by Robin Talley
“Are you all right, honey?” Jack asks when our hour is nearly up. “You’re so quiet today.”
“Of course I’m all right.” I tilt my head and bat my eyes, trying to make my smile extrabright to make up for all the bad things I’ve been thinking.
“Your ankle isn’t still hurting, is it?” he says.
“No, I’m fine.”
But my cheeks flush, and I look away. I wish I hadn’t told Jack what happened to my ankle. I only brought it up because I was trying to think of things to say so he wouldn’t notice how preoccupied I was.
I tripped on my way down the steps today right outside the Shop corridor. I twisted my ankle and nearly fell into a whole group of boys leaving the auto workshop. One of them caught me by the elbow. I said, “Thank you,” and grabbed his shirtsleeve to steady myself.
Then I looked up and found myself face-to-face with the biggest of the colored boys. The one who’s running around with Kathy Shepard.
I jerked my hand away from him fast, but not fast enough. When I turned around, at least twenty people were looking at where the colored boy’s hand had touched me.
I don’t know why that boy caught me. If he’d fallen I certainly wouldn’t have caught him. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to touch a white girl.
“Good, I’m glad.” Jack puts his arm around me. That makes me feel a little better. “You know I don’t like it when something’s bothering you.”
I smile up at him again.
I wish I could feel the way I used to when I was out alone with Jack. Like we were the only two people in the world. It used to be that when Jack and I went out driving I was the happiest I’d ever been.
After I graduate—after the wedding—it will be like that forever. I’ll never have to see Daddy’s frowning face at the breakfast table again. During the day I’ll keep Jack’s house, and at night I’ll welcome him home with his dinner waiting on the table.
He’ll love me and take care of me. He won’t have any choice. We’ll be married. Once you’re married, you’re stuck.
I’m lucky I’ve found a good man already. Other girls have to go all the way to college to do it.
“I like it when you wear your hair that way.” Jack runs his fingers through the curls I pinned up last night. It took an hour to do, and it hurt, but it’s worth it to see the twinkle in his eye when he looks at me. The one that means he’s glad I’m his girl.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll wear it like this more often.”
He smiles again. Then he kisses me.
I try to melt into his kisses, the way I did before, but all I can think about is Sarah Dunbar. Why did she sign up for choir, anyway? She knew she wasn’t supposed to. Why would she break the rules? Is it more of her agitating?
Maybe she did it because I’m in the choir, too.
No. That’s silly to even think. Sarah hates me. She must, after everything I’ve said to her.
Has she said so? She must have, but I can’t remember for sure.
All I remember is how her eyes flash when she argues. It makes me lose my train of thought every time, and I have to start over from the beginning, only to lose my place again the next time she—
“So, all right,” Jack says suddenly. He pulls away from me and turns to face straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”
I swallow. When boys have broken up with me, this was usually how it started. “All right.”
“I’ve decided something.” Jack grips the steering wheel tighter. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just say it. I’m going back to college.”
Oh, no. No.
I choke out the words. “You’re leaving Davisburg?”
“Not right away.” He’s still looking straight ahead. “I’ll stay here and go back to the JC, but when I finish there, I’ll head to the new teacher’s college in Hopewell. Get my certificate, so I can come back and coach at Jefferson.”
I nod, trying not to cry. I hate tears, but I hate this more.
Hopewell. It might as well be the moon.
What am I going to do without Jack? Without a wedding?
I’ll have to keep living at home.
No.
I’ll find another man. Maybe one of the senior boys at Jefferson. Or someone who graduated last year. A lot of those boys are working on the farms just outside town.
I’ll have to start over from scratch. I’ll have to flirt my way into a first date, then bait him into going steady, then wait—for months, maybe longer—before he starts thinking about something more.
I don’t have months to spare. I don’t want to let some boy with dirt under his fingernails paw at me in a backseat.
I was past all that. I was just a few months away from my new life. And now it’s gone, just like that.
A tear slides down my cheek. I dab at it with the cuff of my blouse, hoping Jack didn’t see.
“Aw, don’t look so sad, honey,” he says. “This is the right thing, I promise. Once I’ve got my degree I’ll be able to provide for you. It’ll be hard for the first few years. You’ll have to find a job, and you won’t know anyone in Hopewell, but after I’m done we can come back here and get a nice house in a nice neighborhood and you can fix it up however you want.”
I’m still crying. I think he said—
“You still want to marry me?” It comes out like I’m begging.
“Of course I do!”
My stomach is doing somersaults. “And we can get married—soon?”
“Well, yeah. As soon as you want to, honey. Once you’re done with school and all.” He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out something small and shiny. “I was scared you wouldn’t think I was serious. Mama said I should give you this so you’d know I meant it. It was my grandma’s.”
It’s a gold ring, with a tiny green stone perched on it.
“I thought—” I swallow. It’s hard to breathe. “I thought you said no rings until after I graduate?”
