by Lynn Moon
“Maybe Mom felt guilty for leaving you.”
“Maybe. I never had the chance to ask her. She seemed happy with Hank. I didn’t want to interfere.”
“I was happy then, too. Grandmother told me that you believed if you stayed away, I could pass as a white girl.” My father walked to the entrance and stared outside. “Why would I want to pass as a white girl?”
“I thought it best.”
“Why?”
“Because her parents wanted it that way. They didn’t approve of our marriage.”
“Because you’re black?” I asked.
“Yes, because I’m black.”
Without saying goodbye, he left. Tossing the comb into the box, I watched him walk alone down the dirt path toward the house. What a funny man. Now I really wasn’t sure what he thought of me living here. He kept talking about love, but I just didn’t feel anything.
He seemed to disappear again after our little talk that night. No more dinners together and no more mysterious meetings in the stables. So I concentrated on my horse and getting ready for school. I loved my horse and my time alone with him. Although I tried to forget about my father and my upcoming classes, the thought of returning to school did entice me. I was lucky that my father allowed me the time I needed to heal. But, I knew my freedom wouldn’t last forever, and I was right. When I returned home one afternoon from riding, my grandmother cornered me in the kitchen to break the news.
“School begins on Monday, Pete.”
I nodded. Monday. Only a few days away.
“Riding will be after school only if you’ve finished your homework.”
I nodded again. I would miss spending all my time with Saddlebag. But in a way, I wanted to go back to school, too. Some new friends would be nice about now.
On the Sunday evening before my first day of school, I texted my friends, Kendra and Wendy. It’d been a while since we last talked, and I really needed them right now.
Kendra: Pete, how r u, how’s Saddlebag?
Wendy: Is your grandmother still nuts?
Me: I’m fine & Saddlebag is fine and, yes, my grandmother is still nuts.
Wendy: Too bad.
Kendra: When do you start school?
Me: Monday, I miss you guys.
Wendy: We miss you too.
Kendra: I have to go, mom yelling.
Me: Okay, bye.
Kendra: Bye.
Wendy: I gotta run too, text again soon.
Snuggled inside my new comforter, I allowed my tears to fall. Mom was gone and I knew it. I just didn’t want to accept it. I hugged the wooden doll, the one I held when I first arrived, close to my heart. It felt good to cry. Even though my grandmother said I needed to get things together. Crying was the one thing I was still good at.
I must have fallen asleep because the loud buzzing of my alarm startled me. It was almost spring. So, I picked out my bright red jeans and a matching red and yellow t-shirt. With my old black sweatshirt clinging to my arm, I ran to the kitchen.
My breakfast waited for me on the table; scrambled eggs, toast, and juice. Grandmother waited outside for me with a coffee mug in one hand, and my book bag in the other.
“Morning, Granddaughter.” Today she was using her pleasant fake-voice. The one I hated the most.
“Morning, Grandmother.”
“Your father wishes to drive you this morning.” She held out my bag and nodded toward the black Blazer idling near the front fountain. A fountain so big that when I walked around it, it took me several minutes. Water streamed down three iron horses standing on their hind legs. I tried to sit on one once, only to slip into the cold slimy water. Stupid, I know.
Walking to the Blazer, my mind pictured a condemned man walking to the gallows. Should I sit in the front or the back? Before I could ask, my father answered by opening the back door for me. I guess I wasn’t good enough to sit up front next to him. As I buckled up, I noticed that the front passenger seat was stuffed with all his legal files.
“Sorry, Pete, I’ll clean this out tonight. Tomorrow you can sit up here with me, okay?”
“It’s okay.”
“I won’t hear of it. Tomorrow, up front with me. I’ll drive you most mornings,” he said, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror. “A requirement at Davis Academy. Something about parents being engaged. Charles will drive you if I can’t.”
From the rear-view mirror, I studied his eyes; my eyes. Those haunting eyes that still stalked me in my dreams. What was he really thinking? To me, he seemed more like a chauffeur than a dad. Without another word, he pulled the Blazer onto the street and we were off, heading to my new school.
