Darcy, Defined

by Suzanne Williams

  “I’ve heard a lot of great things about you from Mr. Brooks.” Mrs. Walker looked around, presumably to make sure no one else was in ear-shot, and leaned in toward Ms. Rose. “Now, he wouldn’t want me telling you this, but I’ve never seen Mr. Brooks more concerned about impressing somebody as he was about impressing you. He wanted everything to be perfect for you today.”

  “Really?” said Ms. Rose. I looked over at her to see her cheeks flush, an embarrassed-looking expression on her face. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

  “Trust me,” said Mrs. Walker. “I’ve known him a long time, and he’s been acting different all day. He told me to keep an eye out for you at least three times, so I know something’s up.”

  “He knows I can be directionally challenged,” said Ms. Rose. “He probably just didn’t want me getting lost in here.” She took a backward step toward the door.

  “Bye, Mrs. Walker,” I said, trying to give Ms. Rose, who was visibly flustered, an easier out. “Have a great weekend!”

  I led us down the hall and to the cafeteria, pointing out the best art projects along the way. This time, since our method of transportation had been more direct than the bus, we arrived just before Sean, who usually beat me by at least ten minutes. I introduced him to Ms. Rose, who immediately jumped into what seemed like a casual interview with him, asking him about where he went to school and upon hearing the name of his school, what he specialized in. He told her about his drawing, and at her behest took out his sketchbook. I was sitting in the middle, so I stood up and moved to the other side of Sean, giving Ms. Rose a better look. I watched as he flipped through it with her, taking note of the newest ones; a man and a young boy sitting on the stoop of a rowhouse, a row of vendors at a farmer’s market, and then one of what looked like a teenage girl bending down to pick something from a plant within a garden. I looked at it for a moment, registering that there was something familiar about it. Wait, that’s me! I screamed inside my head. Sean drew a picture of me!

  “That’s so lovely,” said Ms. Rose. “That girl kind of looks like Darcy. Oh, wait.” She looked over at me and then back at the drawing.

  “Yeah, it is,” said Sean, matter-of-factly. Did he want me to see the drawing? Was he embarrassed about it? How did he want me to react?

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. I mean, even from a totally objective standpoint, the drawing was exquisite.

  “Thanks,” he said, turning his head toward me slightly, but not enough for me to get a good read of his facial expression. He closed his book and slid it back into his backpack. Ms. Rose put her hands on her heart and looked over at me with an adoring expression, as if to say Isn’t that so sweet. I smiled and shrugged a little, hoping to convey that I liked the picture but didn’t want to make a huge deal out of it, even though it felt like a freaking huge deal.

  A few seconds later the bell rang, making Ms. Rose jump a little. Almost immediately Mr. Brooks came in, followed by the gym teacher, and the gaggle of afterschool students. “Ms. Rose!” shouted Mr. Brooks, clapping his hands in excitement as he said her name. Ms. Rose stood and took a step or two forward, but Mr. Brooks practically ran to her, leaning in to give her a hug before she could go any further. “It’s great to see you,” he said.

  Sean finally turned to face me, raising an eyebrow. I nodded, holding back laughter, silently answering his silent question. Yes, they definitely like each other.

  Mr. Brooks called out to the Junior Gardeners of the day: the second, third and fourth graders. Ms. Rose stood next to him at the front of the line. The kids marveled over her, many of them clamoring to find out who she was and if she was a new teacher at the school. She smiled, waved, and held her index finger up to her lips, trying to help calm the chaos. Mr. Brooks announced her as his very special guest who was helping for the day, and instructed the kids to treat her with even more respect than they gave to him.

  “See you over there,” said Sean as we both rose from the bench and walked down toward the line of children. As usual, he walked alongside TJ in the middle of the line and I stood next to Damien at the end. We had been successful in keeping the two boys separated over the last couple of weeks, and things had been peaceful, at least during the short time spent in the garden, but Damien still seemed sullen and irritable. I suspected that something else was going on with him, and hoped that I could chip away at the dam that was holding back his stifled emotions and get him to open up a little. Maybe there wouldn’t be anything I could do to help him, but then again, maybe there would be.

