Confessions from the Principal's Chair (5 page)

"Well," he said. "It does appear you're her mother. I'll need to make a couple of phone calls, one to the grandfather and one to the folks up in Denver. You might be the girl's mother, but not have custody of her or some such. Things like that happen nowadays."

"They do," said Judy, "and you are very smart to be on top of it all." I knew Judy was softening him up in case she had to persuade him to let Rendi go."

"I'll start with your daddy," he said to Rendi. "What'd you say the name of that bank is in Tulsa?" Then he looked at his watch. "It's two-thirty. Reckon, he'd still be there, banker's hours and all?"

Rendi repeated the name of the bank and added, "If my father isn't there, ask to speak to the vice president. His name is Ronald Johnson. He can tell you that I am Horace Miller's daughter and that I have a daughter named Robm."

The sheriff got the number and asked to speak to "Horse Miller," but whoever answered must have understood who he wanted because in just a minute I could tell he was speaking to my grandfather, asking all the questions about his daughter. When he put down the phone, he nodded his head slowly. "Well," he said, "I got to the bottom of this mystery. Mr. Miller says he has a daughter named Renee who folks call Rendi and a granddaughter named Robin. Said you lived in Denver, last he heard. He swore you have full custody and told the same story you did about the little girl's father. Didn't know a thing about you being in Oklahoma, though, but he told me he hoped you were coming to his house. I could tell you don't see each other no great lot. Ought to put you in a cell for not having more to do with your daddy and mama, but I don't know as there's a law against such. Reckon I'll have to let you go." He stood up, took a key from his pocket, went to my mother, and tried to open the handcuffs.

Judy stepped over to him. "Here, Clyde," she said, and she took the key from him. "Let me do this. You've got more important things to do." She had Rendi's hands free in a second and dropped the key on the desk.

"Here," said the sheriff, and he handed me back my yellow pad. "Don't suppose I'll need this for evidence." He shook his finger at me. "You ought to have a good talking to over writing down things that aren't true."

"Let's let this lady take care of her daughter, Clyde," said Judy, and she smiled at us. "I live in a duplex, rent out the other side, furnished. Are you two looking for a place to live around here?"

"Thank you," said Rendi, "but, no, I don't think Prairie Dog Town is right for us. We didn't get off to a very good start here, and probably we do need a place with a few more people."

"I want to go back to Denver," I said quickly. I thought maybe Rendi had already had enough of Oklahoma and had begun to see we belonged in the Mile-High City. "We had good times back in Denver, didn't we, Rendi?"

She nodded her head, but what she said was, "We did, but, Bird, we aren't going back there. You need to give up the idea. We'll find a place we both like." She took my arm and began to lead me to the door

I was angry again. I stopped walking. "If we can't go back home," I said, "we might as well live in Prairie Dog Town as anywhere else."

I expected Rendi to say no. I was only trying to be difficult because I certainly had no desire to live in this place that was little more than a wide spot in the road, but to my surprise, Rendi said. "Okay, Judy, when can we see the duplex?"

That's how we came to live on Shade Tree Lane in Prairie Dog Town, Oklahoma.

Chapter 3

R
endi's brush with the law took place on Friday. We spent the rest of that day unloading our van, buying groceries, and driving by schools. I was surprised because I had thought Prairie Dog Town would have a little white building with a bell outside, like the one-room schools you see on old western movies on TV.

Actually, they turned out to have three separate buildings. The high school, on one side of town, was the newest building of the three, and there was a smaller building there that said, "Office of the Superintendent." I didn't look too carefully at the high school because I would be long gone before I finished my eighth-grade year. I had to believe that. The elementary school looked fairly new too, and it was on the other side of town from the high school.

My school was in the middle, just a block from the duplex we had rented. It was a big building made from a sort of red stone, and it was very, very old. A sign in front said, "Thomas Jefferson Middle School, Home of the Prairie Dogs." I was shocked. I threw my hands in the air. "I can't go there." I turned to Rendi: "You know you've always hated Thomas Jefferson."

She seemed surprised to hear me say such a thing. "Bird, Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. How could I hate him? I don't like that he had slaves or what he did to one of the girls he believed he owned, but he was a product of his times. He wasn't as bad as the senator from one of the Southern states who fought against segregation even though he had a secret child with a black woman. It won't hurt you to go to Thomas Jefferson Middle School. Maybe you will learn a little history if you aren't busy sending notes to the Six-Pack."

"That building looks like it might have been where Thomas Jefferson went to school," I said.

On Saturday we finished putting our things away by noon. Rendi was totally happy about living in the place. I mean I could see why she liked the big sunroom that went all the way across the two duplexes. Judy told her right off that she could use it all for her studio, and she took her few belongings out of it. From the sunroom you could see a pasture that had a pond and cows. "Oh," said Rendi, "I've missed cows." She put her arms around me and gave me a little squeeze. "Don't they look beautiful against the sunset?"

