There was an explosion of noise and commotion behind them.
Girls shrieked and jumped out of the way.
Two boys were fighting, throwing punches and shoving each other. They upended a table. Smashed another against a wall. Bottles and funnels and colored cornstarch powder flew everywhere.
A baby started wailing.
Troy Brewin, the football coach, jumped on top of the two fighting boys and pried them apart. He held them by the scruff of their necks like two naughty pups, their chests heaving.
One was Darius.
The other was Cody Malone, and his nose was gushing blood.
A woman screamed.
She screamed as she ran over to Cody and grabbed his face. He jerked away, blood squirting everywhere. On him. On the floor. On the frantic woman trying to see where the blood was coming from. There was so much it looked like a scene from a horror film.
“Calm down,” Troy said. “Nobody’s dead.”
“His nose is broken!” the woman shouted.
Someone handed Cody a wadded-up towel.
Cody pressed it against his face, but the blood kept coming—ten times worse than any of Gavin Royce’s nosebleeds.
“You should take him to the hospital,” someone said.
The woman—Cody’s mother—snapped her fingers at two boys, younger versions of Cody. She took Cody’s elbow and pulled him toward the door while he held the bloodied towel against the injury and the two boys followed like shell-shocked soldiers, staring with wide eyes at all the blood, their mother’s face a mask of panic and fury.
It was the fury that made Anaya’s heart turn cold.
The fury, and the words she called out in a shrill voice as she left. “You’d better believe we’ll be pressing charges.”
Fifty-Four
Marcus handed Darius a bag of frozen peas. He stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen and pressed it against his swollen eye. Mama was going to flip out when she saw it. Which was why they came here, to Marcus’s apartment. Maybe if they stayed long enough, Mama would go to sleep and they could avoid her until the morning. And maybe, if they prayed hard enough, Darius’s injury would miraculously heal. Or maybe, if Anaya closed her eyes, she would wake up in bed and all of this would be a horrible nightmare.
She and Marcus kept exchanging long, worried looks.
Darius threw the first punch. His football buddies were backing him up, saying Cody started it. But too many people in that room witnessed otherwise, and Anaya’s heart would not stop racing. It fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird. Her brother started a fight and broke Cody’s nose, and Cody’s mother wanted to press charges.
That wasn’t something they could hide from Mama.
“I don’t understand what you were thinking, Dare,” Anaya said. “Why did you do it?”
Her brother remained tight lipped.
Anaya looked at Marcus for help, but he didn’t have any better luck. Darius refused to talk about the fight. He refused to tell either of them why he threw that first punch.
“You cannot afford to get into fights. A jerk like Cody Malone is not worth your future. Do you understand me?”
There was anger in his eyes when he looked at her. So much anger. But sadness and fear too. Because he wasn’t stupid. He heard Cody’s mother. He knew this wasn’t good. He knew the law would take one look at him—a six-foot-two black male with a record—and draw its unfair conclusion. For a kid like Darius, the law would never be on his side.
“You have to be better than that. You have to be better than Cody.” She sounded like her mother the morning after the town meeting.
“They feel like we’re a threat, Anaya,” Mama had said. “All we can do is show them we’re not.”
“We shouldn’t have to show anyone anything. Did you hear that woman? ‘No one ever asked us about the bussing,’ ” Anaya mocked. “No one ever asked us what it’s like to watch our schools fail. To have fewer resources than the families up the road. No one knows, because no one asks. They don’t want our side. Why should we show them anything?”
“I know, baby. But it’s the way it is. We have to be twice as good.”
Twice as good.
It wasn’t the first time Mama had said it. It wasn’t the first time Anaya hated the sound of it. Just like she hated the sound of her own words now.
She expected Darius to walk away, dark and moody. Instead, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug—so unexpected, so out of the blue, it took a second to respond. It was such an odd feeling, being completely engulfed by a little brother whose diapers you once changed. Anaya leaned her head against his broad chest—one that felt so much like their father’s—and hugged him back with all the fierceness of her love.
* * *
Kathleen to Camille: He broke my son’s nose. Bennett and Dane are a wreck. Rick’s on his way. Cody said Darius started it. The doctor has to reset his bone. This is UNACCEPTABLE.
Fifteen Minutes Later
Rebecca just called me. That boy has a record. Unlawful use of a firearm.
* * *
It took two hours to calm everyone down and clean up the mess—all that color, all that blood. Horrendous for Camille—who had never in her life witnessed such a thing until tonight. Overly stimulating for Paige, who bounced around like a Ping-Pong ball afterward, trying to get the most accurate version of the events while Camille called Tamika and apologized profusely, but would she be able to come get Edison?
Now, Paige slept like a rock in the backseat while Austin stared out his window, oncoming headlights scrolling across his unreadable expression. Camille white-knuckled the steering wheel and shot glances at Taylor, who sat in the passenger seat, typing furiously into her phone.