  “How was school today, Damien?” I asked as we stepped outside.

  Damien shrugged. “I don’t really like school?” he said. He was looking down at his feet as we walked, kicking at all the little pebbles and bits of debris on the sidewalk.

  “Oh,” I said. “Why is that?”

  “Last week Chloe said no one likes me.”

  My heart sunk. Damien was a sensitive kid, and already, in second grade, he was dealing with cliques and rejection from classmates. I knew what it felt like to feel unappreciated, unnoticed and even disliked, ever since the fourth grade when I’d been informed by a former friend that she wasn’t going to play with me anymore because I was the least cool girl in all of the fourth-grade classes combined. I guess I’d always carried that baggage with me, and I knew how devastating it could be to hear news like that from a peer.

  “Well Chloe’s wrong,” I said firmly. “Because I like you, and I know Sean does too.”

  “But you and Sean are teenagers,” he said, as if teenagers were criminals or something else inherently bad. “That means you’re almost grownups.”

  “That’s true, we are a little older, and I know it’s important to have friends your own age, but I still know that Chloe was wrong.” I reflected on all the wisdom I’d received over the years regarding mean girls and bullies, and remembered something my mom had said to me after I’d told her about becoming the least cool girl. “Sometimes kids will say things like that when they’re going through a hard time. Maybe Chloe isn’t feeling good about herself right now, and she thought that by saying something mean to you she might feel better somehow, like more powerful or something. But that doesn’t make it ok, and it definitely doesn’t make it true.”

  Damien didn’t look convinced, but then I didn’t always accept my mom’s advice about social dilemmas either, at least not right away. Some lessons have to be learned over time. “I don’t think Chloe feels bad about herself. She seems like she really likes herself, like she thinks she’s the best at everything.” I knew what he meant about Chloe. She was a petite girl who exuded confidence and authority. While I hadn’t personally heard her degrade another student to the extent Damien had described, I had noticed her tendency to control the kids around her in the garden, giving them orders as effectively as one of the teachers. Lucy, she’d say go refill my watering can, please. Or, Trevor, you’re not doing that right. “Lucy,” I once whispered after hearing Chloe give her an order of some kind, “you don’t have to do what she says. She can do it herself.”

  “It’s ok,” Lucy had replied. “I don’t mind doing it.”

  I guess that was just the effect that Chloe had on the other kids, and maybe she was a natural born leader. But I didn’t know why she would cross over from simply bossing her friends around to straight-up bullying them.

  We had arrived at the garden, and everyone was filing through the gate. I bent down a little before going in so I could speak to Damien at his level. “I don’t know why she said that, but I can promise you it isn’t true. I know that making friends can be hard. It wasn’t always easy for me either, but just hang in there, Damien. Just remember to keep your head up, remember that you’re awesome, and things will get better, ok?”

  He was quiet for a moment, and I could only hope that he was soaking up my advice. Was I even in a position to guide him on such matters? I knew I wasn’t a teacher or a school counselor, but I did have some experience in facing social adversity,
and I too was in the process of learning how to overcome it. “Ok, thank you,” he said finally.

  “Are you ready to go in now?” I asked.

  He nodded, and I reopened the gate, letting him step into the garden before me. Sean was in the far, right corner, gathering some spades from the shed, and Mr. Brooks was showing Ms. Rose around the garden, walking up and down the rows of plants, many of which had already been pulled and added to compost. Judging by their expressions, she was impressed with how he had designed and built the space, and he was proud to show it off to her. If we had been in a romantic comedy, audiences everywhere would be rooting for the two of them to finally fall in love and get married after overcoming a decade of hurdles, misunderstandings and missed opportunities. But I knew that life wasn’t a romantic comedy, and it might not work out the way. I could still hope, though.

