Chapter 9 #2
Willa took birdlike bites of her hot dog while Sophia had to restrain herself from lifting her dish and slurping the food down. Everything tasted delicious. It was the best meal she had eaten in a while.
“Evening, ladies.” A wide-framed boy, about six feet tall with a close-cropped fade and dark-rimmed glasses, sat down at their table.
Willa made the introductions. “Sophia, this is Louis Clark.”
She touched her napkin to her mouth. “I’m Sophia Clark.”
“Wonder if we’re kin.” Louis took a good look at Sophia. “Where are your people from?”
That was a weird question, one she did not have the answer to, though she thought about it often. Her people were Ma Deary, the Old Man, Uncle Wayon, and her three brothers. She hadn’t known grandparents on either side of the family. According to Ma Deary, they had all died before she was born.
“It’s just us, and we all you need,” Ma Deary would insist whenever the questions of extended family came up.
It was even more painful in her elementary years, when she had to draw her family tree with a mere seven people and present it at school next to kids going back with two and three generations of relatives.
She gave Louis the only answer she knew. “Southern Maryland. How about you?”
“I come from a long line of proud Virginians. Grew up in Norfolk, not far from Norfolk State University.”
“Louis was the first of us to enroll here,” Wilhelmina supplied in between nibbles.
“I was here a whole semester before Max and Claude joined me in the spring.” He bit into his corn bread.
“Was it scary being here all alone?” Sophia asked.
Louis winced, but then he turned to her and smiled. “Like Dr. King, I’ve done my best to keep it peaceful. We’ll just leave it at that.”
Willa blurted, “Louis is being modest. He already told me that a blue-blooded boy spat on him in the quad and he chased the boy into the principal’s office.”
“Was the boy punished?” Sophia looked from Willa to Louis.
Louis swallowed a forkful of cabbage. “After a small deliberation, he was given detention. I haven’t had any trouble out of him since.”
Willa cracked up, like it was a story she had heard several times but still got a kick out of. Sophia dropped her fork, suddenly having lost her appetite.
“Are the other guys still at basketball practice?” Willa asked.
“Far as I know.”
“I want you to meet Max and Claude, our other two,” Willa said, but Sophia had stopped listening.
She didn’t want anyone chasing her, spitting on her, or anything else.
She had seen on television how the police had thrown nightsticks, powered fire hoses, and let loose dogs on the Negro youth, same age as her, who had marched in the streets of Birmingham, Alabama.
“Don’t look so worried.” Louis patted Sophia’s hand. “You’ll be fine. Just remember that you are here to learn, so give it everything you’ve got. We have all committed to doing whatever it takes to be at the top of our classes. The best revenge is to outsmart them.”
Sophia nodded, but a heavy fatigue came over her.
Though the conversation continued between Willa and Louis, it became increasingly difficult for Sophia to concentrate on what was being said.
Maybe she didn’t belong here after all. Perhaps Ma Deary had been right and Brooks High School was good enough.
At least there she didn’t have to contend with the hatred of people.
But then Sophia stopped herself as she remembered being tormented by Maxine and her crew with monkey sounds and slurs about her hair.
Louis broke into her thoughts. “Do you play sports?”
“No.”
“Well, we are required to play two sports a year. The sports fair is being held now on the lawn in front of the athletic center. Hopefully, you’ll settle on something that you like.” He popped the last of his corn bread in his mouth before sauntering out of the dining hall.
Sophia and Willa walked the quad and then headed to the left, toward the athletic center.
There were folding tables set up advertising all the fall and winter sports.
Many of the tables had enticing snacks: Rice Krispies treats, vanilla frosted cupcakes, and chocolate chip cookies.
Willa made a beeline for the tennis table, leaving Sophia looking around alone.
The thought of doing anything that required hand-eye coordination made Sophia absolutely nauseated.
She and her brothers had played ball, but that was a healthy competition between the four of them.
Nothing serious, just a way to pass their little pockets of free time.
She stopped at the track-and-field table.
She could walk for long periods of time, between her work on the farm and the three-mile walk each way to school, but she was not interested in running until she made herself sweaty and dizzy.
She stopped in the middle of the quad and was looking around for anything remotely interesting when a tall man wearing a tweed baker-boy cap waved her over.
Sophia looked around to make sure he was talking to her.
