Chapter 9
SOPHIA
Having opened the wrong closet, Sophia now stood frozen, enamored by Wilhelmina’s department-store wardrobe.
To the left there was a neat row of wool and cashmere sweaters in a confetti of pink, green, yellow, and blue.
On the right, a line of ruffled blouses, hip-huggers, and A-line skirts in varying patterns of plaid, pinstripes, and floral checks.
At the bottom on a metal shoe rack were kitten-heel pumps, Mary Jane strap shoes, tennis shoes, and furry satin slippers.
Draped on the bed in contrast were Sophia’s meager belongings. A pair of faded Wrangler jeans, black pedal pushers, a Sloppy Joe sweater, and two passable blouses, all hand-me-downs from Unc’s summer girlfriend.
The generous gifts that she had received from the school counselors were folded neatly and packed away in the chest of drawers opposite her bed. Then Sophia remembered her uniform and located it at the top of her closet. It was in a simple brown bag with her name written on it in blue.
Sophia made sure the door was locked, then changed into the stiff pleated skirt and crisp white blouse, which, to her relief, fit perfectly.
She could not bear returning to the office and asking for an exchange, not after the way the receptionist had treated her.
Against the door hung a full-length mirror, and when Sophia looked at herself, she felt almost pretty in her new clothes; she liked her shiny black hair and the way Ma Deary’s Mary Janes hugged her ankles.
Maybe things would work out for her here.
She checked her school timetable and realized that she had twenty minutes before her afternoon classes began. While packing up the school supplies that Mrs. Brown had given her, she decided it was better to be early so as not to call attention to herself.
Outside, the day was still warm, and she hoped she could make it to class without sweating.
Sophia had a good sense of direction and wound her way back to the admissions building with ease.
From studying the brochure, she had learned that the boys’ school, Donoghue Hall, was on the right, and the girls’, Campbell Hall, on the left.
Boys and girls interacted fully only during meals.
Sophia walked up the sprawling stairs to the three-story brick building on the left.
The white halls gleamed as she followed the numbers on the wooden door to her physics class.
When she entered the sunlit classroom, she was taken aback by the neat rows of beautiful maple desks with matching ladder-back chairs.
There were only three other early arrivers, with their noses inside of books.
The teacher, a long-faced woman with a mole on her chin, pursed her lips from behind her desk at the front of the room.
A chalkboard filled with scientific notations and metric multipliers loomed behind her head.
In the top right corner, her name was written in cursive: Ms. Meacham.
She brought her hands together. “You must be Wilhelmina.”
“No. I’m Sophia,” she said, fiddling with the stiff hem of her new uniform skirt.
“Right, the other one,” Ms. Meacham said to herself. “Well, here’s the syllabus for the year. Help yourself to a textbook from the back shelf, and sit anywhere you like. Let me know if you have any questions.” She slid a packet of papers across her desk.
The back of the classroom was lined with two bookshelves.
With the heavy physics textbook in her hand, Sophia picked a seat by the window.
The pages smelled freshly inked and crisp, and the spine cracked just a little when she opened it.
What a stark difference from the textbooks donated to Brooks High with whole chapters torn out and obscene language scribbled in, courtesy of the all-white students who had used the textbooks first at Calvert High.
A cluster of about five girls entered the classroom, talking loudly and giggling. Sophia kept her head down, careful not to look up and make eye contact with any of them. Even though she didn’t see them, she could smell them. Powdery hair spray, fruity lotion, and floral perfume.
“There she is. The one I was telling you about,” and as if it had a mind of its own, Sophia’s head snapped up and she made eye contact with Patty, the brunette wearing the white ribbons who had refused to show her the way to the dormitory.
Patty grabbed the arm of the friend closest to her and steered the group to the corner of the room, on the opposite side of Sophia.
“Don’t pay them any mind.” A girl stopped next to Sophia’s desk with a forearm crutch strapped to each arm. She had a thick braid tossed over her shoulders. “I’m Nancy, by the way.”
“Sophia.”
“Nice to meet you.” Nancy put all her weight on one of the grip handles and stretched out her free hand to Sophia. “I’m new this year too.”
The teacher cleared her throat, and all the students who were up and about got to their seats. Nancy lowered herself in the chair beside Sophia.
