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Mom sat on the edge of my bed and looked at her hands, which were tightly clasped in her lap. After a while, she stopped crying. “Honey, I need to tell you something. I’d hoped never to have to do this, but I guess you’re old enough to know.”
Oh jeez, what did I do now? I sat up straight and waited.
She looked at me, and I could see the tracks that tears had made running down her cheeks. “Do you remember when we lived in Harlan, Kentucky? I think you were in the third grade.”
“It was second grade.” It was really supposed to be first grade, but I’d been promoted because I’d taught myself to read. They hadn’t done me a favor, though, because I’d gotten so far behind in math that I’d probably never catch up. Still, I’d liked Harlan. That was the last time I’d allowed myself to have a friend until we moved to Valencia. Her name was Sally. I pictured her freckled face and blond hair, and a wave of sadness flowed through me. But I didn’t bother mentioning her. Mom was building toward something, and I couldn’t imagine what it was.
“Well, something happened that explains why we’re so upset about you being on television.” She pulled a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and folded it into tiny squares then flicked it open and started over. “Your dad was accused of doing something illegal when we lived there. He didn’t do it, of course, but we don’t like to call attention to ourselves.”
I closed my eyes, and Harlan rushed back. A tarpaper shack that smelled musty because the roof leaked. Dad coming home from the mines, black all over from coal dust. Playing jacks with Sally, who lived across the street.
“What was he was accused of doing?”
She sighed. “Stealing money from the miners’ strike fund. But nobody could prove it, and they didn’t find the money on him.”
“Is that why we left town in the middle of the night?”
“It wasn’t in the middle of the night, Faye. Don’t exaggerate.” She paused. “But yes, we did leave in kind of a hurry. The miners were about to swear out a warrant against him. He got the blame because he was the newest miner and not from around there. We didn’t think there would be justice in those hollers if the sheriff got him.”
Something felt wrong about what she was saying. “That was nine years ago. Surely they can’t still be mad about that. How much money was it, anyway?”
“Around a thousand dollars, I think.”
“Oh.” That was a lot of money. “Are you sure he didn’t do it?”
Her face tightened. “Yes, honey, I’m sure. We’d have been a whole lot richer if he’d stolen it, and anyway, your dad isn’t that kind of man.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. I could imagine him stealing money if it was in somebody’s coat pocket and easy to get to. Just as he’d stolen drugs from Mr. Ivey’s medicine closet. But I didn’t dare say that to Mom. I just nodded.
“So you see, you getting on television makes us nervous. Some reporter might say you’re Faye Smith, daughter of Bud and Sue Smith, and the sheriff up there might hear it and come and arrest your dad, or at least call the local police so they could do it. I don’t know how it works, but I need your father’s income. I don’t see how I could support us alone. Do you understand now why we’re upset?”
I didn’t really. It had all happened a long time ago. Besides, I couldn’t imagine a sheriff from Kentucky coming all the way to Florida to arrest Dad for stealing. Murder, maybe, but not theft. But I didn’t dare question her anymore. Instead, I changed the subject. “But, Mom, they say I made history today. Aren’t you at all proud of me?”
She sat with her mouth open, confusion in her eyes. “Honey, I’m proud of you every day. You’re a beautiful girl with lots of talents. I just wish you were using other talents instead of running.”
“But the coach said I might get a scholarship to the University of Florida if I keep running and get my grades up.” I left out the part about the Boston Marathon. That could wait until later.
Mom looked sad. “Honey, we don’t have the money to send you to college. Even with a scholarship, there are other expenses. And we’re planning on you working with us full-time after you graduate. You know that. We’ve talked about it before.”
I couldn’t let it go. I just couldn’t. If I did, I’d be stuck for the rest of my life. “But, Mom, I want to go to college. Don’t you see? After I graduate, I can make lots more money.”
She pressed her lips together and gave me a look that said I didn’t understand anything. “Honey, college isn’t for people like us. We’re blue-collar workers. I never even graduated from high school, and I’ve done all right. Besides, we need your income sooner rather than later.”
I had thought she’d be excited for me to get out of the terrible life we lived. The fact that she wanted me to stay in it made my head feel ready to explode.
Mom said, “I know you don’t like outside work. What about if you think about being a secretary? You can take typing and shorthand classes next year, and then you can get an indoor job right out of school. How’s that for a compromise?” She smiled as if she were offering me a prize.