“Hi, I’m Alastair Fletcher,” he said, his accent sounding like John Lennon from the Beatles. “What sport do you play, mate?”
“Sir, I don’t play sports.”
He had a whistle hanging around his neck and was wearing blue jeans, which struck her as odd for a teacher.
“Where are you from?”
“Southern Maryland.”
“Farmland, then?”
Sophia wrapped her arms around her waist. Could he smell the wet earth, chicken feed, damp milk, and manure on her?
“Yes.”
“I knew it.” He slapped his hands together, grinning and pleased with himself. “I can always spot them. I grew up on a ranch west of Manchester, England. Let me share a fun fact with you: Farmworkers are excellent at basketball.”
Sophia looked at the posters on his table and saw girls wearing uniforms and holding balls. “Why is that?”
“Because farmwork makes you fit and strong, and I bet you are tight in your core.” He sized her up. “You are the perfect height for the sport, and look at that wingspan.”
He pointed to her biceps, which were toned from lifting the chicken feed, pulling out the manure, heaving jugs of milk and buckets of eggs, and lugging firewood. But Sophia shook her head, unconvinced.
“Really, it has something to do with strategy, IQ, and some other facts. This is only our second year having a girls’ basketball team, so everyone is fairly new. You’d be perfect.”
“Okay,” Sophia heard herself say. He was convincing, if nothing else. She knew nothing about tennis, and since she had dribbled a ball before with her brothers, it was a better alternative than running track.
“Brilliant. Then it’s settled.” He handed her a pen and a form to fill out. “We start on Thursday. See you then.”
The showers in the W5 dormitory were communal; Sophia waited until she thought the last girl on their floor had padded back to her room before venturing out.
She hadn’t wanted to run into anyone. The last thing she needed was for any of the girls to see the red welts on her arms from her night terrors.
Fresh white towels were piled on a rack against the wall, and Sophia took one on her way into the shower.
Each stall contained pumps labeled with shampoo, conditioner, and liquid soap that smelled like coconuts.
Underneath the running water, Sophia felt her body sigh with relief.
The water was hot, ten times better than the cool-water bucket bath she was accustomed to taking on the farm.
She lathered herself generously with the coconut-scented soap and worked the suds underneath her nail plates.
After she’d finished and dried, she slipped into the white nightgown her counselor had given her.
The material was smooth against her skin and the most luxurious piece of clothing she had ever owned.
She twirled like a princess and then floated from the stall, feeling pleased with her appearance.
As she stepped out into the community bathroom, Patty stood with two other girls at the row of sinks, holding her toothbrush. “Oh my God, whose grandmother did you rob for that old thing,” she said, cackling and pointing to Sophia’s nightgown, which buttoned up to her neck and grazed her ankles.
Sophia’s head dipped as she shrank an inch. The three girls at the sink wore paisley gowns that sat above their knees, with three buttons opened at the chest.
“She looks like Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies,” another teased.
“And that hair. It looks like she stuck her finger in a socket,” said the last girl, with a tone that sounded like she’d refuse to be outdone.
Sophia didn’t know what to say, so she turned and bolted from the bathroom.
When she reached her bedroom door, she checked to make sure they hadn’t followed her.
Then she took a few beats to catch her breath before entering.
She didn’t want Willa to know what had happened, but that conversation was easy to avoid.
Willa had a sleep mask pulled over her eyes and her hair covered with a silk scarf, and she was buried under her covers.
Sophia quietly climbed into her own bed.
The duvet cover was plush, and the twin mattress was softer than she had imagined.
She curled herself into a ball and faced the wall, still a bit shaken.
She had not been in the habit of praying at night.
Ma Deary didn’t care one way or the other.
But Walter always prayed, so she thought she’d give his God a try.
She needed something to soothe her and to believe in.
Walter’s God, she thought. Please don’t let me have a nightmare tonight and wake up Wilhelmina…
I mean Willa. Pretty, pretty please? And don’t let Ma Deary come for me.
And make Patty and her friends leave me alone.
Oh, help me figure out this basketball thing too, but most importantly, no nightmares.
And if I start dreaming, help me wake up before I start screaming. Please and amen.
Sophia pushed her head deeper into the pillow, hoping that was enough for Him to grant her wish, because the last thing she wanted was for Willa to find out that she was rooming with a freak.