The Perk (17 page)

"I'm Beck Hardin. This is my father—"

"Oh, I know J.B." To his father, she
said, "I like your shirt."

It was cream-colored with multi-colored palm
leaves.

"It's called 'Uno, Dos Palms.' "

"Cute. Oh, your last merlot was
wonderful."

"Guess I know what to get the teacher for
Christmas."

Ms. Young smiled then consulted her clipboard;
her smile became a frown.

"There must've been a mix-up. I'll get
Meggie moved to another class today."

"Why?"

"Didn't you request an Anglo class?"

"You can do that?"

"You can here. All the rich German parents
get together and request the same teachers so their kids' classes will be
all-Anglo. Mine's a Latino class. Well, officially, it's a bilingual class,
but that's how they separate the kids."

Beck looked into the classroom. It was bright
and colorful, with posters and artwork on the walls and mobiles hanging from
the ceiling. The children were chattering in Spanish; all of their faces were
brown. He turned back to the teacher.

"This is a public school, isn't it?"

"Don't tell the Germans that." She
glanced around and lowered her voice. "Our principal, Ms. Rodriguez, she
came here from San Antonio. When she hired on last year, she told admin it was
illegal to segregate the kids, so she stopped all parent requests and mixed the
classes. The Germans went ballistic, complained to the school board. So admin
took over our class assignments—and they let the Germans pick their teachers."

"But if that's illegal segregation, how can
they get away with it?"

"Because no one complains."

"What about the Latino parents?"

"Especially not them. See, most of our Latino
parents are illegal. If they filed a complaint with the state, the Germans
would blacklist them, they'd never work here again. Small town. They need to
work, so they don't complain."

"So their kids get put into all-Latino
classes?"

"Over at the elementary school they get put
into Special Ed classes."

"Because they're Latino?"

"Because they can't speak English. That
way they don't have to take the state achievement tests. The Latinos don't
score as well, so admin games the system, dumps them into Special Ed. If they
can keep the Latinos from being tested, the district will rank higher. I
overheard an administrator saying he was glad the city finally took down that
big 'welcome-willkommen-bienvenidos' banner over Main Street. Said he wants
them to put up another one saying 'No More Mexicans.' Said the Mexicans are ruining
our scores. Public school today, it's all about test scores."

"What about that 'No Child Left Behind'
law?"

Ms. Young pointed at the brown faces in her classroom.

"That's what the law looks like in a school."

"The law of unintended consequences."

"The law doesn't mean anything to those
kids. They just want to learn. You should see their faces when they learn to
read English. When it clicks in their mind, all the words in the books come
alive for them. They're so happy. That's why I teach."

Beck thought she might cry.

"People can argue all they want about
illegal Mexicans, but those kids"—she pointed at her classroom—"they were
born here. They're American citizens, and they're entitled to an education
same as the German kids." She calmed and sighed. "I have to fight
for these kids every day, to give them a chance."

She turned when a little Hispanic girl walked up
with a young Hispanic woman. "
¡Hola
, Graciela!
¡Buenas días!
"
To the woman, "
Señora
Gomez.
¿Le gusto el verano?
"

The mother: "
Sí.
"

"
Este año será maravilloso.
"

The mother bent over and kissed the girl then walked
away. Ms. Young said, "Meggie, Graciela, why don't y'all find your
desks? You're next to each other."

The children went into
the classroom, each with a backpack over her shoulder and a big smile on her
face. Ms. Young nodded toward
Señora
Gomez walking away.

"She's illegal, but Graciela's a citizen."

"Your Spanish is pretty good," J.B.
said.

"I'm working at it. We don't have any
Latino teachers, so someone's got to speak the language. Ms. Rodriguez has the
kids saying the Pledge of Allegiance in English and Spanish each morning. Anglos
learn Spanish, Latinos learn English. They pick it up pretty fast at this age."

"Smart move."

