The rest of the school day went by in a flash. Cornelia thought she was getting dirty looks from a lot of people and she could have sworn she heard someone whisper, “racist” to her as she was headed for the lunch line, but all in all it was a relatively uneventful morning. She spent lunch with Chad and her circle of friends, Amanda, Rebekka and Sarah. Nothing was said about Cornelia’s crime and she preferred it that way. At the end of the day, Chad met Cornelia at her locker.
“How as your day, precious?” he asked.
“It was o.k., how about you?” Cornelia replied, but she kissed him before he had a chance to answer. Mr. Brockheimer, who was standing across the hall, cleared his throat and they quickly broke apart. There was no point in Cornelia getting into any more trouble than she was already.
“My day is better now that I can see you,” Chad said and Cornelia thought to herself that she didn’t deserve someone as sweet as him. “When are you un-grounded?”
“When I’m 18 if Veronica gets her way,” Cornelia replied. Chad laughed and Cornelia had to laugh with him. Otherwise she might have cried. She was sick of being grounded. She was getting to know more and more that what she did was wrong on a much deeper level than just a teenage prank, which is what she thought she was pulling off. The judge was right, it was a hate crime and Cornelia was beginning to see that now. But Cornelia thought community service was punishment enough without being grounded on top of it. It was football season and Cornelia was missing out on all of the extra activities that go along with it. The parties and gatherings were where people like Cornelia scored cool points that could help them get into the more popular clique with Kenzie Phillips. By not showing up, Cornelia was missing her chance.
“Well, I have to get home,” Chad said, tearing Cornelia from her thoughts. Cornelia walked him to his bike. Chad’s family didn’t believe in the school bus system. They thought that buses produced too much pollution, so Chad rode his bike nearly two miles each way even though he owned a car. And even though people made fun of him, he always wore his helmet too, much to Cornelia’s chagrin. It wasn’t because she didn’t value safety, it was because Chad had all of these Greenpeace stickers plastered over every inch of his helmet: “Oil Companies Pump Lies, Don’t Let Our Mountains Melt, Stop Global Warning, Save our Polar Bears,” and Chad’s favorite, “Save the Planet, Ride Bikes.” Cornelia told Chad’s parents that she got vertigo on bicycles so that Chad would be allowed to drive her places in a car. She wasn’t lying; for some reason she was never able to keep her balance on a bike. When she looked down, she felt like she was falling.
“See you later,” Chad said.
“Not soon enough,” Cornelia replied and kissed his helmet. There were faculty all around supervising dismissal, so the couple didn’t dare risk getting into trouble. Cornelia watched Chad walk his bike across the street. He used the crosswalk, naturally. Chad always took the straight and narrow path. When he was across the street, he climbed onto his bike and rode off, waving back at Cornelia. She watched him pedal down the street until he disappeared around the corner. Then she stood silently for a moment, thinking about what was facing her.
She was going to have to stride into classroom 97 and plant a fake smile on her face because that’s what Storm River High School cheerleaders do. They grin and bear it. If she jumps and falls and skins her knee, she gets right back up and jumps again. “SRHS cheerleaders aren’t quitters,” Cornelia could hear Kenzie Phillips’ words echoing in her head. She was determined to walk into that classroom with her head held high, even if her heart was hanging low.
As Cornelia approached classroom 97, she could hear people chattering inside. When she walked through the door, however, everyone stopped talking immediately. Cornelia scanned the room for a friendly face, but the only person she really knew was Admeta. After the run-in Admeta had with Cornelia’s friends that morning, Cornelia was sure Admeta’s face wouldn’t be a friendly one. Since everyone was standing around, Cornelia decided to take a seat instead. She walked toward the back of the room and took a seat in the very back row, hoping she wouldn’t attract too much attention. Every head in the room turned and scanned Cornelia as she walked.
Right after Cornelia took her seat, Mrs. Hakim entered the room carrying a stack of papers. “Ah, I see tonight’s group is all here now,” she said, motioning toward Cornelia. “Good, let’s get started, shall we?” With that, the remaining students took their seats in the front of the room. Cornelia’s cheeks turned red. She wasn’t sure if that’s where they always sat or if no one wanted to sit near her. Mrs. Hakim looked at them with confusion. “You know what is the drill, Writers; let us circle up,” she added. Cornelia thought “what is the drill” sounded funny, but it was actually the correct way to say it. Mrs. Hakim was an English teacher after all.
