Chapter 12
SOPHIA
When Sophia’s eyes fluttered open, it was because Willa’s alarm was blaring. Her roommate stretched her elbows overhead and then slammed her hand down to silence it. Sophia watched Willa throw her legs over the side of the bed and stuff her feet in a satiny pair of slippers.
“Rise and shine,” Willa said. “Did you sleep okay?”
Sophia swallowed. “Yes, you?”
“Like a baby,” she said, grabbing a tote bag of skin-care products. She shuffled out the door.
Sophia breathed a sigh of relief. She had slept soundly through the night and hadn’t bothered Willa with her night terrors and screams. She looked up at the ceiling and silently thanked Walter’s God.
Once again, she arrived early for all her classes. She said very little throughout the day. In physics class, Nancy lowered herself in the seat beside Sophia and then propped her forearm crutches against the wall. They discussed an upcoming project. In all her other classes, Sophia sat alone.
Halfway through her composition class, she realized that Thursday was only two days away, and she needed to learn the nuts and bolts of basketball before she reported to practice.
There had to be more rules than what she had learned from playing two-on-two and H-O-R-S-E with her brothers.
Before lunch, she made her way to the library with the hope of checking out a book that would help her.
The library sat in the breezeway between the boys’ school, Donoghue Hall, and the girls’ school, Campbell Hall, and was used by both genders.
Inside, big windows were flanked by abstract paintings hanging from the walls.
There was a big open common area with overstuffed chairs where students hung out with books opened in their laps.
Sophia glanced at the rows and rows of library books and wondered where she should start.
“May I help you?” asked a woman with clear-framed glasses and frizzy white hair.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m looking for a book on how to play basketball,” Sophia whispered.
The woman let out a hearty chuckle. “Ah, my friend Alastair has gotten to you too?”
“Excuse me?”
“The basketball coach with the British accent,” she said, imitating his closed-mouthed way of speaking.
“Yes.” Sophia relaxed. “I guess you can say that he did.”
“I have just the book for you,” she said. “Right this way.”
Sophia followed the short woman to the section marked “Sports in Society.” Halfway down the aisle on the middle shelf, she plucked out a book. “Try this.”
Sophia took the book in her hand. Winning Basketball Plays by Clair Bee.
“This should at least explain the rules of the game to you. But you will also need to practice.”
“Yes, I know.” Sophia opened the book and scanned the inside flap. The book smelled vintage, like it hadn’t had much use.
The librarian shifted on her feet. “How are you getting on here? I know this is all new for you.”
When Sophia glanced in the woman’s direction, she noticed that her gray eyes were kind. She reminded her of her counselor, Mrs. Brown at Brooks High, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “It’s been a bit overwhelming, trying to take in so much newness at once.”
The librarian nodded. “I can imagine that things might feel strange around here. Change is never easy, but it’s the only thing that’s constant. I for one am glad that West Oak Forest has put in the effort for equality. It’s high time we right some wrongs around here.”
Sophia didn’t know what to say. So far, the librarian had been kinder than all her teachers combined.
The librarian lowered her voice. “Listen, dear, the library can always be your refuge. It’s a safe space under my watch.”
“Thank you,” Sophia said, clutching the book to her chest. “What’s your name?”
The librarian smacked her hand against her forehead. “Silly me, for not introducing myself. My name is Mrs. Fordham.”
“Sophia Clark.”
“Pleased to meet you, dear. Now, there’s a little room back here.” She motioned for Sophia to follow her to a corner door. “If you and your friends ever need a little privacy, it’s always unlocked. Leave no trace, and you’ll never hear a peep out of me.” She winked.
“Thank you, ma’am. That’s so generous.”
Mrs. Fordham erected her shoulders and smiled. “I participated in the March on Washington in ’63. Set up a little table and handed out Dixie cups of water to those who wanted it. That day changed my life. I’m here if you need me.” She reached over and squeezed Sophia’s hand.
Sophia left the library with her book on basketball feeling empowered and pleased.
She braved the cafeteria alone for the first time and enjoyed a chicken salad sandwich with carrot sticks.