Davis Academy wasn’t big at all. Not like my old school in New York. Only a few buildings decorated their lawns. When my father handed me my schedule, my heart soared. My last class was equestrian, horseback riding, with none other than Joe.
We entered the administration building together, with me walking behind Him, of course. Maybe Him really was a much better name than Dad. In many ways, this man was just a Him to me anyway. Everything was so different when I lived with my mom. Holding back a tear for her, I concentrated on the student’s faces. Not one kid smiled. I wondered if that, too, was a Davis Academy thing.
“Petunia, welcome to Davis Academy.” The school administrator’s voice filled the hallway. In public schools, they’re called principals. In private schools, they’re called administrators. “Oh Peter, she’s absolutely adorable.”
“Yes, adorable,” he replied, not taking the time to glance down at me. “If it’s permissible, Charles will pick her up in the afternoons.”
“Yes, yes, of course. We understand our parents cannot always be here. You’re here now and that’s what counts.” The woman smiled at me. “Petunia, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you around. We mustn’t keep your father from his work any longer than necessary.”
My father left without even a quick goodbye or glance in my direction. Could I even consider him to be my father? Hank would never have left me without a hug or a kiss.
“It’s Pete,” I whispered to nobody.
The woman, Dr. Wiltshire, seemed nice enough. Maybe close to my mom’s age. A little older looking with her blonde hair pulled into a braided ponytail. Of course she wore a suit. A black one. After watching Him walk away, we toured the campus so I’d know how to find my classes. With such a small school, getting lost was the least of my concerns. The time did, however, make us late for my first class, English. It was never a good thing to be late for a class. Especially if you’re starting a school halfway through the year.
I followed her into the classroom. Every eye instantly fell on me. The most terrible feeling in the world. They examined me from my head down to my toes. The old English teacher reminded me of my PapPap just before he died. His bloodshot eyes, sunk deep into his head, somewhat complemented his shaking hands. The crooked letters on the dry-erase board broke at different angles, making his words unreadable. Slightly hunched-back, his head tilted to one side as he spoke. I hated this place already and I just got here.
With a voice that sounded like gears grinding, he spoke slowly, pronouncing each syllable. “Ad-min-i-stra-tor.” My introduction was obviously going to take some time.
“Doctor Rosewater, I’d like to introduce Petunia Crocker.”
“Pete,” I whispered, again. Getting people to use my real name wasn’t going to be easy around here.
The administrator looked a little perturbed. “I told you last week a new student was starting today. Please tell me you did not forget.”
“Miss Croc-ker may take the emp-ty seat by the win-dow,” Dr. Rosewater slowly replied, his shaking hand pointing the way. Listening to him lecture would not only be time consuming, but boring.
With all the kids still staring at me, I inched my way to my seat. Single desks didn’t exist at this school. In their place, small tables large enough for two lined the rows. In the seat next to mine sat a beautiful black girl with shiny
long braids. I noticed her skirt hiked up so high that I could see her underpants. Ewe.
“What you looking at?” Her eyes and mouth tightened with each word. “Didn’t your mamma teach you any manners?”
My heart jumped into my throat. At my old school, new students were greeted with kind words of encouragement. They introduced themselves by telling a little something interesting about their lives, like where they came from.
“She’s a half-breed.” Staring over her shoulder, another black girl with short hair, glared at me. “My mom told me all about her. Her dad’s that lawyer. You remember, Christina. That’s Attorney Crocker’s daughter.”
“Oh, yeah, the jerk that helps murderers to get off. He was the lawyer for the guy who killed those kids. Killed them just ‘cuz they walked down his street. Didn’t know a person could own a public street like that. Guess it’s a white thing.”
“Excuse me,” I said. What in the world did I do wrong?
“Your dad’s trying to be the same as his mom, and look, you’re just like ‘em.”
“What are you talking about?” Afraid, I wanted to go home. Why were they angry with me? I just got here.
