Drenched in Light (40 page)

Looking at the paper, I felt a sense of joy and accomplishment that was out of keeping with the day. Whatever happened from this point on, there would remain this one fact. I had helped the girl in the river begin to take ownership of her new shoes. If I’d turned a blind eye, as Mrs. Morris and Mr. Stafford wanted me to, it wouldn’t have happened. Harrington might have been one more failure in a long string of disappointments for Dell. Who could say if this would have been the one that closed her off to the possibility of success? To her own right to happiness?

With that question came my answer to the larger dilemma of my future at Harrington. I knew what was right, the same way I’d known it the day Mrs. Morris sent Dell to my office. If I sold out now, I would be serving only myself. Soon enough, I would begin to loathe who I’d become, and I would be right back where I was all those years with the eating disorder. Sitting in my office, holding Dell’s essay, I struck on an epiphany. Dance hadn’t ruined me; the instructor who said that ballerinas should be slim like the willow hadn’t ruined me; and Harrington hadn’t ruined me. Nor had my parents or the question of my biological father. I had ruined myself. I had chosen it. The light comes from the inside out, and so does the darkness. We choose the things that fill us.

It is as simple as that, but it makes all the difference.

It was exactly what Sister Margaret had been trying to tell me in the hospital. I was my own victim. I was poisoning myself, and it was time to stop.

When Mr. Stafford came to my door, I was ready. I was sitting with a packet of Dell’s essays in hand, marked,
For Dell Jordan. Personal.
I hoped that someday she would share them with her new parents. It would be her choice.

I turned the envelope over on my desk, quickly tucking in a sticky note—
Checked your grades this morning, all passing, “C” in English. Good work!—
as Stafford came in and slowly closed the door. Smiling hopefully, he took a breath to speak.

I answered without waiting for the question. “I’m not going to do it, Mr. Stafford. It’s wrong. I’m sorry.” His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in condemnation, as I went on. “I won’t lie. I know what I saw. I’ll be happy to counsel Cameron and his parents. I’ll talk with them. I’ll help them deal with the issues. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Stafford threw his head back, then yanked it forward again, scratching his temple roughly. “If you go this route, you’ll never get the chance.”

“It’s the only route I can go.” I felt an amazing sense of peace, a certainty in the words.

“You understand that we’re talking nonrenewal of your contract, and most likely either administrative suspension, or immediate dismissal from your job?”

I nodded, feeling far away from Mr. Stafford’s fury, as if someone else were sitting in my chair.

He reached out in a gesture that represented either a plea or a desire to strangle me. “I won’t even be able to give you a reference, Julia. Think about what you’re doing.”

“I understand.” Laying one hand over the other, I folded them neatly on the desk. “I presume that nothing will happen until tonight’s board meeting—that I still have today?”

Nodding vaguely, he crossed his arms over his midsection, glaring around the office, no doubt thinking of all the things I did in a day and who was going to take care of them now.

“I’ll do my best to get the grant application in order,” I told him. “It’s close to being finished.”

Shaking his head, he turned away, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “Stay away from the students,” he said, then disappeared, slamming the door behind him.

The sound rang through my office like a funeral bell. It was done.

I left the door closed all morning and worked on the grant. Stafford came by before lunch, looking slightly calmer but with a sheen of perspiration glistening on his neck and forehead. He stared at me for a long moment, as if he were considering trying to change my mind, then finally, he said, “I’ll ask the board to accept your resignation. That will look better for you.”

“I won’t resign. They’ll have to fire me. I haven’t done anything wrong. I intend to be there at tonight’s meeting.” The idea had been brewing in the back of my mind all morning. Why just lie down and make this easy for them? Why not show up for the board meeting? Why not sign up for a spot on the pubic agenda, and use my four minutes of allotted time to say what needed to be said?

Stafford looked mortified. “I . . . I don’t think that’s advisable,” he stammered. “There may still be some chance that I can soothe the board . . . tell them you’re inexperienced, that you made a poor judgment call. . . .” His face softened, opened, waiting for a positive response. When I gave none, his expression narrowed again. “Julia, if you show up at the public forum and say anything about Cameron, I guarantee his mother will have you in court before you can say slander. She has her good name to protect, and she can afford high-dollar lawyers.”

