A Heart Divided (6 page)

consisted of my parents’ asking Portia and me about our respective first days of school, and our monosyllabic answers. Clearly, my sister was now as unenthused about Redford as I was. But things picked up when I reported on the high school’s team name and emblem.

“The team is called the Rebels, and a Confederate flag is the emblem?” The loathing in my mom’s voice was visceral. “Did you know about this, Pete?”

“Sure didn’t,” my father said, reaching for the green beans.

I told them about Nikki’s meeting later that night. My
mom was completely supportive of my attending. “And Pete? You shouldn’t take this so casually,” she added pointedly.

I winced. It was painful to hear her reprimand him. You’d think that after eighteen years of marriage she’d realize my father was not the human dynamo she wanted him to be.

After dinner, I did some homework, then called Lillith. But all I got was voice mail. Nikki’s meeting didn’t start for another hour. I couldn’t motivate myself to read a play, much less write one, so I puttered around my room for a while and then went downstairs. Portia was watching TV in the family room. I settled in on the couch next to her.

“God, look how thin that girl is.” My sister sighed at the blond female lead dressing for a date on some insipid sitcom. “I’m a pig compared to her.”

“You’re not a pig.”

Portia wrapped her arms around her knees. “No one even talked to me all day, Kate. No one here likes me.”

“They can’t not like you, they don’t even know you.”

“Studies have shown that first impressions are lasting impressions.”

Where did she get these things?
“Studies?”
I echoed.

“I read it in
Psychology Today.
This article said there’s an invisible line between the cool kids and the dorks, and even though you can’t see it, everyone knows it’s there. Well, the coolest girl in my grade, Madison, decided that I’m on the wrong side of the line.”

I was still marveling that a sixth grader was reading
Psychology Today.
As for this so-called cool girl, Madison, I felt like smacking her. Who was she to judge my wonderful, original, quirky little sister?

A commercial came on, and I channel-surfed—a televangelist, a former-someone-now-a-no-one hawking weight-loss products, country music videos.

“Go back to the weight-loss thingie,” Portia demanded.

“It’s a scam, Porsche.”

“Easy for you to say.” She bit at her lower lip. “Today, I answered a lot of questions in class. Everyone saw that I’m smart.”

“That’s good.”

“No, that’s bad. Madison mouthed ‘Shut up’ at me, and then her friends all laughed.” She squeezed a pillow to her chest. “If only I could lose ten pounds. And get invisible braces. And new clothes. Cool girls here don’t wear jeans to school.”

Her litany of woe was getting irritating. “Go wild,” I said. “Start a trend.”

“You can’t start a trend when you’re the dork and you know it. Oh, never mind.” She leaned back despondently on the couch.

I checked my watch. If I wanted to go to Nikki’s meeting, I had to leave. But Portia looked like she was about to cry. “Listen, Porsche, how about if we go to the mall this weekend, and I’ll help you find some cute things, okay?”

“What mall?”

“I don’t know. There’s got to be one around here somewhere.”

“′Kay.” She looked up at me. “Thanks.”

Sometimes it was great being the big sister. “You’re welcome.”

Columbia Pike Baptist Church was on the state highway between Redford and Franklin. A white, wood-framed structure, it was tiny compared to the huge Unitarian church we’d attended in Englecliff.

Not wanting to arrive too early, I ended up arriving late; the meeting had already started. I slipped into a back pew. About twenty kids sat scattered around the church. Only a handful were white. Jack Redford wasn’t one of them.

Nikki stood on the raised pulpit, addressing the group. “This town is changing, and the powers that be can’t stop that.”

“They’re sure as hell gonna try,” a handsome guy down front said.

“Then we’ll just try harder,” Nikki insisted. “I met with McSorley after school today—”

Derisive comments and laughter rippled through the group. Paul McSorley was the high school’s principal. I’d seen him in action at a brief end-of-the-first-day assembly. He wore a short-sleeve dress shirt with a tie, had an unfortunate
comb-over, and used words like “swell” and “super” a lot.

Nikki waved her hand to quiet the group down. “McSorley told me that if two-thirds of the student body signs a petition, we can vote on whether to change the team name and emblem.”

“How’re y’all gonna get that many signatures?” a white girl with jet-black hair and a pierced eyebrow called out. Her name was Savy I recognized her from my American history class.

“We hit the fairness issue,” was Nikki’s comeback. “Tell people that signing doesn’t necessarily mean they want to change things. It just means they agree that it’s fair to have a vote on it.”

There were murmurs around the chapel as people discussed this. Nikki waited for everyone to quiet down before she started again. “There is one more thing. McSorley gave us a deadline. Six weeks.”

Everyone began talking at once. A skinny guy’s angry drawl rose above the cacophony. “I’ll tell y’all what this is really about. McSorley’s fixing to run for town council, and he’s afraid to piss off the black voters. This way he can say he gave us a chance to get up a petition and still make sure it fails.”

“What did you think, he’d roll out the red carpet and invite y’all down it?” a deep voice boomed from behind me. Everyone turned; a portly, middle-aged black man in a white shirt and dark tie stood in the back of the church.

Though he wasn’t very tall, his commanding presence made him seem so.

“Hey, Daddy,” Nikki called. Seeing Reverend Lucas Roberts for the first time made me realize that Nikki’s twin brother wasn’t there.

Reverend Roberts came down the aisle. “I don’t want to steal my daughter’s thunder,” he told us, flashing a smile that looked just like Nikki’s. “So I’ll say my piece and get gone. Your school principal is only the first obstacle you’ll face. Victory won’t be handed to you just because you’re right.”

“Then we’ll
take it!”
a boy shouted, his fist raised. There were shouts of agreement.

“Wiser men than you have trod that path, son,” Reverend Roberts advised. “And failed. Your fists will not bring them down. But if you stay strong, you can prevail. I’ll let y’all get on with your meeting now.”

Her father departed, and Nikki laid out a plan. She’d already created a petition. Each of us would be responsible for getting a certain number of signatures. We’d have to work at it hard. But if everyone pitched in, we could make McSorley’s deadline.

There was a surge of energy in the room. That was the first time I saw Nikki in action, and she was inspirational. I felt good about myself in a way I hadn’t since I’d learned we were moving to Tennessee.

That’s when the idea jumped into my head. I knew I couldn’t lead people like Nikki could, but maybe I could move them in another way. What if I wrote a play about
Redford High School and the Confederate flag? It would be serious, important. I’d send it to Marcus; he’d see how deep my writing could be. Plus, I’d get Miss Bright to give me credit for doing it.

Perfect.

As soon as I got home, I sat down at my computer. I got the title immediately—
Black and White and Redford All Over—
and started writing like a demon.

After five nonstop hours, I went back to consider my brilliance.

For once, a serious play of mine didn’t read like a bad version of some other writer. Instead, it was worse; trite, pedantic, and strident, with not one honest emotion.

Marcus was right; I couldn’t write what I didn’t know. And when it came to how people in Redford really felt about the Confederate flag, I definitely did not know. With two keystrokes I highlighted everything I’d written; with a third I deleted it. The empty screen seemed fitting: as blank as me.

according to Lillith made my butt look edible, I lolled against the wall outside Miss Bright’s room, waiting for Jack. I’d timed it right. Moments later, he came down the hall, laughing with another guy. His friend was shorter, with dark hair and the muscular build of a football player. Jack’s eyes lit up when he noticed me. “Hey, Kate.”