The carrots made her think of her brothers, Karl and Lu, and she wondered if Walter was making sure that they ate and got through their morning chores and to school on time.
She thought about the farm animals, hoping that Unc had secured the help he needed to run the property without dragging her brothers out of school.
She thought about Ma Deary and the Old Man, relieved that neither had come to get her. At least not yet.
She hadn’t seen Willa or Louis, but she couldn’t wait to begin eating if she was going to keep up her plan of arriving early to class.
At the dessert bar, she wrapped a sugar cookie in a napkin and slipped it in her bag for later.
Then she opened the book on basketball: It was a habit she had picked up on the farm, walking while reading.
Page two had a drawing of a two-three zone defense that she studied.
Before Sophia knew what was happening, she had collided into a mass of muscle.
The book flew from her fingers and to the floor.
As she stumbled after it, a strong hand grabbed hold of her forearm.
Sophia remembered the story of the boy being shoved around by the football players and braced herself for an angry outburst, but when she risked looking up into the boy’s face, her breath caught in her throat.
He was Negro and fine. His gaze was so magnetic that she couldn’t turn away.
What was this feeling that he had ignited in her?
“Sorry, I should have been paying more attention.”
His gentle hand continued to steady her. “It’s cool.” His voice was deep.
He stood two inches taller than she did, so she had to tilt her face up to see him. He had a square jaw and dreamy pecan-colored eyes.
“You all right?” he asked. When he finally let her elbow go, she could still feel the electricity of his touch.
“Yes, sorry. I was just trying to do two things at once.”
He reached down, lifted the basketball book off the floor, and snickered. “I can assure you that you can’t learn how to dribble and shoot from a book.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I already know how to play.”
He looked her up and down. “I’ve been hooping all my life, and you don’t look like a ball player.” His attention made the back of her neck hot. Who was he?
“Well, you’ll just have to see,” she stammered, suddenly aware of the stray hairs springing loose from her ponytail.
“You new?”
She nodded.
“I’m Max McBay.” He stuck his hand out, and she placed hers in his. The warmth from his touch traveled all the way down to her toes.
“Sophia Clark.”
“Does this mean you’re trying out for the basketball team?”
“I guess so. The coach cornered me at the sports fair and told me to show up on Thursday.”
“Coach Fletcher?”
“Accent?”
“Yes, he’s my advanced physics teacher.” Max stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “He’s one of the few teachers around here who isn’t prejudiced. You’ll like him.”
“Good to hear.”
“Well, if you don’t discover what you need in that book, come find me.
I’m always in the boys’ gym.” Max reached for the sugar cookie from the top of her bag and took a bite.
Then he rewrapped it in the napkin and put it back.
“See you around.” He strolled into the cafeteria in the same airy way that Willa walked, like he belonged.
Sophia didn’t have time to grab a fresh cookie, so she shoved the bitten one down into her bag. That boy had some nerve, sizing her up like that and eating part of her cookie. But as she walked through the quad, light-hearted and sweaty, she found it hard to be upset.
On Thursday afternoon, Sophia walked into the athletic center to the scent of sticky armpits and burnt rubber.
The oversize lobby was painted canary yellow and showcased West Oak Forest Academy’s pendants and posters.
A wide glass case, centered on the back wall, displayed multiple awards, championship plaques, trophies, and photographs of boys’ basketball teams stretching back over half a century.
Sophia could hear dribbling, shoes sliding and screeching against the parquet floors.
But there were two gyms, one on the right and the other on the left, and Coach Fletcher hadn’t been specific.
As the student athletes bounded into the lobby, Sophia pretended to study the trophy case until she could gauge which side was for the boys and which side was the girls.
She entered the gym on the right and found Coach Fletcher standing in the center of the court, wearing a matching blue short set. A whistle hung from his neck, and his sandy brown hair fell across his forehead. He clutched his clipboard to his side.
Sophia had worn her school gym uniform because she didn’t have anything else and was relieved to see that the other girls had worn their uniforms too.
“Sophia.” Coach Fletcher held up his list and checked her name off. “Good to see you. Find a ball and go warm up.”