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“Melissa!”
Bergie hurries over to me and gives me a big hug, then reaches for Cheyenne.
“How’s my baby-help girl?”
Cheyenne ducks her head shyly, but leans toward Bergie to let her take her from my arms.
Bergie laughs softly and carries her over to the playhouse where Brittany and Ethan are busy playing at the make-believe stove.
“Look who’s here,” Bergie says, setting Cheyenne down just outside the doorway.
They stop stirring their pretend food and look at Cheyenne. Then Ethan hands her a pan and a spoon. She steps inside the playhouse, and all three of them stir air-food with great enthusiasm.
“How are you?” Bergie asks, turning to me.
I know this is not a question to answer with a quick “Fine, thanks.”
“I’m good,” I tell her. “Glad to be back.”
“How was your time at the shelter?”
“It was okay. I learned a lot. People were good to me, but it wasn’t home.”
“Are you back at Rudy’s?”
“Yes.”
Bergie frowns.
“It’s okay now,” I tell her. “Things are different.”
She looks at me with a kind of sad look in her eye.
“Really. Rudy says he knows now how important we are, and that we’re only going to have happy days from here on out. Besides, he was never as bad as those guys I heard about at the shelter.”
“I hope it works for you, Melissa. For your sake and Cheyenne’s.”
“It will. I just know it. We’re getting married as soon as Rudy gets a job.”
“I thought he already had a job.”
“He got laid off,” I say. I guess if I were telling the whole truth I’d probably say he got fired, but I already see more doubt in Bergie’s eyes than I want to look at.
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My counselor, Ms. Sullivan, says I’ve been gone too long to get back into all of my old classes. She says I should go to Sojourner Continuation, or to Independent Studies, but I want to stay at Hamilton High and graduate on stage.
“I could catch up, I know I could.”
She reviews my records.
“Well, your grades have been good, especially for someone who has the responsibility of a baby.”
“Just let me try,” I say.
“It’s not actually up to me,” she says. “You’ll have to get permission from your teachers.”
She gives me a form to get signed by all of my teachers and tells me to try to catch them between classes, so as not to interrupt them.
First I go to Peer Counseling. I stand at the back, waiting for class to be over so I can talk to Ms. Woods. As usual, everyone’s talking at once. The question on the board is “Should gay couples be allowed to attend the prom?”
“Disgusting!” Tony says.
“You’re a bigot, Tony,” Leticia says.
“Leticia DeLoach,” Ms. Woods says, pointing at the NO PUT DOWNS sign.
I’m taking it all in, remembering how much I love this class.
Leticia nods at Ms. Woods. “Okay. But Tony, what I want to know is why do you care about other people’s sex lives? They’re not trying to get you to change.”
“I’m normal,” Tony says.
“A matter of opinion,” Leticia laughs.
Josh turns to say something to Leticia and notices me standing in the back of the room.
“Hey!” he says, smiling.
Leticia walks back to where I’m standing.
“Hey, girlfriend. Where you been? Kidnapped by aliens?”
I laugh, embarrassed by the attention.
Ms. Woods glances at the clock. Only ten minutes left until the bell.
“Come on in and take a seat, Melissa,” she says with a smile.
I sit in the back and Leticia sits beside me. Josh is saying he thinks people have a right to behave however they want to, as long as they’re not hurting anyone else. Leticia nods in agreement, then turns to me.
“Really, where’ve you been?” she whispers.
“It’s a long story,” I say.
“I’ve got time,” she says. “Meet me at lunch.”
I feel my face getting warm and I know I’m blushing.
“Just me,” she says. “I’ve got a car today.”
“Okay,” I tell her. I really like Leticia, but I’m not sure I want to explain the details of running away from Rudy. Now that I’m back, I just want to put the past behind me.
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When the bell rings I make my way to Woodsie’s desk. I show her the form and ask if it’s okay for me to get back into her class.
