The Fire and the Veil (Veronica Barry Book 2) (8 page)

She turned to him and raised her eyebrows.

“Well, you know how I was talking about you coming over to my aunt Eun Hee’s for dinner one of these days?”

Veronica gave a little gasp. So soon?

“I was thinking, maybe next Sunday night? There’s a baseball game on TV, and my dad likes to go over there anyway because Samchon Jung-Hwa has a big screen. So you could meet my mom and dad and Sukmo Eun Hee—‘sukmo’ is like ‘aunt’ in Korean. And you’ve already met Samchon Jung-Hwa—my uncle Jung-Hwa, who has the pet store. And maybe Sunny and Jae will be there too. They’re my cousins, Sukmo Eun Hee and Samchon Jung-Hwa’s kids. They’re about our age.”

“That’s a lot of family,” Veronica said weakly.

“Yeah, but it would be
less
stressful because there’d be so many people. In fact, I bet I could convince Jae to come, for sure, and he could bring his girlfriend, and if Sunny brought a guy over—I don’t know if she’s even dating, but maybe I could set her up with someone from the station—then the focus wouldn’t even be on you at all.”

She could tell he was really hoping she’d say yes. Why not get the uncomfortable family presentation over with? He’d already met Cybele, and that had gone as well as could be hoped. Mainly Cybele had looked him up and down with her heavily made-up eyes and asked him a few really inappropriate questions—when was the last time he’d had an HIV test? Was his sperm viable? Did he think it was a woman’s responsibility to take care of the contraception?—which Daniel had answered in a deadpan, unsurprised tone (last August; yes, as far as he knew; and no, he thought it was a shared responsibility) that Veronica was deeply grateful for. If she could survive that horror show, she could make it through one Sunday night where with any luck everyone would be watching the baseball game on TV and no one would pay much attention to her at all.

“Okay,” she said. Daniel beamed at her.

“Awesome. This will be great. You’re going to love Sukmo Eun Hee’s cooking.”

“You never talk about your mom’s cooking,” Veronica observed as Harry emerged from the lake and dropped the stick on the shore, shaking himself and spraying water everywhere.

Daniel laughed and turned away from the dog defensively. “My mom doesn’t cook,” he said as he did.

“Really?” Veronica said, realizing she didn’t know anything about her. “What does she do?”

“She’s a lawyer,” Daniel said, his face going neutral. “She works a lot.”

“Well, I’ll look forward to meeting her on Sunday.”

Daniel nodded, and smiled a bit again. “Yeah, it’s going to be great.”

Chapter 7

Veronica was still writing the names for this weeks’ new pairs on the board when her French II students started coming in. She hesitated for a moment when she got to Angie and Lola Hekili—would it be better to put Angie back with Clarissa or Felicity, instead? But it was too late to give that the thought it required. Angie would manage for a week with Lola, even if Lola was still as hostile as she had been from the beginning. “Welcome to public school,” Veronica muttered to Angie’s name on the board.

“Bonjour la classe,” she called out as she wrote the last two names on the board.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle Barry,” several students responded.

That wouldn’t do. Everyone had to respond. “J’ai dit, ‘Bonjour la classe!’”

“Bonjour Mademoiselle Barry!” more than half the class cried.

Well, close enough,
Veronica decided. “Maintenant on trouve son partenaire,” she said, pointing to the board with the names.

The students shuffled around to their new seats so that they would each share a two-person table with their French partner. Veronica watched, taking down names on the roll sheet. No Lola, she noted. That was not unusual. Lola was absent at least two days out of five each week. Angie would be without a partner today, and she could sit with another couple instead.

Once everyone settled down she had them exchange their homework and they went over it together. As they came to the last few questions, the classroom door opened and Lola came in.

Without a glance at the board Lola strode to the nearest table, which already had two students, and dropped her bag with a thud. She dragged a chair, screeching the whole way, from the side of the room. Veronica considered calling her out for her interruption. If she did, the most likely result would be a trip to the office for Lola and still no partner for Angie. She sighed.

“Lola,” Veronica said.

“That’s my name,” Lola shot back.

“You have to sit with your partner,” Veronica said, gesturing to Angie’s table.

