Like a Broken Doll

by Anne Schraff

  “Don’t let him scare you,” Leticia urged. “Don’t let that creep scare you.”

  “Wanna bet they won’t believe me?” Jaris sneered. “I bet over the past two weeks you’ve spent a lot more than a hundred dollars on new tops and jeans. All your parents have to do is look in your closet. They’ll get the picture. I got a feeling girl, if you did something this underhanded, you’ve stepped over the line before. Your parents won’t be all that surprised, but this time they’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks. Count on it. You tell everybody, including the school office, that you found the money and it wasn’t stolen after all. Or you’re in deep trouble.”

  Jaris got up and brushed the grass from the knee of his jeans. “Hop to it, girl,” he commanded her. “If I don’t hear something before the last bell today, you can see me at your house tonight. I’m not kidding.”

  “He can’t do this to you,” Leticia protested, but her voice lacked conviction now. Ryann began to sob wildly.

  About an hour before the end of the school day, Alonee told Jaris she saw Ryann and Liza Ann in the principal’s office. Ryann was crying. Jaris figured the school officials knew the girls were not being truthful about finding the money and weren’t coming clean out of the goodness of their hearts. But they would accept the story. The girls weren’t criminals. Nobody, including Jaris, wanted their reputations to be trashed. That wouldn’t do anybody any good. The wisest choice was just to accept a dubious story from two little con artists and clear everybody of stealing.

  Jaris expected the matter would be put to rest in the morning with an announcement from the principal. But there was still the question of what happened to the missing car wash money. After school, Jaris climbed on his motorcycle and rode to the Pierce home. When he arrived at the small rental house, he was shocked by its disrepair. The screens were torn, and the screen door hung on one hinge. A rusted old air conditioner teetered precariously from a window sill. Quincy had said his family was hard up, but Jaris never expected anything this bad. He felt sorry for the family. But he needed to clear Sereeta.

  When Jaris pushed the doorbell, nothing happened. It too was broken. He banged on the door with his hand.

  Suzy Pierce appeared in the doorway. “Hello,” she said. “You’re too young to be a bill collector, so what do you want here?”

  “I’m Jaris Spain. I’m a junior at Tubman High like your son,” Jaris replied.

  “Oh, well Quincy isn’t home,” Mrs. Pierce said wearily. “He’s out looking for work. Lord knows we need the money.”

  “May I talk to you about something, Mrs. Pierce?” Jaris asked. He felt sorry for the woman. She probably wasn’t much older than Jaris’s mother, but she looked far older. She’d led a hard life, and it had taken its toll. There was nothing left of her youth. She was overweight. Fattening, less nutritious food was cheaper than healthful fruits, vegetables, and lean meats. When you can’t pay your bills, you spend less time worrying about balanced diets and good foods.

  “Can we just sit here on the steps?” Mrs. Pierce suggested. “I’d ask you inside, but the house is a mess. It’s always a mess. I work like a dog keeping the hospital clean, and I got nothing left for my own house. I’m just so tired. My husband is ill, you know. He can’t help with nothin’.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry, Mrs. Pierce,” Jaris said and waited a second before going on. “You know all about the money missing from the Saturday car wash.”

  Mrs. Pierce’s face clouded over in misery. “Yeah, I’m so sorry I got mixed up in that. It was a big mess like most everything in my life,” she sighed.

  “This girl who helped you sort the bills, Sereeta Prince,” Jaris asked gently. “Were you there all the time she was sorting?”

  “Yeah, I was right beside her. She’s a smart girl,” Mrs. Pierce replied.

  “They’re hinting that she might have taken some of the money, and she’s really heartbroken because she’s an honest person,” Jaris continued. “She’s a close friend of mine, and I’m trying to get to the bottom of what happened to that two hundred dollars.”

  “Oh, she didn’t take anything,” Mrs. Pierce asserted. “I told them that when the school people talked to me. She’s a dear, sweet little thing. Who’s saying terrible things about her?”

  “Some of the kids,” Jaris answered. “And your son sort of said that maybe Sereeta took some of the money. He was really upset about you getting in trouble, and that’s why he said it. He didn’t mean to cause trouble for Sereeta. He was afraid the school might blame you and want you guys to come up with the missing two hundred dollars.”

