Maizon at Blue Hill (5 page)

“It's what I've always wanted for you, Maizon,” Grandma said when she got the news that I had gotten into Blue Hill. The information came in a thick white envelope. Since then, I'd come to think that thick white envelopes meant good news and thin ones meant bad, depending on how you look at it.

“A good school. One of the best schools,” Mr. Parsons had said, giving me a thin, scared-looking smile. I'd figured somebody touched up his photographs to make Blue Hill look like more than it was. But this place was the place in the pictures—all green and gold and blue. Blue Hill was beautiful, the way the school grounds were scattered with mountain laurel. Even the way the sun dipped down behind the hill and all the grass everywhere. The small cobblestone paths that led up to the different buildings made the school look ancient and rich, like a thousand millionaires had built it from an old memory of something. Still, I couldn't figure out what the empty place at the center of my stomach was about. It made my legs weak, even made me aware of how my toes felt inside my loafers.

There was a knock at the door. I came away from the window and busied myself with my suitcase. “Come in.”

“Maizon?” A woman peeked around the corner of the door, then stepped in. Another woman followed her and closed the door.

“You might remember me from the interview....” the first woman said.

“Mrs. Miller.” I walked over and shook her hand firmly, the way Grandma had said I should do with adults.

Mrs. Miller nodded. “I live in this dorm with my husband. We're right downstairs if you need anything. I'm sure you know Ms. Bender is on the third floor. One or the other of us is always around. This is Miss Norman,” Mrs. Miller said. Miss Norman took a step toward me. She was kind of heavy and only a little taller than me with short black-and-gray hair. I stared at her a moment, because she couldn't have been much older than Hattie. The gray hair looked strange against her young face. She was pretty. When I reached to shake her hand, Miss Norman winked at me. I wondered if she was winking because we were almost the same height or because we were both black.

“Nice to meet you, Maizon,” Miss Norman said. Her voice was so soft, it surprised me. And without thinking, I immediately loosened my grip on her hand.

She laughed and I felt the heat rise up to my face.

“I used to sing,” Miss Norman said. “I'm used to people being surprised at such a small voice coming out of such a big body. Don't worry. It's not a sign of weakness.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say.

“Mind if we sit down?” Mrs. Miller asked, sitting down on the bed across from mine and running her palm across the wrinkles in the dark blue blanket. The beds were identical, right down to the white sheets and blue-flowered pillowcases. I had chosen the one closer to the window.

Miss Norman pulled a chair away from one of the two small desks against the wall and brought it up to the foot of the bed. She was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt that had Blue Hill Chameleons in bright orange-and-black letters across the front.

I closed my suitcase and sat down on a small corner of the bed.

“So, how're you settling in, Maizon?” Mrs. Miller asked, crossing her legs and pulling her dress down around her knees.

I shrugged. “Fine, I guess. This school is pretty.”

“Scary, isn't it?” Miss Norman leaned forward a little, . resting her elbows on her knees. A glint came into her eyes when she smiled.

I nodded. “I met some people already. Charli and Sheila ... and Marie.”

Mrs. Miller gave a small laugh. “Blue Hill's own welcoming committee.... Did Charli try to recruit you for our field-hockey team yet?”

“I don't know how to play.”

“That's not a problem. Miss Norman is the best coach this school has seen in I don't know how long—field hockey
and
basketball.”

“You play
basketball?”
I couldn't believe it. In Brooklyn, even the girls' basketball coaches had been men.

Miss Norman held up one of her feet. “This year's sneaker,” she said about the red-on-white Nike high-top. “The whole team will have them. B-ball doesn't start until winter though. Nice shoes, huh?”

I nodded. I'd always loved high-tops.

“Think about joining, Maizon. Junior varsity could use some new blood.”

I shrugged. The last thing I wanted was to look spastic in front of a bunch of strangers. “Maybe ...”

