 
Storm 714

Writers on the Storm

Christy Cauley

Copyright Christy J. Cauley 2011  
Published by Shock Value Media at Smashwords

113,794 words

ISBN-13: 978-0-615-45880-9

www.ChristyCauley.com - CCwriter@gmail.com

With gratitude to the most amazing husband a woman could ever ask for, Joseph Cauley. This book would not have been possible without you. My life would not have been possible without you. You are my everything.

Special thanks to my friend and editor, Robin Coronado, for all of your support, encouragement, and the hours of reading this book to help me make it the best it could be!

Thank you to my mother, Kathleen Cushing, for being an amazing woman and shattering that glass ceiling. And last but never least, thanks to our nephews, Jeremy, Jason and Justin for filling our house with love, laughter, fun, and . . . adventure!

Dedicated to the loving memory of our children, Gwendolyn and Gabriel Cauley (www.GwenAndGabe.com).
Chapter 1

Cornelia

Fourteen-year-old Cornelia Drake was sitting behind the defendant's desk in a juvenile courtroom next to a lawyer whose name she couldn't recall. Cornelia, ever the fashionista, was wearing a pink Chanel suit with Versace pumps. In her left hand, the high school freshman was nervously clutching the Gucci handbag she had gotten for her birthday last summer; in her right hand she was squeezing a tiny Daruma doll her boyfriend had given her for good luck.

Her mother, Veronica, who was sitting behind her, despised Cornelia's boyfriend, Chad Barrington. After all, she thought he was the one who had gotten her into this mess in the first place. But any gift from Chad was a precious thing to Cornelia and she held on for dear life as she glanced back at her mother. She was disappointed to see that Veronica hadn't touched up the black roots under her bleach-blonde locks. She thought her mother was looking quite disheveled lately and it wasn't just her hair. Her clothes and make-up were also suffering. Annoyed that her mother wasn't more presentable, Cornelia turned her attention to the Daruma doll that she was holding onto as if her life depended on it; and in a way, it did.

Chad first gave Cornelia the Daruma doll after she received her guilty verdict. Cornelia thought he was joking. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen in her life and she couldn't imagine Chad giving it to her as a gift.

"It's Japanese," he said.

"Well that's no excuse," Cornelia replied, rolling her eyes.

"It's for luck," he continued without so much as a waiver in his bright smile. "Daruma was this monk guy who spent like nine years meditating in a cave without blinking an eye."

"That's impossible," Cornelia protested.

"Well normally, yeah, but Daruma was able to do it because he had ripped off his eyelids with his bare hands," Chad said, gesturing with his hands as if he were tearing off his own eyelids.

"That's disgusting!" Cornelia shrieked, forcing the doll back into Chad's hands.

"No, it's totally cool. That's why the doll doesn't have eyes, look," Chad said, still smiling like a school boy who had just gotten his first 'A' paper. He put the doll back into Cornelia's hands. She looked down at the ugly doll, completely irritated with Chad, but when she looked back up into his crystal blue eyes, she melted.

Even though Chad's parents had money, Cornelia's father, Harrison Drake, Esquire, thought Chad Barrington was completely beneath Cornelia, but Cornelia didn't care what her father thought. Besides, in that moment she was a prisoner to Chad's dimples and the wispy way his black hair was covering part of his left eye. There was no fighting it.

"You're supposed to paint in one of the eyes and then make a wish. You don't paint in the second eye until the wish comes true."

"How..." Cornelia searched for a word that wouldn't hurt Chad's feelings, "charming." She managed a smile despite her repulsion. She absolutely adored Chad who was standing before her in ripped jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of Birkenstocks. Chad's parents were kind of like old hippie rejects but Chad took pride in their lifestyle. They believed in spirituality rather than religion. They loved anything to do with Eastern spirituality and they were constantly touting different causes, especially ones that involved the environment and apparently eyelid-less monks.

You weren't allowed to bring anything made of Styrofoam into the Barrington household. They were strict recyclers. Veronica used to come inside when she picked Cornelia up from their house, but later she just honked the horn because she couldn't stand one more lecture about her gas-guzzling sport utility vehicle.