“Powder Puff,” the black girl sitting next to me said. “I’ll call you Powder Puff, ‘cuz you look like someone powdered you all up.”
“Yeah, Christina,” the girl in front said, laughing. “Powder Puff … it fits.”
“Your textbook, Miss Croc-ker.” Dr. Rosewater tossed a brand new English book on the desk.
“Thank you,” I replied, grabbing it before it slid off the side. Afraid to move, my book bag stayed glued to my shoulder.
“Thank you,” Christina, the girl next to me, mimicked. “So proper are we?”
“Shall we get back to work?” Dr. Rosewater asked, shuffling his feet as he walked toward the front of the class.
The rest of the day repeated about the same way. Everyone just stared or sneered at me. Not one person smiled or said hi. The only rainbow on my otherwise dreary day was the equestrian class. The strong odor of fresh hay immediately lifted my spirits. When my eyes landed on Joe, I also breathed a huge sigh of relief. Joe smiled as I entered the stable.
“Hi, Pete.” His voice warmed me from the inside. “Welcome to Davis Academy. How’s your first day going?”
“Fine,” I whispered.
“Fine,” a whinny voice mimicked from behind me.
“You’ll have to use my saddle until your own arrives,” he said. “I’ll get it for you.”
I turned and locked eyes with the mean girl who shared my table in English. Her evil glare and crooked smile sliced right through me, implanting a permanent image deep into my brain. I knew nothing I said would make the situation better. So I kept quiet and ignored her. Something my mother taught me a long time ago.
After Joe saddled my school horse, I avoided her gaze the best I could. Unfortunately, she followed me around throughout the class.
After school, I smiled as soon as I spotted Charles’ car. Jumping into the back seat, I fumbled with the door. We didn’t talk the whole ride home.
CHAPTER 11
DISCOVERY
I FELT SO MUCH better standing in my own room. But it seemed a lot sunnier in here. Of course, Charles had removed the pink-laced curtains and pink carpet, so the bare floor now reflected the afternoon sun. I studied the hardwood slats. In many ways, the floor reminded me of my life, bare and empty.
After finishing my homework, I hurried down the dirt path to the stables. Knowing that my grandmother was out, I didn’t take the time to stop by her study. Instead of looking ghostly today, the trees actually felt warm and inviting.
My mother used to tell me that you couldn’t really know a person until you’ve walked in their shoes. I glanced down at mine. Nothing special, just dirty white tennis shoes with a long pink stripe on the sides. Then I thought of Christina. She wore a pair of purple high-heeled sandals. If I tried to walk in those shoes, I would have broken my ankles for sure. No, I did not wish to walk in Christina’s shoes.
Saddlebag snorted as I opened the gate.
“Hi, Pete.” Joe’s cheery voice startled me. I wasn’t expecting him. “I told your father DA probably wasn’t a good fit.”
“Oh, hi Joe.” My mind so filled with longing for my old life I had forgotten all about my riding lesson today. “Davis Academy is okay.” With the help of a small stool, I hiked my saddle onto Saddlebag’s back.
“Just ignore those stupid kids.” Joe smiled as he talked. I knew he was trying to cheer me up. It wasn’t working. “They’re rich and spoiled. Rotten to the core. There’s not one there I like, except you.”
“Thanks, Joe.”
After my lesson with Joe, I rode Saddlebag through my father’s fields harder than ever. As the distance between the house and me grew, the gaping hole in my heart closed. We passed the old water-well and the broken wooden bench at a full gallop. Several deer ran into the trees as Saddlebag’s hooves pounded against the ground. Not being a good rider, galloping my horse still frightened me. But at the same time, it felt wonderful, as if I was free from everything that bothered me. Rounding a bend, I found myself overlooking a small serene valley. Right in front of me, two water towers rose toward the heavens while shadowing a small private lake. Although they were far below, the towers almost reached the tree lines behind me. These things were huge.