But this was no prize. “Uh, I’ll think about it.” Why did I have to compromise when I’d just been offered a scholarship? Secretarial work was slightly better than picking fruit and vegetables all day in the hot sun but nowhere as good as college. Maybe I was too stupid to make it through, but at least I could try.
I gave her a tight-lipped smile. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of arguing anymore. She knew what I wanted to do.
Mom sighed. “For now, your dad and I will let you keep running with Francie, but no more track meets. Ever. Don’t let us find out that you’re doing it behind our backs, or I won’t be able to keep your dad from getting out his belt. You need to keep in mind that your actions could get us into a lot of trouble. And think about secretarial classes.” She kissed me on my forehead. “All right. Enough of that. Bedtime in twenty minutes.”
She went out and shut my door. I could tell by the lightness of her steps that she was relieved. But I felt heavy, like I was made of lead. I’d just found out my dad was probably a thief, and maybe even worse. Whatever he had done, evidently it was bad enough that it could get him arrested or even put in prison.
It really wasn’t my problem, though. If Mom thought that telling me about Dad’s legal troubles was going to make me feel so guilty that I would stop running, she was wrong. Even if the law found him and arrested him because of me, if he was innocent, he’d be fine.
After talking to Mom, I decided that I definitely wanted to run the Boston Marathon with Francie. It wasn’t a track meet, at least not technically, so I wouldn’t be breaking their rules. But even if I did break their rules, that was less important than running that race. I was going to give it everything I had, and I’d come up with the money somehow. Mom was not going to make me be a farm worker or a secretary—not if I had anything to say about it.
* * *
AT SCHOOL ON MONDAY, I was a minor celebrity. Kids I didn’t even know passed me in the halls and said, “Hi,” or “Way to go.” My homeroom teacher announced that I’d been on the news, and everybody clapped. I’d never been the center of attention before, and my face heated up as I smiled and looked down at the desk.
At lunch, I told Francie I would run the marathon with her. “I don’t know how I’ll make it happen, but I’ll do it somehow.”
“Hooray!” She gave me a big hug, and we laughed together at the sheer audacity of our decision.
Reese brought his tray over and joined us. We told him about our plan. “That’s great,” he said, smiling broadly. “I’m sure you can do it. You’re both fine runners.”
We were deep in conversation when some cheerleader in a uniform and big hair leaned over me as she was returning her tray. It tipped, spilling half a plate of spaghetti into my lap. I yelled and jumped up. “Hey!”
She just sneered, directing a satisfied look at the mess on my skirt. “Don’t even think that acting like a boy will make you popular.” She smirked and walked away, her friends giggling as I swiped at the gooey mess.
Reese ran to get napkins, and he and Francie helped me clean off the spaghetti. I had a feeling that my best skirt was ruined.
“I don’t even know her name,” I said, holding back tears.
“Amy,” Francie said. “I’ve gone to school with her all my life, and she’s the world’s biggest bitch.”
“Why would she do that to me?”
Francie shook her head. “Who knows why somebody like that does anything? She’s dating Benny, so maybe that explains it a little.” It didn’t make sense that he was holding a grudge because I was a little mean to him the day we weeded together, but it was the best explanation we could come up with. He hadn’t come back to work on his grandfather’s farm, so I figured he’d forgotten all about our little tiff. But some people couldn’t stand it if another person got even a smidgen of the attention they thought was theirs by right.
Having spaghetti dumped on me made me even more determined to run the marathon. I was going to be famous some day, and that cheerleader was just going to be fat and lazy.
* * *
THAT AFTERNOON, I TOLD Coach Lopez that my parents wouldn’t let me run in any more track meets.
He said, “I’m sorry to hear that. But I’ll still train you for the marathon.” He licked his lips and looked embarrassed then mumbled, “You still got that ribbon?”
I started to tell him it was in my locker, but something about the way he spoke stopped me. “Why?”
“I’m sorry, Faye, but I’m going to need to take it back. The Athletic Association decided a girl can’t win or place in a track meet. It’ll go instead to the boy who came in fourth.”
After all the trouble I’d gotten into at home, I couldn’t keep the stupid ribbon? I glared at him. It wasn’t his fault, but I was not giving that ribbon back, no matter how many times he asked. I said, “Uh, it’s at home. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry to have to ask you for it. I know you won it fair and square.”
“Yeah.”
The funny thing was, I didn’t bring that ribbon back the next day or any other day over the next week, and Coach didn’t ask for it again.