No way would I say so, but I understood why she liked being able to see the sunset so well. That's something you couldn't do with big buildings and mountains all around you, but cows! "PUH-LEEZE, mother," I said. I had decided to stop calling her Rendi. I was too mad at her to want it to sound like we were friends. "I don't believe anyone could ever say cows are beautiful."

Rendi just laughed. "You might learn a thing or two in Oklahoma," she said.

After we finished unpacking, Rendi decided we should go back over to the town called Ponca City. Judy's place had some dishes and pots and pans, but Rendi wanted to pick up several household items. "You need school clothes too," she said.

She sang the song "Oklahoma" most of the way to Ponca City. I could see that being in her home state meant something to Rendi, and I kind of started feeling soft toward her. When she got to the part that said, "when the wind comes sweeping down the plain," I opened my mouth to join the song, but I caught myself. Remember you're mad at her, I told myself.

Ponca City was certainly bigger than Prairie Dog Town. I mean any place would almost have to be, but still I couldn't see how they got away with calling themselves a city. I hoped we would visit the
Pioneer Woman
again, but not wanting to sound interested in anything, I didn't say so. We went to Big-Mart, and Rendi picked up a few things, including a juicer to make our fresh orange and carrot juice.

We had a juicer in Denver, but Rendi said it was old, and she hadn't bothered to pack it. "That seems wasteful to me," I said, and I hoped I reminded her of Grandma. When we were headed toward the checkout, I asked, "Do you want me to buy my school clothes here?"

"Here?" Rendi was shocked because in Denver I was so-o-o particular about where I bought my clothes and would only consider one or two little boutiques and a few trendy stores in the mall, places where the rest of the Six Pack shopped. "As we were driving in, I saw a little shop that looked cute. Don't you want to check it out?"

I shook my head. This was good. Rendi was definitely beginning to see that she had pushed me too far. "No," I said, "this will do fine. What do you want me to wear to school?"

She looked like I had slapped her in the face or something. "Bird," she said softly, "I am not suddenly going to start telling you what to wear. I just didn't want you to bring those lime green or orange pants, reminders of being just like a certain group. I want you to truly think for yourself. That's all."

"Good," I said, "I'll do just that." I moved through the jeans and other things girls might be wearing to school and headed toward a rack of ladies suits. "Size eight ought to fit," I said, and I took a navy blue skirt and jacket from the rack. I handed them to Rendi, then I took the same skirt and jacket in dark green, black, gray, and dark red. I piled the suits onto the top of the other things in our basket. "There," I said, "five outfits. That's all I need for five days of school."

"Bird!" Rendi was starting to sound more angry than guilty. "This is ridiculous. If I pay for these things, you are going to have to wear them. Do you understand me?" She was still holding the navy skirt and jacket. Then she whirled around and started hanging them back on the rack.

"So you won't buy these for me?" I folded my arms and stared at her.

"You're trying to do what I used to hear my mother call cutting off your nose to spite your own face. You're trying to hurt me, but you will only end up hurting yourself Let's go look at some jeans or even go to another store." She reached for the other suits in the basket, but I put out my hand to stop her.

"I want the five suits," I said, and I took the navy outfit from the rack again, piled it on the top, and started to push the basket.

"Fine, but you are going to get very tired of wearing those things to school, very, very tired." She stomped after me.

"You must really like this suit," the lady who checked us out said to my mother as she folded the clothes to put them into bags. Then she looked at the size, and asked, "or are these for you?"

"No," said my mother in a sort of too-sweet tone. "Actually, I wouldn't be caught dead in them." She glanced at me and smiled a false smile. "These are for my daughter. Her taste in clothing seems to have changed lately."

I didn't say anything, but I stood my ground and glared right into Rendi's eyes. I would wear those things to school every day I had to go to Thomas Jefferson Middle School. I would wear them until my "hang loose" artist mother fell to her knees and begged me to forgive her. I would wear them until we loaded our van and went home to Denver, home to the Six-Pack.

The woman who checked us out put the bags of clothing in the cart with the other things we had bought, and Rendi started to push it out of the store to our van. I stopped her, though, and gathered up the three bags my suits were in. "I want to carry my clothes," I said, just like I used to want to carry the bags that had toys in them when Rendi bought me something while we were shopping.

She just looked at me, sighed, and shook her head. "Those things are probably too long for you," she said as we left the store.

"Remember I am tall. Besides, I like long skirts," I told her, and I marched out to the van. On the drive back to Prairie Dog Town, Rendi did not sing, and neither one of us said a word. We drove by the
Pioneer Woman,
but neither of us looked or said anything about her. I sat back in my seat and thought about how good my purchases made me feel. Not only had I made it plain to Rendi how she had destroyed my life, those clothes would make my life easier at my new school.

It was October; groups had already been formed in any class of eighth-graders. I sighed. The truth was that in a middle school in a place the size of Prairie Dog Town, the groups had probably been formed since kindergarten.

