Dawn (4 page)

"I'm all right; I'm all right. There wasn't much to do. Mrs. Anderson had a bunch of her elderly friends over is all. They didn't make no mess to speak of. So," she said, seeing the way we were standing and looking at her. "What are you all standing around here and looking like that for?"

"I got news, Sally Jean," Daddy said and smiled. Momma's eyes began to brighten.

"What sort of news?"

"A new job," he said and told her all of it. She sat down on a kitchen chair to catch her breath again, this time from the excitement.

"Oh, children," she exclaimed, "ain't this wonderful news? It's the best present we could get."

"Yes, Momma," I said, but Jimmy looked down.

"Why's Jimmy looking sour?" Momma asked.

"He doesn't want to go to Emerson Peabody," I said.

"We won't fit in there, Momma!" Jimmy cried. Suddenly I was so angry at Jimmy, I wanted to punch him or scream at him. Momma had been so happy she had looked like her old self for a moment, and here he was making her sad again. I guess he realized it because he took a deep breath and sighed. "But I guess it don't matter what school I go to."

"Don't go putting yourself down, Jimmy. You'll show them rich kids something yet."

That night I had a hard time falling asleep. I stared through the darkness until my eyes adjusted, and I could faintly see Jimmy's face, the usually proud, hard mouth and eyes grown soft now that they were hidden by the night.

"Don't worry about being with rich kids, Jimmy," I said, knowing he was awake beside me. "Just because they're rich doesn't mean they're better than us."

"I never said it did," he said. "But I know rich kids. They think it makes them better."

"Don't you think there'll be at least a few kids we can make friends with?" I asked, my fears finally exploding to the surface with his.

"Sure. All the students at Emerson Peabody are just dying to make friends with the Longchamp kids."

I knew Jimmy had to be very worried—normally, he would try to protect me from my own dark side.

Deep down I hoped Daddy wasn't reaching too hard and too far for us.

A little bit more than a week later Jimmy and I had to begin attendance at our new school. The night before, I had picked out the nicest dress I had: a cotton dress of turquoise blue with three-quarter sleeves. It was a little wrinkled, so I ironed it and tried to take out a stain I had never noticed in the collar.

"Why are you working so hard on what to wear?" Jimmy asked. "I'm just wearing my dungarees and white polo shirt like always."

"Oh, Jimmy," I pleaded. "Just tomorrow wear your nice pants and the dress shirt."

"I'm not putting on airs for anyone."

"It's not putting on airs to look nice the first day you go to a new school, Jimmy. Couldn't you do it this once? For Daddy? For me?" I added.

"It's just a waste," he said, but I knew he would do it.

As usual, I was so nervous about entering a new school and meeting new friends, I took forever to fall asleep and had a harder time than usual waking up early. Jimmy hated getting up early, and now he had to get up and get himself ready earlier than ever because the school was in another part of the city and we had to go with Daddy. It was still quite dark when I rose from my lied. Of course, Jimmy just moaned and put the pillow over his head when I poked him in the shoulder, but I flicked on the lights.

"Come on, Jimmy. Don't make it harder than it has to be," I urged. I was in and out of the bathroom and making the coffee before Daddy came out if his bedroom. He got ready next, and then the both of us nagged Jimmy until he got up looking more like a sleepwalker and made his way to the bathroom.

When we left for school, the city looked so peaceful. The sun had just come up and some of the rays were reflected of store windows. Soon we were in a much finer part of Richmond. The houses were bigger and the streets were cleaner. Daddy made a few more turns, and suddenly the city seemed to disappear entirely. We were driving down a country road with farmhouses and fields. And then, just as magical as anything, Emerson Peabody appeared before us.

It didn't look like a school. It wasn't built out if cold brick or cement painted an ugly orange or yellow. Instead, it was a tall white structure that reminded me more of one of the museums in Washington, D.C. it had vast acreage around it, with hedges lining the driveway and trees everywhere. I saw a small pond on to the right as well. But it was the building itself that was most impressive.

The front entrance resembled the entrance to a great mansion. There were long, wide steps that led up to the pillars and portico, above which were engraved the words EMERSON PEABODY. Right in front was a statue of a stern-looking gentleman who turned out to be Emerson Peabody himself. Although there was a parking lot in front, Daddy had to drive around to the rear of the building, where the employees parked.

