Finding Hope in Texas (8 page)

“Well, that’s good,” she smiled. I could feel
like she wanted to say a lot more to me, but maybe couldn’t find
the words. It had to be difficult for her under these
circumstances. She had never wanted children and only saw us every
few years when she was out east or needed a place to crash for a
while. We weren’t close and probably never would be. I know she
wanted to make the best of the situation, but it had to be hard on
her, too. I mean, it was her brother, sister-in-law, and her nephew
that were all killed. She had to be thinking of them as well,
hadn’t she? Sometimes, I just wanted to question her. Did she
really love any of her family? I mean, I sat practically alone
while three coffins were laid out in front of me, alone as they
were placed into the cold ground. Why wasn’t she there beside me
and let me be there beside her? It wasn’t the money. She could’ve
flown up in a heartbeat had she wanted to. She just didn’t. She
waited and waited, finally only coming up to see me when the
visitors died down and I was truly alone, and talking me into going
away from there, that it would be better for me to get away from so
many memories. And maybe she was right; I had to get out of that
house, that community, because there everything was a memory. Maybe
she did care about my father in the only way she knew how: by
leaving all the memories behind.

I scooped the last of the rice in my mouth
and washed it down with a Dr. Pepper, a Texas treat that had gone
national. If I didn’t watch it, I’d become addicted.

“Thank you for dinner,” I managed to say
before leaving the little breakfast nook.

“Hope, honey, can I do anything for you?”
Mags asked as I hiked back to my room. Her words stopped me before
I entered the hall. “I mean I just want you to feel like you can
tell me anything, like you did with your mother or John. I know
y’all were close, and I also know that I can’t even start to
replace them. But if you would just let me in a little, I would be
happy to help you in any way I can. Just don’t keep me locked out
forever, okay?”

Was this her attempt to open up to me or get
me to open up to her? Was this where I was supposed to begin to
cry, turn around and jump into her arms and apologize about being
so obtuse to her for the last few weeks? Then was I to spill my
guts about how losing my parents and my brother at such a young age
was the worst thing that had ever happened? How the world wasn’t
fair and how I still in some small way wished there had been a
fourth coffin at the funeral that day, that the pain and suffering
they went through was brief compared to what I was going to have to
deal with the rest of my life? And she, she would apologize to me
for being gone so long, tell me about all the mistakes she had made
in life and that the only good thing that came from that drunk
driver was that it brought what was left of her family back into
her life. Was that how all this was supposed to work out? Like some
after school special that they don’t even air on television anymore
because they were so monotonous? Well, this wasn’t a TV special.
This was my screwed up life, one that would bring me more tears
than a sixteen-year-old should have to bear. I gritted my
teeth.

“Okay,” I murmured as I continued my march to
my room. I continued with
Pride and Prejudice
for a while
before cleaning up and going to bed.

The next morning, Mags and I talked even less
than the night before. I was probably surlier with her than I
should have been, but it wasn’t her place to ask me to open up. I
could be closed off if I wanted to, and I certainly wanted to
around her. Besides, she could open up to me first, couldn’t she? I
guess adults expected us adolescents to pick their brains for their
knowledge, and had this have been Mom or Dad that would have been
no problem. But how can you confide in someone whose life is
probably screwed up just as bad as yours? We hardly spoke a word
from breakfast to the time she dropped me off to school, for which
I was running late. She was able to get a “have a good day” out
before I shut the door behind me, hearing the first bell in the
distance.

The trek up to the front of Jimmy Carter
seemed more ominous than usual. There were gazes from other
students that I had never gotten before. Maybe it was because of
the manure locker from yesterday? How could kids forget about a
pile of crap within someone’s locker, even with all the drama of
high school? Or the kiss and the technology-driven crucifixion of
me on Facebook. It wasn’t until I reached the foyer where many more
students gave me a suggestive look that my heart began to beat that
much quicker. What was going on? Why was I getting this much
attention just on my fourth day of school? Had I gone too far with
my kiss of Brad in front of Jody? The faces and eyes gave me
frightful thoughts. What was going on that they knew and I didn’t?
It was when I reached the front of the crowd that I saw it and my
mouth gaped open in horror. Beside the water fountain hung a large
copy of my student ID picture with the words “Lil Orphan
Kilpatrick” written underneath. An Annie-type wig, full of red
curls had been stapled just above my head, not that I needed it
with my own red hair. My heart stopped. Other students weren’t
laughing as they went by, but they were staring at the poor little
orphan girl. This was cruel, callous, and ruthless even. Somehow
Jody learned of my past and was now using it to torment me. Tears
began to fill my eyes as the word “orphan” stared me in the
face.