“Well, you probably shouldn’t wear it around your parents, but we can tell everybody soon enough. Here, put it on.”
He slides it onto my left hand. It’s a little tight, but it settles on my finger like that’s where it’s meant to be.
This is really happening.
This is what I’ve wanted for as long as I’ve known what it meant to want something.
My stomach is still turning over.
This is really happening.
I look at the ring on my finger, and at Jack’s happy smile.
“I love you,” Jack says.
“I love you, too,” I echo.
He kisses me again.
Five minutes ago, when I thought this was all being taken away from me, it felt like the end of the world.
But now that I have it back, I’m not so sure.
Being with Jack forever means never being with anyone else. Ever.
It means I don’t have to flirt with the immature boys at school. But it also means no one else will ever kiss me. I’ll never feel that sizzling feeling in my chest you’re supposed to feel when you kiss someone you really love.
I want to kiss someone who really makes me smile. The way Jack smiles when he tells me he loves me. Jack always smiles like he means it.
I’ve never felt that. Not even with him. I’ve always wondered what it would be like.
I stare at the gold ring on my finger.
“Shoot, I’m sorry,” Jack says. “You’re going to be late, aren’t you? For your homework project? I’ll get you to Bailey’s.” He starts up the ignition. The engine makes a spurting sound.
“Thank you,” I say when he pulls up three blocks from the drugstore. I’m not sure what I’m thanking him for. The ring? The promise?
No. I’m thanking him for taking care of me. Getting me out of where I’ve been.
That’s what I’ve always wanted. That’s what really matters.
A few heartbeats, a funny feeling—that means nothing compared to escape.
Jack is all I need. He’s more than I deserve.
I climb out of the car. Two women I recognize from church are across the street. I’m sure they saw us in the car together, but they look away.
When I walk into Bailey’s, the front of the store is empty. Judy’s already put up the sign on the lunch counter that says Thank You For Your Business, We’ll Be Back Shortly! The sign has a drawing of a smiling waitress in a uniform a lot nicer than the stained gray apron Judy wears.
I’m annoyed that she’s already gone back. I’m not that late.
I’m still twenty feet from the storage room when I hear two voices laughing.
Laughing?
I didn’t know Sarah could laugh.
The door is half-open. Now that I’m closer I can see Sarah on the other side of it. She’s wearing a soft pink dress and a broad smile. Her head is tossed back. Her long hair brushes her shoulder blades. She looks relaxed and happy and beautiful.
I don’t want her to look like that. Not when she’s alone with Judy.
I want Sarah to look at me.
I shove open the door. Judy and Sarah turn toward me, their eyes wide, their smiles falling.
“Linda, what’s that on your hand?” Judy asks. “Is that a—”
“It’s nothing.” Shoot. I should’ve known Judy would notice right away. She can be quick when she wants to be.
Sarah’s eyes dart toward my hand, too. They grow even wider. I fold my arms across my chest so the ring won’t show. I’ve got her full attention now.
“I had an idea,” I say. “If you’re so worried about your colored schools, your churches should raise money to buy new books. I bet if your people had been doing that all along instead of spending money on court cases, you’d have more books than you could even carry.”
I wait for Sarah’s eyes to flash with anger. For her to let loose with a speech about how wrong I am.
Instead, she turns back to Judy. Worse, she smiles.
“I agree, Judy,” Sarah says. “My little sister and I love Gunsmoke, and my brother’s always begging my parents to let him stay up late to watch it, but Daddy says he can’t until he’s older, but my brother says—”
“Did you hear me?” I must’ve spoken loudly, because both girls look alarmed when they turn my way. “I said—”
“I heard you.” Sarah shakes her head. She’s facing me again, but she still doesn’t look angry. Just sad. “Do you ever stop to think about the things you’re saying, Linda? Really think about them? Instead of repeating whatever your father last said to you?”
“My father didn’t say anything about this!” Now I’m angry. “It was my idea!”
“Well, you should try thinking through your own ideas.” She shakes her head again. She’s wearing a faded but pretty white cardigan with a circle pin on the collar that shimmers as she moves. She never wears makeup, but her face always looks so bright and open anyway. It makes me jealous. “If you had, you’d have realized your school doesn’t have to raise money to buy books. The state buys as many books as you need. It just doesn’t buy as many for the Negro schools.”
I frown. “You probably miscounted your students, then. Or else you lost some of the books.”
Sarah gives me a piercing look, like she can see right through me.
“I don’t think you really believe what you’re saying.” She’s talking fast again. I have to struggle to keep up. “I think you know our schools don’t get as much as yours do in the first place. And that that’s why we have half as many teachers for the same number of students. It’s why you have a brand-new school building with a gym and an auditorium and a cafeteria when we have to use one room for all three.”
“That’s not true,” I say.
It can’t be true. Can it? Surely the paper would have said so.
