Finding Hope in Texas (10 page)

“Yes.”

“And did the students give their annual
disinterested turn-him-down look?”

“Well, yes, but I was thinking about going. I
mean, it is for extra credit.”

“You? You want to walk in a two-mile parade
dodging horse crap in the chilly weather while wearing a hoop skirt
for some extra credit? Jeez, you’re a better student than I
am.”

“I would have to dress up in a what?” I was
confused. I’d seen the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade a thousand times,
but no one ever wore that.

“A hoop skirt. I will be in one, or at least
a camp dress. We follow behind the soldiers as they march.”

“Your dad is a soldier?”

“Well, not a real soldier, silly. He’s a
Civil War reenactor. He and his unit will be in their Confederate
uniforms marching in the parade.”

My mouth made an
oh
motion as a light
bulb went off in my head. Mr. Peet was a reenactor, one of those
Sweet Home Alabama
people. That’s why Lizzy mentioned his
musket before.

“Yeah, doesn’t make a lot of sense to me
either, since Cow Town is about the cowboys, Indians, and cattle
drives, but hey, the crowd seems to enjoy it.”

“So you march along with them?”

“It’s not really marching, it’s more like
briskly walking. Were you really thinking about going?” she asked
as though she was skeptical, then redirected herself. “I mean that
would be cool if you are, it would give me someone to hang out
with.”

I fished out the permission slip with my
signature to show that I really meant to go. “Mr. Peet only handed
them out today. I’ll get my guardian’s signature after school and
give it back to him.” The word
guardian
stuck in my throat
longer than I wanted it to, like Mags was the Kevin Costner to my
Whitney Houston. They should really change the wording to
official adult that is subject to provide for your most basic
needs
, but I guessed that would be pretty long. Viewing the
document, Lizzy pulled a piece of paper from her notebook and
scribbled something onto it.

“This is my phone number. Text me this
evening and I’ll make sure Dad comes by to pick you up. He is
forgetful about these sorts of things when he’s going off to the
1860s. You do know we’ll have to pick you up early to get across
the Metroplex in time for the parade, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I figured as much. What time will that
be?”

“Oh, I’m guessing around five-thirty in the
morning or so. I’ll just meet you in Dad’s room after school and he
can tell you all the details.”

“Okay, thank you.”

We continued to talk about school, Jody, and
music as we scarfed down our ravioli. Lizzy told me that she wanted
to do something in music or science someday, besides teach it,
although her dad mentioned from time to time she would be a good
teacher. But she knew from her dad that teachers didn’t make much
money, although it did give you weekends, holidays, and summers
off. I really didn’t know what you could do with having a Texas
summer off. The weather was so unreliable in the winter, but Mags
had mentioned that it was hotter than fire in the summer. Still, it
was neat to see someone else, like her father, following her
passion in doing the things she loved. She asked what I wanted to
do with my life.

“I wanted to... I wanted to be a lawyer
someday, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen anymore.” I looked
down at the ravioli on my tray that seemed to be staring back at me
in a cheerless expression.

“Why not? I’m sure you could do it.”

I smiled, but didn’t answer her. She had to
have known that at least some of Jody’s rumor was true. To me, that
probably had ruined any part of my dream, or at least made it much
more difficult to obtain. My parents were my biggest supporters,
advocates to push myself to greater things. The way I figured it,
their deaths were probably the death of all of my potential, my
would-be accomplishments that had not happened. I depended on them
to be there for me, to see me through my journey in life, but they
were gone. In a blink of an eye they were wiped off the face of the
Earth along with my brother. Being a successful attorney just
seemed insignificant at this point. It might happen someday, but it
wasn’t going to be on my terms. Doors were not going to open to me
because I was the daughter of some hotshot lawyer who died in a car
crash years ago.