The kids at Thomas Jefferson Middle School were sure to think I was a weirdo when I showed up in a long suit like their grandmother might wear (my own grandmother wouldn't be seen in such things). It would be easier that way, easier to be rejected because of the way I dressed than just because no one wanted me around. I dreaded the thought of the first day at the new school less now. I would walk down the hall, and they would all stare at me openly. It would be better this way.

Rendi had made arrangements on Friday for our Internet connection, but they had told her it would probably be Monday before we could get online. We were surprised when we got home Saturday to learn that Judy had let the workers in, and our phone and Internet had been connected while we were gone. I spent all the rest of that day and most of the next writing long e-mails to my friends about how Rendi had almost gone to jail and about my choice of clothing. I could hardly wait for them to write back to me.

The computer was on a desk in the living room. On Sunday afternoon, I saw Sheriff Walters drive up and park in front. For a minute, I thought he had come to check on us, but he went into Judy's side of the duplex. Pretty soon I saw them both go out and get in his car. I guess they both had Sunday off and were going out for a hot date or something. I waved to them. Judy was such a nice woman, and I was beginning to have a warm spot in my heart for the sheriff too. I mean, what if I had really been kidnapped?

On Monday morning I was up early. I pulled back my hair and tied it loosely with a black scarf. Then I put on the navy suit and a pair of black flats that I had hardly ever worn. There was a long mirror on the back of the door in my room. I stood in front of it staring at myself. I didn't even look familiar. I took a tube of lip gloss from my bag and put on just a bit. For a minute I considered taking off the suit and begging Rendi to take me to return those five outfits. I could buy some other things and start school the next day. Finally I got my courage back. "You look wicked," I said aloud. I was certain that Rendi would be ashamed of my appearance and know she had ruined my life.

"Good morning, Mother," I said when I came into the kitchen. She was eating cereal at the little table beside the window. An empty bowl with a spoon sat on the other side of the table along with a box of my favorite cereal and a jug of milk.

"Good morning, Daughter," Rendi said. She smiled, pleased that she had come up with a good reply. "Would you like some orange juice?"

"No, thank you, Mother," I said. "In fact, I don't want anything for breakfast." I twirled about slowly. "How do I look?"

"Very nice," she lied, and she stood up. "If you're sure you don't want to eat, we can leave now for your school."

"No!" I shook my head. I hadn't thought about Rendi going with me, but, of course, she would plan to go enroll me. I desperately wanted to go alone. I was afraid of what would happen if Rendi went with me. I was afraid I would break down when she got ready to leave. I was afraid I would cry like a kindergarten child whose mother leaves her for the first time.

"Bird, there will probably be something that I need to sign. I know you're mad at me, but the school is still going to want to see me. They will want to know there is really an adult involved, that you're not a runaway living under a bridge or something." She walked to the fridge to put away the milk.

"You can go tomorrow. I'll tell them you will sign stuff tomorrow. Please, Rendi. This is very important to me."

I guess my going back to her name convinced her because she said, "Okay."

I didn't go straight to school. I walked around, going a long way out of my way. I wanted to get to school after the first bell had rung. See, the thing was I wanted to walk down that hallway for the first time when it was empty instead of being full of strange eyes.

Until I got hit in the face with the date, I was kind of enjoying the pretty morning, but then I realized it was October 31, Halloween! Tonight my friends would be having a party without me. I considered just walking off. Maybe if I got back to the interstate, I could get a ride to Denver. Of course, I knew I would be too scared to do that. At least, I wasn't likely to get murdered at Thomas Jefferson Middle School.

I kept looking at my watch, and finally it seemed safe to head for the school. A ramp for wheelchairs went up one side of the wide stone porch, and there were big steps going up the front. On the first step, I stopped, drew in a deep breath, and imagined what stage directions Miss Deirdre would give me right now. I could almost hear her voice saying, "Hold your head high, Bird. Go into that big building and fill it up with who you are. Enter as if you were in charge." I straightened my shoulders and climbed the steps.

Just as I had hoped, there weren't any other kids going into the building. Everything looked pretty quiet. I would never admit it to Rendi, but I liked the feel of the old building. There were these neat old wood floors that were polished and shiny. I liked the smells too, old wood and polish, and something that made me think of all the kids who must have gone to school in the place.

On the doorway I had seen a sign saying, "All Visitors Must Report to the Office." Well, I was ready to report. The office was just inside the building. From halfway up the walls were all glass, so I could see into it from the hall. A long counter separated the room into two parts. The first part was small and it had a few chairs. Most of the office was behind the counter. A lady sat at a desk with a computer on it. Behind her was a door that said "Principal" above it. I didn't see any offices for a vice principal or a counselor. Thomas Jefferson Middle School was probably too small to even have people for those jobs.

I pushed open the door, stepped into the office, and walked to the counter. When the door closed behind me, the woman glanced up from her computer. I thought she must be between Rendi and my grandmother in age, probably fifty-something. She looked like a person I wouldn't want to have mad at me, but when she noticed me, she smiled and said, "May I help you?"