52

 

Mom and I walked up the steps of the majestic building that housed the administrative offices at Lincoln Prep.

A new beginning. A new chapter in my life. Walking through the door of the massive building brought flutters to my stomach, flutters of hope, and flutters of apprehension. I couldn’t mistake the feeling of history here in these hallowed halls.

We were ushered into the principal’s office for a meeting. Mom explained that I would be living with Aunt Ira and Tiffany my senior year, and she explained my interest in journalism. The principal told her about the new department and about Mrs. Stevens from Fairfield Oaks coming to head it up.

I was happy to let Mom do all the talking today. I was somewhat overwhelmed at the decision I’d made to attend school here. I knew it was a good decision. I didn’t know what I would discover here about myself, but I knew I had to come and find out. I wanted to see what made me who I was. I wanted to become more of me. I was trying to merge two worlds, the part of me who hadn’t had to worry about anything until this past year, and the African-American part of me, the part I had never fully embraced. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how to do so.

I wanted to immerse myself in my history, and hopefully become shaped into a better person, a whole person, a more complete person, with no parts missing.

I was glad I didn’t have to explain that as my reason for coming to Lincoln Prep. Mom’s reasons sounded better. That’s why parents were necessary. They knew what was best in various situations.

We went on a quick tour of the school. I saw where the journalism department would be located. The whole setup would be much larger than the newsroom at Fairfield Oaks. We toured the choir room and band facilities. There was even a moot court where mock trials were held. And an Olympic sized swimming pool. Wow! Cool! In some ways Lincoln Prep had better facilities than Fairfield Oaks, which was surprising, pleasantly. However, it couldn’t compare with Fairfield Oaks as to class size.

When I saw the moot court something zinged inside of me. I had a desire to try my hand at arguing cases in here. I immediately found out what class I had to take to do so. Could I be following in Dad’s footsteps into the field of law? I had never had that desire before. Scary! Did I have to come to Lincoln Prep to connect to Dad’s field?

After we had selected my classes and finished all the paperwork, Mom took me out to lunch at Buca di Beppo on the Plaza. It was great having Mom all to myself again, doing lunch like we used to do before the situation.

We talked, mostly about Atlanta and the house there, and laughed, mostly about things relating to the prom that I hadn’t yet shared. Mom was especially thrilled when I told her about Jay on the sidelines watching me dance all night.

She was definitely pleased when I told her about my surprising reaction when I saw the courtroom. She agreed not to tell Dad of my possible interest in law until I knew for sure.

Mom and I spent the rest of the day shopping, like we used to do. I was happy to have Mom back. She had an inner peace about her, as if she, too, had faced some things and was found lacking. I knew her life in Atlanta would be different than in Fairfield. Besides, Atlanta is billed as the Black Mecca. She’d be involved in all the arts and fundraising activities that she loved, but I had a feeling things would be different this time.

 

****

 

On the last day of school I was standing under the oak tree with Callie, Melanie, and Stacie. Steffy came out of the building. She appeared to be uncomfortable as she passed us.

“Have a good summer, Steffy,” I called to her.

“Yeah, take care,” Callie said.

“Be seeing you in the neighborhood,” said Melanie.

Steffy stopped, still with her back to us, straightened her shoulders, and walked on ahead.

“Some people you just can’t be nice to,” said Stacie.

We watched as she waited at the curb for her mother to pull up. Steffy got into the car. Her face was stone as she looked neither right nor left.

“I wonder what’s going to happen to her father,” Callie said.

“I wonder if she’ll even be back here next year,” said Stacie.

“Probably not,” Melanie said.

Jay, Rick, and Jared strolled towards us. “Are you hating on Steffy?” Rick asked.

“Give her a break,” Jay said. “She needs it.”

I’d heard enough from him. “Let’s go,” I said to my friends. I went on ahead.

Jay caught up with me and grabbed my arm. “I mean it. Give Steffy a break.”

“You are full of it,” I said, disengaging my arm. “Did you bother telling her to give me a break?”

From his eyes I could see that he hadn’t.

“Now I know where your heart is. And it definitely isn’t with me. Good-bye, Jay.”

I reached my car. He had no comeback to my statement. Jay, Rick, and Jared continued on to their cars.

I bid Callie, Melanie, and Stacie good-bye and told them I would see them soon. I wasn’t ready to tell them that I wouldn’t be back next year. Although I knew the real reason I wouldn’t return to Fairfield Oaks, I didn’t want to see pity in anyone’s eyes. Even though there was no reason for pity, they didn’t know that. I was happy with my decision to move on.

Although I’d miss seeing Callie, Melanie, and Stacie every day and sharing the memories of our senior year together and graduating with them, I looked forward to my senior year at Lincoln Prep and getting closer to Tiffany and Aunt Ira.

I did confide in Mrs. Stevens that I was going to see her at Lincoln Prep next year. She was pleased and wished me a wonderful summer. I also told her about my summer job with Dr. Smithfield. Although she didn’t say it, I could see newfound respect in her eyes. I hoped she saw that I was becoming more than the spoiled rich girl she had known here at Fairfield Oaks.

Mrs. Stevens was right about Romans 8:28. God did bring something good for me out of this situation.

I felt sorry for Steffy. She didn’t have a support system like I had with Callie, Melanie, and Stacie. If she hadn’t acted so snooty with me, they would’ve been there for her, too. I didn’t even ask to interview her for my recession story. She wasn’t ready to admit to herself that life had changed for her.