The bell sounded before either of us finished
the conversation. Even though she was in my next music class, I
told her I would see her after school. She told me to watch out for
the
Secundas
, which was starting to sound more like a
Mexican drug cartel than a studious charitable organization. They
didn’t harass me during P.E., which was back outside on the track,
since the cold front had moved through. Maybe things would be a bit
better for me after all, or so I thought. I had made the mistake of
taking their armistice as a sign of peace, which took me into the
locker room to change out of my track uniform. The cheerleading
squad changed on the opposite side of those non-affiliated and
me.

“So Hope,” one of them piped up, “did you
ever figure out who put those awful details out on that nasty flyer
last week?” The question was coy and callous and my gaze
immediately focused on Jody.

“No, I never did.”
Play it cool, Hope.
Just finish getting dressed and get the heck out of there.

“Too bad,” another one responded, “because
they really did a number on your family.” I bit my lower lip and
began tying my shoes. They all knew who it was, had probably
participated in the atrocious act. This was just another way to get
under my skin, to continue breaking me down. “Were they really that
trashy, selling drugs to make a living?”
One shoe left; pack up
my belongings, and go, that’s all I had to do
. “Because if they
were, you are probably glad that they’re dead.”

That was the comment that stuck.
How could
anyone bring himself or herself to say such a thing?
It was
beyond low and it hit me harder in the gut than any fist. I had
lost control of myself when I hit Jody last week, and it might have
been a sucker punch, but they were working their numbers now, and
with six or seven against one, even if I tried to hit one, the rest
would pummel me into oblivion. It was intimidation at its finest,
and I felt the tears bead up in my eyes. I turned my back on them,
shielding my face from their sight as I packed my bag. At least
they wouldn’t have the satisfaction of watching me cry.

“Good riddance to such filth,” exclaimed
another.

“I wish all the pestilences like that in our
city would just go back where it came from.” That was a direct shot
at me, one of the dejected, the miserable that were not with these
girls on their pedestal. Forlornly, I nearly had to agree with
them. The battering during P.E., the manure in the locker, even the
punch by Jody had not hurt all that bad. But they had found my
weakness, my point of despair, and they were going to continue to
use that card until I was gone or until it didn’t affect me
anymore. I believed the former would happen before the latter.

Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I gave a
teary-eyed glare at Jody before leaving the room, hearing laughter
as I swept through the door. She was the only one that could put an
end to this; her or her high-powered parents, but I didn’t see them
coming to my aid from their sweet innocent daughter. Brad told me
not to fight fire with fire or I would lose, and this two-minute
exchange showed me that he was right. Kissing him in front of
everyone, punching Jody at the start of history class, that was as
low as I could go, but it wasn’t enough. They let me know early
that they ran the school, and they were running me right out of
it.

Opening the door to Mag’s car, I slammed the
permission slip down on the dashboard. “Sign it!” I commanded.

“What is it?”

“A permission slip to go to the Stock Show
Parade tomorrow. I want to go for extra credit. Now sign it.” She
took the paper from under my shaking hand and studied it for a
moment.

“Tomorrow? Are you sure? It’s so early? And
who is this Mr. Peet?”

“My history teacher. A bunch of us are going.
It’s part of his dual credit class.” I was lying, but she didn’t
seem to notice. Slowly, she pulled a pen from her purse, signed the
lower line and handed it back to me. Without a word, I sprang from
the car and made my way back into Jimmy Carter. Down the corridor I
went until I entered Mr. Peet’s room, seeing him sitting at his
computer grading papers and Lizzy sitting in a desk doing
homework.

“I have the permission slip for tomorrow,” I
announced, catching both of them by surprise.

Lizzy smiled up at me and came to retrieve
the paper. Mr. Peet turned at his desk.

“I didn’t know anyone took a form,” he said,
sounding as though I’d caught him off guard. “Well, that’s fine.
Uh, Elizabeth, do you have something she can wear tomorrow?”

Lizzy nodded. “Yes, I have the perfect
outfit.”

“Okay, good. I guess I need to get your
address so I can pick you up in the morning.”

“I’ll do it, Dad.” Lizzy gestured for him to
continue sitting as she wrote down Mag’s address. He shrugged and
watched his daughter do his job. “Okay, like I said. Be ready to go
at about 5:30. I’ll have your dress; you can change when you get
there.”

