“Yes, Mr. Peet. Thank you for taking Hope. She needs to get out a little more and spend less time with her nose in her books.”
I didn’t say anything, but could feel my blood brewing underneath my skin. If this was going to be a time to poke fun at me, then we needed to get inside the house as quickly as possible.
“Oh, it was my pleasure. You should’ve gone with us. Three southern belles are always better than two.”
“Maybe next time.” Mags voice was polite, but impatient.
“Well, we’d better get going.” Mr. Peet’s hands fell upon Lizzy’s shoulder as if he was signaling to her that it was time to say her goodbyes. “Hope, thanks again for coming along. Margaret, it’s a pleasure meeting you. You have a good kid there.”
“Thanks for going, Hope. It wouldn’t have been as much fun without you.”
“Thanks for inviting me, Lizzy. See you at school on Monday.”
“Will do.” Lizzy waived as they took an 1860s stroll back to their 2005 SUV. Mags and I waived one more time before we withdrew into the house.
“Well, did you have a good time?” Mags asked as we entered the living room.
“I guess so,” I answered, content.
“Good,” she answered and smiled a bit as she made her way into the small kitchen to make her a cup of coffee, giving me a portentous feeling that she was hiding something from me.
“What is it?”
“Oh, nothing,” she mused.
“What? What happened?”
Mags walked back into the living room and curled up on the sofa next to me, making sure not to sit on my hoop as she did. “I saw you on television,” she snickered.
“What?”
“Yes, I watched the parade and they had a close up of you in that get up.” The floodgates opened as the laughter spilled into the room. Why was my humiliation so funny? I didn’t know what to say, but just sat there with my mouth ajar. Mags must have realized that she’d hurt my feelings for she cut off her mirth quickly. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I just expected that the first time I’d see you on T.V. would be by curing cancer or feeding a bunch of starving children or something, not dressing up like Scarlet O’Hara.” She gave me a pat on my shoulder as if to say everything was going to be all right. “Come on, why don’t you change out of that outlandish clothing and we will go rent a movie or do something fun?”
I sighed. She was probably right. I didn’t fit in with a bunch of Civil War reenactors, just like I didn’t fit in with most the students at school. Even Mags and I were total opposites, sharing the same blood. My cohesiveness had always been with my family, my real family. They were my rock, my centerpiece. Everywhere else I stuck out like a sore thumb, a drifter in and out of people’s lives, but never living my own. How long would it last, or better yet, how long could I endure it lasting?
With another sigh, I lifted myself off the sofa to go change. Mags may have gotten her entertainment of the day watching me make a fool of myself as an 1860s southern belle, but maybe I could rectify the rest of the weekend before school on Monday.
School! Holy cow! How many of them saw me on the stupid television? What can of worms had I opened? Crap!
Chapter Six
The weekend was over before we knew it. Mags and I did enjoy a couple of movies on the sofa together and a lazy Sunday to boot.
Oh Jeez, another Southern saying.
Mags had to go back to work on Monday, but I was able to stay home with it being Martin Luther King Day and all, finishing a little homework and reading a couple chapters for history. I wonder what King would have thought about the hobby that I’d dipped my toe into over that weekend? Did they have Civil War reenactments going on in the early 1960s as the centennial celebration of the Civil War rolled around, the same time that African Americans were boycotting buses and having sit-ins in restaurants to earn their freedoms in the same country? The thought just didn’t seem right, promoting a war over slavery that killed hundreds of thousands of people while those same freedmen, twice or three times removed, were struggling again for their own liberties. Jeez, only in America.
We were now headed back to Jimmy Carter and the rituals of the weekday. I stayed off Facebook, not that I used it that much. Usually the weekend allowed me a few moments to give it a glance. But my fear was that, like Mags, others had seen my fifteen seconds of fame in the Stock Show Parade. I would have felt less embarrassed had I been riding a big longhorn cow while wearing a miniature cowboy hat. At least with that, I wouldn’t have heard me compared to Scarlet O’Hara anymore. She didn’t even have red hair, did she?
