On Monday on her way to drop Cornelia off at school, Valerie told her she was going out and wouldn’t be able to pick Cornelia up from Writers on the Storm.
“Great,” Cornelia spat back, “I have to walk home.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, CC, I haven’t had a night on the town since your father and I got divorced and I’m going. End of conversation.”
The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Later that day, Cornelia met her clique for lunch as usual. She was going to tell them all about Talibah and how she wanted to apologize to Mrs. Hakim, but Rebekka had given Cornelia the cold shoulder in Geometry class and she wanted to know why. As she approached the lunch table with Chad at her side, Rebekka’s eyes were shooting daggers.
Before she even sat her tray down, Rebekka said, “So I hope you’re happy with yourself, Corny.”
Affronted, Cornelia sat her tray down hard and said, “Do NOT call me Corny, Rebekka. Let’s be adults. Why don’t you tell me what you’re talking about? Are you upset that your boyfriend accosted me or that I told him off?”
“Wait, who accosted you, CC? Did someone hurt you?” Chad asked, setting his tray down next to Cornelia’s. CC hadn’t had a chance to tell Chad what had happened on Friday.
“She wishes,” Rebekka said and Sarah gave a little laugh.
“Accosted might be a poor choice of words, but it was David Warton whom ‘Bekka,’” she said in a snide tone, mocking Rebekka, “was snogging behind the band building, that grabbed me after the game Friday,” Cornelia said, adding to Chad, “but he didn’t hurt me.” Cornelia took a moment to smile at her concerned boyfriend before scowling back at Rebekka.
“Oh, he didn’t grab you,” Rebekka said skeptically.
“Actually he did grab me, Rebekka, TWICE! And he had no right,” Cornelia said angrily. Chad was looking on with great concern.
“Wait, he grabbed you?” Chad asked.
“Well even if he did, you were antagonizing him first,” Rebekka said. “You threatened to tell Kenzie about us, CC, and that’s not cool.”
“I did not! Did he tell you that? He’s a liar! I told your creepy boyfriend to keep his hands off of me and he got pissed. That’s all that happened. Did he mention that he told me how pretty I was? Did he tell you that he put his arm around me? That’s the kind of snake you’re messing around with, Rebekka.”
“He - He did what now?” Chad asked, now quite concerned.
“I got away from him fast,” Cornelia said, trying to ease Chad’s fears.
“That’s not the point, CC,” Chad replied.
“Get over it, Chad, David didn’t touch Cornelia and even if he did, what’s a scrawny guy like you going to do about it?” Rebekka asked, rudely.
“Hey!” Interceded Amanda as she laid her tray on the table. “Everyone is looking at you; do you think you can keep your voices down?”
Cornelia ignored Amanda’s warning. “I don’t care who you think you are, Rebekka, you can’t talk to my boyfriend like that. We’re leaving!” Cornelia picked up her tray and walked away and Chad followed. The couple sat at an empty table. Cornelia could see Amanda questioning Rebekka and Sarah to see what had just transpired. Cornelia was certain Rebekka would deny insulting Chad and that Sarah would back her up. Cornelia was seething with anger wondering who Amanda would side with. Since she wasn’t very pleased with Cornelia at the moment, Cornelia was sure she would side with Rebekka.
Chad try to quell her anger, “Calm down, CC, I don’t care what Rebekka thinks of me. I only care about you.” Cornelia looked into to Chad’s eyes and found her anger slowly melting away.
“She has no right,” she added almost as an afterthought.
“Don’t worry about Rebekka. She’s a spoiled brat who only thinks about herself.”
Cornelia paused, then furrowed her brow and asked, “Is that what you’ve always thought?” She looked at Chad, who looked away, not wanting to respond.
“Why haven’t you told me until now?” Cornelia persisted.
Chad gave in, “She’s your friend, CC. I keep my mouth shut about your friends, so I guess I’m kind of taking advantage of your anger to voice my opinion.”
Seeing the surprise on her face, he added, “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s not that,” she reassured him. “I just wish I had known that’s how you felt about Rebekka.”
She continued, “How do you feel about Sarah and Amanda while we’re being honest?”
“I don’t have any argument with Amanda except that I’m pretty sure she has an eating disorder. But Sarah,” Chad hesitated.
“Yes?” Cornelia prodded him with a smile and poke on the shoulder.
“Well, she’s sort of a lapdog for Rebekka, isn’t she?” Chad looked sincere. Cornelia looked at him for a moment then let out a laugh.
“She sure is,” Cornelia replied and they both laughed together. Chad suddenly became serious again.
“Now back to the subject, CC, did David hurt you?”
“No, he really didn’t. He just annoyed me. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. I actually think that was his twisted way of flirting with me. I don’t know. I just know that he’s a scum bag,” Cornelia said.
“Yes, he is, and I want you to promise me you’ll stay away from him, CC.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll avoid him like the plague. I don’t like the guy,” Cornelia said.
“I have your word?” Chad asked skeptically.
“Yes, you have my word, King Chad. And my word is as good as the gold in your crown, your majesty,” Cornelia said, tapping him on the head and leaning over the table to kiss him on the end of the nose. The pair laughed nervously, trying to shake off the bad feelings. Cornelia looked over at Rebekka, Sarah and Amanda. They were in what looked like a heated discussion.
“Don’t pay any attention to them, CC,” Chad said. “You and I know the truth.”
Cornelia smiled. “I can’t believe you still have faith in me after what I did.” She was referring not only to her act of vandalism weeks earlier, but also the lie she told to get Chad to drive her to school that day. She now understood that both were wrong.
“We all make mistakes. I’ll never stop having faith in you, CC,” Chad said and smiled, putting a French fry in her mouth. Chad’s parents never let him eat junk food, so he took every opportunity at school to get a fix. French fries were his favorite.
Cornelia shoved one of her fries in his mouth and the two were laughing again. Cornelia could see Rebekka staring at them through the corner of her eye. She hoped Rebekka would find out how wrong she had been someday. She wanted an apology. Then for some strange reason, Mrs. Hakim came to mind. Cornelia knew she owed Mrs. Hakim an apology. She didn’t know why she couldn’t see it before she met Talibah. She was just so angry, but that was no excuse for what she did. Meeting Talibah helped her realize how wrong she was to lash out at Mrs. Hakim because of her race. Deep down it wasn’t even about that. It was about hurting her the only way Cornelia knew how. That way just happened to be by attacking her race. It was an easy thing to do.
