The Black Kids(82)

“Make this right,” LaShawn’s mother says.

The two of them stare at each other for what feels like an eternity.

“Ms. Johnson.” Principal Jeffries breaks the uncomfortable silence. “Unfortunately, regardless of the circumstance, he did hit another child… we can’t not do anything about that.”

“Would you say the same thing if he weren’t a scholarship kid?” Ms. Johnson raises her voice a little, and the school secretary looks up from her computer monitor and over at Principal Jeffries expectantly. “What about if I could donate a new library?”

“We treat all our students equally,” Principal Jeffries stammers. LaShawn’s mother raises an eyebrow and says nothing as she heads toward the door.

“Ms. Johnson, wait!”

LaShawn’s mother turns back to face Principal Jeffries, eyes wary, her hands gripping her purse tight to her body.

“How about LaShawn helps out around the school as his punishment? Like sweeping, picking up trash, scraping up gum, or whatever, only for this week? And we don’t report any of this to Stanford?”

“So now you want my child to serve as a janitor for these white kids?” LaShawn’s mother says.

“Or he can help out at the office, then. I’m sure we can find a project for him here.”

“And you don’t report the suspension to Stanford?”

“You have my word,” Principal Jeffries says.

“Okay, then. That might work. I’ll let him know.” Ms. Johnson pauses. “I’m curious, Principal Jeffries; what would you have done if LaShawn wasn’t LaShawn in this exact same situation? What if my baby wasn’t your star athlete? If he was any other black kid at this school?”

Principal Jeffries looks at Ms. Johnson long and hard, and, after a moment, slumps her shoulders a bit. “I don’t know, Ms. Johnson, I don’t know.…”

Ms. Johnson seems satisfied with that bit of honesty and nods like they’ve come to some sort of understanding, then starts back toward the door. There she catches my eye, and for a moment I freeze; maybe she knows I’m the one who’s responsible for all of this.

Instead she smiles at me and says, “You keep your head up, babygirl, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

I feel awful. Just truly rotten to the core. Like the scum of the earth.

Principal Jeffries has turned and started back to her office when I call out to her. “Principal Jeffries? Um… I kinda have to talk to you about something.”

She sighs before gesturing toward her open door. “I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

Principal Jeffries’s office has been worn down by decades of teen angst. It’s very sparsely decorated but cluttered with books about child development and understanding your teen and educational psychology. There are several photos of her smiling on mountains with a sturdy, busty woman with a gray pixie cut. They look sweaty and happy, in each photo climbing higher and higher still. A peeling birch obscures the view of the school grounds through the office window. Principal Jeffries taps her hiking shoes on the floor nervously as I speak. They squeak.

When I’m done explaining, she says, “Why would you do that?”

In the quad last semester, the theater kids performed this whole number from West Side Story about juvenile delinquents. It’s pretty funny. Come to think of it, a lot of the songs the theater kids sing are pretty funny. Anyway, the song’s about all the reasons kids sometimes do bad things - is it because of the bad in the world around them or because they’re bad? I’m not a bad person, I don’t think. At least, I don’t want to be.

I don’t say this, though. Instead I say, “Honestly? I think I’m kind of an idiot, Principal Jeffries.”

Principal Jeffries takes a moment to contemplate this. “Do you have any idea what kind of situation you’ve created?”

“I have a pretty good idea, yes.”

“Your sister was… difficult too.” She takes a sip of coffee.

“That’s the consensus,” I say. I should tell her about Jo, but I can’t talk about Jo right now.

Principal Jeffries reaches her hand across her desk and places it on mine.

“In a just world, actions should have consequences.” She looks into my eyes intently. I think this is also her nice, liberal, white-lady way of obliquely talking about everything going on in our city.

“I agree.”

“You will apologize to LaShawn.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“In writing.”

“Yes ma’am… Are you still gonna make him stay after school and do whatever around the office?”

“Unfortunately, he did hit somebody, Ashley.”

“But you know he’s not like that, normally… I want to take responsibility for my mistakes. They impacted him. And they shouldn’t have. He doesn’t deserve it,” I say.

“Yes, well… if only more adults would do that, right?”

“So?”

“I’ll think about it.” She rubs her temples.

“Also, I think Lana Haskins might be in trouble.”

“Is this like how you thought LaShawn was a thief?”

Lana trusted me with her secrets, and friends are the people who are supposed to swallow your secrets until they belong to you both. But certain secrets you have to tell. Maybe the whole reason Lana told me was so it wouldn’t be a secret anymore. Sometimes you have to speak.