Maybe she should stop thinking of her good name, and start thinking about her son.
“I would never reveal a student’s personal information,” I said. “I’m not trying to hurt anybody, Mr. Stafford. I’m not trying to send my career up in flames or behave like some irresponsible, impractical hothead. I am concerned about these kids. I’m concerned about Cameron. Whether you want to face it or not, there is a problem here.”

Stafford didn’t answer, just threw up his hands and walked out.

After he was gone, Dell appeared in the doorway, her gaze darting nervously toward the administration office. Clearly, she’d seen Mr. Stafford’s angry exit, and she knew something was wrong.

“Is everything OK?” she asked, picking at one of her fingernails.

“Yeah, Dell, it’s OK.” The words sounded hollow.

She pursed her lips into a solemn pout. “Keiler said you might not be able to work with me at lunch today.”

The comment stung, and as much as I’d thought I was prepared to leave Harrington, the idea quickly became painful. After today, this office might not be mine anymore—
would not
be mine. Barring a miracle, there seemed to be no way out. “I . . . can’t today,” I admitted, wondering what else to say. It seemed unfair to let her think that tomorrow things would go on as normal. At the same time, I couldn’t share confidential school business with a student. As soon as the school board meeting was over, the rumor mill would go wild. I felt the need to explain to Dell. “Dell, I want you to know that the grades this nine-week period came from you, from your hard work. You even earned a ‘C’ in English—I checked this morning. That didn’t happen by magic, and I didn’t do it. You did. You need to remember that, if things . . .” I searched for a word, a way to make her understand without telling her what was happening. “If things change, and I can’t tutor you every day, I don’t want you to quit. You’ve got Barry, and Keiler, and your folks. They’ll work with you anytime you need it.”

Her dark brows drew together. “But you’re going to help me sometimes, too, aren’t you?”

“Of course I will.”
Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
“Don’t worry, OK?”

She studied me as if she knew there was more I wasn’t saying, then finally turned to leave. “ ’Kay.” Slanting one last glance over her shoulder, she added, “See you later, Ms. C.”

“See you later.” I watched her disappear through the partially open door.

After a few minutes Barry showed up, asking if I knew where Dell was. When I told him I thought she was looking for him to study over lunch, he smiled and said, “Cool. Glad you’re feeling better, Ms. C.” I thanked him, then got up and closed the door.

The rest of the school day ticked by one class period at a time, the halls silent, then filled with noise, then silent again. I tried to finish the grant application and organize things in my office, though it was a fairly feeble effort. My mind was racing forward to the school board meeting, then back to last week’s incident with Cameron. I pictured him sitting in my office chair, talking out of his head, his eyes glassy, his reactions slow and drowsy, his neck limp, head resting on the wall, the file cabinet, his shoulder. How could anyone ignore that and then face the mirror the next day?

An eternity seemed to pass before the dismissal bell rang. I sat listening as the hall filled with the sounds of day’s end—kids talking, hurried footsteps, lockers slamming, Mrs. Morris screeching above the din. The normal afternoon routine. It was hard to imagine myself somewhere else at this time of day. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but the rhythm of my life had shifted to include this place.

Someone knocked on the office door.
Stafford,
I thought, and my pulse raced with nervous adrenaline.
Stafford wouldn’t knock.
Rubbing a hand over the hammer slamming in my chest, I got up and opened the door.

Keiler was on the other side. “You’re here.” He seemed surprised to have found me in my office. “I saw your door closed this morning and I thought . . .” The look on his face said that he’d assumed I told Stafford to take this job and shove it. Now, he was guessing the opposite—that I’d decided to stay and bend to Stafford’s will. Keiler seemed at a loss for words. “Anyway . . . uhhh . . . Barry came by a while ago and said you were in your office.”