People fear what they don’t understand and since the War on Terror began in 2001, people had been afraid of Muslims. It was a religion most Americans didn’t understand. It was difficult for most to separate radical extremists from average Muslims. It was no different than radical Christians who bombed abortion clinics in the United States, but not many people could understand that. Fear breeds hatred. Cornelia understood that now. Meeting a Muslim her own age somehow gave her a better understanding of Mrs. Hakim. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. She had to apologize, but she knew she didn’t deserve forgiveness.
Chad and Cornelia spent the remainder of lunch alone and next bell, during study hall, Cornelia drafted her letter to Mrs. Hakim. She wrote and rewrote half a dozen times but nothing sounded right. She didn’t think her words were contrite enough but she didn’t know how else to verbalize her apology. She
knew she had done something stupid out of anger, but she didn’t know how to apologize for it. When the bell rang, Cornelia ripped up all of her drafts and put them in the trash.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. Cornelia didn’t speak in English class. Every time she looked at Mrs. Hakim all she could think about was the ripped up apology notes in the trash can. She didn’t even speak to Admeta except to say hello. After school, Cornelia once again walked Chad to his bike and then headed for classroom 97 for another Writers on the Storm meeting. When she arrived, the desks were already in a circle. Mrs. Hakim was smiling brightly at the front of the room.
“Writers, please take the same seats you had last week so our new members can have a chance to learn your names,” she said.
Everyone shuffled to their seats, except one person who had not been there last week. One person whom Cornelia had no idea was a member of Writers on the Storm. One person who turned out to be the last person Cornelia suspected would be involved in a writer’s group.
Kenzie Phillips took a seat between Admeta and Steve, across from Cornelia. Cornelia was suddenly very self conscious. After all, she had only been arguing about Kenzie’s boyfriend all through lunch. She knew David was cheating on Kenzie with Rebekka and the guilt was eating her up inside. She suddenly wanted to jump out of her chair and confess everything to Kenzie, but who was she? Why would Kenzie believe her? They barely knew each other. Cornelia’s thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Hakim.
“O.k., Writers, obviously we have another new member this week. Most of you probably know Kenzie Phillips. We started to introduce ourselves last week, but we got side tracked, so let us try again, shall we? I will begin,” Mrs. Hakim said.
“My name is Samantha Hakim. I was born in San Diego, California but my family moved to Storm River earlier this year. I have three children. My daughter, Raja is 8, my son, Nazeeh, is 4, and my daughter, Zayn is one-and-a-half and our poodle is about 35 in dog years,” she said. Everyone gave a laugh. Cornelia noticed that Mrs. Hakim didn’t mention the dog’s name this time. She thought perhaps the teacher was trying to avoid another argument.
Mrs. Hakim pointed to her right and said, “Amanda, you go next.”
“What should I say?” Amanda asked as she stood up.
“Just describe yourself,” the teacher replied.
“O.k. well,” Amanda began. “I have brown hair and hazel eyes.”
“No no, dear,” Mrs. Hakim interrupted politely. “You misunderstand. It is my accent, I know,” she lied so Amanda wouldn’t feel stupid. “I meant, tell us about yourself. What do you like to do in your free time? What other groups are you involved in? Do you have any pets? That kind of thing. Why don’t you start with your name and grade?” Mrs. Hakim smiled in an attempt to alleviate Amanda’s embarrassment.
“Oh, right,” Amanda said. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, dear. When someone misunderstands us or our writing it is up to us to make it right, no?”
“Right,” Amanda said. “Well, my name is Amanda Stanfield. I’m a freshman. I’m in student council and Writers on the Storm, obviously,” she said, nervously. “I’m also a reporter for the Storm River Chronicle where I write about student council mostly.” Cornelia was surprised to hear this. She had not known that Amanda was so into writing.
“My mom has a pet Maltese that I hate with a passion. She barks any time you go near her. That’s about it I guess,” Amanda concluded and quickly sat down.
“Thank you, Amanda,” Mrs. Hakim said. “Andy, please go ahead.”
Andy stood and said, “Well, I’m Andy Turner, half of the duo known as Andy and Randy Turner, or the Ginger Twins,” and then laughed. A few other students laughed with him. Cornelia still had no idea what he was talking about.
“I’m a freshman. I like to fish and write about fishing. This is pretty much the only group I’m in at school. Oh, and I like to make people laugh,” he said and made a funny face. Some people laughed, but not Cornelia. She thought Andy looked demented.
“Randy and I have a pet snake named Nagaina. She’s not a cobra though, she’s only a rat snake. Our mom wouldn’t let us have a cobra, which is what we really wanted. She said we would be dead within a day if we were allowed to have one.” Everyone again laughed. Everyone, that is, except Cornelia. She hated snakes. The very thought made her skin crawl. As Andy sat down, panic overtook her as she realized it was her turn. She didn’t like to speak in front of groups of people.
“Thank you, Andy, please take your turn, Cornelia,” Mrs. Hakim said and Andy bowed before he sat down. A few students laughed again.
Cornelia stood up, but she remained silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I’m Cornelia Drake and I’m a freshman too, I don’t have any pets” she said, and then stopped. “Uh, I’m not sure what else to say,” she said. She stood there looking at everyone for a moment.
“Why don’t you tell us what you like to do, Cornelia?” Mrs. Hakim asked.
Cornelia remained sitting and said, “Well, I’m a cheerleader, so I like yelling and jumping.” Some people in the room laughed. Cornelia wasn’t trying to be funny, so her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, but she was not offended. She felt foolish talking about her likes and dislikes when she knew everyone in the room disliked her, except for maybe Admeta and Amanda and the latter was still mad at her. She felt like what she was saying was nonsense. She knew what she should be saying. She just had to work up the courage to do it. She paused for a moment and cleared her throat.
“Mrs. Hakim,” she continued, “would it be o.k. if I said something more?”