“Of course,” she says. “I’d be delighted to have you back.”
She signs the form and hands it back to me.
“Is everything okay with you?”
“It’s fine,” I say.
She watches, as if waiting for me to say more, but I have nothing else to say.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll have a list of back assignments ready for you then.”
Before she signs the form, my English teacher, Ms. Lee, goes over what I’ll have to do to catch up—lots of reading, two make-up tests, and a compare/contrast paper on two poems by contemporary poets. In the beginning I only signed up for contemporary literature because it was at a convenient time, but it turned out to be a good class. The reading is almost always interesting, so it won’t be a problem to do the work. Time is all. It’s hard to find time to do everything because of the baby, and housework, and Rudy.
The only teacher who refuses to let me back into class is Mr. Horton, my math teacher.
“You couldn’t possibly catch up to what we’re doing now. You’ve missed too much work.”
“Just give me a chance,” I say.
He shakes his head, raising his thick, sandy colored eyebrows.
“You think you can miss five weeks of instruction and figure it all out on your own?” he asks.
“I’d like to try,” I tell him.
What I know is, he’s not that great a teacher. I always had to figure everything out by the book, anyway, or maybe with another student. So I don’t think I’ve missed so much, missing his “instruction.”
He’s convinced I can’t do it, though. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be bothered with giving me back assignments. Anyway, he won’t sign my form.
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At lunch Leticia takes us to Pandora’s Box Lunch. It’s a little sandwich place, run by a woman who turns out to be Leticia’s aunt, Myrna.
“Bacon, avocado, tomato?”
“She always knows what I want,” Leticia laughs. “This lady is a mind reader.”
“It’s not hard. Bacon, avocado, and tomato sandwiches are all this girl ever eats,” the aunt says, smiling at me. “Now, what can I get for you?”
“Just iced tea,” I say.
When we sit at a table, I try to be kind of sneaky about getting my lunch out of my backpack. It’s embarrassing to take lunch into a restaurant, especially if you’ve just been introduced to the owner. But what can I do? I’m trying to make every penny count until my next check. Rudy doesn’t have any money now, either.
“I didn’t know I’d be going out to lunch,” I explain to Leticia, as I pull an orange and a baggie with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from my pack.
“I take my lunch sometimes, too,” Leticia says.
“Let me guess. Bacon, avocado and tomato?”
“Hey. You’re a mind reader, too.”
We laugh about that, and about other stuff, getting silly over nothing. Laughing that way, freely, reminds me of Daphne, and all of a sudden, I miss her. I wish I knew how to get in touch with her.
“So . . . where’d you go all of a sudden?”
“I sort of ran away, but everything’s good now, so I don’t even want to talk about what made me run away. You know?”
Leticia nods her head. “But it was because of Rudy, wasn’t it?”
“Now you’re the mind reader,” I tell her, only this time we don’t laugh.
“It doesn’t take a mind reader,” she says. “You were so squirmy in class when those people were talking about abuse, I thought you’d crawl out of your skin. And then, there were all those bruises.”
“Was it that obvious?” I say.
“Probably not. I just noticed, that’s all.”
“It’s so embarrassing,” I say, looking away from Leticia.
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. You’re not the one beating up on people.”
“Well, that’s all over now. I just want to forget about it.”
Leticia says, “I understand.”
I’m not sure if she does or not, but it’s nice of her to try.
“I did meet a really nice person at the shelter,” I tell her. I dig around in my backpack and find the envelope with the pictures Rudy didn’t want to look at.
“Here,” I say, passing them across the table. “You’d like her. She’s fun, and easy to talk to, like you.”
Leticia picks up the stack of pictures.
“She’s really pretty, isn’t she?” Leticia says, pointing at Daphne.
“Yeah. And a nice person, too.”
“What’s her name?”
“Daphne.”
“And the kid?”
“Kevin. He’s three.”
“And this is your little girl? Cheyenne?”