God, I’m an orphan
. I never really
looked at my parents’ death like that, but it was true. I had no
mother or father anymore, just an aunt who probably wanted as
little to do with me as I wanted from her. I was alone in the
world, placed on the “loser’s table” with a teacher’s kid because
none of my other peers wanted anything to do with me. Time away
from the disaster was what I had come to Texas for, but now it was
here unexpectedly, following me all the way from New York. My face
reddened, but was it from embarrassment that my secret had been
found out, or rage because I wanted to kill the pest that was
attacking me, taking this way too far with her little poster?
Slowly, I reached up and pulled it from the wall and threw the
garbage in the nearby trashcan. Lizzy was running up to me down
from the hallway.

“Hope, it’s in everyone’s lockers.” She
passed me a piece of paper that was the same picture used for the
poster. “Flip it over,” she said reluctantly. On the back it talked
about me but in the worst ways possible, lying about me being
kicked out of schools in New York for being a tramp, starting
fights, doing drugs, and that my parents were killed in a drive-by
shooting during a cocaine deal. It was so ridiculous that had I
been in a better mood, I might have laughed. It would be pretty
funny to imagine my parents dropping dime bags on the street corner
late at night right after a long day in court. The only thing she
got correct was that my parents were dead. This was so absurd, so
preposterous that only high school students would have found any
truth in it. Maybe that’s what she was going for, to tarnish my
reputation as being a hoodlum to the rest of the student body. I
took a deep breath and looked at Lizzy.

“Go to class. I’ll handle this.”

“Do you want me to tell a teacher or get the
administration involved? Hope, this can’t go on.”

“It’s not, Lizzy. I’m about to end it,”
putting the emphasis on the words
end it
. I stomped to
class. The counselor had told me that I would have to be in Mr.
Peet’s first period for the remainder of the week before she
switched me over to his dual credit class. That’s where I was
headed, to find the little blonde haired cheerleader who wanted to
go after my family.

Rounding the corner and tracing down the
hall, I saw Mr. Peet standing at his door, a smile on his face.

“And how is my crack student this morning?”
he grinned.

“Just dandy,” I acknowledged as I floated by
him. I scanned the room briefly before I saw the shining lock of
hair sitting on the far side.

“Hope, you okay?” Mr. Peet asked as I went
down the back of the room, but I didn’t answer. I was seeing red
and it wasn’t my hair. It was the little floozy and she was about
to get what she deserved. I rounded the last desk and tapped her on
the shoulder. Her hair flung around and her eyes met mine. For a
second I paused. This wasn’t me. I had never thrown a punch in my
life, but here I was about to give my best jab to some girl that
was out to make my life tougher than it already was. But when I
looked into those eyes, those cold puddles of blue, and saw the
little grin on her face, it was just all too much for me. My right
hand went forward. It was a cheap shot, but no cheaper than the
haymaker she had given me on my second day of school. My knuckles
met her face right between her top lip and nose and her head
flapped back before she fell to the floor, a cascade of blonde
following her.

I stood over her, but could feel people grab
my arms and hands and pull me back. “If you want to attack me,
that’s fine. But if you
ever
go after my family again, I’ll
beat the living crap out of you!” I heard a few snivels coming from
the clump of hair on the floor when the teacher interrupted.

“What is going on here?” Mr. Peet yelled at
the assemblage of people. He noticed Jody on the floor and two guys
holding me back. “Let her go! Kilpatrick! Office! Now!” I gave Mr.
Peet the evil eye, glared back at Jody in time to see a sinister
grin on her face, before storming out of the room. I had punched
like a butterfly and stung like a ladybug.

