A Heart Divided (19 page)

At least a hundred students were gathered at the flagpole, chanting in unison. Their leader led them from atop the flag’s base, bullhorn in one hand and Confederate flag in the other. It was none other than Jared Boose.

We watched as more kids streamed toward the flagpole. “Why isn’t anyone stopping them?” I wondered.

“Freedom of speech comes to mind,” Jack said. “Hey, y’all,” Nikki called cheerfully as she stepped over to us. “So, just another fun morning in Redford.”

I was surprised by her breezy attitude. “You’re not upset?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “They can holler and hold their breath until they turn Confederate gray and it still won’t change a thing. We have the votes, they’re going down, and they know it. You are looking at their last hurrah.”

A couple of TV camera crews pushed through the crowd as the protesters started chanting Jared’s name. “Ja-red! Ja-red! Ja-red!”

“I’m surprised it’s not Chaz up there,” Nikki told Jack. “Or one of your other buds.”

“Come on, Nikki. I mean, I know they acted ugly yesterday—I’m not making any excuses, but—”

“You are too,” Nikki insisted.

“You don’t see any of them with Jared now, do you?” Jack challenged.

“That’s because Jared has the IQ of a turnip and they don’t want to be seen with him. But you can bet a whole lot of your friends agree with every word that boy is saying.”

Before Jack could respond, Jared’s amplified voice boomed out over the crowd. “Attention, everyone. Y’all listen up! I’m Jared Boose, I’m a senior, and I’m a straight-up Rebel man! We got us an important petition, and I’m fixin’ to read it to y’all.”

His girlfriend, Sandy, handed him a clipboard. “‘We students of Redford High believe the Rebels and the Confederate battle flag should remain the proud and mighty symbols of Redford High School. We are the South. Let us wave our pride!’” The R-E-B-E-L chant went up again, forcing Jared to shout. “And the thing is, we already got almost two hundred signatures! All y’all, come on and sign up. Don’t let ′em steal our school!”

“R-E-B-E-L! R-E-B-E-L!” But as people pressed forward to sign, a different chant erupted from a knot of kids near the old Civil War cannons.

Veins bulging in his neck, a clenched fist thrust skyward, Nikki’s brother Luke was leading the impromptu counter-rally. A dozen kids—mostly black, but some white—surrounded him. More were joining by the second. As one of the camera crews hurried in his direction, Luke shaped his right hand into a pistol and popped off an imaginary round at Jared.

Nikki looked disgusted. “Fool.”

The shouted invectives got uglier, and the groups edged toward each other. We were caught in the middle. “Let’s get out of here,” Jack said.

Just then, Mr. McSorley appeared on the front steps with a bullhorn of his own, flanked by a line of teachers and administrators. He looked furious. “Attention, students! The bell has rung. Any student not in class is subject to suspension!”

Boos and jeers greeted this pronouncement. Undeterred, McSorley announced that attendance would be taken in exactly five minutes. Though Jared urged his group to hang tough, kids began to straggle into the building. With no enemy to confront, Luke’s group broke up, too.

“Well, the South shall not rise again this morning, thank you very much,” Nikki opined. “Let’s go vote that flag into history, where it belongs.”

I hesitated outside Miss Bright’s class, thinking of the possible reception that awaited me. I hoped Jack was right, that
Black and White and Redford All Over
would be yesterday’s news. But just in case, I avoided all eye contact on my way to my desk.

As I was about to slide into my chair, I saw the note on the seat.
YOU’RE DEAD.
I plucked it up. Underneath was a baby wren with a broken neck.

It wasn’t over. Maybe it would never be over. Had someone killed this bird just to scare me? Who could be that cruel? From his seat, Jack couldn’t see what was happening. I didn’t want him to. I found some tissues, wrapped them around the bird, and gently put it in my purse. Screw them, I told myself. By Monday, I’d be back in New Jersey and they’d be nothing but a bad memory.

But what about Jack? What about Jack?

I sat, keeping my face impassive. The students who’d been aware of the note and the bird turned away, disappointed at my lack of reaction.

Miss Bright quickly took attendance, then held up a large brown envelope. The referendum had been scheduled for the start of first period so the results could be announced at the end of the day. “This is an extraordinary moment in the history of this school,” she proclaimed, hands massaging the air. “As many of you know, I was a student here myself…. Of course, that was back when dinosaurs roamed the earth.” There were a few chuckles.

“Since we moved to this building, Redford High School students have been known as the Rebels and flown the Confederate flag. Today, you students have the opportunity to change that, if you wish.”

Sara’s friend Pansy swiveled around to glare at me. Had she been the one to write the fake play? Had it been a whole group from right in this classroom?

“Before you vote, though,” Miss Bright continued, her fluttering hands going into hula-dance overdrive, “there’s something I need to say. Advanced drama has always been a family. Sadly, this year, that’s not the case. There’s been entirely too much divisiveness in the name of politics. As artists, we must rise above these things. I hope that however today’s vote turns out, we’ll all accept it and move on together as one—”

“May I have your attention, please,” Mr. McSorley’s voice blared over the tinny school PA system. “Attention, all students and teachers.”

Miss Bright held up a wait-a-moment finger. Anticipation crackled through the room.

