Eighty and Out (2 page)

The first week of school, there was tension in the air. Bernice and I took a seat in our classroom as a few colored kids arrived and sat at desks in the back. Mrs. Jenkins looked nervous. Her eyes darted around the room, and as she wrote her name on the chalkboard, she accidentally bumped the eraser with her hip and it fell to the ground, sending white powder into the air. A couple boys snickered, and she quickly turned, trying to figure out who had mocked her but couldn’t as they’d all become blank-faced.

“Okay. Settle down everyone. We need to take attendance,” she said.

Mrs. Jenkins called our names one by one, and afterward she asked everyone to write an essay about what they did over the summer.

“Yes?” Mrs. Jenkins said to the new colored girl who had raised her hand.

Everyone stared at the girl.

“I don’t have a pencil,” she said. “I forgot to bring one.”

She made eye contact with me, and I instinctively rose and handed her the extra one I had.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem,” I replied.

I sat back down and caught Frankie glaring at me. Apparently he had a problem with my not having a problem. I held his gaze and smirked, making it clear I wasn’t looking for his approval. I began writing the essay, describing in vivid detail the highs and lows of my summer. Mrs. Jenkins came around and collected it when everyone had finished.

I played tag at recess with Bernice and some other kids. As I ran to tell the other girl “you’re it,” I saw the colored girl from our classroom sitting on a swing by herself. She was staring at the ground, looking lonely.

When there was a pause in the game, I ran over to her. “Do you want to play with us?” I asked.

“Okay,” she said, smiling brightly. We ran back to the group to start another round.

“Sandy is going to play with us,” I said. “Who wants to be it this time?”

My question was greeted with silence. The other kids just glanced at each other and wordlessly walked away. Stunned by their response, I suddenly wished I hadn’t invited her. I was just trying to be nice, not make my friends mad at me.

Bernice was the only one who stayed, but she didn’t look happy about it.

“I’ll be it,” Bernice finally said, stepping forward.

I nodded, thankful she’d put herself on the line so I wouldn’t look foolish in front of Sandy, who stood next to me showing no outward sign of how she felt inside.

Bernice shouted “Go!” and Sandy and I took off running across the empty field. The sound of chirping birds mixed with our laughter made me smile. The sun was blinding and bright, and I soaked it up, enjoying the warmth and the joy of the moment. But when I went to shield my eyes, I noticed a group of kids watching the developing scene with displeasure. A few teachers also looked on with folded arms and some kind of quiet judgment.

On the way home from school, Frankie caught up with me. His plump face was twisted in anger.

“You think you’re real smart, don’t you?” he said.

I grinned. “Well, my grades are above average. Not straight A’s, but—”

“Cut the crap, Lou. You’re treading into dangerous territory.”

I laughed. “Those are some big words, Frank. Did you read that line in a
Superman
comic? You can read, can’t you?”

Frankie pushed me, and the books I was carrying fell into the street. “I don’t have to listen to this shit. You’re the one that’s going to lose all your friends. Then let’s see how smart you are.”

I tried to think up a witty comeback as he walked away but couldn’t. He left with his head held high as I was forced to gather my things from the dirty pavement. When I had finished collecting them, I noticed a few of the girls in my classroom passing by on their way home. I smiled at them, but they ignored me. Then they began whispering.

My stomach tightened. Maybe Frankie was right.

I felt down all during dinner, so after helping with the dishes, I decided to join my sister in the backyard to play, hoping that might cheer me up. She was on a cartwheel kick, but I didn’t care for them much so I stood off to the side, wondering how many she could do before she wiped out. It didn’t take long for my sadness to evaporate. Jeannie was really good at cartwheels – and she was having a ton of fun. It was kind of hard not to get caught up in that.

We played hide and seek for a while after that and then came inside and collapsed on the sofa.

“Go get your brush,” I told her. “Your hair is a mess.” It wasn’t that messy, but I knew she liked to fuss over it and figured I’d indulge her. Plus I was enjoying hanging out with her. She didn’t judge me or criticize me like the other kids.

Jeannie grabbed the brush from her room, and we went to the kitchen. She had just taken a seat when Mom turned and said, “Not at the table.” Jeannie and I got up and marched to the bedroom, where I began gently removing the tangles from the bottom before working my way up.

“Are you really gonna get married and move out west?” Jeannie asked out of the blue.

“I hope so,” I answered, surprised she had remembered my daydream. I finished smoothing the last of her locks and handed the brush back to her. “Why do you ask?”

She turned to me, looking like she was about to cry. “Because I don’t want you to move away. I would miss you.”

Her admission tugged at my heart, and I gave her a hug. “Don’t worry,” I said. “If I move there you can come visit all the time. I’ll be rich, so you’ll have your own room, your own horse.”

“I like horses,” she said in a small voice.

“See. Nothing to be sad about. We’ll always be together, no matter what.”

