I didn’t respond until I heard a small knock on the wooden slate between us. Leaning back as well, I caught his oh-so-charismatic gaze.
“Hey, you really got me in trouble with Jody with that stunt you pulled last week.”
“I’m sorry,” I finally stammered.
“Yeah, and you gave her a bloody lip with that right hook of yours, too.” I didn’t feel the need to apologize for that. As if he’d read my mind, he continued. “I probably would’ve done the same thing had she gone after my family like that.” I nodded at his understanding. “So was your family really all gunned down in an international drug trade gone wrong? I heard your dad was some sort of king-pin involved with the Columbian cartels or something.”
I snickered out loud, catching the attention of warden undergrad. “There is no talking in ISS. You sit there and do your work, that’s it!” she exclaimed to the entire room, causing me to duck back into my square hovel. The whole thought of my family being New York drug traffickers now seemed more funny than it was mean, and looking back at it, I may have gone too far to punch Jody in front of everyone. What really set me off was the orphan part, the part that was true. I was an orphan living with a not-so-much but very distant relative that probably didn’t want me there, anyway; who just felt obligated to step in because she was my only kinship. With Jody parading my secret in front of the entire student body, she was showing how alone I truly was, that I had no one and that no one really wanted me at Jimmy Carter ISD. The whole feeling of loneliness, of isolation, was main reason I wanted to get away from New York. I wanted to start life over again and not have every part of my past remind me of my loss, but my solitary existence here was becoming permanent, especially after the six days that I had stared into the front of my cubicle. Lizzy was the only one who had invited me to have a seat with her at lunch and now I wasn’t even sure that invitation was still open for a known, convicted felon. Maybe Brad was my way out, not by kissing him, but by helping him understand why I was here.
My chair creaked as I leaned back again, but it didn’t catch the attention of the goggled-eyes undergrad. I sighed, but relented to my heart. “My family was killed in a car accident. They were hit by a drunk driver just a few days before Christmas,” I whispered. The look on his face was one of seeing his own life flash before his eyes and being totally confused. He sat there for a moment before replying.
“Wow,” he whispered, leaning back farther in his chair. “So, why did you come down here to Texas?”
“I wanted to... My aunt invited me. She lives down here and is the only family I have left.”
He shook his head in acknowledgement.
“I guess I thought it important to be around her right now.”
“Are y’all close?”
“No,” I said emphatically.
He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Sounds like you’re going through heck right now. Tell you what. I’ll tell Jody to lay off you. It’s not fair, you having to deal with this with her on your back, but you can’t be fighting fire with fire anymore, either. She has burned people a lot bolder than you.”
I shook my head. “No, please. I don’t want her to know any more about me then she already does.”
Brad grinned. “Sweetie, Jody knows everything about everyone. Not only are she and her friends the school gossips, but also her mother is one of the assistant principals in high school, and her father is some bigwig real estate developer. She can get any information she wants in a blink of an eye.”
“That can’t be legal.”
“Legality only goes so far in teen drama and a parent’s love for their daughter.”
“So, why do you like to hang out with her if you know what she does?” I whispered this a little too loud and we got another glare from the undergrad. And it was a pretty daring question for me to ask, but Brad seemed like a nice guy, besides calling me. So why would he be involved with someone as evil as Jody?
He shrugged. “I guess I see past that. Jody is completely different around me. She and her group, you know, the Secundas, they do a few good things for others. And she is pretty, exciting to be around and fun. It’s just one of those tradeoffs, you know?” he whispered. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to date the most popular girl in school?” He gave me a serious look. “She’s just very jealous and doesn’t want anything to come between us.”
Gazing into his eyes, into his handsome features, my instinct wanted me to blurt out, “And I can see why!” But before I made a fool of myself again, my mind told me he was making an excuse for her. Either way, I didn’t respond to him.
“Just some advice for you, Hope, but if I were you, I would lay low until she moves past you to find some other bug to squish. Like I said, she has burned better people than you.”
Sadly enough, he was right. It wasn’t fair for me or anyone else that she wanted to burn, but if life had been fair, I would still have been in New York with my family, going to school there, college there, having a life that was there. That should’ve been my life. Not stuck in an outbuilding with zero windows surrounded by juvenile delinquents and the goggle-eyed undergrad. Why did I ever make the choice to come to this place? Were the memories of my lost family really going to bring me to such a point of despair that I had to run away from them? Wouldn’t I have been able to continue with my life over time? That’s what they say about grief, right? Time heals all wounds. Why didn’t I give time a chance before I fled half-way across the country? At least in New York it would have been just that, but down here, dealing with my foreign aunt and the blonde psycho of Jimmy Carter just seemed to add to my misery. I tried to get the thoughts out of my head by changing the conversation.
“So what brought you to ISS?”
“Oh, I mooned the girls’ basketball coach after she ran me out of their practice. The girls didn’t seem to mind, though.” He smirked giving me a small wink. I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything.
“Brad Reynolds, if I have to warn you again, you’ll be going back to the principal’s office and expelled,” crabbed the warden.
