The Weight of Blood (36)

Heart leaping into her throat, Maddy glanced at the field. Kendrick stood watching, ball in hand, his face unreadable. She thought of screaming for help, but the words lodged in her throat.

“Stay away from the Negroes!”

She turned in time to see another balloon sailing toward her and took off running.

SPLASH!

“Get her!” someone shouted, and footsteps charged after her.

SPLASH! Another balloon at her heels. Panicking and turned around, she couldn’t figure out which door to the school would open. They were all locked.

SPLASH!

She spun, back pressed against the wall as the group surrounded her.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Don’t. I . . .”

SPLASH!

Maddy let out an agonizing scream, fingernails clawing at the brick, ready to climb up the walls.

“Ha ha! Mad Mad Maddy spazzing out again!”

Maddy screeched, inching into a corner. “No, please, stop. Please . . .”

“Wendy, we need a countdown!”

A blond girl standing next to the redhead giggled before she sang. “Okay, ready? One! Two! Three!”

The balloons rained down in front of her, snapping and popping, soaking her shoes and white stockings. Arms wrapped over her head, Maddy begged and pleaded. The blond girl slowly stopped laughing.

It took an eternity for a gym monitor, who also seemed to be laughing at her, to arrive and break up the crowd.

“Maddy, it’s just water.” She chuckled. “It’ll dry.”

An inconsolable Maddy, wheezing panicked, painful breaths, collapsed into her arms with bloody fingers. That night, she tried to tell Papa about the incident, but he offered no comfort.

“God makes no mistakes. It’s not up to you to lean on your own understanding. It’s up to you to obey.”

Was that God punishing her for even considering disobeying Papa?

The day after, Charlotte, as an apology, invited her to a “secret spot” for lunch; Maddy was locked in a janitor’s closet for the entire afternoon. Another girl invited Maddy to teen Bible study; Maddy was trapped in a classroom with a stack of porn printouts. She found a love letter in her locker, and when she thanked Jason for it, he loudly rejected her for ten minutes in front of the entire cackling school.

“Middle school is a cruel place,” the nurse had told her. “It’ll be better in high school.”

But it wasn’t.

Freshman year, someone filled her locker full of super-absorption pads. Sophomore year, someone stole her glasses and watched her bump into walls in the hallways. Junior year, someone hung air fresheners around her homeroom desk. But Maddy never reacted the same way she had the day of the water balloons. Because she had remembered another scripture: Proverbs 21:23, “Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble.” Maybe the Lord gave her to Papa to teach her discernment. Maybe they were not lying but shielding themselves from evil.

Thus, Maddy remained all but mute. If they treated her that way believing she was white, who knew what they’d do if they knew the truth?

Now, curled up in the corner of a dark classroom, Maddy once again fought through violent wheezing, her heart trying to hammer its way out of her chest.

The door squeaked open. Maddy gasped, pulling her knees close, squeezing herself tighter.

They found me!

“Maddy?” Mrs. Morgan stood in the doorway, bag hanging off her shoulder, the hallway light turning her into a dark silhouette. But Maddy recognized her voice. “I saw you running this way. Is everything okay?”

She didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Morgan had only been in the school for two years. How could she explain what life had been like for her in Springville?

Mrs. Morgan closed the door and sat on the floor beside her.

“This is cozy,” she quipped.

“I’m sorry,” Maddy sniffed. “I know I’m not supposed to be in here.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Maddy wrung her fingers.

“Come on, you can talk to me,” Mrs. Morgan insisted.

Maddy hesitated, her trust in people broken beyond repair, despite Mrs. Morgan being the nicest teacher she’d ever had.

“A . . . boy asked me to prom. Kendrick Scott.”

“Kenny?” Mrs. Morgan frowned, then nodded as if impressed. “Whoa. That’s . . . amazing! Are you excited?”

“No, I can’t go. I can’t! They’re trying to trick me.”

Mrs. Morgan blew out some air. “Boy, this whole prom thing has really shown people’s true colors around here, hasn’t it? If it’s this bad for a prom, I can’t imagine anyone’s wedding.” She leaned her head back as if deep in thought. “I know teachers aren’t supposed to admit things like this, but I’m going to let you in on a little secret: we pay close attention to you kids. We listen in on your convos, see your text messages. We know all the juicy gossip. And I know this is going to sound crazy coming from me, but Kenny . . . he’s different. Real mature for his age. Down-to-earth, thoughtful, focused, and humble—nothing like his friends. Even though he pretends to be. Knowing all that, I just can’t see him, of all people, trying to trick you. So it’s possible he really is just being nice.”

Maddy shook her head hard.