Jeannie smiled. And just like that, her worries seemed to be forgotten. Later that night, I lay in bed awake, my mind heavy with concerns of my own. I was haunted by Frankie’s comment. I didn’t want to become an outcast and lose my friends over Sandy. She meant nothing to me compared to them, but I felt it was unfair I had to choose.

Over the next few months, I distanced myself from Sandy. I was polite to her but didn’t invite her to play at recess and didn’t show her any extra kindness. This made me feel terrible in those moments when I imagined what it must be like to be in her shoes. Sure, the other kids warmed up to me again, but rejecting Sandy still made me feel bad.

I spent a lot of time hanging out at Bernice’s on Christmas break. Her mom had become obsessed with baking pies, and we’d both become willing taste testers.

While enjoying a slice, I said to Bernice, “Tell me more about your uncle who was an author.”

She gulped her milk. “You want to know about him or the novel he wrote?”

“Both,” I said and took another bite of pie.

Bernice rose and grabbed a book off the shelf. “Here,” she said, handing it to me. I read the title:
High Desert Love
by Judith Johnson.

“Wait a minute. I thought you said your uncle wrote this.”

“He did. Judith Johnson is a pen name. My mom said he thought the book would sell better if readers thought a woman had written it.”

“Huh,” I said. “Smart.”

I turned it over and read the description:
A sweeping tale of romance amidst the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.
High Desert Love
tells the story of one woman’s journey out west, and the chance encounter that changes her destiny.

“This story is set in the west?” I asked, suddenly intrigued. I hadn’t told Bernice my dream. Only my sister knew.

“Yeah. My uncle lived in Santa Fe, New Mexico, so that’s where he set the novel.”

I held the book in my hand. I was dying to read it even though it was for grown-ups. “Did you ever meet him?” I asked.

“Once, when I was little, but I don’t remember much about him other than he reeked of alcohol.”

“Oh,” I replied. “I thought he might’ve had a more interesting story.”

Bernice’s mom came into the room and took our plates. “He’s got an interesting story all right,” she joked. “Your aunt’s the best one to tell it.”

I eyed Bernice. “Your aunt?” She’d never mentioned her aunt.

“Yeah. I’m going to visit her next summer.”

“In Santa Fe?”

“Yep. She’s got a ranch out there, and she invited me to stay for a few weeks.”

I was instantly jealous.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Bernice suggested. “It would be so much fun.”

I tsked. “My parents would never let that happen.”

“You never know,” Bernice said. “Try kissing up to them for a few months. They might say yes.”

Mom, Dad, Jeannie, and I rang in the New Year with Guy Lombardo and his big band, enjoying it for the first time on TV. Mom had put out a tray of appetizers, which we nibbled on while watching the show and sipping our drinks – champagne flutes for them and apple juice in fancy cups for Jeannie and me. When a song Mom and Dad really liked came on, they started dancing. Jeannie and I attempted to dance too, but we didn’t know the right steps, so we just ended up shimmying and giggling while making silly faces at each other.

The next day brought the new and improved me. The me who would do whatever it took to schmooze my parents into letting me go with Bernice to Santa Fe next summer. Mom complained of a headache in the morning, so I offered to do the dishes after breakfast so she could rest. At dinnertime I set the table, and I could feel her studying me, probably trying to figure out what was going on. I thought she might say something, but she didn’t. She just continued watching me without comment.

Three weeks later, after I’d done a myriad of chores without being asked, turned in all my homework, and had come home on time every day, I was certain I’d made inroads into my parents’ good graces. The time seemed right to launch into my travel campaign.

Mom and Dad were sitting on the sofa discussing Aunt Violet while Jeannie played with her doll nearby, so I joined them, pretending to be interested in their conversation. When they had finished talking, I glanced at my mom and casually said, “Did you know Bernice’s uncle wrote a romance novel?”

Mom looked intrigued. “No. I didn’t.” She held my gaze, waiting for me to say more, but as she stared, it felt like her eyes were boring holes into my skull, like she already knew my master plan.

“Yeah. Bernice said he wrote it under a pen name, so people would think he was a woman,” I added.

“Weird,” Jeannie blurted.

I shot her a look that said “Zip it,” then turned back to Mom and smiled. “The book is called
High Desert Love
. It’s set in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where he used to live.”

My words sounded stilted, like I was reading a prepared speech. My hands felt clammy as I eyed my mom, hoping she couldn’t tell how nervous I was.

“Used to live?” Dad asked, helping me without knowing it.

“Yeah. He died, but Bernice’s aunt still lives there. She’s got a big ranch with horses, and she invited Bernice to come visit her for a few weeks next summer. She said I was welcome to come, too,” I mentioned like it was no big deal.

Mom and Dad glanced at each other. I could see I’d thrown them a curveball. Jeannie’s eyes grew wide as she realized the importance of what I had just said, but I nodded at her ever so slightly, warning her to keep quiet.

