The People in the Park (7 page)

“Come on, Maybelle,” Rose said. “Let’s finish our walk. Besides, she needs to get to school.”

I looked at my watch. She was right. The first bell was ringing about then. I’d miss homeroom but if I hurried, I’d get there by first period.

11

The newsroom was empty except for Mrs. Stevens and me.

Even though the room housing the newspaper was equipped with state of the art computers and other equipment, most staff writers worked on their own computers outside the newsroom. Mrs. Stevens assigned stories, or we could come up with our own story ideas for approval. It didn’t matter where we worked as long as we got our stories in by deadline.

I cherished the silence of the room today. This seemed like the only place, besides the park, that I could have peace and quiet without life intruding and sending me into a tailspin. All the interviews and additional research for my story were done. I just had to bring it all together and make sense of it.

Mrs. Stevens insisted that we turn in a hard copy of our story, along with submitting it electronically. She would probably never see her reporters if the rule wasn’t in place. Students at Fairfield Oaks led busy lives, inside and outside of school.

I loved the process of putting a story together and making it appeal to my audience. It started out as a jigsaw puzzle with all the pieces in disarray. Much thought went into deciding which piece of the puzzle fit into each space. The process of adding and taking away sections until each component flowed smoothly consumed me and made me focus on something other than myself.

I worked late on my story. I had planned to turn it in yesterday, but the Jay prom derailment had sidetracked me. I was only sixteen years old, and in the past month, I’d suffered enough for a lifetime.

I handed Mrs. Stevens my story five minutes before deadline. She quickly scanned it.

“Good work,” she said.

“I hate to see you go,” I said. “Do you know what you’re going to do next school year?”

“I’m going to Lincoln Prep to teach journalism,” she said. “I’ll be teaching students what it takes to be a modern multimedia journalist.”

“I wish you could teach it here?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “They want a change.”

“That’s messed up!”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I have a new opportunity at Lincoln Prep. I’ll get to start their journalism department. In fact, I’ll get to order all of the equipment. Everything will be new.

“I told you that my faith in God would bring something good out of losing my job here. This job closed, but God opened a better one for me at Lincoln Prep. One thing I’ll get to do there that I couldn’t do here is start a broadcast journalism division where one person will write, shoot, edit, produce and file a story.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Although the news business is changing, I’m excited about the changes.”

“My cousin goes to Lincoln Prep,” I said.

“It’s a great school, located in the inner city. Students there get the best education that’s available. It’s comparable to the education here, with over ninety percent of the students going on to college.”

“Really?”

“They have an award-winning debate team,” she said.

“I know. My cousin is on it.”

Mrs. Stevens packed up her briefcase while acknowledging other students who were turning in their stories.

“I’ve been thinking about a story, and I think you’re the perfect person to do it,” she said.

“What’s the story?”

“I think we should do a story on how students at Fairfield Oaks are being affected by the current economic recession.”

“Maybe you should get somebody else for that story,” I said. “I don’t feel comfortable doing it.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Because of what’s going on with your family?”

I didn’t say anything, but I knew that wasn’t a credible excuse.

“If you pursue journalism as a career, you’re going to have to write and investigate your stories regardless of what’s going on with you personally,” she said. “Now’s a good time to practice.”

“Maybe I don’t have it in me to be a journalist. I’m barely getting through the day,” I told her.

“I think you can do this story. It will be a long investigative piece and will do you good to get your mind off your troubles.”

“Most everybody here is not worried about money,” I protested.

“But some are,” she said. “I hear talk every day in the teachers’ lounge about students and their families.”

“If I do the story, can you tell me who to talk to?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Then it wouldn’t be investigative. You have to do your own work.”

I promised her I would think about it.

We walked out together. As we parted on the school steps, she asked, “How is your family?”

“We’re OK,” I said, “Just trying to get through each day.”

“Keep your chin up,” she said. “Remember, have faith in God and He’ll bring something good out of this situation for you.”

I watched as she went to the teachers’ parking lot. I didn’t want to keep my chin up. I wanted to be anywhere except here. And I didn’t want to write a recession story about students in my school. If I did, I was afraid I would have to write about my family, even though our downturn in economics wasn’t caused by the recession.

12

My e-mail account was bulging with messages titled “Your Campaign.”

Your new slogan should be: Crooks Daughter for Treasurer. LOL

Another read:
Do the right thing. Don’t run!

Another:
We can’t trust you. Thievery runs in the family.

Still Another:
Money, Money, Money. Gone, Gone, Gone.

Another e-mail:
Get off the ticket! Now!

Another one:
Lauren Moffit for Treasurer. A Fox in the Henhouse.

And another:
All the Moffits are thieves.

I closed my e-mail account and immediately got a new e-mail address and notified family and close friends. There was too much animosity. The e-mail messages had helped me make a decision. I would abandon my campaign before even running. I already had enough to deal with. I wouldn’t subject myself to more stress. I didn’t want to be treasurer that bad. The only reason I had agreed to run was because Jay had asked me.

At Fairfield Oaks each person running for president of the senior class had to pick a slate of people to run for the other offices. Each person on the slate campaigned separately but students’ votes would be for the whole ticket, the thinking being that popular students were chosen by the presidential candidates to bolster their chances of winning. Evidently, my being on the ticket wouldn’t help Jay.

****

All the lawyers were gone. Dad was in his study. I moved a stack of papers from the chair in front of his desk and slumped down into it.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hoping he would know I was apologizing for screaming at him.

“Kitten, you have nothing to apologize for,” Dad said, strain showing on his face. “I’m the one who needs to apologize for what this situation is doing to our family.”

I looked at my feet. They couldn’t keep still, moving involuntarily from side to side, then back to the front under Dad’s desk.

