The Sacrificial Daughter (12 page)

If she had wanted to, Jesse could have answered these questions since she had asked them herself. But that would have meant defending her father. James Clarke was a man she despised three-hundred and sixty-five days a year, he was an insensitive jerk who had always put her needs behind everyone else's, including his own. If anyone had the right to protest James Clarke it was her.

Jesse opened her mouth, not knowing what would come out exactly, but shut it as she realized just how loud Ms Weldon had been and just how quiet the rest of the room had become. Every eye stared hard at her, waiting on her reply. The weight of those stares made her lean back slightly and she felt her mind twirl.

Those stares...were for the first time not all hateful. They looked upon her with a certain anticipation, as if...as if they were giving her a chance to do the "right thing" and side with them against her father. And how she wanted to! This was an opportunity like she had never faced before. It was an opportunity to be liked!

In her mind's eye, she could read the newspaper headline:
Brave Girl Stands Up To Nazi Father!
She could hear the throngs of students chanting her name as she was carried about on the shoulders of the football team. She could see herself dancing her first dance as Prom Queen, and then...her first kiss. Seventeen and never been kissed...that could change!

All she had to do was publicly, in front of most of the town in all likelihood, denounce her father. A simple thing, really. Something she had wanted to do for ages. Only she had wanted to do it for her own reasons and not because she was bullied into it. That thought gave her pause and her mind hesitated long enough for a new vision to slip past the chanting hordes and the long slow kiss occupying her mind.

The image was of her father and her. She could see herself on a podium, standing in front of a sea of people, pointing at him. Her finger was stiff with accusation. Across from her, she could see the look of pain in his eyes at her betrayal. At first this hardened her resolve to side with Ms Weldon... after all what did he know about pain? She knew all there was to know about pain. Jesse Clarke's life
was
pain. Every second of everyday she had to live in pain.

But could she cause pain? Yes, she had been in fights. She had punched and kicked, stabbed and even bitten. Yet all of that was in the moment and always in the moment of self-defense. Certainly, she had been verbally abusive as well. Her tongue could be as caustic as acid, but again, only in response. In all her life, Jesse had never, in the cold light of day and with purposeful intention, meant to harm an innocent person.

"Well?" Ms Weldon asked, and she too seemed suddenly intrigued at what Jesse would say. There was a new look in her eyes. It was as if the teacher hadn't considered the possibility that Jesse would agree to the protest. Jesse could see the cold calculations turning wheels in the teacher's mind. Jesse had wheels as well.

Stabbing her father in the back had other ramifications than just a first kiss and instant popularity. It meant that she might actually pass her senior year. Her last three years had been a struggle, but the first couple of days at Ashton made it clear that she might not pass half her classes. Or if she did, her grade point average might be so low that her only options would be summer school and a community college.

Yet if she stood up against her father...

"Well," Ms Weldon repeated.

"I...

"I...I'm going to have to think about it," Jesse said finally in a hesitating voice.

"What's there to think about?" a boy asked. She didn't know his name, but she recognized him from both her history and biology classes. "My dad hasn't had a job in two years and when he finally lands something part time your dad comes in here thinking he owns the place and has him fired!"

There was no lie about him in his statement. That he was poor was obvious by the way his clothes hung ill fitting and stained on his gaunt frame. And by the way his hair was limp and dry as straw, Jesse guessed that he hadn't used shampoo or conditioner in months. His hair was clean at least, but had likely been washed with cheap hand-soap. Jesse felt sorry for him and his difficult position, but could think of nothing to say.

As he had finished his little diatribe, the whole class nodded along as though they were the choir and he the preacher. Their support seemed to light a fire under him and he went on growing louder and bolder with each word.

He walked toward her as he spoke, "I've been eating ramen soup every day for months. You ever do that? Eat the same thing over and over again, every single day because your parents can't afford a meal that costs more than fourteen cents?" Jesse shook her head, and fought the urge to look away. She wanted to walk away as well, but kept her feet planted. None of this was her fault. "I didn't think so," the boy sneered.

He was practically baiting her, trying to force her to come to a decision: denounce or defend. "I'm sorry about your father," she replied honestly. "But...but..."

The word
but
seemed to catch in her throat, then her lips seized up and she hesitated. A part of her—the part that she got from her father— wanted to sit the boy down and explain the nuances of budgeting, taxes, and long term planning. Another part of her—from her mom, clearly—wanted to side with the boy unconditionally in the hopes of becoming popular.

The truth was Jesse wanted to do neither. She wanted to be herself. She wanted to be liked or disliked based on who
she
was, not who her parents were. However, that didn't seem to be an option.

