The Fire and the Veil (Veronica Barry Book 2)

by Sophia Martin

  “Why not? I’m getting an F anyway,” Lola said.

  Veronica bit her lip. She couldn’t think clearly, with the way the energy coming from Lola felt when it hit her skin. She wanted to move away from her, or put her arms around her—anything to make it stop.

  “No, that’s unacceptable. You have to try,” Veronica said.

  “I don’t have to do anything,” Lola said, raising a palm and shifting her head.

  “It’s make an effort or go to the office,” Veronica said.

  “Fine!” Lola spat, grabbing her back and jerking to her feet. She stormed out of the classroom. Veronica knew she would have slammed the door behind her if it hadn’t had the hydraulic hinge to prevent it. Veronica went to the phone and dialed the main office.

  “Lola Hekili just left my class. I told her to go to the office.”

  “I’ll let the supers know,” Sandy said.

  The supervisors, who monitored the halls and courtyard, would make sure Lola made it to the office instead of leaving campus or hiding out in a bathroom. Veronica thanked Sandy, the main office’s secretary, and hung up the phone.

  It was a relief that Lola had left class. Veronica could tell that the rest of the students felt it, too. It made her feel guilty that she felt that way, though. Lola was in pain. More pain than anyone Veronica had ever seen, except maybe for Grant Slecterson, and his pain had been… different. And her dad, but that was so long ago, she only had bits and pieces of a memory to go on.

  Her dad had killed himself. Was Lola Hekili suicidal? She certainly seemed that way in the dream. Oh, no. Did the spirits expect Veronica to help her? How? She didn’t even know who to call, much less how to explain that she thought Lola might be suicidal based on a dream and ‘vibes’ she got from her in class.

  Veronica had Angie join Clarissa Perez’s group, then she went to her computer and signed in to her school email account. She fired off a quick email to the part-time school psychologist. “Hey Lloyd, got a minute to talk at lunch?”

  She checked in with two more tables and then returned to her desk. He’d already answered. “Sure, come on by.”

  Well, Lloyd might know Lola, at least, and if she got him talking about her, maybe she’d find a way to bring up her concern without looking like a nutcase herself. She could claim to have overheard something, or seen a doodle, or some such. Maybe just talking about the words on Lola’s hands would be enough— “You know, Lloyd, seeing something like that, which I think she must have drawn herself, it just makes me worry that she has no self-esteem. Maybe she’ll be cutting herself next.” Something to that effect.

  Class dragged on, and Veronica checked the clock every few minutes. She had the students compose a dialogue using the new vocabulary, and by the time most of them were done, the bell finally rang.

  Veronica waited for the last of them to leave and then she locked her room and trotted to the administrative wing of the school. She smiled and nodded to the secretaries behind their counter and navigated her way past students milling around and teachers using the copiers, until she came to Lloyd Fisher’s door.

  He spoke with one of the school’s two vice principals. Veronica waited outside of his office, trying not to listen to their conversation, even though she heard Lola’s name. The VP left, glancing at Veronica as he did and giving her a quick nod. Veronica flashed him a smile and stepped into Lloyd’s office.

  “Veronica,” Lloyd said, pointing to a chair by his desk. Lloyd was a tall, bald African American man with kind eyes. “Please, have a seat. How can I help you?”

  Veronica sat and Lloyd followed suit. “I wanted to talk to you about a student I’m concerned about. Lola Hekili.”

  “Second time today I heard that name.”

  “She decided to leave my class rather than do any work last period,” Veronica said.

  “Ah. Alan said something about that.”

  “The thing is, she seems… I don’t know. She’s very hostile, and she seems… well, unstable, I guess? I’m concerned for her.”

  “Yes, you’re not alone,” Lloyd said.

  “And today I noticed she’d written on her hands, the words ‘fuck’ and ‘slut.’ I mean, you know, Lloyd, it’s not that I’ve never seen the graffiti in the girls’ room, but on her own hands… that she would identify herself that way…”

  “It’s very sad,” Lloyd said, nodding. “Look, I have met with Miss Hekili on a couple of occasions, and I have read a report from another counselor, which of course I’m not at liberty to discuss. But I will say that you’re right to be concerned and I appreciate you bringing this to me. She’s coming to us from a very difficult background, you understand.”