First period speech class was a bust. This week, being short with only four days, the teacher decided that we should give our informative speeches. I sat through a speech about “why hunting is fun” and “peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are yummy” before considering taking a nap on my desk.
“Hope Kilpatrick, you are up next,” noted the teacher, giving me three minutes to prepare. Oh, jeez. Did I really have to do this? There was no way I could follow camouflage-boy and the butter-spreader. I had tried way too hard on this assignment from what it sounded like. My speech was about a little known tribe of Native Americans that were still living alone in the rain forests of South America. To the rest of the class, my speech was probably going to fall quite far behind the kid making a “ka-boom” sound when he shot his first deer. Think, Hope, think. Should I go there? I closed my eyes and sighed, stepping up to the podium to begin my speech. “Today, I am going to tell you about Civil War reenacting.”
I was? What the heck did I know about the topic? Shoot! You had an easy, yet boring, ‘A’ with the speech you did, why change now? Ugh! Just go with it.
“This last weekend I participated in the Ft. Worth Stock Show Parade with a group of Texas infantry Civil War reenactors. They dress up in fake clothing of the time period from head to toe, wearing boots, wool uniforms and hats, and even carry a wooden rifle. The Stock Show Parade is just one aspect of what they do.” Do I know anymore? “They also go to Civil War reenactments across the state. The first one of this season is going to be held in Madisonville in just a few weeks. There, reenactors will pretend to be back in Civil War times, camping out and fighting in battles.
“This Texas infantry unit allows women and children to play a role in the reenactments as well, even though they seldom went to war with soldiers during the actual Civil War.”
Jeez, I was on a roll over something I cared little for, other than getting the extra credit in Mr. Peet’s class. I continued my oratory over the topic, seeing students actually paying attention to what I had to say. Who cared about some long lost Native Americans anyway? I was talking about war, guns, marching, camping, with a few hoop skirts thrown in for the girls. I was sure these rednecks were eating it up. When my speech came to an end, the teacher asked if anyone had any questions. A few hands went up.
“So how do they know when they get shot out there?”
“Um, it’s like a play. They have it choreographed from the beginning, knowing who lives and who dies.” Another hand shot up. “Yes, you.”
“So they do this on the weekend?”
“Yes, on Saturday and Sunday.” Makes sense. “And one final one, you.”
“How many reenactments have you been to?”
Crap! Why that question, kid? “A couple. Back at home before I moved here.” Really? I had hardly ever heard of this weird hobby before I traveled south of the Mason-Dixon Line. My only knowledge of it was that Reece Witherspoon hopped over a bunch of dead soldiers in that Sweet Home Alabama movie. Was it really something like that?
“Well, that was a very good assessment of a hobby that might be unfamiliar to our students. Thank you, Hope. You may take a seat,” the teacher said with a few of the students clapping. Not bad for just coming up with it in the last moment. This Civil War thing was paying off.
“Mr. Arnold, you are next.” Slowly the next student rose and headed for the podium, taking his allotte
d three minutes to prepare.
“Today, I am going to inform the class about a wonderful hobby of my father’s and mine: coin collecting.”
Oh great.
I met Lizzy at our convenient little table for lunch. As always, she was already sitting when I got there, my corn dogs and cream corn weighing heavy on the tray.
“Hey, Lizzy, how are you today?”
“Oh, not too bad. I was glad to have yesterday off, though. That parade took more out of me than I thought it did. How was the rest of your weekend?”
“It was, well, boring. I didn’t do much, but I was pretty happy with that. So do you do the parade every year?”
“Mmm, this was my third. Dad has been in the hobby for God knows how long. It’s a fun way for us to get out together.” She smiled.
“That’s cool, so you just grew up doing this?”