Lola cocked her head, her chin jutting out a bit, and peered back at Angie.

“I’m already sitting here,” she said to Veronica.

“I see that,” Veronica said. “But this table is taken. You have to sit there.”

With a groan of outrage Lola stomped over and dropped her bag by the side of the open chair at Angie’s table. She slouched into it, glaring around the room at those students who dared to look at her. Veronica was struck by her beauty. She had hard, black eyes with gunky make-up around them, a full mouth, small nose, and high cheekbones. Her inky black hair was utterly straight, falling to brush her shoulders. Her face was closed and her chin still jutted out just enough to give her expression an attitude. Veronica was intimidated by her, but she didn’t want to show it.

Veronica turned back to the board and finished with the homework. She told them to turn to page 364 and read a dialogue using household terms with their dialogue partner. Then she circulated, pausing at each table to help with pronunciation.

When Veronica reached Angie’s table, she saw without surprise that Lola was buffing her nails and ignoring Angie, who read the book silently.

“Lola,” Veronica said. “You have to practice the words now. This is when you learn how they sound.”

“I don’t speak French, Miss B. I told you that,” Lola said. “Hey, what do you think?” She held up her hand, presumably so Veronica could admire how shiny her nails were. Veronica’s breath caught.

On the middle phalanxes of her hand were letters spelling “slut.”

Veronica looked at the hand holding the buffer. Sure enough, although the ink was fading, she could still make out the word “fuck.”

“Nice, right?” Lola said. “I just got this buffer. My friend said it was the best, and she was right.”

Veronica drew in her breath, trying to clear her head, but for a moment her mind was filled with the headlights, and the sound of cars, and the awful feeling of hopelessness that had overwhelmed her in the dream.

“Ve—Miss Barry, are you okay?” Angie asked.

Veronica blinked several times, trying to make the dream images stop. She flashed Angie a quick smile. “Sure,” she said, although her ears were still full of the sound of the horn.

“It’s okay,” Angie said. “I can just study the words on my own.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “God, be a suck up.”

The sounds subsided and the dream images faded, but now as Veronica looked at Lola, it was as if she could see energy radiating from her—waves of it; waves of pain. The girl was a raw nerve.
Good God,
Veronica thought.
What happened to you?

“Better to be a suck up than a fuck up,” Angie snapped.

“Maybe in your world,” Lola said, angling her head over her shoulder.

“Okay, enough,” Veronica said. “Lola, you can’t just refuse to do work in my class.”

“Why not? I’m getting an F anyway,” Lola said.

Veronica bit her lip. She couldn’t think clearly, with the way the energy coming from Lola felt when it hit her skin. She wanted to move away from her, or put her arms around her—anything to make it stop.

“No, that’s unacceptable. You have to try,” Veronica said.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Lola said, raising a palm and shifting her head.

“It’s make an effort or go to the office,” Veronica said.

“Fine!” Lola spat, grabbing her back and jerking to her feet. She stormed out of the classroom. Veronica knew she would have slammed the door behind her if it hadn’t had the hydraulic hinge to prevent it. Veronica went to the phone and dialed the main office.

“Lola Hekili just left my class. I told her to go to the office.”

“I’ll let the supers know,” Sandy said.

The supervisors, who monitored the halls and courtyard, would make sure Lola made it to the office instead of leaving campus or hiding out in a bathroom. Veronica thanked Sandy, the main office’s secretary, and hung up the phone.

It was a relief that Lola had left class. Veronica could tell that the rest of the students felt it, too. It made her feel guilty that she felt that way, though. Lola was in pain. More pain than anyone Veronica had ever seen, except maybe for Grant Slecterson, and his pain had been… different. And her dad, but that was so long ago, she only had bits and pieces of a memory to go on.

Her dad had killed himself. Was Lola Hekili suicidal? She certainly seemed that way in the dream. Oh, no. Did the spirits expect Veronica to help her? How? She didn’t even know who to call, much less how to explain that she thought Lola might be suicidal based on a dream and ‘vibes’ she got from her in class.

Veronica had Angie join Clarissa Perez’s group, then she went to her computer and signed in to her school email account. She fired off a quick email to the part-time school psychologist. “Hey Lloyd, got a minute to talk at lunch?”