Cornelia wasn’t sure what she meant, but when everyone else started placing their desks in a large circle, she figured it out and moved her desk. She ended up sitting between Andy and Randy, the Turner twins. They were freshmen too and they were in Cornelia’s Geometry class. They were real math whizzes. They called themselves The Ginger Twins, but Cornelia had no idea what that meant, although she suspected it had something to do with their short red hair. They were fraternal twins, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at them. They were both tall and thin with freckles, although one was a little shorter than the other. They even dressed alike, which Cornelia found quite odd for teenagers. They were wearing white polo shirts with navy blue horizontal stripes and navy blue pants. Cornelia wasn’t sure which one was Andy and which one was Randy.
Admeta sat directly across from Cornelia in the circle and sat her purse and book bag beside her chair. Cornelia thought Admeta was giving her a dirty look, so she pulled some paper and a pen out of her book bag and kept her eyes directed down toward her desk.
“Alright Writers, as you can see, we have a new member,” Mrs. Hakim began and Cornelia’s cheeks turned redder. “In honor of our new member, I think we should all introduce ourselves. I will begin. My name is Samantha Hakim.” Cornelia was surprised to hear a teacher use her first name, it happened so rarely. “I was born in San Diego, California,” she continued. Once again Cornelia was surprised. She thought Mrs. Hakim must have been from a foreign country, probably in the Middle East somewhere judging by her accent and name. Mrs. Hakim must have noticed Cornelia’s surprise because she added, “my parents are from Iran.” Cornelia nodded her head as if she had answered a question correctly. She did it without thinking and it made her feel uncomfortable. “We were forced to move back to Iran shortly after I was born because my parent’s visa had expired. We were eventually able to return to the United States when I was sixteen.” Cornelia now understood why Mrs. Hakim had an accent.
“I came to Storm River when my husband was transferred here for work,” Mrs. Hakim continued. Cornelia tried to picture Mrs. Hakim’s husband. She thought of a small Arab man with dark skin, eyes and hair. Perhaps he had a pudgy belly or a mustache, but Cornelia thought for certain she was in the ballpark. “I’m 30 years old.” Cornelia was once again surprised that a teacher would tell her age. “I have three children. Raja is my oldest daughter; she is 8. My son, Nazeeh is 4 and my youngest daughter, Zayn is one-and-a-half.” Again Cornelia was taken aback. She couldn’t imagine Mrs. Hakim as a mother with young children. She always pictured her as more of a spinster with a lot of cats. “We have a dog. He is a poodle named Ralph.” Cornelia giggled and everyone turned to stare at her. Cornelia was embarrassed.
“What? Ralph is a funny name,” she said, defensively.
“My name is Ralph,” came a booming voice from across the room. The voice was that of an overweight African-American boy, with oily black hair and pimples. Cornelia had never seen him before so she thought he surely must be older. He was wearing a striped shirt that was tucked into khaki pants. Cornelia didn’t think someone of his size should be wearing horizontal stripes. They were mu
ch more flattering on the Turner twins. Vertical stripes would have been much more slimming, she thought. She also didn’t like his shoes. They were white tennis shoes, but they didn’t have a brand name and they were tattered. “I like my name just fine,” he said with a frown.
Admeta jumped in quickly, “Ralph is a fine name! It means ‘wise counsel.’ Did you know that? Don’t you listen to that girl, Ralph.”
“Wise counsel? Did you just make that up?” Cornelia asked skeptically.
“My brother’s name is Raoul,” Admeta said sharply.
“And?” Cornelia asked, confused, shaking her head.
“Raoul means Ralph in Spanish, stupid,” Admeta replied.
“Admeta!” Mrs. Hakim yelled and everyone was startled. “No one, let me repeat, no one,” she said with emphasis, “in Writers on the Storm will ever call another member ‘stupid.’ Do you understand?” Cornelia thought it was ironic that Mrs. Hakim couldn’t pronounce the word ‘writers’ properly. She thought her rolling ‘r’s sounded more like a speech impediment rather than just an accent. She also thought the way Mrs. Hakim said h-sounds was funny. It reminded her of someone clearing their throat rather than actually speaking. All the same she was shocked that Mrs. Hakim once again came to her defense.
“What if the shoe fits, Mrs. H.?” Admeta asked, looking directly at Cornelia, and raising one eyebrow.
“I will have none of this, Admeta,” Mrs. Hakim said, and then she turned to address the entire group. “Listen up, Writers. Since this is Cornelia’s first time in the group, perhaps I should go over the rules.