  Mrs. Pierce shrank back in horror. “Oh, I couldn’t!” she cried. “I couldn’t come up with two hundred dollars. I couldn’t come up with anything. We’ve got medical bills piled up in there. More come in every day. My husband didn’t have medical insurance on his job. When he got sick, all the bills came to us . . . big bills . . . scary numbers. The lady at the hospital is helpin’ us get the Medicaid, but in the meantime the bills just keep comin’ in. Summa them doctors want thousands of dollars! I wake up every morning with a headache. I’m terrified.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Jaris sympathized. “I just wanted to know if you could say for sure that Sereeta didn’t take any money from the cash box.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t,” Mrs. Pierce replied, then sounded unsure. “But it was all so confusing. Anything could have happened. I never should have volunteered for that. It was all such a mess.” Tears rolled down her weathered face. “I’m just at the end of my rope.”

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Pierce,” Jaris assured her. “Thanks for talking with me. I hope things get better for you.” Jaris hurried back to his motorcycle, knowing no more than when he came.

  On Thursday morning at Tubman High, the principal came on the PA system to make the announcement Jaris was hoping for:

  Students, we have very good news. Of late there has been an apparent rash of thefts from girls’ purses. We are now gratified to inform the students here at Tubman High that both girls who believed they were victims of theft have now located the missing money. We wish to thank the students who came forward with this information. This does not mean we shouldn’t continue to be vigilant at all times about guarding our valuables. Never leave your purses or wallets unattended. Thefts can occur, and we all have the responsibility to protect ourselves with prudence and wisdom. But we are happy to let you know that these particular instances of lost money were the result of errors, not theft.

  “What do you make of that?” Jasmine asked Marko during the few minutes before class began. “Those fool girls thought their money was stolen, and now they found it?”

  “Sounds like bull to me,” Marko remarked.

  Jaris sat nearby but said nothing. He would never say anything about what he knew. Ryann and Liza’s misdeeds were, to him, dead issues. He had promised them that if they repaired the damage they did, he would keep quiet. He meant to keep that promise.

  The announcement deeply relieved Jaris. He felt a little lighthearted as he headed for his midmorning English class. But just before he entered the building, he noticed a car coming into the visitor’s parking area at an unsafe speed. It was weaving from side to side as well. At first he thought somebody was losing control, but then he realized there was something wrong with the driver. The car came to a stop, taking up two spaces. The driver started to get out, losing a shoe in the process. She retrieved her shoe, almost losing her balance. She wore a green sweater and pajama bottoms. She was a pretty woman who looked very drunk.

  Jaris caught his breath, his heart sinking.

  It was Sereeta’s mother.

  Other students noticed the woman too and gathered into small groups. Some laughed, and some looked concerned that she would hurt herself.

  “Look, something’s wrong with that lady,” a boy remarked. “She can’t hardly walk.”

  “Somebody needs to help her,” a girl added.

  Mr. Pippin was just arriving, h
is battered briefcase bulging with corrected test papers. Whenever he walked from the faculty parking area, he usually looked straight ahead, never to the side. He was always afraid he would see something that would require his attention as a teacher—a fight, an argument, somebody in trouble. He didn’t want to get involved in anything. He just wanted to get to the classroom quickly, teach his class, and go home.

  But the woman fell to her knees as Jaris and two other students were running toward her. She let out a small cry, like a wounded cat.

  “Good grief!” Mr. Pippin said in exasperation. “What is that now?” He was the only teacher around, and he was forced to go over to her to help.

  “Madam, are you all right?” Mr. Pippin asked, as Jaris and another boy helped her to her feet.

  “I am quite all right,” Mrs. Manley said in the precise voice of people who are drunk and know it and who wish to speak clearly to hide their condition.

  “Look,” Marko Lane howled. “It’s Sereeta’s mom. She’s drunk as a skunk! Look at her! Old Pippin is trying to hold her up!”