“What’s going on?” Dad asked.

“You have always told me to never give up on anything?”

He nodded.

“I don’t want to run for treasurer. I’m already getting nasty e-mails, and it’s just too much.”

“Lauren, it’s all right. You and I both know that you aren’t a quitter. If you don’t want to run, you don’t have to.”

“I didn’t want to let you down.”

“You should always do what is best for you. Don’t worry about letting me down.”

“Thanks Dad.”

I sat there not knowing how to bring this other thing up.

Dad’s eyes bore into mine, as if he could see my soul.

“What else is going on?”

“I miss Mom. I miss walking with her in the park in the mornings. She’s either cooking or in bed.”

“Your mother is having a hard time. We need to give her some space. This has really been difficult for her.”

“But she doesn’t go out of the house anymore!”

“I know,” he said. “We need to be understanding and give her some slack. She’ll be all right.”

“OK, Dad.”

I went back to my room. There was no use talking to him about Mom. He didn’t understand how much I needed her.

13

She was waiting for me in the parking lot. In my car! I pulled Mom’s Mercedes into my regular spot beside hers. I wanted her to go on about her business. Instead, she just sat there, waiting for me to get out.

Callie entered the lot, followed shortly by Melanie and Stacie. I waited until they were near my car before getting out.

Steffy took this moment to also alight from her car. “How do you like my new wheels?” she said, smugness written all over her face. “Dad says this car was brought in a little while ago as a fire sale.”

Callie said, “You didn’t have to drive it. You know this is Lauren’s car.”

“It is?” Steffy acted as though it were the biggest surprise in the world.

“A car is a car,” I said, shrugging it off, trying not to make it matter to me.

“I can take you for a ride in it after school. I know you miss it.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“We’re going to have a smack down!” Melanie said, grabbing Steffy’s arm.

“Leave her alone,” Stacie said, corralling her. “She’s not worth it. She’s trash.”

Steffy’s face turned red. “I am not trash! I belong here as much as you do.”

“My dad isn’t a used car salesman,” I said. “At least my dad bought me a new car. I don’t have to drive cars other people don’t want.”

“Wooooo!” By then a crowd had gathered around. “Fight!”

“Fight!”

“Your dad’s a thief! He takes money from innocent people who trust him.”

Whack!

Before I knew it, I’d slapped her.

She clutched her face in horror.

Jared and Rick stepped from the crowd and ushered Steffy away.

“Who does she think she is?” Callie said. “She should’ve known better. We always have each other’s back.”

I appreciated Callie, Melanie, and Stacie more than ever. I’m sure the crowd was rooting for Steffy. They were ready for us to go at it. I meant for my remark about her driving cars for only a couple of weeks to hurt. She never had her own car. I, at least, had my own car for a while. And now I was driving Mom’s car, which we owned. I didn’t have to change cars every couple of weeks to appear as if I were more than I was. Everybody knew she was a pretender. She wasn’t fooling anybody. The loss of her friendship didn’t matter anymore.

But I didn’t mean to hit her.

The rest of the day I avoided Steffy. If I saw her coming down the hall, I turned and went the other way, even if it took longer to get to my destination.

Mrs. Clancy called me into her office. She had lunch delivered for both of us. She asked me how I was doing and we engaged in small talk about my classes until we had finished eating.

As we discarded our trash, she paused briefly before speaking, a tender touch to her voice.

“I heard about the unpleasantness in the parking lot this morning.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand.” I was so embarrassed. Mortified.

Mrs. Clancy looked at me with all her wisdom. “Sometimes things can get heated, even if we don’t want them to. Sometimes it’s best to walk away, even if we run the risk of appearing weak. But sometimes it’s best to let people know that they can’t walk all over us, even if we run the risk of breaking school rules.

“What I really suggest is that you have faith and trust God to fight your battles. From the many confrontations I’ve had with education administrators during my career, I know God will not let your enemies triumph over you. I wouldn’t be principal here if He’d let my enemies win.” Mrs. Clancy smiled.

A weak smile formed on my lips.

“Do you know what I mean?” she asked.

I nodded and stood up. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Sometimes it’s best to take a break from your usual routine and have lunch with the principal.”

“I won’t let it happen again,” I said.

She put an arm around my shoulder and walked me to the door. “You are a fine young lady, Lauren Moffit. Don’t ever forget it.”

Jay was walking with Rick and Jared ahead of me. I ran to catch up.

“Jay, can I talk to you?”

“Sure, what’s up?” He kept walking.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Walk with me.”

He could be so infuriating.

Rick and Jared had smirks on their faces. It was obvious Jay had no intention of talking to me without them around.

“I’m not going to run for treasurer,” I said.

“Oh, OK,” he said, relief spreading across his face. “I’ll see if Steffy wants to take your place.”

No protest. No objection. No nothing.

He, Jared, and Rick went on their way.

14

After school, I felt the urge to take my car, Mom’s car, on the road. I needed to get away. It wasn’t like me to have a public argument. That wasn’t me. Steffy infuriated me so. Still, that wasn’t a reason to act lower class. I was ashamed of myself. I wasn’t acting like a Moffit. Still…I had to check her.

I headed east towards Columbia, a bustling college town. Dad had put half a tank of gas in the car when he had used it last night while his car was in the shop. Ordinarily he would have rented a car but said renting would be a waste of money since his car would be ready today. I looked at the gas gauge, remaining steady on the half line indicator. I should have enough gas to get to Columbia and back.

It felt good to get the car on the road. Mainly I wanted to clear my head. Traveling always did that for me. There wasn’t much to see between Kansas City and Columbia except vegetation, trees, and rolling hills. Out here on the road, I could forget about my life.