As her hesitation drew on, the students grew restless. They began to murmur angrily and started to press forward, seeming to turn from a class to a mob in seconds.

Ms Weldon only watched them placidly waiting for Jesse to make up her mind. The teacher did nothing until the boy whose father had lost his job shoved a desk in anger at which point she stepped forward smoothly.

"Well, Jesse? Do you have an answer? Are you going to join us?" She swept her arm slowly in an arc indicating the other students like a game show hostess showing off a new car.

Jesse's mouth fell open, but she was still too divided to answer. The greatest part of her wanted to belong, yet still something held her back. Ms Weldon saw the indecision.

"How bout we talk about this outside. Everyone else get back to work." The lady then herded Jesse out the door and walked her down the hall. They were silent save for the clacking of Ms Weldon's heels on the polished tile. Jesse drifted along beside her, almost noiseless in her jungle boots.

As they came to the center rectangular building, they entered a set of double doors just off the main office. It was the school's library.

"Hello Carla," the art teacher said, striding past a woman sitting at the tall checkout counter. The woman, a dark haired beauty, gave a nervous smile in return. It seemed to Jesse that the she sat on a rung far down the pecking order in the hierarchy at the school. Yet she was higher up than Jesse and made sure to show it by switching out the smile for a glare.

For her part Jesse only rolled her eyes and hurried along in Ms Weldon's wake.

"Look, Jesse," Ms Weldon said as they went deeper into the library. "This demonstration is very important to the future of Ashton and I'm starting to think that
you
might be very important to the demonstration. You see what a coup this would be? What a strong message it would send to the town council if the town manager's own daughter thought he might be going overboard?"

"I think I understand," Jesse said.

"Good. I know we got off on the wrong foot," Ms Weldon said with a gentle squeeze of Jesse's shoulder. "It's just that there's so much stress on everyone this time of year...because, you know. And on top of that we have all these budget cuts..." Ms Weldon just sort of trailed off.

This left Jesse lost as to what to do or say. Clearly, the teacher had meant for Jesse to take what she had just said as some sort of apology. Only it wasn't an apology. It was just excuses for atrocious behavior, which Jesse felt in no way obligated to reply to. She pressed her lips together.

Ms Weldon saw the look and tried again. "Ashton is a very close knit community. Because of everything that we have gone through we rally around each other and support each other. We can be very good to people who have our same goals in mind. However, people that threaten us may not get treated very well...you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Jesse understood perfectly. She was being threatened...play ball or else. The idea was infuriating and Jesse was so angry she could only nod.

"Good. I knew you were a smart girl," Ms Weldon replied. "Here's what I want you to do for the rest of the period. Take this book." The teacher pulled down a large glossy book. Its cover was a black and white photograph of a man being attacked by a German Shepherd.

Jesse's eyes went wide at the picture. Ms Weldon saw this and explained, "It's a history of the protest movement in America. I want you to see what people have gone through in order to enact social change. It can be very inspiring. I'll be back at the end of class and we'll talk."

"Great," Jesse murmured under her breath at the retreating form of Ms Weldon.

When the teacher was gone, Jesse cracked the book and began skimming. Despite struggling with her own not insignificant issues, she found herself drawn into it. This was mostly due to the vivid and frequently horrific pictures that made up the majority of the book.

The pictures depicted people bravely standing up for what they knew was right. It was astounding to Jesse. She had been taught the basics of the civil rights movement, but the book brought it to life on a whole separate level. Not only was she astounded by what she saw, she was amazed at what she was feeling: inspired.

The self-sacrifices portrayed on every glossy page swayed Jesse's mind in favor of the demonstration. She too wanted to stand honorably with people looking to change the world for the better. She suddenly felt lighter, happier. It was the wonderful fact that not only could she become popular, she could do it by doing the right thing.

Except this demonstration isn't about change, is it?
the voice in her head asked.

"Mother-pus-bucket!" she swore silently to herself. There was a part of her that was always contrarian. It could never accept anything at face value. That part of her saw through her self-delusion. The demonstration was not about change, it was about maintaining the status quo. Something her father claimed would destroy Ashton in five to seven years.

"What on earth should I do?" Jesse asked the quiet library books. Just then a person blurred by so quick that Jesse didn't know if it was a girl or a boy. A moment later the person came back and at first didn't see Jesse on the floor. Her eyes were up, scanning the numbers along the spines of books.

It was big haired Amanda Jorgenson. She took a look at a couple of books, grabbed one and was about to leave when she saw Jesse sitting in the narrow aisle. For long seconds the two girls stared at each other, but then Amanda smirked and started sauntering back toward the front of the library.