“Understood, mine fuehrer.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
The next day, I was pardoned. Classes seemed more lively than usual, probably because I had not seen a large gaggle of students together for over a week. Mr. Peet had hit fine form during his college class, bouncing around the room while talking about Thomas Edison and the rat-paralyzer that he’d invented out of sheer boredom. It seemed Edison was one of Mr. Peet’s favorite “characters” and he went on to compare him to Sears and Harvey, other great entrepreneurs of the time period.
“Alright class, my time is running out, so before I sing Green Day’s Good Riddance, I wanted to let you all know that this weekend is your first chance for a little extra credit in my class. Remember, you only have three tests and a paper, so if you want to jump on this opportunity, now is the time. As you probably all know, I will be marching in the Ft. Worth Stock Show Parade this weekend. If you would like to participate and gain a few points on your first test, then let me know and we, my daughter and I, will pick you up tomorrow early in the morning. All right? Y’all have a good weekend.” He laid down the permission slips on his desk in front of us and went back to the podium.
The bell sounded on cue and students began to leave for their next class. No one approached his desk about the extra credit, which made me more apprehensive to talk to him myself. With the next class already filtering in the door and Mr. Peet going off to meet them, I quickly grabbed a slip from his desk and headed for the door and on with the rest of my day. Being in a parade didn’t sound too bad and it was for extra credit. As I entered the traffic, Jody passed to the left of me, and I waited for some attack to fall upon me. Her lip must have healed in the week that I was incarcerated, for her face showed no blemishes at all. She only gave me a darting glare for a moment or two before she moved on through the crowd. Maybe I had reached the level of crap that was not to be acknow
ledged, or even though I told him not to, maybe Brad said something to her, or quite possibly there were just too many witnesses for her to commit homicide in front of. Either way, I continued with my day, enjoying the classes that I didn’t have her to contend with and sitting on the opposite side of the room in the ones that she attended. At least switching to the history duel-credit class in fifth period got me two additional bypasses away from her.
Friday seemed to fly by, which was fine by me. Lunch introduced the student body to the exotic provisions of Old World Italy: ravioli and cheese bread. I slowly sat in front of Lizzy with my meal, hoping that she wouldn’t ask me to leave or just get up and remove herself from my company. With my loss of television and the computer, I hadn’t spoken to her in over a week and was just hoping she wasn’t angry with me.
“Well if it isn’t the old jail bird herself,” she quipped much to my relief. I smiled but didn’t respond. “So you punched out Jody right at the beginning of school?”
“Yes, in your dad’s class.”
“Yeah, he told me all about it that afternoon,” she leaned in and whispered the second part, “and thought she had it coming, anyway.”
“Well, I owe him big time. They were going to expel me, but he got me a lighter punishment.”
“He doesn’t mind going to bat for students he thinks a lot of. Said you give some of the best answers to his history questions. Have you enjoyed his college class?”
“For the most part, yes. He enjoys the subject and that helps me like it, too.”
“He practically lives the subject,” Lizzy stated. “Did he do his annual invite to the Stock Show Parade?”
“Yes.”
“And did the students give their annual disinterested turn-him-down look?”
“Well, yes, but I was thinking about going. I mean, it is for extra credit.”
“You? You want to walk in a two-mile parade dodging horse crap in the chilly weather while wearing a hoop skirt for some extra credit? Jeez, you’re a better student than I am.”
“I would have to dress up in a what?” I was confused. I’d seen the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade a thousand times, but no one ever wore that.
“A hoop skirt. I will be in one, or at least a camp dress. We follow behind the soldiers as they march.”
“Your dad is a soldier?”
“Well, not a real soldier, silly. He’s a Civil War reenactor. He and his unit will be in their Confederate uniforms marching in the parade.”
My mouth made an oh motion as a light bulb went off in my head. Mr. Peet was a reenactor, one of those Sweet Home Alabama people. That’s why Lizzy mentioned his musket before.
“Yeah, doesn’t make a lot of sense to me either, since Cow Town is about the cowboys, Indians, and cattle drives, but hey, the crowd seems to enjoy it.”
“So you march along with them?”
“It’s not really marching, it’s more like briskly walking. Were you really thinking about going?” she asked as though she was skeptical, then redirected herself. “I mean that would be cool if you are, it would give me someone to hang out with.”
I fished out the permission slip with my signature to show that I really meant to go. “Mr. Peet only handed them out today. I’ll get my guardian’s signature after school and give it back to him.” The word guardian stuck in my throat longer than I wanted it to, like Mags was the Kevin Costner to my Whitney Houston. They should really change the wording to official adult that is subject to provide for your most basic needs, but I guessed that would be pretty long. Viewing the document, Lizzy pulled a piece of paper from her notebook and scribbled something onto it.
“This is my phone number. Text me this evening and I’ll make sure Dad comes by to pick you up. He is forgetful about these sorts of things when he’s going off to the 1860s. You do know we’ll have to pick you up early to get across the Metroplex in time for the parade, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I figured as much. What time will that be?”
“Oh, I’m guessing around five-thirty in the morning or so. I’ll just meet you in Dad’s room after school and he can tell you all the details.”