“Yes it is,” Sarah says. “And can I be honest with you, Linda? I think you know I’ve been telling you the truth all along. I think you just don’t like the idea of believing me.”
For the first time, I actually want to hit her.
“Is that why you’re integrating our school?” Judy asks suddenly. “Because your old school is so bad? Because it seems as though you hate Jefferson.”
Sarah doesn’t answer at first. She doesn’t roll her eyes the way she would have if I’d said something like that, either. Instead she frowns. It’s so strange, seeing her look thoughtful instead of angry.
“No,” she says. “Johns High is a wonderful school with wonderful teachers, but I’ve always been taught that it’s important to get the very best education I can. That’s why I wanted to come to Jefferson.”
She’s speaking slowly, deliberately. The way she talks in school.
But she’s still frowning.
I don’t think she believes what she’s saying, either. I think she’s repeating something someone told her to say.
Then Sarah turns and looks right at me. She still doesn’t look angry, but that flashing look is in her eyes.
“You do know, don’t you, Linda?” she says. “I really think you do.”
I shift in my seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It sounds like she’s saying I agree with her about integration. That’s why she’s confusing me, talking about how her school wasn’t as good as ours. She’s trying to make me feel mixed up. It’s working, kind of.
But that doesn’t mean I believe in integration. I couldn’t. Not with my father being who he is. Not with me being who I am.
She wants me to believe her, though.
She’s still looking straight into my eyes.
I stand up. “I have to go.”
“But we haven’t even started on the project,” Judy says. “We were supposed to finish pages eight through ten today.”
“I have to go,” I repeat. “Sorry. Leave it for me and I’ll do it during Study Hall.”
I push through the door, yanking at my left hand as I storm down the empty aisles. The ring won’t come off. When I get outside I hold my hand up to the light so I can see it better. The green stone glistens.
I have to start being more careful around Sarah.
I need to make sure she knows I haven’t changed my mind about integration or any of the rest of it. I never will. She’s wrong about everything. I can’t let her forget that.
I can’t let myself forget, either.
Lie #12
“THANK YOU, LINDA,” says Miss Jones, the school secretary, as she hands me a stamped stack of papers. “Please tell Mr. Farrell we’ll need these back from him by tomorrow morning.”
“I will,” I say. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Miss Jones smiles at me. Teachers always send me on errands to the office because they know I can be trusted to go straight there and back. A lot of girls, the ones who aren’t engaged, will sneak over to the Shop classrooms on their way to flirt with the boys during their smoke breaks, but I already have my man.
I put Jack’s ring under my pillow when I got home from Bailey’s that day two weeks ago. I take it out and look at it every night before I go to bed.
That ring means everything to me. It means soon everything that’s hard will be over, and my real life—the good one—can start. All I have to do is wait.
I smile at Miss Jones and turn to leave. The door swings open before I can reach for it. I step back in surprise.
Sarah is standing in the doorway. Her eyes go back and forth between me and Miss Jones and the half-dozen freshmen and sophomores waiting to get their excused ab
sence slips signed.
Sarah bites her lip. I’ve never seen her look this upset.
I open my mouth to ask her if she needs help. Then I close it again.
“Well, are you coming in or not?” Miss Jones asks Sarah. Her smile is long gone.
Sarah comes in and sits in one of the empty chairs, folding her hands in her lap. They’re trembling.
She must’ve been called to see the principal. I wonder why she’s so nervous. Whenever I’m called to see Mr. Cole it’s because he has a community service project he wants me to have the Deltas do, or a note he wants me to bring home to my father.
“Well come up here, then,” Miss Jones says to Sarah. “I’m not going to shout it to you.”
Sarah approaches the desk. She glances at me, then looks away fast.
I have the papers for Mr. Farrell. There’s no reason for me to be here anymore.
But Sarah’s still shaking.
I stay where I am.
“I was told to come see the principal,” Sarah says. It’s so strange, the way she talks in school. Slowly, demurely, each word calculated to sound polite and obedient.
“No you weren’t,” Miss Jones snaps. She turns away from both of us and opens a magazine. Family Circle. “Your mother called with a message. She said for you to pick up your brother at kindergarten and take him straight to the doctor. He’s sick.”
“Oh.” Sarah’s voice is barely a whisper. “Thank you for telling me.”
I wonder how sick her little brother must be for Sarah’s mother to have called the school. I got sick a lot when I was a kid, and the nurse always called my mother to come get me. One time in fifth grade I fainted, and Mom picked me up and took me straight to the hospital. I stayed there for a month.
“You should tell your mother we aren’t a messenger service,” Miss Jones says. “This is a school office. We don’t have time to get involved in people’s family troubles.”
Last year Miss Jones called me to the office and asked me to please tell my mother how much she loved the pumpkin bread I brought in for Thanksgiving. She kept me there for ten minutes talking about recipes.