“For the most part. It’s just something I’ve been used to going to, not really a big part of my life, but it’s fun for dad and he likes me coming with him.”
“What about that Hunter? He looked like he might be a bigger part of your life.”
This was coy of me, but I wanted to see if I had picked up on something or just misread the entire situation. From Lizzy’s reddening face, I knew I was on track.
“He is just...a friend. We both grew up reenacting together with our dads. We go to dances and stuff.” I could tell there was more, but she changed the subject on me before I knew it.
“So what did you think of the whole experience? Did you have fun?”
“I guess. I mean, it was all new to me, and I wished you would have picked out a dress that covered a little more up top than the one I wore, but yes, it was pretty fun.”
“You did look good in it, no matter what you say.”
“Thanks, but I’m not sure I’ll be wearing it again.”
“Why not? It isn’t because of the guys whooping and hollering at you, is it? They were just showing you how beautiful you were.”
“No, no, not at all. It’s just that, I don’t know. It’s not something I ever saw myself participating in.” Lizzy’s look of confusion allowed me to continue. “I mean, everyone there treated me very nice and I enjoyed the new experience, but I’ve never been camping before in my life.” Jeez, what an excuse. It was true, but it didn’t sound very convincing
“Is that all? Well, that’s no big deal.”
I shrugged, only being able to agree. It wasn’t like she was asking me to go out reenacting at that moment. Why couldn’t I just be nice and say maybe I would or something of that sort? She basically did that for me.
“But the door is always open. And you never know. You might enjoy yourself.”
That was something I hadn’t really done in a long time, at least since the accident. I was still going through Kubler-Ross and Kessler’s five stages of grief. Denial had come quickly and passed in the blink of an eye with the two patrolmen at my door. Anger had ridden its back and was gone before I knew it. The only bargaining I gave was in my own mind, wishing many moments that I should have joined them in the wreck. But now, and since the funeral, I was stuck in stage four, depression, and I wasn’t going anywhere. Enjoyment wasn’t on the list and it wasn’t really something I could look into having for a long time. Even my classics now were used more as an escape to find a way out of this miserable world that took my family away. It allowed me to dive into another life, like a movie or TV show. The last stage was acceptance. See you in about fifty years.
“Thanks, and I’ll keep it in mind. You never know, I might just get way too bored and need something to do on the weekend.”
That made Lizzy smile, glad that I was even considering going out with them again. But that would give me a chance to see Jason again, even if it was only to see him. I still couldn’t believe that we sat all the way through lunch and their little reenacting meeting and didn’t say a word to one another. Maybe he was stuck in stage four, too.
“Oh, I forgot to show you something.” Lizzy whipped out her phone and flung a few images around, finally holding it up to me. “It was a broadcast on channel eight from Saturday.”
Oh, Jeez. Mags mocked me about it on Saturday when I got home, but now the whole image of me in some hoop skirt was going to play right before my eyes. It started off grainy with the soldiers passing by the camera and then there we were in all our finest, me looking like a frightened child and Lizzy taking in all the glory with her wave.
“We were on live TV and then again on the news that night. Can you believe that?”
“Yeah, great,” I weakly responded, my face turning red all over again.
“Hope, you really were beautiful,” she said, complimenting me again.
“Thanks, I just worry about if anyone else saw it.”
“Who cares if they did?”
“Well, me.”
It was as if the seventeen-second footage of us brought the bullies from their table to ours. I looked up to see three of them standing around Lizzy and she gazed at the ones who stood around me.
“Hey.”
It was Jody’s voice from beside me, glowering down upon us. “We saw you two jerks on television on Saturday. We just wanted to say that you looked stupid in those get-ups of yours. But at least yours covered most everything up, Peet. Not like the tramp over here, letting it all hang out.”
I could feel the adrenaline begin to pump in my veins, but I knew if I stood, there might be an altercation, one in which I would probably get in trouble. Still, although I didn’t mind them talking about me, it really angered me to hear them go after Lizzy.