“What do you mean, dear?” Mrs. Hakim asked.
“Well,” Cornelia began, and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. This was strange for Cornelia, who usually didn’t show much emotion, especially in a group of strangers. Before she spoke she had been thinking about Talibah, but now her only thoughts were of Mrs. Hakim and what she did to her.
“I think everyone here knows that I owe you an apology,” she said as she looked around the room and noticed everyone staring at her unblinkingly. She didn’t care. For the first time in her life, Cornelia didn’t care what people thought of her. She turned her attention to her teacher, who did not interrupt. It was as if everyone else in the room had vanished. She could no longer feel their eyes on her. The only eyes that mattered were Mrs. Hakim’s. As she spoke, it was from her heart, not because it was what everyone thought she should do, but because she believed it was what she should do. She was finally owning up to her crime, being honest with herself and everyone else and feeling genuine remorse.
“I tried to put an apology in writing several times, but the words just never came out right. I ripped them all up,” she said, not taking her eyes off of Mrs. Hakim who was staring back at her with a slight twinkle of pride in her eyes. Mrs. Hakim had always known Cornelia didn’t mean the things she wrote. She had always believed Cornelia wrote something she would someday regret; it was just a matter of time and distance.
“I did something really awful to you because I was mad about getting a grade that it turns out I deserved. It was childish and stupid, I knew that even as I was doing it, but what I didn’t know was that it wasn’t just a crime against you. It was a crime against everyone in this school,” she said and then thought about the judge from her trial. “It was a crime against everyone in our community,” she echoed his words. “Worst of all, it was racist,” Cornelia finally admitted. It was the first time she said it out loud and the first time she even admitted it to herself.
“I didn’t mean it to be, honestly I didn’t,” she said, looking around the room as if she were pleading for forgiveness from everyone.
“I know that sounds stupid because what I wrote was racist. What I mean was that it wasn’t my intention. My intension was to hurt you the same way I hurt when I saw that D on my progress report. That was all I was focused on. The judge said I was a stuck-up, spoiled rotte
n hooligan and he was right. I lashed out in a really stupid way.
“I know some people may think I’m apologizing to you just to suck up or get them to forgive me, but I want to apologize to you because it’s the right thing to do. You’re the only person I want forgiveness from,” she said, pausing to wipe away a tear that had slipped down her right cheek.
“Mrs. Hakim, I thought words didn’t mean much, but I’ve learned that’s not true at all. As I tried to write an apology to you over and over again, I learned that words have the power hurt. And I’m hoping they can heal too.
“All I can say is I’m very sorry to you, to everyone here and everyone else affected by what I did. I did a horrible thing and I can’t take it back,” Cornelia’s voice was now wavering. Her lips quivered as she spoke. This was the most adult conversation she had ever had in her life.
“Cornelia,” Mrs. Hakim interrupted, wanting to put Cornelia out of her misery. “Your apology is accepted.” Cornelia began to speak, but Mrs. Hakim again interrupted. “Nothing else need be said on this matter, Cornelia. As far as I’m concerned it is over. I appreciate your apology. I’m sure the group does as well, no?” she asked the group. Everyone sat perfectly still with the exception of a few nodding heads. Cornelia was grateful, but she felt like she should say more.
“Mrs. Hakim?” Admeta inquired.
“Yes, Admeta?”
“I also have an apology to make,” Admeta said. Cornelia looked at her classmate in confusion.
“Cornelia, I was the one who put that sign on your locker,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It was childish and stupid and I apologize.” It sounded more like a command than an apology, but Cornelia got that Admeta was not used to apologizing either. She was not surprised that it had been Admeta who put the racist sign on her locker.
“Thanks,” Cornelia replied. The two girls stood looking at each other, knowingly.
“Well, this is good, Writers!” Mrs. Hakim said. “We are opening up the lines of communication and letting our words flow, not only in our writing, but in our speech. Unless someone else has anything to apologize for,” she said, pausing for an interruption that never came. “Good. Let us continue with our introductions.” Mrs. Hakim smiled and raised her hand to Randy. “I believe it is your turn, Mr. Turner.” Cornelia was glad that she didn’t have to continue with an introduction and she and Admeta both sat down.
Randy stood up and said, “Uh, hi, I’m Randy Turner. That’s a weird act to follow.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Um, pretty much everything Andy said applies to me too,” Randy said, and then sat down. He wasn’t as cheerful as his twin. Cornelia wasn’t sure if all the apologies made him uncomfortable or if he was always that way.
Brenda went next. “My name is Brenda Stark. I’m also on student council and the school newspaper staff. I’m the editor,” she said and Cornelia could have sworn a look was exchanged between Brenda and Amanda. “I’m also the editor of Poetry by Storm and I’m a senior.” Brenda smiled darkly and sat down. Cornelia thought she was a pretty humorless girl.
Ralph stood up and said, “I’m Ralph Ziggler. I’m a junior and like writing.” He sat down before he even finished speaking. He looked very uncomfortable and Mrs. Hakim didn’t argue with his short introduction.
“My name is Steve Esandros,” Steve said, standing up. “I’m a sophomore. I’m on the wrestling team.” Cornelia suddenly understood why she had never met Steve. There are no cheerleaders in wrestling. That also explained his physique. “I have a five-year-old collie named Sparky. That’s about it, I guess,” he said and sat down.
Kenzie stood up and Cornelia watched her every move. “My name is Kenzie Phillips. I’m a senior. I’ve been in Writers on the Storm the last three years.” Cornelia was wondering why Kenzie hadn’t been at the previous week’s meeting. “I’m a cheerleader,” Kenzie continued and Cornelia was surprised that she did not mention that she isn’t just any cheerleader, but the head cheerleader. “I’m also on the debate team, student council, the business club, drama and Fine Arts Club. I have a Chihuahua named Van. I’m thinking of changing his name, though.” Kenzie stopped abruptly, fearing she had said too much. She rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling, seeming to rack her brain as if she had forgotten something, but satisfied that she did not, she sat down. It was Admeta’s turn.
“Admeta,” Mrs. Hakim said, waving her hand in Admeta’s direction.