Chad wasn't like the other boys Cornelia had dated in her life. He wasn't the homecoming king or the captain of the football team type and he didn't live in a mansion on the hill overlooking Storm River. He lived on the slope between the hill and the village where the poor and middle class kids lived, but unlike Harrison, Cornelia didn't care about that. Before her parents' divorce she might have cared, but now the fact that Chad annoyed her father was just another reason to date him. Cornelia and Chad were both freshmen at Storm River High School, although Cornelia was nearly expelled a few short weeks earlier.

It wasn't unusual for Chad to buy Cornelia a crafty gift. He was a painter. Cornelia was always pushing him to become a film director, but art was his passion. "There are no famous painters anymore," Cornelia would say. Chad was a member of the AV club, but he only liked to make movies for fun. His friends would write scripts, Cornelia and Chad's friends would star and Chad would direct. They put the movies on the Internet, but Chad never had any interest in his hobby going any further. On the afternoon that he gave Cornelia the Daruma doll, he painted on the first eye with the care of a skilled craftsman. He insisted on making the doll's expression perfect.

"Now wish for a lenient punishment," he said.

"You can't tell me what to wish for," Cornelia protested, "isn't that cheating in the eyes of the monk gods or something? Oh, I forgot they don't have any eyes!"

Chad laughed and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "now go on, CC." Cornelia's middle name is Christina, so people close to her sometimes call her "CC" for short. Cornelia closed her eyes tight for a few seconds, and then opened them again. "Did you make the wish?" Chad asked.

"Yes, I made a wish, and no, I am not going to tell you what it is," Cornelia replied with a coy smile.

"Well I hope you wished for leniency," he said, "because I don't want to come visit you in the big house, and I don't mean your dad's house." Chad winked and Cornelia couldn't stop herself from laughing at his joke even though the thought of jail time made her nervous. Even with a high profile lawyer like Harrison Drake for a father, it was possible she could be facing some time in juvenile hall.

Harrison Drake, Esquire, couldn't be bothered with the minor offense she was charged with, so after getting her out on bail, he assigned one of his junior partners to the case and promptly left on a business trip. But that wasn't before reaming Cornelia about ruining his chances for running for circuit court judge. He was standing before her with his short blonde locks slicked back, wearing a Versace suit without a thread out of place. Cornelia thought she inherited more fashion sense from her father than her mother. Harrison told Cornelia that he changed his cell phone number and that she could call her step-mother, Brandy, if she needed to contact him. Brandy was only ten years older than Cornelia and Cornelia despised her for tearing her family apart. Before he left, Harrison recommended that Cornelia plead guilty and try for leniency. Cornelia refused and opted for a trial instead. The judge quickly found her guilty on all counts.

Leniency sounded nice, but Cornelia was worried she wasn't going to get it. She didn't think the judge liked her much. Beneath the gold locket necklace her father had given her when she was five, Cornelia's heart was pounding. She was furious with her father for leaving her on her own with Sally or Sharon, or was it Susie? Yes, Cornelia was now certain that her lawyer's name started with an 'S.' Well, almost certain.

As she looked to her right, Cornelia was also certain that she was dressed much better than her lawyer. Ms. S. was wearing a brown business suit, but Cornelia couldn't find any brand name insignias that she recognized. She imaged the rather disheveled looking thirty-something picking it up off of a rack in McAlphin's or some other mall store on the west side of town. "She certainly couldn't have gotten it on the east side," Cornelia thought. That's where Cornelia had gotten her outfit. The east side had all of the posh shops.

Cornelia looked the part of the perfect daughter in every way. The front of her long, blonde hair ("real blonde, not from a bottle," she repeatedly pointed out to anyone who would listen in case they might think she was a bottle-blonde like her mother), was pulled back in a beautiful diamond crusted barrette that had been given to her by her grandmother who had died of breast cancer a few months earlier. That barrette was the most precious thing in the world to Cornelia. Truth be told, it was a more precious good luck charm than Chad's Daruma doll could ever be, but she would never tell him that.