“Doesn’t look like it’ll be my office much longer.” Glancing into the hall, I made sure no one was listening. Kids were still passing with backpacks, but the corridor was rapidly clearing out. “Stafford won’t settle for anything but an apology to Cameron and his parents. He’s ready to play hardball about it. He’s talking nonrenewal of my contract and suspension or dismissal for the rest of the year. So, barring a miracle, I’m out of here.” The tough-career-girl facade fractured momentarily, causing the last sentence to tremble.

“I didn’t think you’d cave in.” The admiration in Keiler’s tone bolstered some sagging part of me.

“I told him I wasn’t handing him a convenient resignation, either. They’re going to have to fire me, and I intend to be at the school board meeting tonight when they do it. In fact, I’ve already e-mailed the board clerk and signed up for a spot on the agenda during the open forum, so that I can say what needs to be said. Cameron isn’t the only kid in this school with a problem, and not all parents are as blind as the Anslers. Maybe someone will listen.”

Keiler smiled slightly, his brown eyes reflecting the resolute face of a woman who surprised even me. “I’ll come early and get a front-row seat. In fact, I’ll be on the agenda with you, if you want. I haven’t been here long, but long enough to have seen some things. I worked one summer at a youth boot camp, so I know what to look for.” Raising his brows so that they disappeared under the might-have-been-combed hair, he looked ready to attend the big shoot-out, then move on to his next adventure. “I don’t have much to lose. After all, I’m just a sub.”

The idea was surprisingly disturbing—not just because I wanted him to be here for Dell, but because the thought of him getting on his Harley and heading for Michigan made me feel lost. “I don’t want you to do that.” The protest came out too quickly, with too much emotion, and I paused to rein myself in. “Keiler, if I leave, Dell’s going to need you—so will the other kids. You’re good with them. They need somebody . . . real. Please tell me you’ll stay. It would make all of this a little more bearable.”

Shifting uncomfortably, he herded a ladybug toward the baseboard with one sneakered foot. “It won’t be the same with you gone.” He glanced toward the front door, as if he were thinking of making a run for it.

“Please, Keiler. Please don’t leave.”

Crossing his arms over the CATCHIN’ AIR-COLORADO logo on his sweatshirt, he deflated. “I’m not leaving,” he admitted, like he’d known it all along. “But I will be at that school board meeting.”

“It probably isn’t a good idea—for you, I mean,” I said, checking the hallway again. “You shouldn’t be seen here talking to me, either.”

If he was worried, it didn’t show. “See you at the meeting.” With a quick wink, he sauntered off down the hall in his normal unhurried way. I watched him go, then closed the door and finished tidying my office, gathering my personal items on one corner of the desk, and stacking the grant materials on the other. I labeled the piles with sticky notes, in case someone else came to clean out the office. Even as I left and closed the door behind me, it was hard to imagine that reality.

Bett called as I was driving home, and despite the fact that I’d kept my work situation secret all weekend, when my sister asked me if something was wrong, I couldn’t hide the truth any longer. I spilled the whole story, and Bett took it all in.

“I’m going to that meeting with you tonight,” she said when I’d finished unloading my baggage. “These people don’t know who they’re dealing with.”

My sister’s show of bravado made me smile. “Bett, you don’t have to do that. You’ve got so much on your plate right now. You’re getting married this weekend, for heaven’s sake. The last thing you need is—”

“I’m going,” she insisted. “I’ll be at the house when you get there. What time does this school board meeting start?”

“Six thirty.” I wanted to reach through the phone and pull Bett into a big sister hug.

“All right, I’ll see you at Mom and Dad’s. We’ll grab something to eat, and I’ll help you write the speech on the way to the board meeting. They’ll rue the day they ever messed with the Costell sisters.” She ended the call before I could ask her not to tell Mom and Dad. When I called back, I got her voice mail—proof that she was now a Costell sister on a single-minded mission. She’d turned off the cell phone.

By the time I got home, Bett had done exactly the thing I didn’t want her to do: She’d rallied the entire clan. Bett, Jason, Mom, Dad, and Joujou were waiting in the front entry like a mob of Transylvanians ready to storm Dracula’s castle with torches and pitchforks.

They all started talking at once, until finally the chaos was so bad that Joujou threw back her head and wailed like a soprano fire engine.