  Jaris was sick to his stomach. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “Well thank you, Jack,” Mrs. Manley said to Jaris. “Thank you very much. I am perfectly fine, but somehow I t-tripped.” She looked at Mr. Pippin and tried to smile. “Is this your grandfather, Jack? What a nice gentleman.”

  “No, this is Mr. Pippin, our English teacher,” Jaris replied. He glanced in anguish at the growing crowd of students. He hadn’t seen Sereeta at school, but he hoped against hope that she wasn’t nearby to see this scene.

  “I have come,” Mrs. Manley announced, “on b-behalf of my daughter . . . to p-protest the sander—slanderous accusations made against her!”

  Mr. Pippin had begun to wave his arms threateningly to shoo away the mob of students who’d come to see the show.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Go to your classes at once,” Mr. Pippin screamed. “Go! Do you hear me? Go!” There is nothing to see here.”

  He was having no luck until Ms. McDowell and the vice principal, Mr. Hawthorne, came along.

  “All students will disperse immediately and go to their classes or face detention!” Mr. Hawthorne shouted.

  “Everybody . . . right away!” Ms. McDowell added, sending most of the students on their way.

  Ms. McDowell came forward and laid a comforting hand on Olivia Manley’s arm. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I am ex-cell-ent,” the woman declared, her eyes fixed on Mr. Hawthorne. “Are you the principal, sir?”

  “I’m the vice principal,” he replied.

  “Well,” Mrs. Manley began her speech, “the people in this school—these people—they are spreading lies about my daughter. And I am in-incensed! And I want it to be stopped.”

  Jaris and a few other students remained nearby.

  “Please,” Jaris begged, “take her inside.” He kept glancing around for Sereeta. With any luck, she’d stayed home with the baby.

  “Come along with us, Jack,” Mrs. Manley commanded, reaching for Jaris’s hand. “I know you are Sereeta’s friend . . . you can tell these people what has been going on.”

  Mr. Hawthorne, Ms. McDowell, Jaris, and Mrs. Manley marched toward the administration building. Inside the building, they all disappeared into the vice principal’s office. As soon as the office door was closed behind them, Mr. Hawthorne turned immediately to Jaris. “Do you know what this is about?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Jaris explained, “you know the thing about the girls’ purses being robbed? Well, that got cleared up this morning. So that’s out of the way. But then there’s this missing money from the cheerleader car wash. Some kids who don’t like Sereeta—this lady’s daughter—they’ve been spreading nasty rumors, saying Sereeta was involved in the thefts.”

  “My husband got very angry. Very, very angry,” Mrs. Manley announced. “It got to his . . . his b-business ass-associates that his stepdaughter was involved in nef-ar-ious activity. We had a terrible argument . . . for days we argued. I want this stopped at once.”

  “Well, Mrs. Manley,” Mr. Hawthorne responded, “we are very sorry about all this. We here at Tubman respect Sereeta Prince as a fine student and a wonderful young lady. There was never any intention of implying that she did anything dishonest. When the PE department talked to her, they were just looking for her help in the inquiry into the missing car wash funds. I assure you, we all hold Sereeta in high esteem. Now, the best thing for you to do at the moment is to go home. You are . . . ah . . . not in the best of health right now.”

  “I can do that,” Mrs. Manley declared. “I can c-certainly do that.” She fished in her purse for her keys. When she found them, she dropped them on the floor and almost toppled over trying to retrieve them. She made a short little laugh that sounded more like a gasp. “There now, we are all set. Jack, would you be kind enough to help me to the parking lot where my car is?”

  “Mrs. Manley,” Mr. Hawthorne said quickly. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “I’ll follow you in my car and bring you back to the school,” Ms. McDowell volunteered.

  “And just why is that? I cannot see why that is,” Mrs. Manley insisted. “I am p-perfectly capable of driving my own car home.”

  “You’re not well, Mrs. Manley,” Mr. Hawthorne said in an aggrieved voice.

  Ms. McDowell turned to Jaris. “Jaris, go to my classroom and tell them I’ll be there in twenty minutes. In the meantime, put on the video of President Clinton’s press conference. We’ll discuss it when I return.”

  Jaris hurried to American history. His legs felt like they didn’t want to carry him. He kept thinking, “Poor Sereeta, poor Sereeta. If she’s here on campus, it’ll be terrible. Even if she isn’t, everybody’ll be talking about her mom.”