“Yeah,” I returned, “well I’d rather be seen in that costume than have your face.” Yes, it was a childish thing to say, but I had to say something.
“You hussy, why don’t you stand up and say that?”
Screw it! I stood up matching Jody eye for eye, but my tone was a tad more affable. “Please, just leave us alone. We weren’t bothering you at all.”
“We weren’t bothering you at all,” she mocked. “You bothered me as soon as you set foot on my campus.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, orphan, that’s so. I warned you about talking to Brad and if we weren’t in the middle of lunch, I’d beat the living crap out of you.”
“He sat next to me in ISS.”
“I know. It’s always some excuse with you. ‘He helped me up. He sat next to me.’ You were the one sitting on his lap during P.E. You are the one causing all the arguments we are having.”
I stared at her defiantly, waiting for the next shot. Whether it was going to be physical or emotional, I didn’t know. “Why don’t you go home, orphan? Go back and scrape up what was left of your life off the road.”
Her words were powerful. Before it was just a diatribe of anger and frustration spewing from her lips, but here she was calm, cool, and collected, like she had practiced that sentence for days. It was these well-planned attacks that hurt. You could always take people cursing at you or saying foolish things, because in essence, that’s what they were behaving like. You could chalk up their resentment to just being stupid or having an anger issue. But these attacks, the delicate ones, made you feel small, weak, and defenseless. With those words, it was as if Jody grew three feet taller and looked down on me as the manure I had been compared to already. “Oh, by the way, you punch like a pathetic wimp.” She smirked and then it was over. They had established their dominance over me, over Lizzy, and then quickly fell back to their table, like fighting a guerilla army that I couldn’t see and leaving me standing there emotionally destroyed.
“Hope, are you okay?” Lizzy asked after a moment.
I looked down at her. “I can’t do this anymore.” I sat, feeling the wind being sucked out of my chest. I’m not going to cry.
“You don’t have to. Why don’t we talk to my dad after school and tell him what’s going on?”
The thought had traced through my mind before, back when I was waiting to be punished for
my punch, which didn’t seem to faze Jody at all, besides a bogus fall to the floor for effect. I had hoped that at least taking a stand like that would have brought the matter to a close, but it didn’t. Was I going to have to get a teacher, the administration on my side before anything would be done? The bell rang distracting me from the thought.
“Let’s just get our stuff and go to class.” We took our trays over to the trashcans and dumped the remnants of today’s lunch within them, then headed back to our little table to retrieve our instruments and notebooks. Music was next and both Lizzy and I had gotten into the habit of bringing our instruments to lunch so we wouldn’t have to go back and get them from our lockers. The walk there was mostly in silence, although it did allow me to cool down from the latest encounter with Jody.
“Don’t worry, Hope. We can go see my dad after school. He always knows what to do,” Lizzy commented, giving me a caring eye before making her way across the room to her seat.
We both used the few moments before class to practice our movements for the classic work that Mrs. Appleton was sure to make us play. I was trying my best to get my mind off Jody, who was now sitting in the back of the room. My bow hung over the strings of the violin as I moved it back and forth, playing the music in my mind, but my mind was questioning whether I should stay or go back to New York. This girl was already making my life hard as heck. Maybe I should just beat it out of town. Slowly, the bow fell upon the strings, but it wasn’t the classics I was playing. The sound was deep, penetrating, and then I came back with a slow high pitch. The feeling of eyes on me only added to what I wanted to play. The opening chord of Michael Jackson’s Beat It began to come to life. I never played it before, but its notes floated off my instrument energetically. Making a quick glance across the room, I saw a grin on Lizzy’s face. She immediately picked up her cornet and began to join in on the oh-so famous music. Other students looked at us and began to play along. We knew the song by heart and it was leaping out of our fingertips. A short guy in the front row, I don’t remember his name, but he leaped up in front of everyone.
Finding Hope in Texas Page 11