  “I really don’t know much about her at all,” Veronica said.

  “Have you gone through her cumulative file?” Lloyd asked.

  “No,” Veronica admitted.

  “Well, in your copious free time,” Lloyd grinned, “have a look at that. That should begin to shed some light. There’s more to it, though. More than even the other counselor knows, I figure.”

  “Can we do anything for her?” Veronica asked. “I’m really concerned that she’s going to hurt herself.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Just her behavior. The writing on her hands. I don’t know, I can’t say I’ve seen anything like it before.”

  Lloyd nodded. “To be honest, she’s not the kind of kid who lasts at Eleanor Roosevelt. She’ll be at the continuation school before the end of the year, I’ll bet.”

  Veronica pursed her lips. It didn’t sound like there was going to be any sort of intervention—she’d hoped he might refer her to counseling, or some sort of social services program.

  It shouldn’t surprise her. There were over a thousand students in the school, and only one part-time psychologist. Lloyd wasn’t going to intervene with Lola based only on Veronica’s misgivings. She needed something more concrete, and she had no idea what that could be. How could you prove that someone you barely knew was suicidal?

  “Thanks for talking with me, Lloyd,” she said, standing. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

  “Not a problem,” he said, getting up as well. He walked around her so he could hold the door open. “Come by any time. I always appreciate when a teacher’s invested.”

  Veronica gave him a weak smile and left his office. She stopped a few steps beyond it, creating a slight obstruction in the flow of traffic. What was she supposed to do now? Just go eat lunch?

  She gave her head a little shake. Alan Candleman, the VP, was in his office. She walked to his door.

  He was a short, white man with mousy hair and a bald spot, and perpetual five o’clock shadow. He was writing something in a form at his desk. “Alan?” she said to get his attention. He looked up.

  “Ah, Veronica. That’s handy. I was going to send you an email.”

  “Here I am,” she said.

  “I needed to let you know, when you send a student to the office, I need you to send a referral form either with them or right after with a TA.”

  “Lola left before I could write a referral, and I don’t have a TA in French II.”

  “Well, call for a supervisor to pick up the form then. I can’t tell you how messy things get when students show up here and we don’t know why they got kicked out of class.”

  “Sorry,” Veronica said. “She just refused to do any work. She said she’d take the F. I gave her a choice, get to work or go to the office. She chose the office.”

  Alan nodded. “I gathered that from what she said. She’s something, isn’t she?”

  Veronica raised her eyebrows and nodded. “You could say that. You know, I’m worried about her, though. I think she needs help.”

  Alan blinked at her. “How so?”

  “She seems unstable,” Veronica said. “She had written on her hands, the words ‘slut’ and ‘fuck.’ I think she must not have very high self-esteem…”

  Alan shrugged. “It’s just another t
hing they do, writing on their hands. It impresses their peers. Look, I know she’s not an easy kid to deal with. Just send her to me if she gives you a hard time. But next time, fill out a referral, okay?”

  Veronica could tell that she was dismissed. Alan was busy, too. He was one of only two VPs for the school. He just had too much on his plate.

  “Okay, thanks,” she said to him, and turned on her heel.

  That exhausted the list of people she could think of to tell her fears about Lola. She didn’t know what else to do. Call Lola’s parents? And say what? She didn’t have anything specific to say, and she didn’t see the conversation going very well without it. The parent would no doubt interpret Veronica’s call as a complaint about Lola’s behavior in class, and Veronica didn’t want to get Lola into trouble at home. She wanted to find a way to help her.