When we turned around the corner, we saw the playing fields: football field, baseball field, tennis courts, and Olympic-size pool. Jimmy whistled through his teeth.

"Is this a school or a hotel?" he asked.

Daddy pulled into his parking spot and turned off the engine. Then he turned to us, his face somber.

"The principal's a lady," he said. "Her name's Mrs. Turnbell, and she meets and speaks to every new student who comes here. She's here early, too, so she's waiting in her office for both of you."

"What's she like, Daddy?" I asked.

"Well, she's got eyes as green as cucumbers that she glues on you when she talks to you. She ain't more n' five feet one, I'd say, but she's a tough one, as tough as raw bear meat. She's one of them blue bloods whose family goes back to the Revolutionary War. I gotta take you up there before I get to work," Daddy said.

We followed Daddy through a rear entrance that took us up a short stairway to the main corridor of the school. The halls were immaculate, not a line of graffiti on a wall. The sunlight came through a corner window making the floors shine.

"Spick and span, ain't it?" Daddy said. "That's my responsibility," he added proudly.

As we walked along, we gazed into the classrooms. They were much smaller than any we had seen, but the desks looked big and brand-new. In one of the rooms I saw a young woman with dark brown hair preparing something on the blackboard for her soon-to-arrive class. As we went by, she looked our way and smiled.

Daddy stopped in front of a door marked PRINCIPAL. He quickly brushed back the sides of his hair with the palms of his hands and opened the door. We stepped into a cozy outer office that had a small counter facing the door. There was a black leather settee to the right and a small wooden table in front of it with magazines piled neatly on top. I thought it looked more like a doctor's waiting room than a school principal's. A tall, thin woman with eyeglasses as thick as goggles appeared at the gate. Her dull light brown hair was cut just below her ears.

"Mr. Longchamp, Mrs. Turnbell has been waiting," she said.

Without a friendly sign in her face, the tall woman opened the gate and stepped back for us to walk through to the second door, Mrs. Turnbell's inner office. She knocked softly and then opened the door only enough to peer in.

"The Longchamp children are here, Mrs. Turnbell," she said. We heard a thin, high-pitched voice say, "Show them in."

The tall woman stepped back, and we entered right behind Daddy. Mrs. Turnbell, who wore a dark blue jacket and skirt with a white blouse, stood up behind her desk. She had silver hair wrapped in a tight bun at the back of her head, the strands pulled so tightly at the sides, that they pulled at the corners of her eyes, which were piercing green, just as Daddy said. She didn't wear any makeup, not even a touch of lipstick. She had a complexion even lighter than mine, with skin so thin, 1 could see the crisscrossing tiny blue veins in her temples.

"This here's my kids, Mrs. Turnbell," Daddy declared.

"I assumed that, Mr. Longchamp. You're late. You know the other children will be arriving shortly."

"Well, we got here as soon as we could, ma'am. I—"

"Never mind. Please be seated," she said to us and indicated the chairs in front of her desk. Daddy stood back, folding his arms across his chest. When I looked back at him, I saw a cold sharpness in his eyes. He was holding back his anger.

"Should I stay?" he asked.

"Of course, Mr. Longchamp. I like the parents to be present when I explain to students the philosophies of the Emerson Peabody School, so everyone understands. I was hoping your mother would be able to come as well," she said to us.

Jimmy glared back at her. I could feel the tension in his body.

"Our momma's not feeling that well yet, ma'am," I said. "And we have a baby sister she has to mind."

"Yes. Be that as it may," Mrs. Turnbell said and sat down herself. "I trust you will take back to her everything I tell you anyway. Now, then," she said, looking at some papers before her on her desk. Everything on it was neatly arranged. "Your name is Dawn?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dawn," she repeated and shook her head and looked up at Daddy. "That's the child's full Christian name?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very well, and you are James?"

"Jimmy," Jimmy corrected.

"We don't use nicknames here, James." She clasped her hands and leaned toward us, fixing her gaze on Jimmy. "Those sort of things might have been tolerated at the other institutions you attended, public institutions," she said, making the word
public
sound like a curse word, "but this is a special school. Our students come from the finest families in the South, sons and daughters of people with heritage and position. Names are respected; names are important, as important as anything else.

"I'll come right to the point. I know you children haven't had the same upbringing and advantages as the rest of my students have had, and I imagine it will take you two a little longer to fit in. However, I expect that very shortly you two will adjust and conduct yourselves like Emerson Peabody students are supposed to conduct themselves.