Cornelia and her grandmother were very close. When Cornelia's parents were getting a divorce, visiting her grandmother was her only respite from the pain. Last spring it was torture watching her grandmother go through chemo. Eventually, her grandmother's body withered away to nothing until she finally asked to be brought to Hospice where she died. Cornelia's heart was broken.

The back of Cornelia's hair hung loose with soft curls, courtesy of Damon, her mother's hairdresser from Le Mieux Cheveux, the most expensive salon in town. Her nails were perfectly manicured and covered in a pale shade of pink, also courtesy of Damon, and her make-up was nearly non-existent, just some cherry flavored lip gloss and light pink eye shadow. "Less is more," Veronica told Damon while he was getting Cornelia ready.

Cornelia's thoughts were interrupted by the bailiff. "Please rise," he said and everyone in the courtroom complied. Cornelia laid her handbag down on the table, but she kept her Daruma doll hidden away in her right hand. The judge entered the courtroom from a backdoor. He was old, tall and chubby and Cornelia thought he looked very mean. She was appalled by his double chin that shook when he spoke.

After the judge sat down on the bench, the bailiff said, "Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Albert Brightny is presiding. You may be seated." And again everyone complied. Judge Brightny put on a pair of reading glasses and was looking through a black binder filled with paperwork while the bailiff read off some routine things like, "This is case number six on the docket, in the matter of Storm River High School versus Cornelia Christina Drake." When the bailiff was through, the judge took off his glasses and closed the binder.

"Would the defendant please rise," the bailiff said, addressing Cornelia. She and her lawyer stood up. Cornelia was still clutching her Daruma doll for dear life.

"Ms. Drake, you have been found guilty on one charge of criminal vandalism and one charge of willfully promoting hatred," the judge said. Cornelia was pretty sure the judge had made up the second count, but Ms. S. had assured her it was a legitimate charge. The judge continued, "It is now my job to sentence you.

"Now I know you stand before me today thinking that the Drake name and your family's money will win you favor, but let me tell you right now, young lady, I'll have none of that in my courtroom." The judge put the corner of his glasses in his mouth, crossed his arms in front of him, and never took his eyes off of Cornelia. His jowls were shaking as he spoke.

From behind her, Cornelia could hear her mother whisper, "Schmuck." Cornelia's eyes quickly darted to her left trying to catch a glimpse of her mother, but the forceful voice of the judge brought her eyes back to center.

"Look at me when I'm addressing you young lady," he said, removing the glasses from his mouth and pointing them at her.

Ms. S. elbowed Cornelia and leaned over toward her left ear to whisper, "Apologize, Cornelia."

"Sorry, sir. I mean, your honor. Sorry, your honor," Cornelia fumbled for the right words.

"Don't apologize to me, young lady. The person you should be apologizing to is Mrs. Samantha Hakim. She is the victim here. She's not even in this courtroom today because she refused to press charges against you. The school had to press charges. And do you know why that is, Ms. Drake?" the judge's face distorted into what Cornelia could only surmise was an angry look.

"No, sir, your honor."

"Mrs. Hakim isn't here today because, despite the fact that you wrote horrible slurs about her across the walls of Storm River High School, she still thinks there is hope for you. She is the only reason you weren't expelled from school, did you know that, Ms. Drake? She is the only reason you were allowed to plead to a lesser charge of willfully promoting hatred rather than publicly inciting hatred. The latter charge would have come with a heftier punishment."

Cornelia was shocked. She, in fact, had not known that it was Mrs. Hakim who defended her to the school board and the judge. Mrs. Hakim was the reason Cornelia was finishing up a two-week suspension rather than having been expelled from school and now she was the reason she was facing a lesser sentence. The truth was, Cornelia was hoping to get expelled so she could return to private school. She was outraged when her mother told her she was going to move her to a public high school. She was disappointed when the school board gave her only a suspension.

Cornelia suddenly realized the judge was awaiting a response. "No I didn't, your honor," she said softly, then cleared her throat.

"Well, she was. She championed a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan like yourself because she believes in a silly thing called hope," the judge continued. Cornelia tried to mask the indignant look on her face, so she looked down at her Gucci handbag on the table.