“Well,” Mrs. Miller said, “there's also the debate team and track, and of course, the Blue Hill
Journal.
That's our school paper. I hear you like to write.”

“Yes. But I think I'm going to need to study a lot—”

“There'll be plenty of time to study,” Mrs. Miller said quickly. “Ask any student here. And I'll be happy to tutor you in math if you need it.”

I shook my head. “I'm taking advanced math—Algebra Two. Tested into it.”

She nodded. “Then I'll be seeing plenty of you. I'm teaching that class this year.”

Miss Norman slapped her thighs and rose. “Think about field hockey, Maizon. I'd love to have you on the team. And feel free to come over and talk to me. I'm in the English Department when I'm not on the field.”

“What do you teach?”

Miss Norman grimaced. “British literature this year. Any interest in
Beowulf?”

I giggled. “I like Grendel better than Beowulf. And the Green Knight better than Sir Gawain.”

“My goodness!” Mrs. Miller said, raising her eyebrows. “When did you do all of this reading?”

I swallowed, looking down at my loafers. “I spent a lot of time reading when I was at home. Sometimes that was all I had to do. I don't really like television. So I had a contest with myself. I went to the library and tried to read all the fiction that I could pronounce the titles of. But last summer I didn't get to read so much. I was spending a lot of time with my friend, Margaret. Then her father died and she started spending more and more time with her family. I went back to reading when Margaret wasn't around. That's why I'm here, I guess. Everybody thinks I should keep learning more and more.”

For a moment neither teacher said a word.

Then Miss Norman's soft voice floated through the silence. “We're here for you to talk to, Maizon. The first few weeks are the hardest. I think you can get through them though. Especially if you think about playing field hockey!”

I looked up to see Mrs. Miller grinning.

Miss Norman winked at me again. “We're sort of what Charli, Sheila, and Marie are aspiring to be—the welcoming committee.”

“Did the girls tell you that your roommate will be here later this evening?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Her name is Sandra—Sandy. She's in her second year here. I think you two will get along well.”

“Is Charli still wearing those shades?” Miss Norman asked.

I laughed and nodded.

“I tell you,” she said. “That girl is going to take them off one day and not have any eyes behind them!”

9

C
ome on, Maizon,“ Charli called, reaching for my hand and nearly dragging me to catch up with Marie and Sheila. I had changed into my uniform because we weren't allowed to go into the dining hall in regular clothes. The skirt felt strange flapping against my bare thighs and the Peter Pan collar on the white shirt we had to wear was tight around my neck. My favorite part of the whole uniform was the patch on the pocket, with the gold thread that spelled out ”Blue Hill.“ Charli, Sheila, and Marie's uniforms were different. Because they were in the upper school, they got to wear boxy blazers and dark blue skirts. I wanted a blazer like theirs, but Charli had explained that the school gave them bigger blazers to hide their breasts. Blue Hill didn't think it had to worry about that problem with lower school freshmen. They were right. My blazer fell in a flat line across my chest. Even the white shirt underneath it didn't cause it to bulk.

We were walking across the field that separated our dorm from the main hall and I had dropped behind the others to watch the way the sun set behind the hill. It was so pretty, I thought I'd start crying. I wanted to tell someone about it, but I didn't know Charli and them well enough. Clusters of girls were emerging from the other dorms, making their way to the dining hall. “Dinner doesn't wait for anyone around here,” Charli said, pressing her shades up on her nose.

The four of us entered the dining hall together, and for a moment, I felt like we were banding together against everyone. I wasn't sure if I was going to make any friends here, but I didn't want to risk it by hanging with just Marie, Sheila, and Charli.

The dining hall was big and warm. There were about twenty tables all set with white tablecloths, off-white plates, and silver. Black-and-white rag rugs were laid out in the aisles between the tables. Logs sat at the far corner beside a huge fireplace.

“Sit at our table,” Marie said. “It's over there.” She pointed to the corner table and then went off to speak to a group of older girls huddled in the corner.