  I walked over to Sean and took a few spades from him to give out to the kids. I noticed Damien standing next to Lucy. Chloe was in the same row, but a couple of kids stood in between her and Damien. I thought that maybe I could encourage some camaraderie between Damien and Lucy. If the two of them teamed up, Chloe might not have as much influence over them. “Hey you guys,” I said, handing each of them a spade. “Do the two of you want to work on digging up those tomato plants there?” They both nodded. Lucy skipped off to the other side of the garden, Damien scurrying behind her. Lucy was talking, excitedly bobbing her head around as she spoke, while Damien listened, shoving his spade into the soil, a look of contentment on his face. Job well done, I told myself.

  I looked around at the sea of children dancing and running around. With most of the vegetable plants already fully harvested or pulled out, there was little work to be done, aside from covering the garden beds in mulch to enrich the soil for the spring. I turned to see Mr. Brooks and Ms. Rose opening the mulch bags and emptying them into a wheel barrel. Once all the plants were pulled out, they walked around and scooped the mulch out with a shovel, spreading it over the soil in each raised bed. Ms. Rose looked slightly awkward as she moved the shovel, leading me to think she hadn’t done much yard work before, but she looked happy just the same.

  Sean and I each grabbed a shovel to help with spreading the mulch. Five weeks ago, I hadn’t even known that this garden had existed, and since then it had become integral to my sense of belonging. East Point Prep could go on without me if I suddenly stopped showing up. Mrs. Masterson might give my scholarship to someone else, or maybe just hire another janitor. My friends would make other friends and would maybe try to keep in touch, but also maybe not. My life might be in shambles, but everyone else would be just fine. But these kids would miss me. And the garden, it needed me. Or maybe I was the one who needed it. Either way, I dreaded the thought of returning to my cleaning duties the following Monday. If only I could keep this going, I thought, I’d find another volunteer job for the winter, a tutoring gig perhaps, and then I’d get to restart the garden in the spring. But the thought was useless, unless I wanted to switch to a public school, which would probably give my mom a stroke after everything she’d done to secure my spot at East Point. Oh well, I thought, I’m lucky to have been given the time I had.

  “Darcy.” I turned around to see Lucy and Damien standing behind me. Lucy held out a bouquet of dandelions tied together with a long piece of grass. “We made this for you,” she said.

  “Thank you, Lucy and Damien.” I said, taking the bouquet from her. “This is beautiful. It’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever given me.” Lucy smiled and skipped away, perhaps in search of more dandelions. Damien followed her.

  After we finished in the garden and returned the kids to school, I said goodbye to Mr. Brooks and thanked him for the opportunity to spend time with his students.

  “It was my pleasure, Darcy,” he said. “I know you might become busy with your scholarship again soon, but you’re welcome back as soon as we get started again.”

  “Thank you,” I said, knowing it would be summer before I had any free time again.

  Ms. Rose smiled at me. I had a feeling that she and Mr. Brooks might want to continue spending time together. After all, it was a Friday evening, soon to be Friday night. I let her know that Sean and I would take the bus home, as usual.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I don’t mind driving you home.”

  “Totally sure,” I said. “Have a great weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  I caught up with Sean outside. He was standing just outside the door, casually looking at his phone.

  “Hey,” I said. “You heading for the bus stop?”

  “I guess so. My mom’s having this cocktail party at our house tonight. I think she wants me to make an appearance.”

  “That sounds exciting.” I thought about it, and couldn’t remember a time when my mom had had more than one friend over at a time. The thought of her having a cocktail party made me chuckle inwardly. The amount of small talk she’d be expected to make would probably give her a brain aneurysm, but I couldn’t blame her for her introverted ways.

  “Do you feel like coming? My mom is getting a caterer because she doesn’t like to cook for a lot of people, so there’s going to be a ton of food, and she told me this morning that I could invite a friend so I don’t get bored.”

  “Ok, cool,” I said, trying to sound casual, but inside my chest my heart was racing. Was I really the friend he wanted to invite? Was I prepared to meet his parents? Especially during an elegant party? “But what about my clothes?” My leggings were dirty from kneeling on the ground, and I’d also wiped my hands on my sweatshirt a couple of times. The only other outfit I’d had on me was my school uniform, which I always kept stuffed in my backpack during gardening. “Should I put my uniform back on? It’s probably going to be wrinkly.”

