Class(55)

“Hey, Ruby,” came a voice.

“Hey,” Ruby, who was farther down the staircase, answered flatly.

“What after-school class are you in?”

“Puppetry.”

“I’m in karate.”

“Oh.”

Karen glanced down and saw Empriss leaning against the banister, one flight below, a lollipop in her mouth. It occurred to Karen suddenly that the baby-changers must have been Empriss’s mother and stepfather. Guilt washed over Karen—not just that her daughter was being so unfriendly, but that Karen herself had been silently passing judgment on the way these people lived when their lives were so much harder than hers.

At the same time, Karen couldn’t help but question why people in financial straits as dire as theirs were bringing more babies into the world. Or was Karen an awful person for even thinking that way? The desire to reproduce was biological, universal, and arguably irrational in all of us, and there was no reason to believe that the same fantasies and ambitions that inspired the rich to make tiny versions of themselves who promised to outlive them would fail to motivate the poor. And it was Matt who had pointed out one night that, far from poor children being a burden on any system, capitalism depended on them, insofar as it required an endless supply of future laborers. Besides, the only area of the labor market predicted to expand over the coming century was the service industry. Before he became a housing lawyer, Matt had been an assistant attorney for the hotel employees’ union. “She’s adorable,” said Karen, trying to compensate for her daughter’s standoffishness. “How old?”

“Three months,” the mother said, smiling back.

“What’s her name?” The baby had a giant pink bow on top of its bald head, so Karen assumed it was a girl.

“Kimora.”

“What a beautiful name!” said Karen, who probably would have answered the same way even if the child had been called Adolf.

“Thank you.”

“Well, have a good evening.”

“Same to you,” said the woman.

“You weren’t very friendly,” Karen groused to her daughter as they stepped outside.

“Mommy, Empriss is a bully!” said Ruby.

“Ruby, do you even know what bullying is?” said Karen, doubtful.

“Yes! We had an assembly and a workshop on it.”

“Well, she seemed perfectly nice just then.”

“That’s because her mom was standing right there. She’s always nice around grown-ups.”

“Does this have to do with her being best friends with Mia now?”

“No! I don’t care who she’s friends with!” Ruby insisted. “And I’m not even friends with Mia anymore.” This was not unwelcome news to Karen. “I just don’t like Empriss. Okay?” Ruby went on.

“You don’t have to be friends with her,” said Karen. “But can’t you be nice?”

“Why should I be nice? Yesterday she called me a tattletale just because I told Miss Tammy that she was hiding in the girls’ room when we had a fire drill. And she’s always saying I get in everyone’s business and try to boss people around.”

“Well, do you?” asked Karen.

“Mommmmm!” cried Ruby, clearly exasperated.

“Okay, okay.” As Karen pulled back, she pondered Ruby’s question: Why was it so important to Karen that her daughter make an effort with Empriss at the very moment when she was taking her daughter out of the girl’s school? In all likelihood, they would never see each other again. Was Karen trying to reassure herself that Ruby’s imminent departure from Betts had nothing to do with the school’s inclusion of students like Empriss? And why was it so difficult for Karen to accept the idea that a girl who lived in a homeless shelter might also occasionally be obnoxious? To have faced extreme adversity didn’t guarantee a winning personality or strong moral fiber—possibly just the opposite. “I believe you,” said Karen. “I just—well, we’ve talked about it before. Empriss has a way harder life than you. I’m not excusing the way she acts. I just want you to remember that. In any case, you probably won’t be seeing that much of Empriss in the future”—Karen figured she might as well tell her now—“because you’re changing schools.”

Ruby stopped walking. They were two blocks from home. “What?” she said, turning to her mother, her thin eyebrows lifted nearly to her hairline. “Why?”

“Because Mommy thinks you’ll get a better education elsewhere,” Karen said quickly.

Ruby looked stricken. “But where am I going?”

“To Mather, where Maeve goes now.”

“But I’m not even friends with her anymore.”

Karen suddenly regretted the abruptness with which she’d turned down Laura’s playdate invitation a few weeks back. “Well, that’s just because you haven’t seen her for a while,” she said. “You will be again, I’m sure. Besides, there will be a hundred new girls to be friends with there.” Karen put her arm around her daughter.

But Ruby shrugged it off. “I’m not going,” she announced.

“Sweetie,” said Karen, trying to disguise her own alarm at Ruby’s alarm. She hadn’t expected so much resistance. “You were the one who told me a few days ago that school was too easy and that you weren’t being challenged and also that you had no one to sit with at lunch.”