Admeta stood up with one hand on her hip. Cornelia thought she looked nervous for the first time since she’d known her. “Umm,” Admeta began. Then she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and put her hand on her other hip. Her entire demeanor seemed to change.
“My name is Admeta Maria Theresa Inez Vasquez.” Cornelia noticed that Admeta’s accent seemed thicker and stifled the urge to laugh. She didn’t want to offend Admeta after all of the progress they had made. Admeta was waving her right hand around animatedly.
“I’m a freshman. I’m from Price Valley. That’s right, the valley, not River Hill,” Admeta said with attitude, looking around the circle for any sign of objection. She saw none.
“I like to write, watch TV, surf the Web, basic stuff. I hate people who are fake…”
Mrs. Hakim interrupted, “Admeta, why don’t we just leave it at what you like, not what you dislike.”
“Well then that about covers it, Mrs. H.”
“Very well, Admeta, you may sit,” Mrs. Hakim replied and Admeta sat back down, seeming relieved. Cornelia secretly wondered if Admeta had been referring to her when she said she didn’t like people who are fake, but they had come so far yesterday that she tried to put that thought out of her mind.
Sandy went next. “I’m Sandy Turner. I’m a junior.” Andy coughed and Sandy gave him a funny look. “I like music, books, all kinds of stuff, really.” Now Randy coughed. Cornelia was beginning to wonder what was going on between the Turner siblings. Sandy gave Randy a dirty look.
“I like fashion magazines, tabloids, anything to do with celebrities.” This time Andy and Randy coughed in unison.
“O.k.! Enough, Ginger Twins! I get it! I’m also Andy and Randy’s sister, there, are you happy?” she asked, quite annoyed with her little brothers, and then promptly sat down.
The group was mostly puzzled by the transaction that had just taken place. Ralph and Admeta were shaking their heads as if this hadn’t been the first time Andy and Randy had put on a show for Writers on the Storm.
Cornelia didn’t see the point. She didn’t think it was funny. In fact she thought it was rude of Andy and Randy to interrupt their sister. Cornelia was suddenly glad she was an only child.
“Thank you, Sandy,” Mrs. Hakim said to diffuse the tension. Cornelia could have sworn she shot a knowing look at the Ginger Twins. “Valerie, dear, would you be so kind?”
Valerie giggled nervously. She was struggling to get out of the desk, which was a snug fit on her full figure. Valerie’s olive skin turned bright red with embarrassment. Normally Cornelia would have found Valerie’s struggle funny, but after seeing the look on Valerie’s face she felt rather sad. She was amazed to find herself thinking that the school should have been more considerate when they bought desks. Not everyone is a size 6.
Valerie rubbed her left eye under her thick black-rimmed glasses and began speaking. “Umm,” she said and then giggled again. “I’m Valerie, of course.” She crossed her arms nervously. It was if she were trying to hide her entire torso.
“I really like video games. I can beat all of my friends at any game, on any console. I’m in the math club, the physics club, the chess club and Writers on the Storm, of course. Umm,” and Valerie was giggling again, and Cornelia could see the glimmer of her shiny braces.
“I think that’s about it,” she said. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have a pet rat named Mrs. Frisby. She’s really, really cool. She runs around my house in a traveling ball and has a huge cage with a maze, and an exercise wheel and lots of tunnels.” When Valerie pronounced
her ‘S’s they hissed a little through her braces.
Andy suddenly interrupted, “I’d like to introduce Mrs. Frisby to Nagaina,” he said and then laughed hysterically. Randy was laughing too, but Valerie shrieked. The rest of the group showed little interest in Andy’s comments.
“I’m sure Andy was only joking,” Mrs. Hakim said as she stood up and walked over to Valerie. She gently placed a hand on Valerie’s shoulder and Valerie sat down with tears in her eyes.
“Isn’t that right, Andy? You were only joking even though it wasn’t your time to speak?”
Andy’s chest deflated and he suddenly looked defeated. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry Valerie,” he said. Valerie just stared down at her desk. Mrs. Hakim still had her hand on Valerie’s shoulder.
“Let’s move on, shall we?” she asked. “Alright, Writers, last week I asked you to write about any form of discrimination you have experienced or witnessed,” Mrs. Hakim said. “Let’s see what you came up with, shall we?” She seemed to linger on her L sounds a little too long. It was just another aspect of her accent which Cornelia was thinking was quite different from Talibah’s accent. She thought it was strange for people from neighboring countries to have such different ways of pronouncing things. Before she had thought that all Arabs sounded the same.
Cornelia was very still in her desk. She was afraid any kind of movement she would make could be misconstrued as a sign that she would like to volunteer to share. The truth was she was hoping that everyone else would take up the entire meeting time sharing their stories and she would not have to address the group. Apparently she was not alone as no one else jumped at the chance to go first either.
Mrs. Hakim looked around the room at the nervous faces. “Writers,” she said, “I know this is a difficult topic, so I will go first.” Cornelia was surprised that the faculty advisor actually participated in the activities. Mrs. Kerrier, the Student Council advisor, usually just sat in the corner of the room with her head bobbing up and down, trying not to fall asleep while they conducted their meetings. Then a sudden flash of fear entered her mind. They were supposed to write about discrimination. What if Mrs. Hakim had written about what Cornelia did?
“My story is about the first time I ever heard the expression ‘dune coon,’ ” she said. Cornelia was relieved that Mrs. Hakim was not going to read about what she had done, but she was also confused. She had never heard that expression before and didn’t know what it meant. As far as she knew, Dune was a book she was forced to read in sixth grade English class and coon, she could only surmise was short for raccoon. Mrs. Hakim had skin around her eyes that was sometimes slightly darker than the rest of her face and Cornelia wondered if that was what it was a reference to. She soon found out that is wasn’t.
Mrs. Hakim read her paper out loud for the group, showing no emotion whatsoever. Cornelia wondered how she could share something so personal without demonstrating at least a little emotion. Mrs. Hakim’s paper was about the first time she came to visit America since she was a baby in San Diego. On that trip, her family went to the zoo. She said a man in a red cap pointed to her family and yelled, “Look son, they even have some dune coons here.”