“Who are you texting?” she finally asked, her voice stiff.
“Darius.”
“That’s rich, Taylor.”
“What? He’s my friend.”
“He assaulted Cody!”
Taylor’s nostrils flared, but she kept on texting.
Camille pulled over to the side of the road. “Give me your phone.”
“What?”
She held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“Now, Taylor.”
Taylor handed it over.
Camille scrolled through her text messages, reminded of the time she scrolled through Neil’s. There were way too many between her and Darius. With a few deft movements, she deleted them all, and removed his contact from Taylor’s phone.
Taylor shrieked. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want you hanging out with that boy anymore.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“He just got into a fight.”
“So did Cody!”
But Cody didn’t break anybody’s nose!
And Cody didn’t have a record. Unlawful use of a firearm? What did that even mean?
Camille took a deep breath and swallowed her emotions. The more anger she showed, the deeper Taylor’s heels would dig in. “Cody didn’t start that fight.”
“Yes, he did.”
“So your brother’s lying?” Austin had seen it. According to him, Darius threw the first punch.
Taylor gritted her teeth and looked away.
“I have known Cody since he was six years old. He’s a good kid, and right now he’s in the ER with a broken nose. A broken nose, Taylor. All I know about Darius is what I saw tonight, and tonight he showed serious signs of aggression and violence. Aggression and violence that your two younger siblings witnessed. I’m not comfortable with that.”
“He’s not violent! He was defending his sister.” Taylor crossed her arms. She looked up at the roof of the Highlander and huffed so loudly, it was almost laughable. But there were tears too. Gathering in her eyes. Angry, upset tears. “Do
you want to know why Darius threw that first punch? Do you want to know what that ‘good kid’—the one you’ve known since he was six—said about Darius’s sister?” Taylor told Camille exactly what Cody called Anaya. It was a word that made Camille wince, especially coming out of her daughter’s mouth. “Oh, and he added black before it. But I guess that doesn’t matter to you, does it, Mom? I guess you’d rather me date a stand-up guy like Cody.”
* * *
Channel 6 News online:
It’s out with the old and in with the new as the Missouri School Board announced today that it will dissolve the South Fork School District and replace it with the South Fork Cooperative. What does this mean for their accreditation and the transfer law? That’s exactly what concerned parents would like to know.
Dion Johnson, a South Fork Parent, is rightfully concerned. “It isn’t fair. My kids are doing well at their new school. My oldest made honor roll. Now the state is telling me they have to come back here in the fall just because this district has a new name? I want to know what’s going on. If I got to fight for my children, then I want to know right now.”
It looks like tension is running high on all fronts.
Several Crystal Ridge parents are concerned that the pandemonium at the Crystal Ridge Community Center, where volunteering turned violent, is related to the tensions this transfer law has caused.
Fifty-Five
Leah to Jen: Is it weird if I send your dad flowers? He doesn’t seem like the flower type, but I want to send something, and I can’t send food. I’m so sorry, Jen. Diabetes is the worst.
* * *
Her mother’s silent treatment had dragged on for a month. Granted, Jen hadn’t reached out to her either, but this was ridiculous. Her father went to the hospital—he had to start dialysis—and she only knew because of a text from Leah.
She picked up her phone and dialed her mom.
“This is Carol,” her mother answered in a cold, aloof voice.
Jen wanted to scream.
Unless she deleted Jen’s contact from her phone—which, she supposed, wasn’t completely out of the question—her mother knew it was her.
“Hey, Mom,” she said, a blandness in her tone that seemed to accentuate the prickly feeling in her chest.
“Oh, Jen. Hello.”
Jen inhaled through her nostrils. “How’s Dad?”
“He’s fine.”
“Mom.”
“What?”
“I heard from Leah that he had to start dialysis.”
“Yes, he did.”
“And you didn’t think I’d want to know that?”
“I honestly have no idea what you want to know anymore.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Horrible. He’s on dialysis. He’s exhausted all the time.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t see what, with y’all living up there.” She said y’all. The offer to help was unthawing her icy tone. “How is Jubilee?”
“She’s fine.”
“Thanks for elaborating.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How’s school? How was her Gotcha Day? I hope it was okay that I sent a gift in the mail.”
“Of course it was okay.”
“I do love her, Jennifer.”
“I know you do.”
“And your father, I know he’s not the best at, well…You can think what you want about him, Jennifer, but no parent wishes extra hardship on their child. He didn’t want you to struggle in life more than you needed to. He doesn’t want that for anyone.”
And that, right there, was as close to talking about their fight and the news article and Jubilee as they were going to get.
* * *
“Mrs. Covington?”