"You will address all your teachers as either sir or ma'am. You will come to school dressed neatly and be clean. Never challenge a command. I have a copy of our rules here, and I expect both of you to read and commit them all to memory."

She turned toward Jimmy.

"We don't tolerate bad language, fighting, or disrespect in any form or manner. We expect students to treat each other with respect, too. We frown on tardiness and loitering, and we will not stand for any sort of vandalism when it comes to our beautiful building.

"Very soon you will see how special Emerson Peabody is, and you will realize how lucky you are to be here. Which brings me to my final point: In a real sense, you two are guests. The rest of the student body pays a handsome fee to be able to attend Emerson Peabody. The board of trustees has made it possible for you two to attend because of your father. Therefore, you have as added responsibility to behave and be a credit to our school.

"Am I understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said quickly. Jimmy glared at her with defiance. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't say anything nasty.

"James?"

"I understand," he said in a somber tone.

"Very well," she said and sat back. "Mr. Longchamp, you may resume your duties. You two will go out to Miss Jackson, who will provide you with your class schedules and assign a locker to each of you." She stood up abruptly, and Jimmy and I stood up, too. She stared at us a moment longer and then nodded. Daddy started out first.

"James," she called just as we reached the door. He and I turned back. "It would be nice if you shined your shoes. Remember, we are often judged by our appearance." Jimmy didn't reply. He walked out ahead of me.

"I'll try to get him to do it, ma'am," I said. She nodded and I closed the door behind me.

"I gotta get to work," Daddy said and then left the office quickly.

"Well," Jimmy said. "Welcome to Emerson Peabody. Still think it's going to be peaches and cream?"

I swallowed hard; my heart was pounding.

"I bet she's that way with every new student, Jimmy."

"Jimmy? Didn'tcha hear? It's James," he said with an affected accent. Then he shook his head.

"We're in for it now," he said.

3

The first day at a new school was never easy, but Mrs. Turnbell had made it harder for us. I couldn't get the trembles out of my body as Jimmy and I left the principal's office with our schedules. In some schools the principal-assigned a big brother and a big sister to help us get started and find our way around, but here at Emerson Peabody we were thrown out to sink or swim on our own.

We weren't halfway down the main corridor when doors began to open and students began to enter. They came in laughing and talking, acting like any other students we had seen, only how they were dressed!

All of the girls had on expensive-looking, beautiful winter coats made of the softest wool I had ever seen. Some of the coats even had fur trim on the collars. The boys all wore navy blue jackets and ties and khaki-colored slacks and the girls wore pretty dresses or skirts and blouses. Everyone's clothes looked new. They were all dressed as if this were their first day, too, only it wasn't. They were in their regular everyday school clothes!

Jimmy and I stopped in our tracks and stared, and when the students saw us, they stared, too, some very curious, some looking and then laughing to each other. They moved about in small clumps of friends. Most had been brought to the school in shiny clean buttercup-yellow buses, but we could see from gazing out the opening doors that some of the older students drove to school in their own fancy cars.

No one came over to introduce him or herself. When they approached us, they went to one side or the other, parting around us as if we were contagious. I tried smiling at this girl or that, but none really smiled back. Jimmy just glared. Soon we were at the center of a pool of laughter and noise.

I looked at the papers that told us the times for the class periods and realized we had to move along if we weren't going to be late the very first day. In fact, just as we got our lockers opened and hung up our coats, the bell rang to signal that everyone had to go to homeroom.

"Good luck, Jimmy," I said when I left him at the beginning of the corridor.

"I'll need it," he replied and sauntered off.

Homeroom at Emerson Peabody was the same as it was anywhere else. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Wengrow, was a short, stout, curly-haired man who held a yardstick in his hand like a whip and tapped it on his desk every time someone's voice went over a whisper or he had something to say. All of the students looked up at him attentively, their hands folded on their desks. When I entered, every head turned my way. It made me feel like I was a magnet and their heads and bodies were made of iron. Mr. Wengrow took my schedule sheet. He read it, pressed his lips together, and entered my name in his roll book. Then he tapped his yardstick.