I nodded at her and Mr. Peet before turning
to leave.

“Are you okay?” asked Lizzy before I got out
of the room.

“I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

The next morning another small cold front had
moved in, bringing the temperature down to a chilly Texas
thirty-five degrees. There was a slight chance for snow over the
next few days, but nothing that was going to stick, and not the
five inches New York had gotten the previous day. I had only been
in Texas a few weeks, but could tell that people seemed to move
slower during the colder days, like their feet were frozen in
place. They just weren’t used to it like I was, but I was dreading
the hundred-plus degree summer that I had heard so much about, if I
chose to stay around.

My grapefruit and cereal bowl were about
empty when I looked at my watch. It was 5:35 a.m. They were running
late. I made breakfast myself, knowing that Mags was not a morning
person. Hopefully, I would be out the door before she even
stammered out of bed.

The doorbell startled me when I heard it, but
I jumped from the barstool and opened the door to the awaiting
Lizzy. The girl looked completely different. Her hair was up in
some sort of netting, her glasses replaced with contacts, pretty
white lace that draped her head didn’t show off too much or too
little. The green dress was form-fitted to her upper half, showing
off a shapely figure that you would’ve never guessed she had when
seeing her in the lunchroom. It billowed at the waist, only
stopping just an inch or two before the concrete walkway. She was
historically beautiful.

“Hello,” I sputtered in astonishment.

“Hey, are you ready?”

“Yeah, just let me get my purse.” I turned
around to head to the countertop where my belongings sat waiting.
Grabbing the purse, I saw Mags make her way into the kitchen from
the hallway. She yawned and gave me an
“it’s-way-too-early-in-the-morning” look before she caught glimpse
of the southern belle standing in the doorway.

“Oh,” she said startled.

“My ride is here. I was just leaving,” I said
and headed towards Lizzy.

“Wait, wait, just a moment,” she said as she
followed me towards the door. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need some money?”

“No.”

“Who is driving you?”

“I am.”

We turned and looked at Mr. Peet in the
doorway. But this was a completely different person that I had
grown accustomed to in the classroom. He was wearing an old brown
felt hat with a wide brim that encircled his head. You could tell
that he hadn’t shaved as the stubble was well past a five o’clock
shadow. He was wrapped in a long gray coat that went down just past
his waist; gold buttons were centered down the middle. The length
of his jacket and the height of his boots, which were a deep black
leather that came just below the knee, gave little sight of his
wool pants that were a dingy light blue color, much like the Texas
sky. He stood aloof with no sense of emotion as he looked into
Mag’s little home.

Mag’s wrapped her arms around her waist; her
lips shrank into a thin line. She was just waking up and didn’t
even think of changing out of her Hello Kitty pajamas for company,
but there was no time to run and hide now. Mr. Peet must have
sensed her embarrassment as he ducked his head under his wide brim
to break the eye contact.

“I’m sorry to be barging in like this. I just
wanted to meet Miss Kilpatrick’s parent before she took off with a
stranger.” He stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “I’m Mr.
Peet, but you can call me Robert.”

Mags couldn’t help but return his handshake,
a small smile traced back into her face as if she might as well try
to enjoy the intrusion since there was nothing she could do about
it. “I’m not her parent.” Of course Mags’ first words to my teacher
would be to disavow any sort of close relationship with me. “I’m
Margaret, but Hope here calls me Mags. I’m her aunt.”

“Well, why on earth would she want to do
that? Margaret is such a lovely name.”

Mags smiled bigger this time, allowing the
complement to ease her a bit. “Oh, well, thank you.”

“You must be very proud of her. She is quite
a student.”

“Yes, as long as she isn’t in ISS anymore,”
she scowled at me.

“Well, we all have bad days, Margaret.” He
looked over at me as well. Jeez, did everyone have to team up
against me this week? “But today is not one of them. Ladies, shall
we head to the parade?”