  But how to do that? There was only fifteen minutes left for lunch. She had French III afterwards, and after that, she was finished for the day. Maybe she’d follow Lloyd’s advice, then, and look at Lola’s cumulative file. Maybe something in the file would help make Veronica’s case a little more solid. But she had to be careful not to spend too much time on that—she was meeting Khalilah at four, and after that, she had her doctor’s appointment.

  ~~~

  There were photos of Lola from kindergarten, second grade, third grade, fifth grade and sixth grade stapled to the outside of Lola’s very thick cumulative file. Veronica touched the edge of the kindergarten photo. Such bright eyes, full of intelligence and fun. Her hair was in two braids tucked behind her ears, and she wore a purple sweatshirt with bunnies on it. Things sure had changed. And yet, Veronica still recognized the hard Lola she knew in the cute, innocent face.

  Looking at the next photos, Veronica could see the change taking place. Not at first—second grade Lola looked happy and open. Third grade Lola was also still grinning, still looking like a normal kid. But fifth grade Lola wasn’t smiling, and the light was gone from her eyes. Sixth grade Lola looked chubby and hostile. There was no picture for fourth grade. Had she been absent for picture day?

  Veronica leafed through the file. Most of it was of no real use to her. Records of vaccinations. A copy of a letter home about a lost PE uniform. Transcripts: Lola had changed schools three times before fifth grade, and twice more during middle school. She had also attended two other high schools before Eleanor Roosevelt. Most of the transfers seemed related to family moves. They started in Stockton, then moved to Concord, in the Bay Area, then to Sacramento, then back to Stockton, then to Lodi, then Stockton, then back to Concord, then Sacramento. Nothing said why they moved. The transcripts also showed that Lola had above average grades until fourth grade. Then the As and Bs turned to Bs and Cs. In fifth, they became Cs and Ds. In middle school, she started to fail. By freshman year every grade was an F.

  The progression existed for many students, actually. Many of the cumulative files Veronica had seen showed the same thing: kids seemed to lose it in middle school, and sometimes it started a bit before, like with Lola. By the time they reached high school they had given up.

  Lola’s STAR scores were also in the file, revealing a similar pattern: average or above average in elementary school. By middle school they dipped. The most recent ones were “below basic” in every area except vocabulary, which stayed at “proficient.”

  Veronica kept flipping through. Letters from Lola’s mother and her doctor had instructions for the main office for Lola to take Ritalin. They started in third grade, and continued until she left the second time for Concord in freshman year. There were referral forms starting in fourth grade, written by Lola’s classroom teachers. “Defiance.” “Lola expresses a great deal of aggression for a girl her age.” “Called Miss Parkins, classroom aide, ‘Fatty stupid bitch.’ Behavior unacceptable.” Fifth grade: “Refused to dress for PE. Defiant.” “Called seat partner a ‘s—t-eating f—-er.’” “Shouted obscenities when asked to sit in the corner.” Sixth grade: “Hit peer with ruler. Denied it when confronted, but I saw it happen.” “Got in fist fight in the hall with two other girls. See related referrals.” “Defiant, refused to work. Called me a ‘f—-ing b——.’” In seventh and eighth grade, more of the same. Freshman year: “Implied inappropriate things about Mr. Cruz, PE teacher.”

  Veronica frowned. She shuffled the pages and sure enough, she found several more documents about that incident. It started a series of problems that led to Lola being expelled—which coincided with the second move to Concord. One copy of a letter home said, “Lola accused Mr. Cruz of inappropriate actions in the boys’ locker room. We take accusations of this nature very seriously. Considering the potential damage to a teacher’s reputation and career, when such an accusation is false, we have no choice but to severely punish the student…” It went on to detail a five day suspension for Lola and the terms she must abide by when she returned to school. “There will be zero tolerance for defiance and hostility towards teachers. Lola must use appropriate language at all times. Further disruptions of this nature will result in expulsion.”

  And it had. She’d gotten in a fight, and to cap it off, they found controlled substances in her locker.

  Well, this certainly painted a picture of Lola’s school career, but it didn’t give Veronica any indication that she was suicidal. No disturbing drawings, no copies of referrals to the school psychologist—although the fact that she took Ritalin indicated she’d seen a doctor, or doctors, who diagnosed her with ADD or ADHD. Veronica didn’t like the idea of Ritalin. She’d seen several students who used Ritalin as children develop drug problems as teenagers.

  Veronica sighed. There was more to the file. She flipped through quickly. Nothing helped Veronica with her present dilemma. Lola certainly had problems but if suicidal inclinations were among them, no record of that existed here.

  Veronica chewed on her bottom lip. She wished she knew what happened. Things seemed to have taken a turn for the worse around fourth grade. The first move to Sacramento occurred at about that time. What happened when they moved here?

  Maybe nothing specific. Plenty of the kids had a rough time at home. Add being uprooted three times, changing schools, the lost friends and the difficulties making new friends, the gaps in learning that would lead to more frustration as she tried to adapt to new classrooms… That could be enough, Veronica mused, to make any happy kid into a hostile one.

  She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. 3:20. She had to get back to her classroom, tidy up, and head to Penny Coffee. If she missed the 3:30 bus she’d be late meeting Khalilah.

  Veronica straightened the stack of papers and made sure everything was back in the right file folder. She shut the drawer and locked the file closet behind her as she left. Cumulative files were confidential. She’d catch real hell from Candleman and the rest of the administrators if she forgot to lock the closet.

  Back in her classroom, Veronica made a quick attempt at cleaning up her desk, but without any real success. She glanced around the room and trotted between the rows of tables, picking up pencils, wadded paper, candy wrappers, and other odds and ends. The pencils she put in a cup on her desk. The rest she threw away.

  The clock showed that she was cutting it close. She stuffed a file of papers to grade in her bag, made sure she had her keys and her phone, and bolted from the room.