She checked in with two more tables and then returned to her desk. He’d already answered. “Sure, come on by.”

Well, Lloyd might know Lola, at least, and if she got him talking about her, maybe she’d find a way to bring up her concern without looking like a nutcase herself. She could claim to have overheard something, or seen a doodle, or some such. Maybe just talking about the words on Lola’s hands would be enough— “You know, Lloyd, seeing something like that, which I think she must have drawn herself, it just makes me worry that she has no self-esteem. Maybe she’ll be cutting herself next.” Something to that effect.

Class dragged on, and Veronica checked the clock every few minutes. She had the students compose a dialogue using the new vocabulary, and by the time most of them were done, the bell finally rang.

Veronica waited for the last of them to leave and then she locked her room and trotted to the administrative wing of the school. She smiled and nodded to the secretaries behind their counter and navigated her way past students milling around and teachers using the copiers, until she came to Lloyd Fisher’s door.

He spoke with one of the school’s two vice principals. Veronica waited outside of his office, trying not to listen to their conversation, even though she heard Lola’s name. The VP left, glancing at Veronica as he did and giving her a quick nod. Veronica flashed him a smile and stepped into Lloyd’s office.

“Veronica,” Lloyd said, pointing to a chair by his desk. Lloyd was a tall, bald African American man with kind eyes. “Please, have a seat. How can I help you?”

Veronica sat and Lloyd followed suit. “I wanted to talk to you about a student I’m concerned about. Lola Hekili.”

“Second time today I heard that name.”

“She decided to leave my class rather than do any work last period,” Veronica said.

“Ah. Alan said something about that.”

“The thing is, she seems… I don’t know. She’s very hostile, and she seems… well, unstable, I guess? I’m concerned for her.”

“Yes, you’re not alone,” Lloyd said.

“And today I noticed she’d written on her hands, the words ‘fuck’ and ‘slut.’ I mean, you know, Lloyd, it’s not that I’ve never seen the graffiti in the girls’ room, but on her own hands… that she would identify herself that way…”

“It’s very sad,” Lloyd said, nodding. “Look, I have met with Miss Hekili on a couple of occasions, and I have read a report from another counselor, which of course I’m not at liberty to discuss. But I will say that you’re right to be concerned and I appreciate you bringing this to me. She’s coming to us from a very difficult background, you understand.”

“I really don’t know much about her at all,” Veronica said.

“Have you gone through her cumulative file?” Lloyd asked.

“No,” Veronica admitted.

“Well, in your copious free time,” Lloyd grinned, “have a look at that. That should begin to shed some light. There’s more to it, though. More than even the other counselor knows, I figure.”

“Can we do anything for her?” Veronica asked. “I’m really concerned that she’s going to hurt herself.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just her behavior. The writing on her hands. I don’t know, I can’t say I’ve seen anything like it before.”

Lloyd nodded. “To be honest, she’s not the kind of kid who lasts at Eleanor Roosevelt. She’ll be at the continuation school before the end of the year, I’ll bet.”

Veronica pursed her lips. It didn’t sound like there was going to be any sort of intervention—she’d hoped he might refer her to counseling, or some sort of social services program.

It shouldn’t surprise her. There were over a thousand students in the school, and only one part-time psychologist. Lloyd wasn’t going to intervene with Lola based only on Veronica’s misgivings. She needed something more concrete, and she had no idea what that could be. How could you prove that someone you barely knew was suicidal?

“Thanks for talking with me, Lloyd,” she said, standing. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Not a problem,” he said, getting up as well. He walked around her so he could hold the door open. “Come by any time. I always appreciate when a teacher’s invested.”

Veronica gave him a weak smile and left his office. She stopped a few steps beyond it, creating a slight obstruction in the flow of traffic. What was she supposed to do now? Just go eat lunch?

She gave her head a little shake. Alan Candleman, the VP, was in his office. She walked to his door.

He was a short, white man with mousy hair and a bald spot, and perpetual five o’clock shadow. He was writing something in a form at his desk. “Alan?” she said to get his attention. He looked up.

“Ah, Veronica. That’s handy. I was going to send you an email.”

“Here I am,” she said.