Jen looked up from her lunch. She was eating in her office today, trying to organize her notes. She’d had a whirlwind of students—one after the other. She handed out medicine so quickly, she barely had enough time to write down who took what.
Taylor Gray stood in her doorway; she didn’t look well. “I’m sorry for interrupting your lunch.”
Jen set her fork down. “Don’t worry about it.”
Taylor’s chin gave a small quiver. “My head hurts again.”
“Come on in. Let me get you some Tylenol.”
Taylor sat in one of the chairs and put her face in her hand. “I feel like everything is blurry.”
Jen frowned. Was Taylor having a migraine? Sometimes migraines caused vision changes. Was that what was going on? This was the fourth time Taylor had visited her office in a month. Each time, she complained of a headache. According to teachers in the lounge, she was lethargic in class.
Anxiety caused headaches. Anxiety caused sleepless nights, which impacted school work. Anxiety caused a lot of things, and Taylor had plenty of cause for anxiety. Her parents were separated. She wasn’t doing as well in track this year…
She wasn’t doing as well in track this year.
Jen thought of her father, on dialysis.
“Taylor, have you been urinating a lot?”
The question seemed to take Taylor aback, but she was in too much pain for embarrassment. “What’s a lot?”
“Do you have to use the restroom between classes?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
Taylor nodded.
“Do you have to get up in the middle of the night?”
“Yeah. Sometimes twice.”
Frequent urination. Lethargy. Headaches. It definitely painted a particular picture. “Taylor, I think I’d like to do another vision test.”
* * *
“Kathleen is so upset,” Rose said.
Camille wiped down the counter, her phone pressed against her ear, trying hard not to feel snubbed by the fact that Kathleen had called Rose but not her.
“She wants to press charges, but Rick doesn’t. I guess they got into a big fight about it last night.”
Camille wanted to tell Rose what Taylor told her last night—about the thing Cody said to Darius. It was an awful thing to say. It didn’t seem like Cody at all. At least, not the polite, handsome version she knew. But then, the bullying incident in the locker room last year with Derek Royce didn’t fit her version of Cody either. Cody always claimed that Derek started it. That Derek was being gross and inappropriate. That wasn’t a stretch. It was easy to believe Cody’s side of the story. But what if Cody’s side of the story wasn’t true?
“Oh, and get this. Kathleen found out this morning that one of the teachers at Lewis and Clark is under investigation.”
“What?”
“Jill told her about it this morning.”
“Who is it?”
“She couldn’t say.”
“Who couldn’t say—Kathleen or Jill?”
“Jill.”
A call beeped on the other line. Camille pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned. It was the high school. She told Rose she’d call her back and clicked over. “This is Camille.”
“Hi Camille, this is Jen Covington.”
It was weird, hearing her voice after all this time. Especially weird hearing Jen use her first and last name, like Camille might have forgotten who she was.
“I have Taylor here in the office with me.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Well, she’s come to my office a few times over the past month or so…”
Camille straightened. A few times over the past month? And Camille was only hearing about it now?
“She’s been complaining of headaches. I just did a vision test on her and her eyesight is blurry.”
“So she needs glasses?”
“Possibly. I’d like to check her blood sugar.”
“Her blood sugar?”
/>
“It’s a very easy test. I have a glucose meter here with me. It requires a little prick on her finger, and the results will show up in a few seconds.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you want to check her blood sugar?” And why was Jen using such a calm, professional-sounding voice?
“Well, she’s been using the restroom more than usual, and she says she’s very thirsty.”
“She’s a runner.”
“Right. It could very well be nothing more than eyeglasses. But I’d like to rule out high blood sugar first.”
High blood sugar.
The only thing Camille knew related to high blood sugar was diabetes.
“Is that okay with you?” Jen asked.
“Can you keep me on the phone?”
“Of course.”
Camille shut her eyes and told herself that Taylor just needed glasses. The last time Camille took Taylor to the eye doctor had been in June. Almost eleven months. Eyes could change a lot in eleven months, and a person got headaches when they needed glasses. Neil had LASIK almost ten years ago, but before that his eyes were so bad he wore coke-bottle glasses to bed. It was very feasible that Taylor would take after him. In fact, it seemed reasonable that at least one of their children would have bad eyes.
Please, Lord, let it be glasses.
“Camille?”
Her eyelids fluttered open.
“Taylor’s blood sugar is high.”
Camille gripped the phone. “What does that mean?”
“I would like you to come pick her up now. She needs to see a doctor as soon as possible.”
Fifty-Six
Taylor lay in a hospital bed with an IV stuck in her arm in a curtained-off triage room that only gave the illusion of privacy. Camille stepped away briefly. She paced in the hallway, trying to get ahold of Neil. The phone rang in her ear as she bit her thumbnail to a nub.
No One Ever Asked Page 28