“As you know, the vote on our school team name and emblem was scheduled for this time,” our principal continued. “But the chairman of the Redford Board of Education has just informed me that in light of this morning’s unsanctioned demonstrations on school property, I must postpone the vote until we can proceed in an atmosphere free of threat and recrimination.”

Vocal reactions burst forth like buckshot, obliterating whatever else the principal was saying. “Students!” Miss
Bright shouted, stabbing the air in the direction of the speaker.

“… that the school board will meet two weeks from Monday night to discuss the issue,” McSorley continued. “All are encouraged to attend. Thank you very much for your understanding. I look forward to seeing as many of you as possible at the football game this evening. That is all.”

“He can’t do that!” Nikki declared, her eyes aflame. Meanwhile, Pansy had a satisfied smile on her face.

Luke barked a nasty laugh. “I knew the man wasn’t gonna let this go down.”

“I understand that many of you are disappointed,” Miss Bright allowed. “I’m sure that after the school board meets—”

“After the school board meets?” Nikki echoed, incredulous. “We’re not the ones who started things this morning. But we’re getting punished for it!”

“Poor Nicolette, let down by The Powers That Be,” her brother jeered. He stood. “When you gonna wake up, girl?”

“I didn’t give you permission to leave your seat, Luke,” Miss Bright said.

“I didn’t ask for it.” He turned to Nikki. “Asking will
never
get you the power. You want power, you got to just
take
it.” With a cold look at Miss Bright, he strode from the classroom. She made no effort to stop him.

It was clear that a commedia dell’arte lecture would be pointless, so Miss Bright decreed the period to be a silent study hall. When the bell rang, Jack and I tried to talk to Nikki, but she rushed ahead of us. By the time we got into the hall-way,
she was already huddled with a group of her black friends. Behind them, some guys were ripping
JUST SAY NO
flyers off the walls, ignoring the teachers who tried to stop them. I saw that most of the proflag posters were already gone.

“What is happening to this school?” Jack asked. “I can’t believe it.”

I could. We rounded the corner and reached his locker. He spun the combination. When he lifted the handle, it didn’t open. He tried the combination again. Nothing. “Great. It’s stuck,” he pronounced. “I have to go down to the office.”

We didn’t get more than thirty feet before the way was blocked by a noisy crowd. We edged close enough to see Jared Boose and one of Luke’s friends in a shoving match that was obviously about to turn into a fight. “You wanna piece a this, bitch?” the black kid taunted Jared, pushing his shoulders.

“Come on, big man,” Jared jeered. He raised his fists.

Jack got right between them. “Y’all need to chill!”

“I don’t take orders from you,” the black kid sneered.

Jared let out a whoop. “Let’s kick his ass, Redford!”

“Shut up, Jared,” Jack snapped. “If I was inclined to kick anyone’s ass, it’d be yours.”

The circle of spectators oohed at the dis. Jared reddened. A moment later, a couple of teachers with walkie-talkies arrived, and the crowd broke up.

Jack and I continued to the office, where a half-dozen kids were trying to get the attention of Miss Walsh, the secretary. “One at a time!” she insisted.

A harried-looking Mr. McSorley came out of his office. When he saw Jack, he stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you doing here, son?”

“My locker’s stuck,” Jack explained. “But it looks like Miss Walsh is busy now. I’ll come back later.”

“It’s not stuck. The combination was changed.”

Jack was as mystified by this as I was. “Why?” “It’s not your locker anymore, Jackson. Didn’t your mother talk to you?”

“No, sir. About what?”

Mr. McSorley looked physically pained. “She pulled you out of school. You start at Corinth Military Academy in Mississippi on Monday.”

Jack’s jaw fell. He seemed incapable of speech.

“That can’t be right,” I insisted. “His mother would have said something.”

Mr. McSorley ignored me and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jackson. You never should have found out like this. But you’ll have to take it up with your mother.”

“I have your belongings, Jackson,” Miss Walsh said, her voice tremulous. She reached under the counter for a cardboard carton and handed it to him.

I looked around. Was it my imagination, or were those who’d heard the exchange gloating as they watched the king of Redford High School deposed so publicly? Jack just stood there, staring into the open box as if it held the secret to turning back time.

magnolia tree in front of Redford House, then went inside. His mother must have anticipated our arrival. She wasn’t there, but the note she’d left for him on her embossed stationery was. She wouldn’t be home until late that evening, but in any event, there was nothing to discuss. She’d done what she believed was the best thing for her son. He’d start military school in Mississippi on Monday. She hoped that one day he would understand.

He sat at her desk and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I can’t believe… How could she…”

But she could. And she had. A shroud of guilt settled on
my shoulders. “If you weren’t with me,” I said, “she never would have done this.”

He shook his head. “It’s more than that. Turning down The Citadel. Applying to Juilliard …”

“Yeah, but she blames me for—” I stopped abruptly. An amazing thought had just flown into my brain.

Jack looked up at me. “What?”

Juilliard. New York City. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

“Jack, listen to me. Last night, my mom said I could—
should
—go home to New Jersey. Back to my old school. And she said she’d try to get me back into Showcase, and if anyone can pull that off, it’s her. But I thought, No matter how much I want my life back, I can’t leave Jack. That’s why I haven’t said anything to you about it.” My words tumbled against each other. “But you see, now I don’t have to leave you. Because you can come with me.”