Mrs. Hakim said that her older sister began to cry and as her parents tried to comfort her, she looked on in amazement. She was too young to understand what the words meant, but her sister had known. Her sister knew they were hateful words. Mrs. Hakim said that even though she didn’t know what the words meant, she could judge from her sister’s reaction that they were intended to be hurtful. The man and his son walked away laughing as Mrs. Hakim’s sister stood inconsolable.
While reading her paper, Mrs. Hakim explained that “dune coon” was a racial slur against Middle Eastern people. She explained its meaning and the ignorance that gave it life. She talked about the power that the word had to upset her sister so and how impressed she was with her parents for their restraint and strength in the face of such adversity.
The most moving part for Cornelia was Mrs. HaHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHakim’s description of how the word made her feel once her parents explained what they meant. She didn’t cry, like her sister; she got angry. She wanted to go find the man and his son and give them a piece of her mind, but her father explained that it wouldn’t do any good. He thought there was no point in trying to confront ignorant people.
He said it would only fuel their hatred. Mrs. Hakim said that her father was right about confrontation, but she wished she could go back in time and tell the man how those words made her sister feel badly and how he should have apologized. She wondered if trying to reason with an ignorant person would have done any good.
The group was mesmerized by every word of Mrs. Hakim’s story and when she was finished, you could hear a pin drop. Mrs. Hakim looked around the room at eyes that were afraid to meet her gaze, especially Cornelia’s. Cornelia thought about Mrs. Hakim’s emotions and wondered if she had been angry with Cornelia for what she wrote on the wall at school. She wondered if Mrs. Hakim had the urge to confront her as well, or to explain to Cornelia how her words made her feel. Cornelia felt a rush of shame pass through her and could feel her cheeks turning red with embarrassment, but mostly shame.
Mrs. Hakim knew the group was still uncomfortable, but she tried to motivate them. “Would anyone else like to share their story?” she asked. After a few moment of inactivity, Brenda slowly raised her hand.
“Yes, Brenda, please read your story,” Mrs. Hakim said, pointing her upturned hand in Brenda’s direction.
Brenda did not stand, as group members had before during their introductions. Instead she sat at her desk and read her paper aloud to the group. Brenda’s story was about the first time someone had called her an Oreo. Unlike Mrs. Hakim’s story, Cornelia knew exactly what Brenda was talking about, and it wasn’t a cookie.
Oreo was a word people used to describe biracial people. The thought made Cornelia very uncomfortable and she squirmed in her chair as Brenda described the scene. She was on the playground in Kindergarten when a group of children began to taunt her. Cornelia was surprised to learn that the children were not white, as she had expected them to be, but African-American. She was shocked that black children would make fun of someone for being half black themselves.
Also unlike Mrs. Hakim’s story, the children didn’t simply laugh and walk away. They started pushing and shoving Brenda around in a circle while calling her other names. And then an older boy punched her in the face before a teacher broke it up. A few of the members of Writers on the Storm gasped out loud when Brenda read that part and she stopped and looked up from her paper. Cornelia covered her mouth so she wouldn’t utter a sound and Brenda soon continued.
Brenda explained how she didn’t understand what the word Oreo meant either until they called her a zebra. That was a word she had heard before, mostly on television or in books. It was only then that she knew why the children were tormenting her, although she still didn’t understand it. Cornelia was horrified by Brenda’s story and was suddenly self conscience that her own story was so recent. Everyone else seemed to be telling childhood tales. When Brenda finished, Mrs. Hakim thanked her for sharing and asked for another volunteer.
Ralph raised his hand. It seemed as though Brenda’s story had given him courage.
“Yes, Ralph, please,” said Mrs. Hakim as she motioned for him to go ahead with his story.
“I will never forget,” he began, but then paused for a moment. “I will never forget,” he repeated and stopped again. Cornelia thought he might be choked up.
“It’s o.k., Ralph, you are amongst friends here. No one is judging you now,” Mrs. Hakim said and then smiled at him brightly.
Ralph looked at his teacher for a moment then took a deep breath and began again. “I will never forget the first time I was ever called a nigger.” You could hear a pin drop in Classroom 97. No one made a sound, except for Brenda who squirmed in her chair. He didn’t say, “the n-word;” Ralph had said �
��nigger,” one of the worst things you can possibly call a person. Cornelia was all too familiar with the word.
“I think I was three,” Ralph continued. “I was at the grocery store with my moms.” Cornelia wondered why Ralph added an ‘s’ to the word mom, but she was too mesmerized by his startling candor to question him.
“A white man tried to cut in front of my moms at the counter. When she objected, the man said, ‘you can go on back down to the bayou; I hear they need some alligator bait down there, but while you’re up here I ain’t waiting in no line behind a bunch of niggers.’ I didn’t know what he meant about the alligator bait, but nigger was a word I had heard before; it was just never said to me. My grams told me all about it, so I knew it was about the meanest thing you could say to a person.
“My moms didn’t do anything. She just stood there and stared at the man while he checked out. The cashier didn’t do anything either. Even though I was little, I can still remember being angry at both of them. I couldn’t understand why they allowed that man to speak to us like that without so much as a word of protest,” Ralph said. He paused a moment to catch his breath, and Cornelia thought perhaps to choke back a tear.
“When we got out to the car I asked my moms why she didn’t say anything to the man. She said, ‘Son, when you are faced with ignorance like that, there is no point in fighting it. Best you just ignore it and let it pass or you could be in a world of hurt.’ I didn’t understand. I think my moms just didn’t have fight left in her anymore. That was the first time I had been called a nigger. It was probably the hundredth time or more that my moms had been called that. She just couldn’t stand up to people anymore. I swore that day I would never be that way. That I would always fight ignorance.
“That’s why I’ve always tried really hard to get good grades so I could go to college, because my moms never did. I was called a nigger for the first time that day, and it was not the last. Not by a long shot. But it was the last time I was ever called a nigger without fighting back. I’ve been punched, kicked, slapped and spit at, but I have never been called a nigger again without a fight. And I never will,” Ralph concluded. Everyone was silent and every eye was on Ralph as he remained staring at his paper.
