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That said, Karen had come to believe that the parents played a role in the children’s self-segregation. Every year, she threw Ruby a birthday party, and every year she was puzzled to find that, with a few exceptions, the white, Asian, and interracial children whom Ruby invited showed up, while the black and Hispanic children with parents of lesser means didn’t. Their mothers either sent their regrets or simply didn’t respond. In a few cases, they never opened the invitation at all. Was it because they didn’t recognize the Evite format? Lived too far away? Didn’t feel comfortable? Had complicated work schedules and child-care arrangements that made dropping off and picking up a child in the middle of a Saturday afternoon too difficult? Karen knew there were a million possible explanations, all of them valid. But she always felt the tiniest bit hurt that her attempts at a magnanimous gesture toward One World–ness were met with silence—even when she’d used extra Evite “coins” to send the invitations again.



At work the next day, there was a planning meeting to discuss Hungry Kids’ annual spring gala/benefit. Naturally, Karen had already added Clay’s name to the guest list. She’d also mailed him an old-fashioned note on thick card stock, thanking him for his generous contribution. She didn’t expect to hear back, since no one really replied to paper letters anymore, much less wrote them. But for murky reasons—the desire to be complimented on her appearance again? Excitement at the prospect of a luxury mini-vacation at the beach next summer?—she found herself wishing he’d get back in touch and scanning her in-box in search of his name.

She also found herself scanning it for Laura’s. It had been three days since Karen had written her an e-mail, and Laura still hadn’t responded, which Karen found both curious and pointed. Meanwhile, at school drop-off on Friday—a week to the day since Jayyden had pummeled Maeve—Karen spotted the culprit shuffling down the hall. He’d had the outline of a race car shaved into his buzz cut. And his backpack was falling so low on his shoulders that it bounced against the back of his legs.

Recalling their embraces from the year before and possessed for a moment by the self-aggrandizing notion that the extension of friendship by a nice lady like herself could somehow benefit him in life, Karen called out, “Hi, Jayyden!” in a buoyant voice.

At the sound of his name, he quickly turned around. But seeing it was Karen, he immediately lost interest. “Hey, Ruby’s mom,” he mumbled before he turned back around and continued shuffling down the hall.

Karen finally received a reply from Laura that evening. It read as follows:

Hey, Karen,

Thanks for your note. I, too, wish there was a way for us to stay. But Maeve literally begged us not to make her go to school on Monday. And neither Evan nor I had the heart to force her. Also, to be completely honest, we really don’t feel comfortable sending her there anymore.

We’ve enjoyed getting to know your family over the past few years. And Maeve is going to miss Ruby, for sure. We’ll have to keep in touch.

Best, Laura



Karen had to admit that, at least on the surface, Laura’s e-mail was perfectly nice and certainly polite. But considering Maeve and Ruby were best friends, it also struck Karen as insultingly laconic in addition to being dismissive. Laura seemed barely to have considered Karen’s arguments. As a result, Karen couldn’t help but feel as if she’d been blown off like so many pencil shavings after a standardized math test. Nonetheless, she couldn’t stop herself from writing back to ask where Maeve would be attending third grade instead.

The next morning, Laura relayed the answer in one word, which she didn’t bother to capitalize, as if the leap were that insignificant. She wrote, simply,

mather



Karen did realize there were atrocities being committed around the globe at that very moment that were far worse than the one of which Laura Collier and Evan Shaw now appeared to be guilty. Even so, Laura’s answer made Karen feel almost physically ill. The school known as Mather—official name: Edward G. Mather Elementary—was the esteemed public elementary five blocks east of Betts where the majority of Ruby’s friends from pre-K at Elm Tree, with their heirloom names, sparkly headbands, Mini Boden anoraks, and seaweed snacks, had matriculated. Karen had heard of families lying about their addresses or cramming their families into tiny apartments in order to gain entry into the school, but this was the first time she’d heard about anyone seeking a safety transfer as a way in. Suddenly, Laura and Evan’s response to Jayyden’s punch seemed less like a defensive posture or overreaction than a cynical ploy to game the system.

It also seemed clear to Karen that Laura and Evan, whom she’d once taken for art-school types who’d sold out only because there were bills that needed to be paid, were actually shameless and conniving opportunists, no better than Clay Phipps, if significantly less wealthy. But at least he was up-front about his motives. Drunk on a heady brew of jealousy and resentment, Karen wrote back:

Wow—lucky you guys! And nice way to work the system. ?



Had her response been that nakedly passive aggressive? Whatever the case, Laura didn’t reply. This time, Karen wasn’t entirely surprised.



It happened that Karen’s closest mom-friend at Betts, Lou, was also dark-skinned. Second-generation Jamaican, she’d been raised in New Hampshire, of all unlikely places, and was now married to an Icelandic guy who worked in graphic design. Karen prized Lou for being warm and witty. But she was also aware of taking an inordinate amount of pride in the existence of their friendship, which seemed to prove that she was the kind of person she liked to think of herself as—that is, a person with friends from all walks of life. Because of this, she was aware of putting more effort into the relationship’s maintenance than she put into friendships with her old (mainly white) friends, whose e-mails she often didn’t answer for days and on whom she canceled dinners, coffees, and drinks as frequently as she scheduled them.