  Jaris glanced back and saw Mr. Hawthorne helping Sereeta’s mother into the passenger side of her car. She was loudly protesting, but eventually he got her to get in. Soon the two cars vanished down the street.

  When Jaris got into the classroom, word had already spread about what happened.

  “Hey, Sereeta’s mom was one drunken lady,” Marko cried, setting off a burst of laughter.

  “You should a seen old Pippin trying to get her up,” a girl laughed.

  Jaris raced to get the video started. He turned to the class, “Ms. McDowell wants us to watch President Clinton’s press conference from back in 1993, and she said there might be a test on it. So shut up and take notes.” He added the part about the test. He was desperate to bring the class to order and make them stop ridiculing poor Mrs. Manley. For the first time in his life, Jaris knew exactly what poor Mr. Pippin felt like every time he had to face these people.

  Ms. McDowell returned twenty-four minutes later. She walked in briskly, saying nothing about the events of the morning. She immediately launched into a comparison of President Clinton’s press conference style with those of John F. Kennedy and Richard M. Nixon. Ms. McDowell acted as if nothing unusual had happened. When the class ended, she asked Jaris, “Could you remain for a moment?”

  “Sure,” Jaris complied. He took a seat near the teacher’s desk.

  When the room was empty, she sat at the desk and began speaking to him. “Jaris, thank you for handling the class for me. There are very few students I would entrust with that responsibility. You’re a special young man. But that’s not what I need to say to you.

  “I know you and Sereeta are close friends, and I can’t think of many things worse for a teenager than what happened this morning. Tell Sereeta to come and talk to me. But before she does, will you tell her this for me? I am thirty-one years old, and every morning when I wake up, I feel blessed to have the life I do. But until I was twenty, my life was a train wreck. Worse things happened to me than what happened today. Much worse. You hurt and you bleed, but then you heal. And you are stronger in the scarred places than you thought you ever could be. You tell Sereeta it’s going to be okay. She’s a bright, compassionate
, wonderful girl full of potential. Tell her to hang in there.” Ms. McDowell was done with what she had to say, but Jaris waited a moment.

  “Thank you,” he then said, “I will.”

  Later in the day, Sami Archer told Jaris that she hadn’t seen Sereeta in any of her classes. At his next break between classes, Jaris called Sereeta.

  “Sereeta. You okay?” Jaris asked her. He didn’t know if he should mention what happened at school. Surely Ms. McDowell and Mr. Hawthorne had been there by the time he had a chance to call, Jaris thought.

  “Yes,” she answered. “A nanny just came. She’s starting full-time tomorrow but she’s getting used to everything today. She’ll be with the baby all the time from now on.” Sereeta sounded strange to Jaris. She didn’t sound frightened, or upset, or sad, or anything. She sounded like a robot.

  “See you in school tomorrow, then, huh Sereeta?” Jaris asked.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Uh . . . should I come over after school or something? If you’d like I could . . . I mean, we could talk,” Jaris suggested.

  “No, it’s all right,” Sereeta said. “See you tomorrow.”

  When the call ended, Jaris was sorry he didn’t give Sereeta the message from Ms. McDowell. But the time just didn’t seem right.

  After school, as Jaris walked up the driveway at home, his mother came outside. “Have you talked to Sereeta, Jaris?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I spoke with her today,” Jaris said.

  “Is she okay? Alonee’s mom called me and told me what happened. Thank God Sereeta wasn’t in school today,” Mom declared.

  “I don’t know if she’s okay or not, Mom,” Jaris remarked. “She didn’t say much. She was sorta like a zombie.”

  “Poor Olivia,” Mom commented. “She really seems to be going downhill. I keep wondering if there was something more I could have done when she and Tom were breaking up. Tom isn’t a bad man. He seemed to be good for Olivia. Maybe if I’d talked to her more . . . I mean, your father and I have had our rocky places . . . but we fought for our marriage. It’s worth fighting for, it really is.” Mom looked intently at Jaris and asked, “Was it awful at school? I mean was she . . . did you see her?”