“Thank you very much, Ralph, for sharing your story. It was very nicely written and it was very brave of you to share something so personal,” Mrs. Hakim said, breaking the silence.
“Who would like to go next?” she asked and Steve raised his hand.
Steve wrote about the first time anyone had ever called him a faggot. Cornelia was shocked to learn that it was his own father who called him this. Cornelia could see tears streaming down Steve’s cheek as he read about his decision to come out to his parents before anyone else and his torment when his father berated him and called him a faggot. Steve explained how his parents got divorced shortly after he told his parents he was gay. He was sure that his father left because of him. When Steve was finished, Cornelia surprised herself by speaking up.
“You know, Steve, if your parents got divorced it wasn’t because of you
. They must have had other problems. That’s what my parents told me when they got divorced.” Steve wiped his eyes and shook his head.
“Parents are supposed to tell their kids that it’s not their fault,” he said. “They lie to us to make us feel better.”
“Steven, I’m certain what Cornelia said is true,” Mrs. Hakim interjected. “I am sure your parents had other problems that led to their divorce, but this is not the forum to speculate on such matters. I think you are very brave to share your story. You are all very brave to share your stories. I know this is a difficult topic. Let us please continue. Who shall go next?”
Valerie raised her hand and began reading a story about the first time someone called her a Chink. “I’m not even Chinese,” Valerie said, and everyone let out a little nervous laugh at her indignation. Each time someone read their story the topic got a little easier to talk about.
Some of the stories were funny. Sandy wrote about how the swim coach who told her she couldn’t be on the swim team if she didn’t use tampons during her period. She thought it was sexist but, she conceded that she understood why they had the rule.
“I guess it would be pretty gross if they didn’t,” she said, and everyone laughed.
Her brother, Andy, wrote about being teased for being ginger, which, Cornelia finally learned, meant that he had red hair and freckles. He turned it around on his tormentors and started calling himself ginger and after that, and people started leaving him alone. His story was filled with humor and everyone laughed with him, although Cornelia had a sneaking suspicion that Andy didn’t find it as funny as he was letting on.
Andy’s brother’s story was about being teased for being a wimp, and it wasn’t funny. Randy read about being cornered in the locker room during gym class and beaten by a couple of bullies who were bigger than him.
Andy jumped in at that point and asked, “Hey, where was I? I would have had your back.” Randy was not amused.
He answered, “It was David Warton and his toadie Jermaine Shinkle, what could you have done?”
Cornelia saw Kenzie’s cheeks turn crimson. She was obviously embarrassed to learn about her boyfriend’s secret pastime. Cornelia felt a twinge of satisfaction that Kenzie was finally learning what kind of jerk her boyfriend was. She only wished she could tell her more.
“Writers, let’s not mention names, please. I don’t want anyone open up for a law suit for slander, no?” She said with a weak smile. Cornelia thought she looked a little pale.
“Kenzie, I believe it is your turn, dear.”
Kenzie’s story began, “I was born a poor fat girl in Rising Sun, Indiana.” Cornelia was surprised to learn all three things about Kenzie. She couldn’t imagine Kenzie being poor, since her father was the mayor of Storm River and they lived in the biggest house on the hill. She couldn’t imagine Kenzie growing up in the country since she was always the most highly regarded fashion maven at the school. And she couldn’t possibly imagine Kenzie ever being fat since Cornelia thought she was perfect in every way.
Kenzie told stories about how her brothers and sister would torment her for being overweight. They called her things like Jaws, Buddha and lard ass. She apologized to Mrs. Hakim for using the word “ass.”
Mrs. Hakim said, “It is o.k., Kenzie, I want you all to be honest in your writing even if it means using harsh language. If that is the truth, it is the truth and you should not change it to please your audience.” Cornelia was once again surprised that a teacher would give students permission to curse.
Kenzie even told the group how her parents sent her away to fat camp for a year where she was finally able to get in shape and lose weight. After that her brothers and sister left her alone.
“But the scars,” Kenzie said, “still remain to this day.”
When Kenzie was finished, Amanda told stories about kids in school teasing her by calling her anorexic, bean pole and other such things. Cornelia could have sworn that Kenzie looked annoyed and she was right. In the middle of Amanda’s story, Kenzie raised her hand.
“Excuse me, Amanda; Kenzie, do you have a question for Amanda?” Mrs. Hakim asked and Amanda stopped reading.
Kenzie said that she thought that being made fun of for being thin couldn’t compare to being made fun of for being fat.
Before Amanda could respond, Mrs. Hakim interjected, “Kenzie, it is not fair to compare one’s hurt to that of another. The words said to both of you were based on hate. They were a result of discrimination and ignorance and I am certain that Amanda feels just as strongly as you do. While I encourage you to share your feelings, I strongly discourage comparisons as they will only breed resentment. I appreciate you sharing your feelings, however.” Kenzie still looked annoyed, but she did not speak.
“Amanda, please continue with your story,” Mrs. Hakim said.
Amanda continued reading, a
lthough she was obviously annoyed by Kenzie’s interruption. Cornelia had never been made fun of for being fat or thin, so she couldn’t really relate to the debate. She was, however, shocked to learn that Amanda knew that people were accusing her of being anorexic behind her back.
“I can’t help it if I’m naturally thin!” Amanda yelped at one point and shot Cornelia a look. Cornelia was not convinced, however. She had known Amanda since grade school and she knew she had lost a lot of weight in recent months. She also knew that Amanda rarely ate lunch at school. She was convinced Amanda had a problem.
Admeta went next. She wrote about the first time she had ever been called “spic.” Admeta was very animated when she read and her accent got even thicker the more excited she got. When she described the Caucasian boy who spat the word at her, she was waving her arms in the air and raising her voice in anger.
“I’m not even a spic!” Admeta yelled.
Mrs. Hakim interrupted, “Admeta!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Hakim. I mean I’m not even Latina. I’m Hispanic. White people don’t even know there is a difference.”
“Admeta, you should not be using generalizations and stereotypes in a paper that is supposed to dismiss generalizations and stereotypes. Do you see what you are doing?” Mrs. Hakim asked.