“Well, that was very nice of Bernice’s aunt to offer, but we couldn’t afford to send you there,” Mom said.

I’d already anticipated her response and was ready with a reply. “It’s not going to cost anything because Bernice and her parents are driving there. I’d just be an extra person in the car.”

Mom mulled over the idea, her expression unsure. “But we don’t know Bernice’s aunt. We’ve never even met her, and you’ll only be twelve this summer.”

I turned to Dad. “We’ll think about it,” he said, raising his eyebrows, which meant we were done talking about it for now.

At dinner I was quiet, my mind busy working on trying to find a new angle that would get them to let me go, but I was out of ideas. I went to my room and pouted afterward, certain my life was ruined.

I told Bernice all about it the next day. “Don’t worry,” she said. “They may still let you go. Just stay on your best behavior.”

Being good was exhausting. But it was worth a shot.

For the next few months I was a model child. It went against my nature, but I pretended I was playing a part in a movie. Dad told me Mom was warming up to the trip idea, especially since he had mentioned it would be a great experience for me to have as a child. The only thing she was against was me being in another state with a stranger.

“Your mom could talk to my aunt,” Bernice said when I told her the latest. “Just let me know and I’ll mention it to my mom.”

I nodded, planning on running it by my dad when I got home. I glanced at the book in her hand.

“So why do you want to learn Spanish?” I asked. We already had enough homework.

“Because in New Mexico half the people are Hispanic and speak Spanish. And my parents thought it would be fun to be able to communicate in both languages.”

It sounded to me like her parents were tricking her into doing more work. But Bernice seemed interested, so I was interested, too.

“Hola. Como estas?”
I repeated after Bernice had said it. We didn’t know if we were saying it right.

“Bien. Y usted?”
We both said multiple times. Then we practiced the lines on each other.

Bernice’s mom checked in on us.

“Boy. You two sound good,” she complimented. “Keep it up.”

After she left, I asked, “Does your mom speak Spanish?”

“No.”

“Then how does she know we sound good?”

“She doesn’t. She’s just saying that because she’s happy were learning.”

I thought her mom was odd, but she baked yummy pies and cookies, so I didn’t fault her for being a little weird.

“How do you say horse in Spanish?” I asked Bernice when we were finished with the lesson.

She grabbed the Spanish/English dictionary and looked it up.
“El caballo.”

It sounded nice. Later, as I rode my bike home, I repeated it over and over in my head. I burst through the front door and shouted,
“El caballo!”

Dad lowered his paper and eyed me. “What’s that?”

“It’s Spanish for horse.”

“That’s nice, dear,” he replied. He lifted his paper and continued reading, oblivious to my dream of living out west, riding into the sunset with Maximilian. But why would he act any differently? I’d never told him my dream. I’d only told Jeannie.

That’s when the light bulb went on.

When Mom came to tuck me in that night, I sat up straight and said, “You know how I want to go with Bernice to New Mexico this summer?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“Well, I never told you why it’s so important to me.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “Tell me why you think it’s so important.”

“Because it’s my destiny,” I said. “Ever since I was little, I’ve dreamt of moving out west. I want to live on a ranch and have a black horse named Maximilian.”

Mom giggled. “Wherever did you get such an idea?” she asked, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I just know it’s my fate.”

Mom’s expression turned serious. “Well, that may be true, honey. You may move out west and live on a ranch when you grow up, but I don’t see how it has anything to do with going on the trip with Bernice.”

“Don’t you see,” I said, locking eyes with her. “This is how it starts. Think about it. I’ve never met anyone who lives out west, yet I know I’ll end up there. And now Bernice happens to have an aunt who lives on a ranch out west, and she invites both of us to visit.”

She still looked unconvinced.

“Don’t you see, if I don’t go on this trip, there’s a chance my whole life could be thrown off course.”

Mom was quiet for a moment before she took a deep breath. “I know it seems like some kind of omen that you’ve been invited to Bernice’s aunt’s house, but you’re just too young to go. It would be different if your dad and I were going too, but we’re not. We don’t know Bernice’s aunt. We barely know Bernice’s parents.”

My heart sank. She reached for my face, using her fingers to lift my chin. “I’m not saying Bernice’s aunt isn’t a nice lady. I’m sure she’s wonderful, and it was kind of her to invite you, but I can’t allow you to go on a trip across the country. Not this time.”

My world was being crushed.

I started crying. Mom frowned, like she felt my pain and cared, then reached for me and gave me a hug.

“Don’t get so upset,” she said while rubbing my back. “I’m sure Bernice’s aunt will invite you again. When you’re older.”

When she left I lay down and continued sobbing. What if there never was a next time? What if this was my only chance and I was missing it? I resented living in a world where I was told what to do, and vowed never to do that to my own children.