That’s why you don’t like Riana?” I asked Layah. “Because she wears glasses? That’s stupid. And I’m even stupider for following you!”
My head started pounding as I stormed away from Layah. I cut my recess time short and headed back to the classroom.
So many times I had wanted to apologize to Riana, especially when I saw her eating lunch all alone. When she talked with James and Wendi, who both also wore glasses, I wanted to tell her how much I missed our talks. But I never did.
Good thing for me, room 202 was unlocked. I was so upset and disappointed with myself that I didn’t bother scanning the room to see if anyone else was using it. I simply headed to my desk in the back row and rested my aching head.
Miss Pryor walked into the room.
“Carmen, what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“I know that’s not true. Your grades are slipping. When school started you were an A student. Last month you slipped to Bs. I just graded your social studies test, and you got a D. Now, what’s wrong?”
“Just stress and pressure, I guess.”
Miss Pryor told me that she’d set up a conference with my mother and father. They were going to be so disappointed. “If there’s anything I can help you with,” she added, “I don’t want you to hold back. What’s keeping you from being able to focus?”
I didn’t know where to begin. So many issues had my stomach tied up in knots. If Miss Pryor knew half of my worries, she’d understand. I had to move and make new friends, and now I was an outcast. I’d just learned about my brother’s adoption. And I had betrayed a friend. My head was pounding and throbbing.
Over the next ten minutes she pulled out everything that was inside my soul. She said she’d been wondering why Riana and I weren’t talking anymore. Miss Pryor told me she could tell I really missed having Riana as a friend. She said I’d only have peace if I mended my mistake. I knew that was true. But could Riana truly forgive me? After our chat, my head felt better.
I ran outside to get things back on track with my friend. When I arrived at the blacktop, I heard screaming. I busted through a big circle in the crowd and saw Layah. Her back was to me, but I could tell she was talking to someone.
“What’s up, yo?” Layah shouted forcefully. “What ya gonna do? Thinkin’ ya all that.” Since being suspended on the first day of school, Layah had been to the office on three other occasions for picking fights. The principal told her that if she got into trouble one more time, she’d be suspended for ten days instead of three. It appeared Mrs. Morgan’s threat didn’t matter. Here she was, about to brawl with some poor, innocent soul.
Layah was doing a boxing technique. When she jabbed to the right, I saw Riana standing rigidly in front of her. Without thinking, I quickly stood in front of the friend who had never left my heart. I tried to act like the friend I had never measured up to be.
“Layah, if you want to fight her, you are going to have to fight me too. I am sick of you and this tough-guy stuff. I’m tired of you making people feel they aren’t as good as you. I am fed up with you deciding who’s in and who’s not. Riana has more good qualities than you’ll ever have.”
A part of me was afraid that my mouth was getting me into trouble that the rest of my body couldn’t get me out of. But I didn’t back down. I stood firmly planted, like a two-hundred-year-old oak tree. I faced Layah with the courage of a lion.
Even though I probably would not have been able to back up my challenge, Layah must have thought I could. Without a word, she pushed her way through the crowd and left Riana and me alone. Everyone was amazed that she gave up so quickly. Especially me.
I wanted to hug Riana and tell her how sorry I was that I had let her down. But before I got the chance to apologize, Riana said, “Thank you,” and left.
She walked with the rest of the class into the building. She wasn’t cold and mean, but she wasn’t warm and fuzzy either. I couldn’t believe I’d expected her to be, when I hadn’t been nice to her.
A week later, Thanksgiving break finally arrived. My headaches had gotten more intense. And my relationship with Riana was still strained.
After the incident on the blacktop, I started hanging out alone. I didn’t want to hang with Layah, and Riana didn’t want me to hang with her. The quiet time helped me make the Lord my best friend. Spending time with Him, I got to see things differently. I used to think friendship was measured by how many friends you had and popularity. Now I knew true friendship should always be measured by quality and sincerity.
Relatives from both sides of our family came up from Durham, North Carolina; but there weren’t any kids, just five adults. Since Clay had twin beds, Cassie and I had to bunk with him in his room.
“Pass them string beans,” my grandpa Harry said. He was my father’s father. He came with his wife, Grandma Anna Belle. Grandma Lula, my mother’s mom, came with my mom’s sister, Chris, and her husband, Mark. Chris was ten years younger than my mother. Cassie and I loved spending time with her. She was so cool. Auntie Chris and Uncle Mark were almost to their second wedding anniversary. Being a junior bridesmaid in their candlelight Christmas wedding was one of the best experiences of my life.
With our turkey, we had honey-baked ham, barbecued chicken, macaroni and cheese, stuffing, candied yams, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, collard greens, green bean casserole, corn bread, rolls, fruit salad, banana pudding, apple cobbler à la mode, and red velvet cake. Oh, and my absolute favorite side dish, cranberry sauce. Mixing that slimy red sweet stuff into it made everything on my plate taste good.
“Carmen,” Auntie Chris said to me at the table, “your mother tells me you’ve got a school paper to do on affirmative action. How’s it coming?”
“Okay,” I said, even though I hadn’t started.
“It had better be more than okay,” my father said. “Your grades aren’t the best, and you need to give every assignment high priority.”
I nodded.
“I didn’t know you had to write about affirmative action.”
“Miss Pryor wants us to give our opinion about it,” I said.
“And what is your opinion?” Grandma Lula asked.