Admeta was obviously put off by Mrs. Hakim’s repeated interruptions, but she kept her voice level. “I’m sorry, Mrs. H., but they don’t. Do you?” Admeta asked, looking around the circle at the white faces staring back at her.
“Do you know the difference between Latina and Hispanic?” She asked indignantly.
Brenda responded, “Latinas are females from Latin American islands, like Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. Hispanics are men or women that come from any Spanish culture including Mexico, Spain and Latin America.” She looked quite pleased with herself.
“You’re not white!” Admeta said, a little louder than she had intended. Brenda looked affronted.
“Admeta!” Mrs. Hakim said, also a little louder than she had intended.
“Well she’s not, Mrs. H. Of course Brenda would know the difference, because Brenda knows what it’s like to be discriminated against because of her race. She would be willing to take the time to know the difference because she knows how it feels. White people don’t.”
“Admeta, we should not be dividing the room by race. Several people have read their papers and several of those people have been Caucasian and I believe that every single paper has displayed discrimination, so do not sit there and say that there are people in this room who cannot relate because they can!” Mrs. Hakim’s pale face began turning crimson. Cornelia could almost feel the fire in Mrs. Hakim’s cheeks.
“Their discrimination wasn’t based on their race, Mrs. H. I can’t change the color of my skin. Kenzie lost weight. Amanda could gain it if she wanted to. I will always be this color!”
“I cannot gain weight,” Amanda protested. “I have an overactive thyroid!”
“Oh, whatever, bean pole, you just don’t get it” Admeta spat back.
Mrs. Hakim stood up. “Admeta, one more word and you will not only be out of this classroom, but you will be out of Writers on the Storm for good!” she said, pointing toward the door.
“I will not have our members calling each other names, do you hear me?!” Mrs. Hakim slammed her fist down on the desk and everyone jumped a little.
“I mean it, Admeta. I do not know what is wrong with you today, but this stops now!”
Mrs. Hakim stopped talking abruptly. She looked confused for a moment and the very next moment she hit the floor.
“Mrs. H.!” Admeta screamed and then ran to her side. Everyone got up out of their desks and circled Mrs. Hakim’s still body.
“Somebody call 911!” Admeta screamed. Cornelia rushed to Mrs. Hakim’s other side and together the two girls rolled Mrs. Hakim over.
“You shouldn’t move her!” Brenda yelled, but it was too late. Suddenly there was blood everywhere. Mrs. Hakim’s head had a gash along her forehead where she had hit the floor. Valerie began crying.
“Shut up, Valerie!” Admeta yelled. Everyone turned to look at Valerie while Admeta quickly removed Mrs. Hakim’s hijab. It only took a split second, but Cornelia could see when the hajib was pulled off that some of Mrs. Hakim’s hair started to come with it. She looked at Admeta who shook her head rapidly. Cornelia looked around to see if anyone else had seen, but they were all focused on Valerie who was now wailing. Admeta fixed Mrs. Hakim’s hair very quickly and put the hijab over the cut, applying pressure to the wound.
Amanda was on the phone with a 911 operator and Brenda walked over and put her arm around Valerie to try to calm her down.
“Did someone call an ambulance?!” Admeta yelled.
“Yes, Amanda’s on the phone right now,” Cornelia replied, rather calmly.
“Ralph, go see if someone is in the office,” Admeta said, motioning to Ralph with her free hand and he took off like a shot.
“Randy, give me your sweatshirt,” she demanded. Randy looked confused.
“What?” he asked.
“Give me your freaking sweatshirt, Ginger!” she yelled.
“Admeta, you’re not supposed to call people names,” Andy chastised.
“Are you serious?” Cornelia looked at Andy like he had two heads.
“I’m just saying,” Andy began, then stopped abruptly. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Admeta said, and gave Cornelia a wild-eyed look. Cornelia knew something was terribly wrong. Randy took off the sweatshirt he had on over a t-shirt and tried to hand it to Admeta.
“I’ve got my hands full, Cornelia can you put that under her head?”
“Sure,” Cornelia replied, then rolled up the sweatshirt and put it under Mrs. Hakim’s head.
“Don’t just stand around! The rest of you go see if you can find someone to help!” Admeta screamed.
Everyone ran out the door except Admeta and Cornelia, who were helping Mrs. Hakim, Amanda who was on the phone with 911, Valerie, who was still in shock and Brenda who was trying to help her.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, she just fainted or something!” Amanda yelled, “Please hurry!” Amanda started to sob and let her hand with the phone in it fall to her side; she was no longer able to speak.
Brenda grabbed the cell phone from her and said, “Hello?” to the operator.
“We need to know where to go once the ambulance gets to the school,” the operator said.
“We’re in classroom 97,” Brenda replied.
“O.K, hun, but you’re going to have to give me directions. Where do the paramedics go once they get inside the front door of the school?”
“Oh, umm, go up the stairs, turn left and go straight. It’s on the left,” she added. She kept one arm around Valerie who was shaking. “Thank you. Please tell them to hurry,” she said, but she could already hear sirens coming toward the school.
“Amanda!” Admeta yelled. “Amanda, you need to snap out of it and go to the front door to lead the paramedics here!”
“What?” Amanda said, confused.
“Oh, I’ll do it!” Brenda yelled.
Just then the principal, Mr. Beckardi, came in with Ralph, followed by Andy and Randy.
“Oh my God,” Mr. Beckardi said. “What happened?” he asked, kneeling next to Admeta.
“She just fainted and hit her head,” Admeta said. “It’s no big deal. She’ll be fine. She’s just going to need some stitches is all.”
Cornelia couldn’t understand how Admeta could be so flippant about the whole situation and neither could Mr. Beckardi.
“What do you mean it’s no big deal? The woman is bleeding profusely!”
“All head wounds bleed like that, Mr. B. I don’t know why. It’s a head thing,” Admeta said suddenly calm. Before Mr. Beckardi could respond, Sandy rushed in.
“The paramedics are here. They’re c
oming. They’re coming,” she yelled, out of breath. “Brenda is showing them the way.”