“You have to serve tonight, Charli,” Mrs. Miller said. “With or without the shades.”

Charli scowled, then headed off to the kitchen, leaving Sheila and me alone at the table.

“I think you're going to like Blue Hill, Maizon. It's a good school. It's hard on some kids. But it all depends on what you came here for.” Sheila shrugged. “Me, I just came here to get some good learning before I head off for Spelman.” She picked up a fork and twirled it on the table. “Sometimes, I hate this place.”

“You just said it's not so bad.”

Sheila looked at me like she was about to say something, then caught herself and started twirling her fork again. “You'll see what it's like, Maizon,” she said slowly. “Then you'll know what I mean.”

I pulled out a chair at the head of the table and sat down. Then turned in my seat to see the other girls. Everyone seemed to know each other.

“Somebody sock you, Charli?” someone called across the dining hall. Charli set a basket of bread on our table, then raised her shades and winked in the direction of the voice.

“It's this year's look,” Charli said, heading back toward the kitchen. Another girl came out and set a plate of chicken on the table across from ours.

The dining hall was filling up quickly. I had never seen so many girls together in one place.

“Hi, Maizon.” A brown-haired girl stood at the edge of our table. “I'm Sandy, your roommate.”

“Hi,” I said. My heart sank a bit. I'd been hoping Sandy would be black.

“Hi, Sheila. Happy autumn.”

Without lifting her head, Sheila waved in the direction of Sandy's voice.

“Well ... I guess I'll see you back at the room later, Maizon.”

I nodded. “Later, Sandy.”

We were the only ones sitting at our table, which was set for six.

“Black bonding,” Marie said to me, pulling a chair out at the other end of the table. “It's good for the spirit.”

I served myself a piece of chicken, some peas, and a spoonful of rice. I chewed slowly, liking the newness of the food. The chicken could've used some salt and the rice was a little dry, but I was starving, so it didn't matter.

“Pass me the bread, please,” Sheila said.

I took a dinner roll and passed the basket to Sheila.

Marie looked annoyed. “Maizon, you don't serve yourself when you're passing the food. You let the other person help themselves first. Otherwise, it's rude.”

“Oh, kill it, Marie. I don't mind.” Sheila took a roll, broke off a piece, and buttered it.

“I do things
my
way, Marie.” I laid my fork beside my plate and glared at her. She glared back. “If I want a piece of bread, I take it.”

“It's rude. It means you have no home training.”

“I don't care if it means I paint my nails green. It's my way of doing it, and to me, that's how it's done!”

Marie glared at me a moment longer, then stuffed a forkful of peas in her mouth.

I tore my roll in half, buttered it, and crammed the whole half into my mouth.

“There's Pauli,” Sheila said, motioning her head in the direction of the door.

A black girl was walking briskly toward a table at the far end of the dining hall.

“Oreo,” Marie muttered under her breath.

“What grade is she in?” I asked hopefully. Pauli looked about my age. Maybe a little older.

“It doesn't matter,” Charli said, rolling her eyes. “Pauli doesn't hang with sisters.”

“She's
assimilated,”
Marie added, snidely.

Pauli had thrown her head back and was laughing with the group of white girls sitting at her table. They stared at her adoringly.

I picked up another piece of chicken with my fingers and dared Marie to say something.

Charli turned to me. “Pauli really doesn't hang with us, so it doesn't matter what grade she's in.”

“Sort of sad,” Sheila added. “She's way disconnected. Every time Blue Hill does something like a black history month celebration or bringing a black woman up to speak for women's history month, Pauli never gets involved. It's like she doesn't want to face the fact that she's black.”

“Maybe she's just not interested in those things,” I suggested.

Charli raised her shades and crossed her eyes at me. “Maybe she just doesn't deal.”

I shrugged. What they were saying made me even more interested in Pauli.