“Good afternoon, ladies. Please turn to page seven in your textbooks, and I will explain the notes up on the board.”
Once her physics class was dismissed, Sophia sat through literature and then Latin.
Her last class of the day was applied mathematics.
All afternoon, her teachers had been polite, and the curriculum felt doable.
If the day seemed long, it was because she had been hungry for most of it, and she was happy to find Wilhelmina waiting for her in front of the girls’ building when she descended the stairs.
“How was it?” Wilhelmina asked, leading Sophia down the path in the direction of the dining hall.
“Not too bad.”
“Good for you. Claude Portis, one of the boys who started last year, told me that he had a terrible first day.”
“What happened?”
A group of boys in letterman jackets strolled passed them, and Wilhelmina lowered her voice so that only Sophia could hear her.
“He was cornered in front of the boys’ building by six huge football players.
Since he played too, he assumed they were teammates coming to welcome him to the school.
” Wilhelmina grimaced. “Instead, they pushed him around and called him Sambo and other nasty words, then chanted for him to go back to Africa where he belonged.”
Sophia opened the door to the dining hall as Wilhelmina continued, “Poor thing ran into the bathroom crying. It took three teachers to pry him out of the stall.”
Sophia gulped. “Wilhelmina, that’s awful.”
“Tell me about it. And please, call me Willa. Wilhelmina is such a mouthful.” She repositioned the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder.
“Sorry. Willa, I mean.” Sophia pinched herself for forgetting.
Willa led the way, moving like a girl who was confident and completely at ease. As Sophia walked slightly behind her, she found herself pushing her chest forward and trying to imitate Willa’s poise and sureness.
The school’s dining hall was expansive and mirrored the nice restaurants that Sophia had gone to with the Old Man on fresh-egg deliveries. The cafeteria at Brooks High was merely a room with three laminate tables, plastic chairs, and plates of food that looked and smelled like an afterthought.
“This is the cold food station.” Willa pointed. It was piled high with sandwiches, a variety of cold salads, and sliced fruit. “On the other side are the hot stations,” she said. “That’s where I’m headed.”
The hot stations were filled with burgers, hot dogs, french fries, spaghetti, meat loaf and gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, and cabbage. Sophia’s mouth watered at all of the choices. Then she remembered that she didn’t have any money.
“I can’t pay for this,” she whispered to Willa, who had grabbed two brown trays and was handing one to Sophia.
“Your parents have already paid for it.” Willa looked at her incredulously. “The meals are included in our tuition. And it’s all you can eat, even the dessert.” She pointed to another station on the far side of the room.
Sophia’s face blanched with embarrassment. She should have known that and felt silly for being so ignorant. Behind the counter of one of the hot stations stood a cinnamon-colored woman wearing a black hairnet. Her lips were painted fuchsia, and she had a pencil tucked behind her ear.
“Welcome. What’s your name, sugar?” She dished a piece of juicy meat loaf onto Sophia’s plate.
“Sophia Clark.”
“Well, folks call me Miz Peaches ’round here. You look like you’ve been skipping a few meals,” she said, spooning two helpings of mashed potatoes and then a heap of cabbage onto Sophia’s plate. “Here, baby, don’t forget the corn bread. Just came outta the oven.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sugar.” She flashed her deep dimples. “Anything you need. Anything at all, you come find Miz Peaches. Hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Willa, you be sure to show Sophia how we do things ’round here.”
Willa chuckled. “Will do, Miz Peaches.”
The two girls plopped down at a big table overlooking the tennis courts.
Students buzzed around them, filling plates and catching up with friends.
Sophia took in their leather bags, new shoes, preppy jackets, and decorated hairdos.
They were carefree and comfortable. How could Sophia find solace in this new space when everything was so different from what she had experienced at Brooks High?
“This school has so much of everything,” she blurted.
“That’s exactly why my parents sent me here. My father always tells me you must be with the best to be the best.” Willa sipped her lemonade. “What made you choose Forest?”
“I guess you can say Forest chose me.” Sophia told Willa about the program that she’d applied to and how she had received the scholarship to attend.
“That’s cool.” Willa squirted mustard on her hot dog. “Before you arrived, I thought I’d be the lonely only. At least we’ll have each other. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”