“Wow.” Saddlebag’s ears turned toward me as if he understood. “What is this place?” Saddlebag neighed and nodded his head. “Let’s go explore.”
We followed the path down the steep embankment. Loosening the reins gave Saddlebag the lead. Joe said to have faith in a horse. He explained that I might direct us off a cliff, but a horse never would. Joe was right. My horse maneuvered effortlessly down the narrow path. We circled the towers several times. As my eyes followed the light blue metal high into the clouds, my curiosity exploded.
After wrapping Saddlebag’s straps around a metal step, I climbed the skinny ladder to the first platform. No fencing anywhere to keep people from climbing up. Everything in New York had fencing to keep people out. Why not here?
About twenty rungs separated each metal landing. I finished counting at one hundred before I reached the top. The metal platform circled around the tower giving me a full panoramic view. A thin metal railing was my only protection from a long fall to the ground. It felt delightfully free up here.
The tall buildings of Atlanta speckled along the horizon. My house and my worries were hidden somewhere behind me. Up here in the clouds, my problems only fluttered a few times before drifting away with the wind. A private secret place only I knew about. A private secret place I adopted as my own.
CHAPTER 12
TYPICAL SCHOOL DAY
A MONTH HAD PASSED since I started at Davis Academy and I still hadn’t met anyone I’d care to have as a friend. Every day it seemed that someone would accidentally bump into me just to knock me over. Obviously, they were close friends of Christina. Otherwise, why else would they always feel the need to pick on me? My eyes constantly searched the floor for trip hazards. A foot purposely left in an aisle created the perfect trap. My left shoulder ached from all the jarring. I eventually shifted my bag to my other shoulder just to make it through the day. Students continuously blocked the hallways so I’d arrive late to my classes. Every day at DA was a struggle just to survive until the final bell rang.
Without friends, I ate lunch by myself. On sunny afternoons, a shady spot under a tree offered me a little solitude. If I ate slowly enough, my whole lunch hour would speed by. Other students couldn’t bother me if they couldn’t find me. With my last bite, the bell rang. I used to think that private schools were better than public schools. In movies and books, they always show private schools as being fancier. But they were just the same as public schools. Nothing fancy for lunch, and the same drab lunch trays. I dropped off my tray and headed for my world science class. A class I dreaded.
We only had six students in this cla
ss, and I was the only girl. The boys were the worst ever. In most of my classes, the students were mixed. In this class, the boys were black and I looked white. Not to mention that they were all Christina’s thugs. Christina knew everyone at this school, and everyone seemed to be her best friend. How could one person get to know everyone? How could one person have so many people following her?
In world science, we sat on couches or over-stuffed chairs. The instructor, Dr. Robinson, believed the atmosphere needed to be just right, so she removed all the desks and chairs from her classroom. I never knew where to sit. I just knew I didn’t want to sit next to one of the boys.
Thank goodness for Dr. Robinson. I felt out of place until she arrived. Born from Irish parents, she said whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Nothing seemed to frighten her.
In this class, we explored cultures from around the world. I loved the reading assignments. We studied diversity, which meant how people were different. I found it interesting that people were more alike outside their countries than inside. Last week we talked about China and its providences. There were so many different languages in China that they created a whole new language, Mandarin, just to talk to each other. Amazing.
“Tell me your thoughts about someone who speaks broken English. How do you feel about that?” Dr. Robinson always started the class with a controversial subject, and our grade depended on how we responded.
The boys tended to always assemble in the back. Of course, she’d wave them closer. Only when a few minutes remained would they ever move. Today, however, her question seemed to perk their interest. Three boys jumped over the yellow couch. The springs squeaked as they bounced on the cushions. These guys always frightened me. They never seemed to bother her.
Back home in New York, the black kids were different somehow. We all seemed to get along and were friends. But down here, no one liked me. Maybe because back home they didn’t know who my real father was, and down here they did. Here in Atlanta, people were different, and I wasn’t sure how or why. I missed home, and wanted to go back.