“Okay, thank you.”
We continued to talk about school, Jody, and music as we scarfed down our ravioli. Lizzy told me that she wanted to do something in music or science someday, besides teach it, although her dad mentioned from time to time she would be a good teacher. But she knew from her dad that teachers didn’t make much money, although it did give you weekends, holidays, and summers off. I really didn’t know what you could do with having a Texas summer off. The weather was so unreliable in the winter, but Mags had mentioned that it was hotter than fire in the summer. Still, it was neat to see someone else, like her father, following her passion in doing the things she loved. She asked what I wanted to do with my life.
“I wanted to... I wanted to be a lawyer someday, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen anymore.” I looked down at the ravioli on my tray that seemed to be staring back at me in a cheerless expression.
“Why not? I’m sure you could do it.”
I smiled, but didn’t answer her. She had to have known that at least some of Jody’s rumor was true. To me, that probably had ruined any part of my dream, or at least made it much more difficult to obtain. My parents were my biggest supporters, advocates to push myself to greater things. The way I figured it, their deaths were probably the death of all of my potential, my would-be accomplishments that had not happened. I depended on them to be there for me, to see me through my journey in life, but they were gone. In a blink of an eye they were wiped off the face of the Earth along with my brother. Being a successful attorney just seemed insignificant at this point. It might happen someday, but it wasn’t going to be on my terms. Doors were not going to open to me because I was the daughter of some hotshot lawyer who died in a car crash years ago.
The bell sounded before either of us finished the conversation. Even though she was in my next music class, I told her I would see her after school. She told me to watch out for the Secundas, which was starting to sound more like a Mexican drug cartel than a studious charitable organization. They didn’t harass me during P.E., which was back outside on the track, since the cold front had moved through. Maybe things would be a bit better for me after all, or so I thought. I had made the mistake of taking their armistice as a sign of peace, which took me into the locker room to change out of my track uniform. The cheerleading squad changed on the opposite side of those non-affiliated and me.
“So Hope,” one of them piped up, “did you ever figure out who put those awful details out on that nasty flyer last week?” The question was coy and callous and my gaze immediately focused on Jody.
“No, I never did.” Play it cool, Hope. Just finish getting dressed and get the heck out of there.
“Too bad,” another one responded, “because they really did a number on your family.” I bit my lower lip and began tying my shoes. They all knew who it was, had probably participated in the atrocious act. This was just another way to get under my skin, to continue breaking me down. “Were they really that trashy, selling drugs to make a living?” One shoe left; pack up my belongings, and go, that’s all I had to do. “Because if they were, you are probably glad that they’re dead.”
That was the comment that stuck. How could anyone bring himself or herself to say such a thing? It was beyond low and it hit me harder in the gut than any fist. I had lost control of myself when I hit Jody last week, and it might have been a sucker punch, but they were working their numbers now, and with six or seven against one, even if I tried to hit one, the rest would pummel me into oblivion. It was intimidation at its finest, and I felt the tears bead up in my eyes. I turned my back on them, shielding my face from their sight as I packed my bag. At least they wouldn’t have the satisfaction of watching me cry.
“Good riddance to such filth,” exclaimed another.
“I wish all the pestilences like that in our city would just go back where
it came from.” That was a direct shot at me, one of the dejected, the miserable that were not with these girls on their pedestal. Forlornly, I nearly had to agree with them. The battering during P.E., the manure in the locker, even the punch by Jody had not hurt all that bad. But they had found my weakness, my point of despair, and they were going to continue to use that card until I was gone or until it didn’t affect me anymore. I believed the former would happen before the latter.
Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I gave a teary-eyed glare at Jody before leaving the room, hearing laughter as I swept through the door. She was the only one that could put an end to this; her or her high-powered parents, but I didn’t see them coming to my aid from their sweet innocent daughter. Brad told me not to fight fire with fire or I would lose, and this two-minute exchange showed me that he was right. Kissing him in front of everyone, punching Jody at the start of history class, that was as low as I could go, but it wasn’t enough. They let me know early that they ran the school, and they were running me right out of it.
Opening the door to Mag’s car, I slammed the permission slip down on the dashboard. “Sign it!” I commanded.
“What is it?”
“A permission slip to go to the Stock Show Parade tomorrow. I want to go for extra credit. Now sign it.” She took the paper from under my shaking hand and studied it for a moment.
“Tomorrow? Are you sure? It’s so early? And who is this Mr. Peet?”
“My history teacher. A bunch of us are going. It’s part of his dual credit class.” I was lying, but she didn’t seem to notice. Slowly, she pulled a pen from her purse, signed the lower line and handed it back to me. Without a word, I sprang from the car and made my way back into Jimmy Carter. Down the corridor I went until I entered Mr. Peet’s room, seeing him sitting at his computer grading papers and Lizzy sitting in a desk doing homework.
“I have the permission slip for tomorrow,” I announced, catching both of them by surprise.
Lizzy smiled up at me and came to retrieve the paper. Mr. Peet turned at his desk.
Finding Hope in Texas Page 7