  ~~~

  Khalilah was already there, sitting a small table far from the comfy chairs Veronica favored. Oh, well. This wasn’t an occasion for comfy chairs anyway.

  Veronica waved at Khalilah and then pointed to the counter. Khalilah nodded. Veronica was glad she seemed not to mind; no way was Veronica going to deal with Khalilah’s strange request to meet without a nice mocha to sip. The day had been too long already.

  Armed with her large mug of mocha, covered in whip cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce, Veronica made her way over to Khalilah’s table. She saw as she approached that Khalilah had a large cup with a tea bag in water. For a moment, Veronica wish
ed she’d resisted the temptation of the mocha for a cup of calorie-free tea. Then she looked down at the whip and chocolate sauce, and decided it was worth every last calorie.

  “Hello,” Veronica said as she approached.

  “Hello,” Khalilah replied. She picked up her cup of tea and had a sip.

  Veronica sat down, carefully setting her cup and saucer on the table before unloading her bag onto the floor. She needed to clean it out. A quick look in it revealed that she carried a teacher’s edition of the students’ workbook for French I, a French novel she was using for excerpts for French III, a hair brush, a stick of deodorant, a bottle of mouth wash, and the file she’d just put in it with her grading. Veronica closed the bag and tucked it under her chair so it leaned against her foot.

  Khalilah set down the tea. “I’m sure you’re wondering what this is all about.”

  Veronica smiled and gave her a little nod. She tested the side of her mug with a finger. Too hot.

  Khalilah took a breath. “I know I already apologized, Veronica, but I think under the circumstances, I really should do it again. I am truly sorry for being so untrusting when I encountered you and your friends that day.”

  “I get it,” Veronica said, waving a hand. “I can see where you were coming from, really. Detective Felsen told you I was a scammer. We’re all running around from one spot to the next, and I keep saying I see things that aren’t there, and I send us to the next spot… it must have seemed crazy.”

  Khalilah shook her head. “Psychics aren’t something I believed in, until that day. And I admit, it took me a while to get on board. But I saw how it all turned out. I was forced to believe that what you said you could do… that it was real.” She let out her breath. “And it took me a while… to get over the shock, I suppose. I almost… resented you, for shaking my… my preconceived notions. Does that make any sense?”

  Veronica began to wonder if Khalilah had asked to meet her simply so she could explain all of this. It was nice to get another apology, and an explanation for why the first apology had been so long in coming, but it seemed like overkill to have a whole meeting for it.