“Cornelia, in this group we try to be careful of others’ feelings. You find the name Ralph funny and that’s o.k., but you should have considered the fact that someone may be named Ralph or that someone would know someone named Ralph or Raoul or any other derivative of Ralph. We try to be sensitive to one another here.” Cornelia’s face was now burning.
She looked toward Admeta and continued, “Admeta, you should know that name calling is strictly prohibited in our meetings. We are to respect one another, not discourage, berate or disrespect members.” Mrs. Hakim looked around the circle and continued, “When it comes to writing, there are no rules. You may write what you wish, but you must be willing to share your writing or at least some part of your writing, with the group. That’s it. I don’t think it’s asking a lot, so I expect everyone in this room to adhere to these rules at all times.”
Mrs. Hakim’s face was turning pink and she banged her hand on the desk she had drug into the circle moments before. Then she rolled her eyes a little and started to wobble. She caught herself on the desk with her other hand and jumped to attention, standing perfectly stiff.
“Mrs. H.!” Admeta yelled, standing up and reaching toward her.
“It’s o.k., Admeta, I am fine. I just got a little dizzy,” Mrs. Hakim said, waving her hand at Admeta to tell her to sit back down. But Cornelia didn’t believe Mrs. Hakim. There seemed to be something going on between Admeta and the teacher and Cornelia wanted to know what it was. She wanted to know why Admeta defended her teacher so adamantly and freaked out when she so much as bobbled. “I’ll just sit down, o.k.?” Mrs. Hakim said, and Admeta sat back down too.
Mrs. Hakim sat down in a student desk, which was another strange move for a teacher, Cornelia thought. She looked over at Admeta who hadn’t taken her eyes off of her teacher. “Do not look so worried, Ain,” Mrs. Hakim said and took a deep breath. Cornelia didn’t know it, but Ain means ‘precious’ in Arabic. The group was silent for a moment, but the silence was interrupted by the door opening. A pink blur came running into the room and sat down next to Mrs. Hakim.
“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. H.,” Amanda said. Cornelia’s mouth dropped open slightly. Amanda was one of her best friends and Cornelia had no idea she was a member of Writers on the Storm. Amanda noticed Cornelia sitting next to Andy and returned her look of surprise. Cornelia hadn’t mentioned at lunch that she was joining Writers on the Storm.
Then Admeta worked up the nerve to break the silence. “We were just talking about Cornelia’s racism,” Admeta blurted, cocking her head and looking Cornelia in the eye.
“What?!” Cornelia yelled. “We were not.” A few members of the group let out nervous giggles. “I mean…I am not a racist!” Cornelia was flustered and banged her fist on her desk. Cornelia wanted to ask if Admeta had put the sign on her locker, but she didn’t want anyone else to know about it. Mrs. Hakim looked disgusted as the group once again teetered on the edge.
“Are too,” Admeta replied. “You’re racist against Ralph just for his name and everyone in this room knows what you wrote on the wall about Mrs. H.!” Cornelia was shocked that Admeta would bring up her crime in front of everyone. She looked around the room. Everyone’s eyes were on her. They all appeared to be filled with hate or anger. All, that is, except Mrs. Hakim’s eyes. They were sullen and sad. She was looking at Cornelia with pity in her eyes. Cornelia wasn’t sure which look made her angrier.
“Admeta, that is quite enough for today,” Mrs. Hakim said in a rather subdued voice, as if she felt defeated. The entire group sat silently for a few moments. Admeta wanted to continue to berate Cornelia, but out of respect for Mrs. Hakim she remained silent. Cornelia wanted to defend herself, but her actions were indefensible. She felt ashamed and embarrassed. She sat with her arms crossed and looked around the room at the eyes staring back at her.
The twins were looking down at their desks, but Ralph was looking deep into Cornelia’s eyes. His eyes were welling up and his cheek looked damp. Cornelia felt a pang of regret for having upset him. The rest of the group looked nearly as upset. Cornelia could feel an indignant flash rush over her. All she said was that she thought Ralph was a funny name. She couldn’t understand how it had blown up into something so big. She blamed Admeta.
Next to Ralph was Brenda Stark. Cornelia knew Brenda from student council. She was average height, thin, with long light black hair. She was African-American but her complexion was much lighter than Ralph’s, leading Cornelia to believe that she was bi-racial. Brenda was the only senior in the group. She was your average over achiever. She was the editor of the school paper and the poetry quarterly. She was also an officer on student council, but Cornelia couldn’t remember which office she held. Brenda was sitting between Randy and Ralph, looking at Cornelia as if she were a fleck of dirt on a beautiful white Versace skirt.