"Boys and girls, I'd like to introduce you to a new student. Her name is Dawn Longchamp. Dawn, I'm Mr. Wengrow. Welcome to 10Y and to Emerson Peabody. You can take the next to last seat in the second row. And Michael Standard, make sure your feet aren't on the back of her chair," he warned.

The students looked at Michael, a small boy with dark brown hair and an impish grin. There was some tittering as he straightened in his seat. I thanked Mr. Wengrow and walked back to sit at my desk. Everyone's eyes were still on me. A girl wearing thick blue-framed glasses across from me offered me a smile of welcome. I smiled back. She had bright red hair tied in a ponytail, that hung listlessly down her back. I saw she had long thin pale arms and thin pale legs that were covered all over with pale red freckles. I thought about Momma telling me how awkward and gangly she was when she was my age.

I heard the public address system click on. Mr. Wengrow straightened into attention and glared around the room to be sure everyone was being attentive. Then Mrs. Turnbell came on and commanded everyone to rise for the Pledge of Allegiance, after which she made a series of announcements about the activities of the day. When she was finished and the public address system clicked off, we were permitted to sit down, but almost as soon as we did, the bell rang to begin the first-period class.

"Hi," the girl with the red ponytail said. "I'm Louise Williams." When she stood next to me, I realized how tall she was. She had a long bony nose and thin lips, but her timid eyes held more warmth than anyone else's had yet at this school. "What do you have first?" she asked.

"Phys ed," I said.

"Mrs. Allen?"

I looked at my schedule card.

"Yes."

"Good. You're in my class. Let me see your schedule," she added, practically ripping it out of my hand. "Oh, you're in a lot of my classes. You'll have to tell me all about yourself, who your parents are and where you live. What a nice dress. It must be your favorite; you look like you're wearing it out. Where did you go to school before? Do you know anyone here yet?" She fired one question after another at me before we even reached the door. I just shook my head and smiled.

"Come on," Louise said, urging me along.

From the way the other girls ignored Louise as we passed through the corridor to our first class, I gathered that she wasn't very popular. It was always hard to break the ice in a new school, but usually there were cracks to find. Here, the ice around me seemed solid, except for Louise, who talked a streak from homeroom to our first class.

By the time we reached the gymnasium, I knew that she was very good in math and science and only fair in history and English. Her daddy was a lawyer in a family firm that went back just ages and ages, and she had two brothers and a sister who were still in grade school.

"Mrs. Allen's office is over there," Louise said, pointing. "She'll assign you a locker and give you a gym suit and a towel for your shower." With that, she hurried off to change.

Mrs. Allen was a tall woman about forty years old, "All the girls must take showers after class," she insisted as she handed me a towel. I nodded. "Come on," she said. She looked stern as we walked toward the locker room. The loud chatter eased up when we entered, and all the girls turned our way. It was a mixed class with girls from three different grades. Louise was already in her uniform.

"Girls, I would like you all to meet a new student, Dawn Longchamp. Let's see," Mrs. Allen said, "your locker is over there"—she pointed across the room—"next to Clara Sue Cutler."

I gazed at the blond girl with the chubby face and figure who was standing at the center of a small clique. None of them were in uniform yet. Mrs. Allen's eyes narrowed as she led me across the locker room.

"What's taking you girls so long?" she asked and then sniffed. "I smell smoke. Have you girls been smoking?" she demanded with her hands on her hips. They all looked at one another anxiously. Then I saw some smoke coming out of a locker.

"It's not a cigarette, Mrs. Allen," I said. "Look." Mrs. Allen squinted and moved to the locker quickly.

"Clara Sue, open this locker immediately," she demanded.

The chubby girl sauntered over to it and worked the combination. When she opened it, Mrs. Allen made her stand back. There was a lit cigarette burning on the shelf.

"I don't know how that got in there," Clara Sue said, her eyes wide with what was obviously fake amazement.

"Oh, you don't, don't you?"

"I'm not smoking it. You can't say I'm smoking," Clara Sue protested haughtily.

Mrs. Allen lifted the burning cigarette out of the locker, holding it between her forefinger and thumb as though it were a cylinder of disease.

"Behold, girls," she said, "a cigarette that smokes itself."

There was some giggling. Clara Sue locked very uncomfortable.

"All right, everyone get dressed and quickly. Miss Cutler, you and I will have a talk about this later," she said, then pivoted and left the locker. The moment she was gone, Clara Sue came at me, her face red and bloated with anger.