Class(43)
“Then you gotta buy something to drink,” explained Empriss.
“But how do you take a bath or a shower?”
“That water works. But the water in the sink—it don’t come out.”
Now genuinely outraged on Empriss’s family’s behalf, Karen went into problem-solving mode, thinking maybe she could draw on her contacts at the Mission for the Homeless—a sister organization of Hungry Kids—and have them file a complaint against the facility in which Empriss’s family lived. “Do you have a super or someone who oversees the—place you live? Because you know your mom has the right to demand repairs.”
“My stepdad said he’s gonna get it fixed,” said Empriss, shrugging again.
“Oh! Well, that’s good,” said Karen, startled to hear that Empriss was being raised in a two-parent household. She’d assumed that the child would only have a mother. “Your stepdad sounds like a nice guy,” she offered.
“Yeah, he’s pretty nice,” she said. “He’s nicer than my real dad. My mom had to leave him because he hit her. And then he had this friend who’s a cop and he gave my dad a gun. That’s when we moved to the shelter. Also, my uncle got shot at the project, and my mom said we weren’t safe there no more.”
“Wow! Well, that’s good your mom did that,” said Karen, nearly choking on her quinoa, even though the news seemed to make no impression on Ruby. She sat quietly munching on her sandwich, apparently indifferent to the problems of the world—or at least Empriss’s family’s problems.
“Hey, no fair,” she said, lifting her chin so she could see into Karen’s Tupperware, “you didn’t pack me any blueberries.”
On the bus going back to school, the Dutch architect’s redheaded son, Bram, and the black editor/activist’s son, Mumia, began to kick the seat in front of them, causing a fight with the girls who were sitting there (Jayla and Yisabella), which somehow set off a bus-wide, girls-against-boys battle involving spitballs. Chahrazad, the raucous Yemeni child, was of course the leader of the girls’ brigade, while Mumia commanded the boys’ batallion. By the time Karen got home—the kids had returned to the classroom for the last part of the day—she was so exhausted and stressed out by being around twenty-five eight-and nine-year-olds screaming about butts and ear wax that she had to take a nap. When she woke up, she discovered it was nearly time to go back to Betts to pick up Ruby. Readying herself to return, Karen experienced new levels of respect for Miss Tammy.
At two forty-five, she was passing through the gate that led to the schoolyard when she nearly collided with Mia’s mother, Michelle, who was approaching from the other direction. “Oh—hey!” said Karen, keen to establish that she had no hard feelings toward Michelle, just as she hoped Michelle had none toward her. But Michelle glared at her, said nothing, and marched on. Rattled by the rebuff and eager to avoid walking in lockstep with Michelle, Karen stopped walking and pretended to search for something in her bag. She pulled out her phone and discovered a recently arrived text from Clay Phipps. Her heart leaping—where had he even gotten her phone number?—she read:
Hey, dancing queen, made inquiries for u re WC’s move to your kid’s PS, but afraid my hands r tied. Apologies. Dinner Tuesday night? Say yes.
More bad news for the school, Karen thought. But this time her frustration and disappointment were mixed with tingling excitement at having heard from Clay again and, what’s more, at him having asked her out to dinner. On a date. Because wasn’t that what it was? It wasn’t as if they had any Hungry Kids business to discuss. And knowing that he’d made inquiries on her behalf while she wasn’t there—and while she was going about the business of her life, unaware—made her even more excited.
And yet, ever since the gala, Karen had felt a little like a middle-aged Cinderella, returned to a life of hearth sweeping the day after the royal ball. Moreover, while the families of the students at Constance C. Betts trundled by in various states of bedragglement and hopelessness—including a grandma with what appeared to be a burned face holding a cane in one hand and a cigarette in the other—Clay seemed so many miles away as to be almost fantastical. Karen also suspected that Clay’s efforts to veto Winners Circle’s co-location had been halfhearted at best. But this was the wrong time to start doubting him. Hungry Kids needed his money—and Karen, for whatever combination of reasons, needed his attentions. Even so, dinner was out of the question. How would she ever justify such a thing to Matt? How could she justify it to herself?
In any case, she needed to pick up Ruby. After enough time had passed that Karen could reasonably assume Michelle and Mia had left the building, she followed the thinning crowd into the gymnasium. By then, everyone in Ruby’s class was gone except for Ruby and Jayyden. The latter sat with his head bowed and his legs extended in front of him, scratching at something on his jeans. According to Ruby, Jayyden was retrieved every day by an older cousin who arrived at least an hour after school had been dismissed, forcing Jayyden to kill endless amounts of time in the hall outside the principal’s office. Although the after-school program offered financial aid to students whose families couldn’t afford the fifteen bucks a day, no one had ever turned in an application on his behalf, so the school couldn’t legally send him to it. And so he sat—and sat. “Hi, sweetie,” said Karen, glancing helplessly over at Jayyden as she reached down to pull Ruby off the floor.