This was a bit of a surprise. Jesse didn't think that their next confrontation would be so
limited
. But then Jesse heard:

Poor Jesse had really quite an itch

Too bad that she was such a bitch

Though she looked for a while

She never got a boy who would smile

But found a dog would do in a pinch.

Jesse was astounded that the girl would say something so vulgar and so loud in a school library. It took just a moment to get over that amazement and then she was up, spoiling for a fight. There was no bluff in her now. In her black outfit with her ankle taped and feeling better in her supple boot, she was more than ready.

She had a problem however. The school librarian was only a few yards away and Amanda was heading right to her. Amanda was putting on quite a show, swinging her hips jauntily, taunting Jesse in a nyeh-nyeh childish way. The bigger girl even turned back and gave Jesse a smile that said,
Whatcha gonna do?

Jesse wasn't going to do anything, other than seethe that is.

Carla, at the desk gave Amanda a beaming smile.

"Screw em!" Jesse hissed, turning away. "Screw this whole damn town."

There was no way she was going to help their stupid demonstration. Not now. They could all live off ramen noodles for the rest of their miserable hate-filled lives as far as Jesse was concerned. In fact, if she heard that stupid limerick one more time, she swore that she would figure out how to turn on the hydrants outside of the town hall right in the middle of their god-forsaken street-art demonstration.

Picturing this in her mind actually brought an evil smile to her lips. She could imagine rivers of multi-colored water running down the street...and the cold! If only she had access to a fire-hose. She would show these so-called demonstrators a little history. Would they stand up and do what's right in the face of freezing cold...

But we both know they're not doing what's right
, her contrarian voice said.

This one thought brought her rage to a low simmer and destroyed completely her silly and far-fetched imaginings.

It also brought with it confusion and she sat back down to try to figure out what the right thing to do was...or actually since she was in the blackest mood, she tried to figure out how to do the wrong thing in the right way.

"If I help the demonstration to destroy my father's plans then in the end the town will implode economically, and all these jerks will suffer," Jesse reasoned. "But if I refuse to help them...then my father's plans will go through and in a couple of years Ashton will be thriving."

Jesse waited for the contrarian voice to speak up, to find the nuance missing in her thinking that she hadn't caught yet. The voice remained quiet and Jesse made up her mind.

She would help the demonstration. She would be the loudest most boisterous one there. She would become popular. She would show her father that his actions had consequences as well as hers did. She would show him that if he thought he could treat her as an afterthought he had another thing coming. And last but
so
not least: she would help, in the most underhanded way imaginable, a town filled with hateful people to commit economic suicide.

Her own deviousness made her smile.

She pulled the book down from the shelf once again and opened it to the worst picture of the lot: it showed a group of four black men hanging by their necks. Though it turned her stomach to look at it, she kept it open. When Ms Weldon came back, Jesse was going to pretend to have had an epiphany. She was going to jump foursquare into the art project...

In a nearby aisle a cell phone went off, breaking in on Jesse's scheming. The owner of the phone could be heard scrambling about in a bag, cursing in a quiet way. It took her four rings to finally answer and in that time Jesse slipped around a couple of aisles; her curiosity forcing her to get a look at the whispering girl.

"What is it? Is everyone ok?" the girl asked with a strong fearful tone accenting her words. Jesse crept closer until she was just in the next aisle. She was so close that she heard the person on the other end of the line speaking as if she were a tiny, unintelligible mouse.

"Then why are you calling?" The fearful tone of the girl had turned peevish, but then it sunk low. "He didn't get the job? I'm sorry...is he ok?"

Jesse ducked down peering through the books. She saw a girl in a pink sweat suit huddled over a phone.

"Yeah, ok. I know...Mom. I know...I will. Since you called, do you mind if I go over to the bowling alley after school?" There was a pause and then the girl got upset. "Why would you even ask that? I'd never go alone, I'm not stupid. I'm going to be with Jill and Sammy...no not Sam O'Brian; Samantha."

Jesse became bored with the conversation and began to creep away but then she heard the girl respond in a way that froze her in place.

"I know. A part of me just wishes that he'd just kill someone already. This waiting around has got me so frazzled...ok...ok."

Kill? They were talking about her friendly neighborhood killer. The one that could slip over her fence in the dead of night any time he pleased. The thought gave her goose bumps and she rubbed her arms as if winter had come to the library.

"Thanks Mom. I promise I won't spend any money...love you too. When Dad gets back, tell him I love him also, ok? Bye."

In the silence, Jesse slipped back closer to the girl in pink and again strove to look through the books. This time she made out a freckled face that she recognized. It was the girl from her English class, the one that had warned against getting too close to Ky.