What's Mine and Yours(62)
“I’m missing an English test,” she said.
“That’s all right. Think of all the things you’d miss if you weren’t here.”
Noelle had wondered whether Ruth would try and talk her out of it, but she hadn’t tried, not even once. She reached for Ruth’s hand, and Ruth gave it, without looking up from her magazine.
When it was her turn, Ruth waved her off with a smile. The room was large and smelled of castile soap and hot water, as if someone had just been in to clean. A quick and forceful nurse weighed her, took her vitals, sat in a chair across from the examining table to explain the procedure. It took a while for Noelle to recognize her; she looked so different in her mint-green scrubs, without her dark lipstick. She was the woman who had spoken at the town hall, the one who had pissed off Lacey May so bad that she decided to stand up and speak about the campaign.
The nurse asked whether she had any questions. “We’ll go through the consent forms in a moment,” she said, “but only once you’re ready and you understand.”
“Your son goes to Central.”
Jade startled and looked up from her clipboard. She searched the girl’s face and couldn’t place her. “Do you?”
Noelle nodded. “My parents—they won’t be informed, will they?”
“The only people who know will be the people you tell,” said Jade. “You can tell everyone you know, or no one at all, for the rest of your life. It’s up to you.”
The girl screwed up her face in concentration, folded her hands primly on her knees. Jade watched her and resisted the urge to say more. Plenty of providers gave pep talks, especially to the younger patients, to say they were fine, it was fine, everything was fine. Jade had learned it was better to say less, to be swift, unceremonious. At sixteen, she’d been full of lust and opinions, capable of real feeling and sound judgment. She hadn’t needed lectures or coddling; most girls didn’t. They needed choices.
Jade gave her time.
“I’m ready,” she said finally, and signed the forms.
Jade explained they’d give her an exam, then if everything looked good, they’d move on to the procedure. She placed her hand on top of Noelle’s knotted fingers to give her a pat, and the girl started to weep.
It wasn’t that she was unsure or worried it would hurt. She wasn’t afraid. It was this woman’s hand—soft and brown and perfumed. It encircled hers so easily, and it embarrassed Noelle how good it felt to have a woman touch her, an elder who was beautiful and warm, and who had nothing to say. How did women get to be like this, so tender and wide open?
Jade handed the girl tissues. When she had calmed down, Jade asked her how she had known about her son and the school.
“I don’t know him, but I remember you,” she said. “My mother was at that big town hall. She’s one of those concerned parents. She’s a racist.”
Jade looked at her, measuring. “Well, we don’t get to choose our mothers.”
If Noelle had to pick, she’d have chosen someone like this nurse, like Ruth.
“Your son,” she said. “What’s his name?”
Gee started sitting with Adira at lunch to make up for that day at the lockers. She forgave him quietly, and he saw that she didn’t need his company or protection at all. She had already formed a little crew at Central, a mix of kids she’d known before from church and her neighborhood, as well as new friends who’d already been at Central, including a few white girls. Gee wouldn’t have been surprised if, by year’s end, Adira was elected homecoming queen. If someone could do it, it was her. She was beautiful and funny and real. It comforted him to imagine her in a crown. It would be a victory for all of them, a symbol that the drama among the parents couldn’t touch the school. They’d cast their own votes, choose their own queen.
At lunch, Gee busied himself with his food, let everyone else do the talking. He made sure to laugh from time to time to register his presence, to show he was there and he wasn’t a weirdo. It worked fine. He was doing just that when a girl approached the table, asking for him by name. She was long haired and slim faced, too sweet-looking for her dark clothes.
“You’re Gee, right? I’m Noelle. I want you to audition for the school play. Measure for Measure.”
“Did Mr. Riley send you?”
“It was my idea. I wanted to find you.”
Someone at the table oohed, and Gee knew enough to suck his teeth, murmur at them to shut up.
“Gee?” Adira interrupted. “In a play? What kind of play?”
“It’s Shakespeare,” Noelle said. “Can I speak to you alone?”
Gee followed Noelle as she weaved through the lunchroom. She brought him to a quiet corner by the vending machines. She dropped in her quarters, asked what he wanted. She bought him a bag of sour candy and a cherry soda. He didn’t know why she was being so kind.
“I made a deal with Mr. Riley. I missed a test, and he said he wouldn’t fail me if I agreed to stage direct his play. It’s kind of perfect. I needed a distraction anyway.”
“But he’s not the one who sent you?”
“I already told you, it was my idea. This play is going to be a lot of time, a big commitment, and I want to make sure it’s cool people doing it, not a bunch of jocks or whatever.”