I set my fork down, rested my elbows on the table, and twiddled my thumbs. “I’m not really sure.”
The whole family questioned me as if I were under arrest. So I said I was more against it than for it. You’d think I’d set off a bomb! Word explosions filled the air as everyone started talking at once.
Eventually, Dad’s firm voice got the attention of the floor. “If it weren’t for those laws, you wouldn’t be where you are today.” He stared at me. “If it weren’t for affirmative action, your mother and I would never have met, and you would never have been born. You see, your mom and I got into Duke University because of their special admissions program.”
Aunt Chris added, “I’m for affirmative action, not just for what it has done for me personally, but for all the good it has done for others. For every black person who doesn’t need affirmative action, there are ninety-nine who do.”
“Amen to that,” Uncle Mark agreed. “Those same anti-discriminatory laws allowed Chris and I to move into our neighborhood in Raleigh.”
Grandpa Harry chimed in. “Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., Medgar Evers, and Sister Rosa Parks led the civil rights movement back in the ’60s. You weren’t born then, but we blacks had it hard in those days. We even had to use different water fountains. What them black leaders did helped us a whole lot. But, baby girl, it still ain’t given us no equal playing field. Now, affirmative action won’t even the playing field neither. But it will give us minorities a few points on the scoreboard. To win in this-here crazy world, our people need all the help they can get. Not ’cause you and me is special, but ’cause our ancestors gave their lives in hopes that one day we’d have a chance. ’Bout time there were finally some laws to help us get somethin’. Chile, don’t think we don’t need them laws! We didn’t come this far just to start over.”
I pondered Grandpa’s speech all weekend. Having a wise and loving family gave me plenty to be thankful for. They also gave me plenty of good research for my paper. Maybe I did need to reevaluate my feelings on affirmative action. Could I have been too harsh in my judgment against it?
“I can’t need glasses,” I whined to the eye doctor as the school nurse handed me a letter to take home to my parents.
The school’s annual physical exam checked every student’s spine for scoliosis. Our blood pressure was checked, and so was our vision.
“Well, young lady,” Dr. Vaughan said, pointing to the chart, “you told me the F was an E. You said the P was a B. Then you thought the G was a C. I’d say you need glasses. You’re nearsighted. You can see close up, but you can’t see things far away.”
At least this explained my headaches. It also told me why I couldn’t clearly read the blackboard. Being unable to see the board from the back row was the reason for my poor grades.
Even though I knew getting glasses would solve all those problems, I didn’t care. I just did not want four eyes. The last thing I needed was another reason for people to tease me.
I burst out of the nurse’s office, drenched in tears. I dashed past my classmates who were waiting for various examinations. I saw some of them laughing at me. Those who weren’t giggling were staring.
I didn’t have time to address their ignorance or curiosity. I had to come up with a game plan. I needed a way to correct my vision without glasses. When I was in third grade, I thought eating spinach would help my eyesight. In some class we learned that taking iron sometimes strengthened eyesight. As I looked at the mirror in the girls’ restroom, I realized that if my eyes were weakening, it was too late to correct them. My only hope would be to wear contact lenses. However, the thought of sticking objects in my eyes every day, and removing something from my eyes every night, was not appealing. And an operation to fix them was too scary to think about.
I turned on the faucet to sprinkle cool water on my face. Unfortunately, the water wasn’t washing away my disappointment.
The door opened. I didn’t want anyone to see me sobbing, so I turned my face toward the window. Footsteps approached.
“It’s just me,” Riana said calmly as she placed her hand on my shoulder.
“Oh, Riana,” I sobbed as I turned and dropped my head in her arms.
“I figured you’d need glasses soon. I thought that back in September. Remember when there were some assignments on the board you could hardly read? Well, I took off my glasses and I couldn’t see the problems either. Your headaches and mood swings were other signs. Last year when I needed glasses those things happened to me too.”
She was being so understanding. So concerned. She was being a friend.
“Last week when you went to bat for me out there on the blacktop, it really meant a lot. Your actions were so surprising I didn’t know how to respond. I wanted to say so many things, but nothing came out. Over Thanksgiving, when my family did our usual tradition of telling what we’re thankful for, I said I was thankful for the friendship I once had with you. I thanked God for sending you and your family to Ettrick. Even though you’ve hurt me, I never stopped caring for you.”
I was overjoyed to have my friend back. I needed her. I needed her to tell me glasses wouldn’t be so bad. Riana informed me that wearing glasses actually had its perks. Having two and three pairs could be as glamorous as different pairs of earrings. She even offered to go with me to the eye doctor.
It was hard to hold back the tears. This had nothing to do with glasses. It was all about getting back something I really needed. On the first day I met her, Riana had reached out to me with real compassion. I was glad she cared enough about our bond to wait until I knew what true friendship was.
As we were coming out of the restroom, our warm moment was interrupted by Layah. She was blocking the bathroom door as if we were her prisoners. A crowd stood behind her, waiting for something to happen.
“So, Miss Browne, I hear your optical nerve is bad,” she said.
“Optical nerve! What a big phrase,” I said. “But do you know what it means? Let me break it down for you. Optical means ‘good look.’ And nerves allow you to feel things. Wearing glasses won’t bother me, but hanging with people who judge others will upset my ability to take a good look at things and people I feel good about. You, Layah Golf, not my eyes, have deeply bothered my optical nerve.”