"Smart principal."
Ms. Young again glanced around and dropped her voice to a whisper. "But the
Germans went Gestapo. The school board said they wanted the schools to promote
the German heritage, not the Mexican heritage. If they'd said that in Austin, they'd have to resign. Not here. We can't even mention
Cinco de Mayo
in
the classroom. They told Ms. Rodriguez 'no more Spanish Pledge and no more Spanish
in the schools'—forty percent of our students are Latinos, but the board wants
her to stop all Spanish in the school. How stupid is that?"

"So she stopped the Spanish Pledge?"

"Nope. Ms. Rodriguez, she won't back down."

"How'd she get hired here?"

"She was just for show. The state was all
over admin to do something for the Latino students, so they figured if they hired
a Latino principal, the state would back off. The state did, but Ms. Rodriguez
won't. It's a war zone here, between her and the German parents. They're
trying to get her fired." Ms. Young exhaled and shook her head. "So,
you want me to move Meggie?"

"No. I want you to be her teacher. But
can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did you tell me all this? How do you
know I'm not like those other parents—you don't even know me."

She smiled. "I know J.B." She consulted
her clipboard. "I still need Meggie's immunization records."

"Immunization records? Oh, well, I'll have
to get …"

J.B. held out a document. "She's had all
her shots."

Ms. Young laughed. "She's not a goat,
J.B."

"I packed her lunch and snack," J.B.
said. "No sodas, no sugar. Got a spare set of clothes in a ziplock bag
with her name on it in the backpack and a pillow and her blankie for rest
time."

Beck looked at his
father. "Her
blankie?
"

His father looked back. "You got a problem
with that?"

"Why spare clothes?"

"In case she has an accident," Ms.
Young said.

"That only happens at night."

"Kids her age, sometimes they have
accidents during rest time. We like to be prepared."

The intercom crackled
on. Ms. Young said, "I hope you win, Beck. You won't, but I'll vote for
you anyway." She stepped inside the classroom and instructed the students
to stand and place their hands over their hearts. Meggie waved at Beck and
J.B. They waved back and walked down the hallway. A child's voice came over
the intercom and recited the Pledge in English; then another child's voice came
over and recited the Pledge in Spanish: "
Yo prometo lealtad a la
bandera de los Estados Unidos de América …
"

"Your grandfather," J.B. said, "on
your mother's side, he told me when his people first got here, they spoke only
German, refused to even learn English. They wanted to live out here on the
frontier, isolated, didn't want any part of being American."

"Then why'd they come here?"

" 'Cause they couldn't own land back in Germany. Here they could. They came here 'cause they could work hard and make a better
life for themselves. Now their heirs begrudge the Mexicans doing the same
thing."

"They're not so different, Germans and
Mexicans."

"Difference is, Germans will eat Mexican
food."

Hundreds of bikers had invaded Fredericksburg, Texas. Not a gang of Bandidos looking for trouble, but middle-class, middle-aged
mom-and-pop bikers wearing black leather vests, pants, and chaps, riding
designer Harleys, and looking for a good place to eat.

"You'd think leather in August would be
hot," Jodie said.

"Women in chaps," Beck said. "Why's
that so interesting?"

She gave him a look. "Because you're a
male of the species."

"Jodie," Janelle said, "you
really think our campaigning for Beck is helping him?"

Janelle Jones was a frumpy woman; her hair was frizzy
and black with gray streaks, and she had apparently sworn off makeup. She wore
a blue denim shirt that she had worn when painting and a jean skirt; she had pink
Crocs on her feet. Jodie, on the other hand, was slim and wore jeans, the red boots
with the black toe caps, and a black tee shirt. Janelle drove a turquoise
Thunderbird sportster; Jodie drove the Jeep 4x4. They made for an odd couple.

"Janelle, if we don't campaign for him, who
will?" To Beck: "No offense, Beck."

Beck nodded.

"You know what I mean," Janelle said, "what
everyone thinks about us."

"They think we're a couple of crazy
liberals when we raise hell at the council and school board."

"And the old-timers can't abide that."

"Praise the Lord and vote Republican."

"In Austin, we were mainstream. Out here,
we're like animals in a zoo, something to point at."