Mr. Beckardi stood up as the paramedics came into the room. Amanda who had finally snapped out of her daze led Valerie aside as two men in blue jackets and white pants wheeled a gurney into the classroom. They were followed by Andy and Randy who wanted a closer look. Cornelia thought one of the paramedics was really cute, but the other one reminded her of her father. They pulled rubber gloves out of their back pockets and put them on while they were asking Mr. Beckardi what happened. Amanda had stopped crying, apparently relieved that help had arrived, but Valerie was still crying.
“They said she fell,” Mr. Beckardi said.
“You weren’t here?” the cute paramedic asked.
“No, just the students,” Mr. Beckardi replied.
“You,” the cute paramedic said, pointing at Admeta, “Did she fall face first or on her back?” Valerie’s sobs got louder.
“She fell face first; we rolled her over and put pressure on the cut,” Admeta said, still very calm. Cornelia was holding Mrs. Hakim’s left hand and Valerie started wailing again. Mr. Beckardi seemed to just notice that Valerie was there and he put his hand on her shoulder.
“It’s alright, Ms. Regal, Mrs. Hakim is going to be fine,” he said. Steve and Kenzie were the last of the group to return to the room. They were with the custodian, Mrs. Baumgartner.
“Oh, boy, someone’s gotta clean this up, yes sir, this is a fine mess this is,” Mrs. Baumgartner said, looking at the blood on the floor. Cornelia always thought the custodian had a few screws loose, so she was not surprised by her outburst.
“Mrs. Baumgartner, please,” Mr. Beckardi said as he watched the paramedics lift Mrs. Hakim onto the gurney. Admeta was still at her side, putting pressure on the wound.
“Alright, Miss, I can take over from here,” the older paramedic said to Admeta.
“No! I’m not leaving her,” Admeta said, refusing to let go of the hijab.
“I need to put sterile dressing on the wound, Miss,” the paramedic insisted.
“Can’t you do that in the ambulance?” Admeta asked, not stopping for an answer. “Let’s get moving. I’m going with her.”
“Fine, kid, whatever; just let us do our jobs and keep pressure on that wound.”
The paramedics raised the gurney as Admeta stood by Mrs. Hakim’s side still applying pressure. Cornelia had released her hand when the paramedics picked her up.
“What’s her name?” the cute paramedic asked.
“Samantha,” Mr. Beckardi said.
“Samantha?” the cute paramedic said. “Samantha, can you hear me?” he was patting her hand. “Samantha, I need you to wake up now.”
“Are you serious?” Admeta asked. “Mrs. H., Andy just called me a beaner!” Admeta yelled in her ear.
“Hey!” Andy yelled.
“Ms. Vasquez, are you out of your mind?!” Mr. Beckardi asked. The other Writers on the Storm watched in amazement as Mrs. Hakim began to stir.
“What?” Mrs. Hakim said in a muted whisper.
“Whoah,” the cute paramedic said, gripping her hand tighter. “Try not to move, Samantha.” Mrs. Hakim was wriggling on the gurney, trying to make sense of what was going on.
“Oh, my head hurts,” Mrs. Hakim said, putting her hand on her head. “My hijab!” she said, startled.
“It’s right here, Mrs. H.,” Admeta said. “I’m sorry, it’s a little messed up. It was the first thing I could think of to grab when you started bleeding.”
“Bleeding?” Mrs. Hakim asked.
“You fainted, Mrs. H. You know, from stress,” Admeta said, patting Mrs. Hakim’s arm.
“Stress?” Mr. Beckardi asked.
“Yeah, I was stressing her out,” Admeta said.
“Samantha,” the cute paramedic interrupted, “We’re going to take you to Mercy General now, o.k.? We’ll dress your wound in the ambulance.”
“Let me get my coat,” Mr. Beckardi said.
“No!” Admeta yelled a little louder than she had intended.
“Ms. Vasquez, I know this has been a very stressful situation for all of you, but you really need to get a grip, young lady.”
“No, no,” Mrs. Hakim said, looking at Mr. Beckardi. “She is right, Bradley.” Cornelia was shocked to hear Mrs. Hakim call Mr. Bechardi by his first name. Cornelia didn’t even realize he had a first name.
“Samantha, you’re one of my teachers, I’m going to the hospital with you.”
“No, Admeta will come with me, Bradley. You are the principal and your first responsibility is to the students. Can you please be sure that the Writers get home safely? I’m sure this has been an unsettling event for them.”
“Don’t worry about us, Mrs. Hakim, you just get better,” Brenda said.
“Bless you, Brenda. Don’t worry about me. I am perfectly fine.” She could hear Valerie sniffling behind Mr. Beckardi.
“Did you hear me, Valerie? I am fine, dear. You need not worry. I am sorry if I frightened you.”
“It’s o.k.,” Valerie said between sobs.
“Writers, I want you to do some free writing this week on any topic you like. I’ll see you next week,” Mrs. Hakim said as the paramedics starting wheeling her out of the room. Cornelia couldn’t believe her ears. Mrs. Hakim was actually giving out assignments from an ambulance gurney.
“Can you come?” Admeta asked a stunned Cornelia.
“Um, yeah,” Cornelia said, taken aback by Admeta’s request.
“Absolutely not!” Mr. Beckardi said.
“It is o.k., Bradley,” Mrs. Hakim said.
“But she’s a juvenile delinquent…” Mr. Beckardi began.
Mrs. Hakim interrupted, “Bradley, I’m the patient and I would like these two young ladies to accompany me. The patient is always right.
“Bradley, would you mind terribly calling Daniel and telling him where I am and then calling the girls’ parents and letting them know where they are as well? Tell their parents that Daniel will be driving them home. Could you do that for me, please?”
“Of course, Samantha. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” he asked, giving Cornelia the stink eye.
“I am certain,” she replied. “These young men will take care of me and these young ladies will keep you updated. There is no need for further concern.”
On their way out the door, Cornelia saw Brenda hand the cell phone back to Amanda. Cornelia remember her and Admeta’s purses and book bags and ran back in the room to get them.
“See you tomorrow,” Cornelia said and Amanda nodded as Cornelia raced out of the room.
As they walked down the hallway toward the front door of the school, Cornelia knew she was in for a long night.
Chapter 11
The Diagnosis
Writers on the Storm Page 10