  “If it includes a skirt then yes,” said Sean, trying to hold back a sly grin.

  “Excuse me,” I said, in mock seriousness, “I don’t appreciate being objectified like that. Although, I guess I’m still flattered, just a little bit.”

  “I was joking, of course. You don’t need to change. My parents are pretty down to earth. They know we were just working with kids in a garden.”

  “Ok, then.” I used my hands to brush the dirt off my leggings and sweatshirt. Sean put his arm around my shoulder as we started walking toward the park, pulling me in a little closer. “I guess I’ll just have to see you in your skirt another time,” he said.

  Chapter 15

  We got off of the bus across the street from a high-end strip mall strip mall, showcasing Italian bistros, eclectic cafes and high-end boutiques. On our side of the street was a row of red brick townhomes, each with a second-level balcony and street-level patio. I knew the nicest Hyde Park homes, the ones with the sprawling lawns and huge oak trees in the front yards, were off the main roads, more than a stone’s throw away from the city bus stops.

  “My house is a few blocks away,” said Sean. We walked down Paxton for about a quarter of mile until we reached a side-street, where we made a right turn. Large, brick houses with massive porches and huge white pillars stood on each corner. The houses were older and less spread out than in Indian Hill, but it was still clear that we were in an affluent neighborhood.

  “This is it,” said Sean, when we reached his house. It was a large stucco house with dark wood paneling and a stone chimney. It looked like it belonged in the English countryside, surrounded by flower gardens and rolling hills.

  “Are we going to be greeted by a butler when we walk in?”

  “No, but there is a cleaning lady who comes every Monday, and landscapers who do the yard work.” He took his keys from his pants pocket and unlocked the door. The front door opened up to a dimly lit entryway. On the left was a wooden staircase, and on the right, what looked like a formal sitting room, with velvet couches and antique lamps. Straight ahead was a hallway that led to the kitchen. I followed Sean toward the kitchen. “Mom, I’m home,” he called out.

  “Oh go
od, cause I could use a little help.” Sean’s mom was in the kitchen, standing in front of a large island, stocked with a variety of aluminum food trays. The kitchen was immaculate, like something out of an interior design magazine. It was at least three or four times the size of mine, lined with gorgeous white cabinets and dark granite countertops. And Sean’s mom fit into the picture perfectly. She wore a cream sweater and a beige apron. Every one of her shoulder length hairs was in perfect place.

  “Mom, this is Darcy. We just finished up with gardening.”

  “Oh, hello,” she said, energetically. “It’s wonderful to meet you.” She walked around to the other side of the island and held out her hand.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you too, Doctor James,” I said, shaking her hand.

  “I’m so glad Sean finally brought you over.”

  “Mom,” Sean snapped, a clear sound of irritation in his voice.

  “Oh Sean. Don’t get uptight,” she said. “It’s just that he’s mentioned you a couple of times, Darcy, and I thought you sounded nice. Now where did I put those bamboo serving platters?” She turned around and began looking at the array of cabinets in front of her. “I’m serving Asian fusion tonight, so I thought my bamboo plates would be nice.”

  “They’re in the cabinet over there,” said Sean, pointing at the wall adjacent to his mom. “The one above the microwave.”

  “Oh yes, thank you, dear. You know, I love my kitchen, but sometimes I think it’s too big. I’m always forgetting where I put things.”

  “You just need to cook more often if you want to remember where everything is,” said Sean.

  She looked at him and rolled her eyes. “Maybe when I retire,” she said. “Until then I think he can make his own meals,” she said, giving me a wink.

  “I agree. Sean should be cooking you dinner.”

  “Exactly. After all, I did wipe his hiney for three years.” She found the bamboo serving plates and set them down on the island.

  “Why y’all ganging up on me like that,” said Sean, sitting down at a stool in front of the island. He lifted one of the aluminum lids to peek inside the tray. “I’m too busy with school work to cook for everybody.”