"Janelle, Beck doesn't want closed-minded right-wing
conservatives voting for him—do you, Beck?"

"Well …"

"Then who's gonna vote for him?" Janelle
said. "No offense, Beck."

Beck nodded again.

"Everyone we know is going to vote for him,"
Jodie said.

"He's gonna get the Main Street votes, Jodie,
but he won't get the Germans'."

"So what's he supposed to do, promise to
throw all the Mexicans in jail like the D.A.?"

"No. I'm just saying, maybe we're not
helping, him associating with us publicly."

Beck said, "I'd rather associate with you
two crazy liberal lesbians than with the best people in this town."

They gave him a funny look.

Beck shrugged. "You know what I
mean."

Other than the bikers, downtown was quiet and would
remain so until noon Friday when a stream of tourists in SUVs and motor homes would
begin arriving. Downtown on the weekends belonged to the tourists, so locals
came into town during the week. That Monday morning Jodie and Janelle were
introducing Beck the candidate to the Main Street business owners, most of whom
had moved to town from Austin and voted Democrat and none of whom spoke German.

"Every election, it's the same deal,"
Janelle said. "Main Street versus the Germans. We always lose. Last
county election, nine Germans ran unopposed. We couldn't even get anyone to
run against them … why bother?"

"We're gonna win
this time," Jodie said. "We've got Beck Hardin." To Beck:
"Word around town is, you've got the D.A. worried. He's hitting the
Germans up for more money." She pointed down Adams Street. "See
that shop—Texas Jack's Wild West Outfitter? When Tommy Lee was filming
Lonesome
Dove
, he came in and bought all his clothes for Captain Call there. I
don't think Larry McMurtry gets the recognition he deserves as a writer, do you?"

"Uh … I don't know."

"I mean, he won
the Pulitzer for
Lonesome Dove
and an Academy Award for
Brokeback
Mountain
and—"

Janelle yanked Jodie to an abrupt halt. Jodie
said, "Not today, Janelle." Back to Beck: "But because he's a
Texan—"

" '
Not today'?
"

"
Brokeback
… that was the gay
cowboy movie?"

"You got a problem with that?"

"Hey, I played quarterback. I had my hands
on another guy's butt for twelve years."

"
Not today?
"

"Not today, Janelle."

Janelle had her hands on her wide hips and an
incredulous expression on her face; Jodie's face was firm. The women were
locked in some kind of standoff.

"What's up, girls?"

"Mexican Espresso Mocha," Janelle
said. "Double-shot espresso, Mexican vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, cinnamon,
and whipped cream. It's to die for. We never walk past Clear River without getting one."

They were standing outside the Clear River Pecan
Co., an old-fashioned ice cream parlor with a candy-apple red storefront and an
Elvis poster in the window.

"Why don't you make that at your coffee
shop?"

"Yeah, that's what I need," Jodie
said, "ice cream within arm's reach at all times. At least we have to
walk here for one."

"Well, don't change your routine on account
of me. I'll sit here and wait."

Beck sat down on a red metal bench in the shade
of the awning next to a mechanical bucking horse for kids. Jodie sat next to him.

"I'm skipping today."

Janelle frowned. "Why?"

"Because it's fattening."

"That didn't stop you the first thousand
times. Hell, Jodie, it's not like we're cruising for cowboys."

"You get one, Janelle. I just don't want
one today."

"We always share one."

"Get a small one. I've got to get in shape
for the Santa Run."

Janelle, to Beck: "Main Street owners put
on a race every Christmas. You gotta dress up in a full Santa outfit to run.
Jodie won a couple times." Back to Jodie: "You're sure?"

Jodie nodded. Janelle went into the ice cream parlor
just as a big white diesel pickup with a German shepherd in the back pulled
into one of the curbside parking spots and an old-timer got out; he went inside
without turning the engine off.

"Leave your car running in Chicago," Beck said, "it'll be gone time you come back out."

"People here still leave their homes
unlocked at night," Jodie said.

A few minutes later, the rancher returned
licking a pink ice cream cone with colored sprinkles like the kind Meggie
loved. He nodded at them.