Mrs. Tremble was out doing her morning duty
when the secretary told me to sit in her office. My adrenaline was
gone and my anger and frustration carried with it. It had been ten
minutes since the tardy bell sounded and all I could feel was a
chilling bitterness sweep over my body. What was about to happen?
This was where the bad students sat getting ready for their
punishment, not me. I began to breathe deeply, but before I even
noticed, my arms had wrapped around my stomach and I was bent over
crying my heart out. God, what kind of emotional wreck had I
become? Other students must have thought I was a nut, a crazy loon
they had released from some penitentiary. I pulled my hands out in
front of me and couldn’t stop them from shaking. They felt so cold,
so useless. It was beginning to hit me that even with my plug of
her mouth that Jody was winning. She was making me do things that I
would have never done before, making me stoop to her level, and it
felt so horrible to do so.

“I can’t win. I just can’t win,” I announced
before beginning my sobs again.

“Actually, with a right jab like that, you
might be able to win at a chick’s boxing match.” It was Mr. Peet’s
voice and I leaned up to see him over my shoulder as he entered the
room taking the seat next to me, handing me a box of tissues. “How
are you doing, slugger?”

I wiped my tears away as Mrs. Tremble entered
and shut the door behind her.

“Mr. Peet, leave the Miss Kilpatrick alone.
She has had enough going on this morning without you tormenting
her.” Mr. Peet smiled but didn’t come back with a rebuttal. “Now,
Mr. Peet has said that you walked into his room and, as he put it,
‘decked Miss Silverton.’ Is that correct?” I nodded. “Well, we have
a zero tolerance rule for fighting young woman, so I am afraid that
I am going to recommend to the principal that you–”

“Well, just hang on there,” interrupted Mr.
Peet and turned to me. “Miss Kilpatrick, what caused you to knock
the crap out of that girl, besides that she deserved it from her
parents a long time ago?”

“Mr. Peet!” the counselor looked
astounded.

“She just...”
Should I really tell them
the story?
Wasn’t there a teenager code of conduct never to
tell a teacher anything? Would I be known as the snitch, the narc?
How much worse would it be for me if I told them my whole horrible
story? “She’s just getting on my nerves,” I muttered.

Mr. Peet grinned. “Sounds like a good reason
to me.”

“Now, Mr. Peet, stop it. Young lady, that’s
no reason to go around hitting anyone, especially someone that
works so hard and diligently for our school and the student body.
She will probably have a black eye for weeks because of you.” I
wanted to tell her that it would be hard to have a black eye since
I hit her in the mouth but thought smarting off was probably not in
my best interest. “Now, as I was saying, I think a week’s worth of
suspension will probably be a good idea.”

Suspension?
I had never heard the
word, at least directed at me, but before I could protest Mr. Peet
interjected.

“Hang on there, Claudia. Isn’t there some
rule about first offenses or something? Besides, she’ll miss the
first week of my dual-credit class if she’s suspended. How about
just chunking her out in ISS for a little while, only getting out
for DC history? That sounds better than suspension, don’t you
think?”

I said nothing. Why was Mr. Peet backing me
up on this? Mrs. Tremble’s wheels began to turn in her head as she
was trying to come up with some decision. I could tell she wasn’t
used to this, maybe because Mr. Peet was making it difficult or
maybe because she was not usually the one who had to make these
types of decisions? Weren’t counselors all about trying to get the
bad students to try to find some direction in their life? Well, her
direction sucked because it landed me right into Jody’s hands.

“All right. Six days ISS, starting today. You
will be out of your regular classes until next Friday. You will go
to the ISS room right after leaving this office and only allowed to
come out for Mr. Peet’s class since it is college-oriented. Is that
understood?”

“Yes,” I said, gathering my belongings not
even asking where I was being shuffled off to. Mrs. Tremble handed
me a slip of paper and motioned me to the door. Mr. Peet started
out the door quickly, but Mrs. Tremble asked him to stay after I
left. I asked the secretary what ISS was and she laughed.