“Hi, Dad. Me again. I’m planning to go to the library today to get some better books for my students. All the libraries in Louisiana are integrated now, but not all the schools. I don’t get it. More soon. I love you.”
Colleen put the tape player away. Miguel was outside in the car, waiting to take her to the library.
Her mood lifted at the sight of the one-story brick building with its large, welcoming front door. Inside, she found a long counter where two librarians were working. One woman looked about Colleen’s age. The other woman was older and wore her hair in a ’50s-style beehive.
“Good morning. May I help you?” The younger woman’s smile glinted. It was unusual to see an adult with braces.
Colleen smiled back. “I’d like to get a library card for myself and some applications for my students.”
“Of course!” The young woman handed Colleen a preprinted, four-by-six-inch index card. “Here’s a pen. I’ll come back in a few minutes to look it over and check your identification.”
Colleen completed the form, pulling out her military spouse ID and a gas bill with her address. The older librarian strode over and held out a hand for the paperwork. Her hair was pulled so tightly off her face that it stretched her skin taut. Colleen wondered if it gave her a headache.
“Excuse me.” The woman squinted at Colleen’s ID. “Is this application for you?”
“Yes. Why?”
As the librarian examined her, Colleen could almost feel her freckles buzz. She was used to people staring at her green eyes and red hair. When she was a kid, the local banker had given her a lollipop because she was cute. This didn’t feel like that.
The librarian tilted her head. “But this application is for someone named … hmm, Rod-rye-kwiss? That’s you?”
Colleen felt her Irish temper rising as she clenched her jaw and carefully pronounced her new name. “Yes, I’m Colleen Rodriguez. Is there a problem?”
“Do you have some other personal identification?”
“A driver’s license. We moved here a few months ago.”
The librarian held Colleen’s license up to the light, as if it might be counterfeit. “But this doesn’t say Rod-rye-kwiss.”
“Right. I haven’t gotten a chance to change my name yet. We just got married. I’ll take care of it when we go home to New Jersey.”
“Darlin’, I never saw anyone that looked like you with a Mexican name.” The woman shook her beehived head. “Just a moment, please. Wait here.”
Colleen’s face grew hot. So this was how it felt to be an outsider.
The librarian reappeared after a minute. “My boss approved your paperwork,” she said with a tight smile.
Colleen reached out to take the card. The librarian seemed reluctant to let it go.
“Thank you.” Colleen willed herself to stand taller, with her head high and her shoulders back. “I also need some applications for my students.”
“You’re a teacher? Why didn’t you tell me so before?”
Tension rose up Colleen’s back. She nodded toward the younger librarian. “I did ask for student applications from the woman over there.”
“Where do you teach?”
“West Hill School.”
The librarian stepped back from the counter. “West Hill School? On Tulip Lane? That’s the black school.”
Colleen gritted her teeth. Is there a WHITES ONLY sign I missed somewhere?
“Yes, that’s right. I need twenty-four applications.” Colleen splayed her fingers on the counter to stop her hands from trembling.
“I don’t have that many here at the counter. You’ll have to wait.”
The librarian walked into the back office. Finally, Mrs. Beehive returned with a stack of cards.
“Can you explain why you’re doing this and not the parents of your students?” She pursed her lips, as if impersonating the librarians who’d shushed Colleen and her giggling friends back in the high school library.
“Where I taught in New Jersey, every student received a library card at the end of first grade. The teachers handed them out. My students are in second grade, and none of them have a card.”
“That’s not our policy. We have to have parental permission for each of these cards. And if any books are not returned, there will be a fine, or even full payment, for the book. Do you understand that?”
Colleen struggled with her rising anger but responded politely. “Of course. The children will be with me when they take out books, and I will help to return them.”
“But West Hill is across town. Are you bringing them all here on a school-day field trip? We would have to make arrangements for such a large group.”
“Only a few at a time, on Saturdays, as soon as they get their cards.”
The librarian slapped the pile of application cards on the counter. She gave Colleen an amused look. “Well, Mrs. Rod-rye-kwiss, bless your heart. You are just what we need in this library. You come back to me with those permission slips.”
Colleen picked up the stack of applications and walked out of the library.
Rodriguez, Rodriguez.
As she left the building, she felt a set of piercing eyes follow her, and a chill traveled down her spine.