Cornelia looked to her left, past Andy and saw Amanda staring at the floor, Mrs. Hakim was beside her. Next to Mrs. Hakim was Valerie Regal, who was quite the opposite of Cornelia. She was short, overweight and had thick glasses and braces. They were the clear kind of braces, but they were unusually shiny when she smiled. She was Asian, although Cornelia had no idea what country Valerie’s parents came from, and she wore pigtails on both sides of her head. Cornelia thought she looked ridiculous for a sophomore in high school. Valerie sat expressionless but Cornelia could have sworn there was hatred hiding behind her brown eyes.
Sandy Turner was sitting between Valerie and Admeta. She was the twins’ older sister. She looked like a carbon copy of them. She was tall and thin, and had red hair and freckles. Her hair was long, though. It was untamed, like a wildebeest gushing blood after a long battle. Cornelia could have sworn she saw rats’ nests. She was hoping there were no rats in them, although if Sandy did have rats, Cornelia was certain she would have thrown them at her.
Admeta was sneering beside Sandy and on Admeta’s left was the final member of Writers on the Storm, Steve Esandros. Steve was a sophomore with snow white hair. Cornelia wondered if he was albino. He wasn’t like the other boys in the group. He was muscular and attractive. Cornelia thought he must have been an athlete but she would have known him if he were on the football team. She wondered if he was on track or some other non-cheered sport. Steve had his head cocked to the side. He was looking at Cornelia as if he didn’t know quite what to make of her
. This time it was Mrs. Hakim who finally broke the awkward silence.
“Alright, Writers, we’re going to try something different,” she began. “Let’s talk about racism. What is it? What does the word ‘racism’ mean to you?” she said, standing up and walking to the white board. She wrote, “racism-(noun).” Admeta spoke up.
“Racism is when an ignorant person does something or says something about another person based on their race or religion or culture or whatever.” She flipped her head in Cornelia’s direction. A few other students nodded their heads in agreement.
“Actually, Admeta, what you are describing is prejudice, not racism. Does anyone else have any ideas? What is racism?” Admeta looked very put off by her teacher’s dismissal of her definition. She looked around the circle to see if anyone else had any better ideas. Valerie was slowly raising her hand. “Yes, Valerie?” Mrs. Hakim asked.
“I think racism is when you make someone feel bad because they’re different.”
“That’s a good try, Valerie, but I think that is closer to the definition for discrimination.” She paused, waiting for another hand to go up. “Perhaps this will help,” she said, and Mrs. Hakim wrote more things on the board: “Prejudice + Power = Racism.” Everyone stared blankly at this mathematical equation.
After a few moments, Mrs. Hakim seemed to give in to the blank stares. “Racism is the belief that one race or several races are superior to another or set of others.
“With this in mind,” she continued, “Do you think Cornelia saying that she found the name Ralph funny was a racist comment? What about Admeta calling Cornelia stupid?” Mrs. Hakim looked around the room. All the heads in the circle, except for Admeta’s and Cornelia’s, shook from side to side. Admeta was too annoyed to respond and Cornelia was disgusted by the entire conversation. “Do you think their comments were prejudiced?” she asked, and again most of the heads were shaking in disagreement. “Were they discriminatory?” This time a couple of heads nodded while the rest of the class continued to disagree. “Some say yes, but most say no,” Mrs. Hakim said. “I think you are on the right track.” Cornelia looked confused at her teacher’s comment.
“While I think Cornelia’s comment about Ralph’s name may have been spoken in haste, I do not believe she intended to make Ralph feel badly. After all she did not even know his name was Ralph, no? Admeta’s comment, on the other hand, was precisely intended to make Cornelia feel badly. Does that make it racist? No. Does it make it prejudiced? No. Does it make it discriminatory? Perhaps.”
Admeta mumbled defiantly, “Not if it fits.”
“Excuse me, Admeta, what did you say? I could not hear you, please speak up,” Mrs. Hakim said and Cornelia was relieved that Admeta was finally in the hot seat.
“Nothing, Mrs. H.,” Admeta replied a little louder.
Mrs. Hakim hesitated for a moment, seemingly to catch her breath, and then she continued, “This isn’t working, perhaps we need to try a different approach.”
Chapter 6
The Chalkboard Incident
Writers on the Storm Page 5