is sitting in the group right behind you. You have lots of friends in your class.”
Paige couldn’t seem to catch Camille’s enthusiasm.
Or any of her classmates’ for that matter.
As children came in—wide eyed and wonder filled—Paige sat solemnly in her new seat and got to work on the instruction sheet in front of her. She put her pencils in her pencil case and her art supplies in her supply box and wrote her name on each of her pocket folders.
Paige Amelia Gray.
She worked her way through the directions as more and more families arrived. Every kid took special notice of the large mystery object beneath the sheet, and every kid wanted to know what was hiding under there.
With two more instructions left to go, Leif Royce walked in, making the muscles in Camille’s abdomen clench. If only they’d gotten through the list a little quicker, they could have avoided him altogether.
Leif was a goliath of a man who clasped his son’s skinny shoulders with two meaty paws. Gavin always looked in need of a bath, like Pigpen from Peanuts. Perhaps that was unfair. It wasn’t like he had a cloud of dirt following him around, but he sure could use a mother to wipe his nose. Unfortunately, Gavin didn’t have one. She died several years ago, leaving Gavin and his brother, Derek, alone with their bear of a father.
Derek was one grade below Taylor. Back in middle school, he had a crush on her that was so severe, it bordered on obsessive. Neil had to intervene, and afterward he’d commented that he wasn’t sure Derek Royce was “all there.”
In Camille’s opinion, none of the Royce family was.
Leif had a habit of telling inappropriate jokes that made everyone cringe. He was the one at the public meeting who yelled “It’s about trash!” as Camille addressed the crowd. She hated him for saying it. Mostly because his words came to be associated with her. But she hadn’t said anything about trash. That was all Leif. Honestly, if the media wanted to talk about racism, they should talk about him.
Thankfully, Jen and Nick Covington walked in as soon as he did, saving Camille from having to carry on any sort of a conversation. She waved enthusiastically from the front of the classroom, catching Jen’s attention.
“The girls are sitting next to each other,” Camille said as the small family made their way toward her. She shook hands with Nick. “Camille Gray. We met very briefly outside the school a couple weeks ago.”
“Right,” he said. “Our daughters played at the splash pad.”
“Yes, they did. Paige had a wonderful time.”
“So did Jubilee.”
“I hear you’re one of the new managers at Schnucks, which means you might be my new contact person.”
“Contact person?”
“For the Crystal Ridge Memorial Day 5K. Schnucks has always been one of our biggest sponsors. I’m hoping the trend continues.”
“I think that could be arranged, especially considering my wife’s new job.”
“I haven’t gotten it yet,” Jen said, nudging her husband with her
elbow and turning to Camille. “You weren’t kidding about your clout.”
“Did you get an interview?”
“Tomorrow. The principal made it sound very casual.”
“That means you got it.” A feeling of satisfaction stole through her. A pleasurable warmth in the midst of too much cold. It made her want to loop her arm around Jen’s and keep her right there, by her side.
Nick crouched beside his daughter—who wore braids not nearly as neatly done as Nia’s—and began helping Jubilee with the list. Unlike Paige, she needed someone to read it for her.
Beside them, Gavin wiped his nose on the back of his hand. He started pulling items from his bag and stuffing them inside his desk without attempting to read anything on the instruction sheet while Leif stood behind him like a bodyguard, his thick, hairy arms tightly crossed in front of his chest.
Anaya Jones was making her rounds, stopping at every desk to introduce herself. The closer she came to Leif, the more nervous Camille became. She felt as though someone should warn her. But then, Leif’s David Duke T-shirt was probably warning enough. Honestly, what in the world had Principal Kelly been thinking when he put Gavin Royce in Anaya’s classroom?
“Hello,” Anaya said as she reached their table group. “You must be Jubilee.”
Jubilee nodded shyly, her two middle fingers stuffed inside her mouth.
Jen gently removed them and encouraged her to say hello.
“We’re thrilled that Jubilee is in your class,” Nick said.
“Well, I’m thrilled to have her.” Anaya gave Jubilee the same radiant smile she’d given Nia before turning to Gavin Royce and his intimidating father.
Her attention flicked to his T-shirt.
“You must be Gavin,” she said. “I’m Miss Jones, your new teacher.”
Gavin Royce shook Anaya’s hand with the same one he’d been using as a Kleenex.
A muscle in Leif’s face twitched.
“When do we get to know what’s under that sheet?” Paige said.
“On the first day of school. Right now, it’s still under construction.”
No One Ever Asked Page 12
