Chapter 1 #3
Sophia breathed a sigh of relief. Mrs. Brown would be easier to talk to about her circumstance than the principal.
When she reached the end of the hall, she could hear Mrs. Brown’s heels click against the vinyl-plank floor.
Mrs. Brown was wearing a plaid blazer with a pleated skirt, and as she removed her reading glasses, her mouth hung agape.
Sophia bristled. She could tell by the look on the woman’s face what was coming next.
Detention.
Mrs. Brown was the first lady of First Samuel’s Baptist Church, and very no-nonsense about girls looking and behaving like young women: no short skirts, no fingernail polish, no earrings bigger than a hatpin, and no foul language permitted under any circumstances.
Sophia was in violation of at least two of the hard-and-fast rules and braced herself for the consequences.
“Sophia. Why are you here?”
“A student pulled me from class with a note,” she stuttered.
Mrs. Brown’s dimples deepened as she shook her full head of Shirley Temple curls. “I mean here at Brooks High School. Did you not receive my message?”
Sophia touched her forehead. So she was not in trouble. Which meant that there was no detention, leaving ample time to get her evening chores done before the sun went down. It was near impossible to work in the barn in the dark, and she always worried about stepping on chicken snakes.
Then Mrs. Brown’s words registered. Sophia asked, “What message?”
Mrs. Brown lifted a file folder from her desk with “Sophia Clark” written in red ink. “Your application to the Prosser Foundation was accepted. You’ve passed all the necessary tests and have been admitted to West Oak Forest Academy.”
Sophia blinked her eyes, not sure she had heard correctly.
“The school’s headmaster has called countless times looking for you. He said two letters were mailed out to you over the summer. I even called and left a message with your mother.”
“I got in?” Sophia asked, stunned.
“Yes. You did it. Congratulations.” Mrs. Brown’s lips were stretched so wide with laughter that Sophia could see the gold crowns wrapped around her molars.
Sophia put her hand to her mouth as she sank into the chair opposite Mrs. Brown. Why hadn’t Ma Deary given her the message?
“They were going to give your spot away to a boy from Richmond, but I told them that I would have you there before class tomorrow morning.” Mrs. Brown slid the folder across the desk to Sophia.
“I am certain that it was your mother I spoke with on”—she spun her chair toward the calendar hanging behind her head—“July 29, 1965.”
July 29 had been the one day, all summer long, when Sophia had been away from the farm.
Unc and one of his girlfriends had taken them to the bay for a picnic and a swim on Walter’s eighteenth birthday.
Sophia thought to lie to cover for Ma Deary’s negligence.
She usually had something at the ready, but right now she was drawing a blank.
She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt around her fingertip.
“Something told me to stop by your house, but I got so busy with the prep for the new school year.” Mrs. Brown beamed.
“Well, in any case, you’ve already missed a few days, so it is imperative that your parents drive you first thing tomorrow.
” She shuffled a few more papers. “Here’s the packing list. You can head on home to prepare. Oh, and I almost forgot.”
Sophia watched as Mrs. Brown reached under her desk and then handed her a silver gift bag tied with a white bow.
“A few of us in the office got you this. To get you started.”
Underneath the shiny tissue paper was a white cotton nightgown with a matching robe and a pair of fuzzy slippers. A package of new panties, knee socks, and a pair of gently used loafers. Sophia could not remember ever receiving a gift, let alone one packaged so beautifully. Not even on Christmas.
“I had to guess your shoe size. I sincerely hope they fit. You will be given a school uniform upon your arrival, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Thank you,” Sophia breathed, weightless with glee.
“Your parents won’t have any issues getting you there tomorrow, will they?” Mrs. Brown eyed her pointedly. “I’d take you myself, but I have a meeting with the superintendent on the terrible condition of our textbooks.”
“No, ma’am.” Sophia swallowed hard.
“Good. Here is my telephone number. Call me if you have any problems at all.” Mrs. Brown stood, and before Sophia knew what was happening, Mrs. Brown had swept her into her arms. She was big-breasted, smelled like peach cobbler, and her embrace was as comforting as anything Sophia had ever known.
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Sophia couldn’t remember the last time she had been hugged, and she didn’t want to let go.
Mrs. Brown patted her shoulder. “Doing your best is thanks enough. Now go on. Make Brooks proud.”
Sophia picked up her bag of goodies, and as she walked out the door, Mrs. Brown called behind her, “And for the love of God, do something with that hair.”