“Yeah. She’s two.”
Leticia comments on each picture, noticing details, asking questions. I wish Rudy had been that interested.
Myrna comes over and refills our drinks.
“How’s your mom today?” Myrna asks Leticia.
“She’s better. It’s just a cold.”
“Stop back after school and get some of my good bean soup to take to her. That’ll get her on her feet.”
They both laugh, then Myrna goes to wait on someone else.
We talk a little longer. Leticia fills me in on the high points of what’s been going on in Peer Counseling. She tells me a little about her ex-boyfriend, speaking of him in a way that makes me think she’d like to get back with him.
I complain to her about Mr. Horton refusing to sign my form.
“He’s a throwback to the thirties,” she says. “He thinks flexibility is a nasty word.”
“To him it’s the ‘F’ word,” I say.
That gets us laughing again, and then it’s time to go back to school.
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Mrs. Sullivan shakes her head.
“You’ve got to finish these five credits of math or you won’t be able to graduate.”
“But I’ll have over two hundred and twenty credits without it,” I say.
“I know, but it’s not only the numbers. You need thirty credits of math, and without this course you’ll only have twenty-five. Summer school—you can graduate after summer school, or you can do what I suggested earlier and finish up at Sojourner or through Independent Studies.”
“But I want to graduate from Hamilton, in June.”
“Well, you’ve missed too much math. Actually, I’m surprised your other teachers are letting you back in. I know Ms. Lee has high standards.”
“I kept my grades up at Desert Dunes,” I remind her.
“Well . . . but the math doesn’t transfer.”
“Couldn’t I finish math in a different class—not Mr. Horton’s?”
Ms. Sullivan shakes her head. “I’m afraid your choices are clear. Graduate from Hamilton after you finish math in summer school, or finish at Sojourner or Independent Studies and participate in the alternative school’s graduation.”
I sit there, going over all three choices in my mind. I don’t like any of them. Why does Mr. Horton have to be such a butt-head about this?
“Think about it and let me know what your decision is in the morning. I get in around seven. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say.
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When I go to get Cheyenne, I tell Bergie of my math troubles.
“Well, Sojourner’s got a good program,” she says.
“But I want to graduate on stage, from Hamilton. I’ve been here over two years, the longest of any school, ever. And I want my diploma to say Hamilton High School,” I say, looking down, trying to hide my tears.
Bergie puts an arm around me but says nothing.
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We’ve had a late dinner, and Cheyenne took a long time going to sleep tonight. It’s after eleven by the time I finish cleaning up the kitchen. Rudy’s drinking beer and watching some old movie that’s got him laughing like crazy. When the phone rings, he answers, then hands it to me.
“Melissa? It’s me, Ms. Bergstrom.”
“Oh, hi,” I say, wondering why she’s calling. Rudy is watching me, not laughing anymore.
“Listen, I know it’s late, but I had an idea that might work for your math credits.”
“Really?” I say.
“Yes. I just talked with a friend who teaches math at Sojourner, and he may be able to help you work something out. I wanted to talk with you before you go back to see Ms. Sullivan in the morning.”
“Cool!”
“I’m not positive, but I think it might work. Come see me first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you!” I say, and hang up.
“Bergie can help me work things out for graduation,” I say to Rudy. “I’m so happy!”
Rudy looks at me, stone-faced.
“What is it? What’s the matter?”
“You’re a lot happier about fuckin’ graduation than you are about me! That’s what’s the fuckin’ matter! And I don’t want no teachers buttin’ their noses in around here. She had no right to call here!”
Rudy stands, knocking over the TV tray in front of him. He throws his beer can into the kitchen, aiming, I guess, for the trash. The can hits the wall and spews what’s left of the beer onto the floor. I sit still as a sphinx. Rudy slams out the back door. I hear him start his car and peel out the driveway.
I feel myself sinking, trying to erase these last minutes, to pretend this is another happy day.