"I said look at me when I'm talking to you, girl!" the judge snapped. Cornelia's head popped to attention and her eyes widened. "I've had the unenviable task of listening to you whine about how unfair Mrs. Hakim was in giving you a 'D' on your progress report in English class. As you know, your school work was subpoenaed by this court, Ms. Drake, so I've seen firsthand the reason why you received that 'D' and I can tell you right now that Mrs. Hakim, in fact, was being quite generous. If you had been in my class I would have failed you," the judge said, and then paused.

"But your grade isn't the issue here, young lady. At issue here is a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan who felt that her family name gave her the right to damage public property paid for by the taxes of law-abiding citizens of Storm River, Ohio. The issue is a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan taking her frustrations out on a school wall she had no business defiling. The issue, young lady, is a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan standing in my courtroom with absolutely no remorse for the crime she committed."

The judge paused for a moment, and then continued, "And what you did was a crime. It was a hate crime against Mrs. Hakim. It was a crime against Storm River High School. It was a crime against the community of Storm River, and it was a crime against the citizens of Storm River.

"You, young lady, are a disgrace to the school that Mrs. Hakim fought so hard to keep you in," he continued. "You're a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan who will amount to nothing in this life unless I can put you back on the straight and narrow path. Unlike Mrs. Hakim, I feel I'm wasting my breath. You, Ms. Drake, are going to get through high school by the skin of your teeth, academically. Socially, you'll be the toast of your class, with the most popular boyfriend, and the most notable clique on campus." Cornelia suddenly thought of the judge as a teenager who had always been chosen last for teams in gym class and was holding a grudge against popular kids. He continued, "You will get by on your looks and your family's money. You'll go to college and major in something mundane then you'll marry a rich man and continue the tradition of raising stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan children."

"Objection!" Ms. S. yelled, raising her hand in the air.

"Ms. Kirkwood, you can't object to my comments, the trial is over," the judge said and Ms. S. put her hand down. "Your client pleaded not guilty but she knows that she is guilty of a lot more than just vandalism. And if it were up to me, I would throw the book at her and sentence her to 30 days in juvenile hall." Cornelia let out a tiny muffled shriek.

"Unfortunately, Mrs. Hakim has once again championed the stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan by requesting leniency. Mrs. Hakim feels that Ms. Drake would be much better served by a sentence of community service, rather than time in juvenile hall." Cornelia breathed a little easier. Anything was better than juvenile hall, but she was still holding out hope for something even more lenient.

"Although I disagree with her," the judge continued, "as the victim and someone who knows the defendant better than I do, I am willing to defer to Mrs. Hakim on this issue." The judge paused and raised his gavel.

"Cornelia Christina Drake, I hereby sentence you to 300 hours of community service," the judge said, and banged the gavel on his desk.

Cornelia was mortified. She thought she could get off with probation, maybe a few hours of community service, but 300? The thought of scrubbing toilets in some homeless shelter made her sick to her stomach. She put her left hand on her stomach and fought back the urge to vomit. She locked her knees together in an attempt to keep them from shaking. She felt as though all of the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

As the judge stood up to leave, the bailiff said, "All rise," and the other people in the courtroom were once again on their feet. Before he ducked out the back door, the judge added, "And you should consider yourself lucky, young lady," as he pointed his finger at Cornelia. "That's less than half the amount of hours you would have put in had you been sentenced to juvenile hall. You owe a debt of gratitude to Mrs. Hakim, Ms. Drake. I suggest you apologize to her and thank her for her intervention. Otherwise you would have been spending the next month behind bars with no cell phone, no Internet access, no music and no television." Cornelia was still in shock. She didn't hear him.

After the judge left, the bailiff yelled, "Court is adjourned!" He then approached Cornelia and Ms. S. Kirkwood. He said, "As part of your sentence, your first task will be to help remove graffiti from the Price Valley section of Storm River. Your service log will need to be signed by the attendant at the site as well as Mrs. Hakim. Do you understand?"

Seeing the disgusted look on Cornelia's face, he added, "Yes, that's right, your victim, Mrs. Hakim, will be your community service supervisor. Everything will have to be signed off on by her. The clerk will assist you with the necessary paperwork and fill you in on all the directions for completing your sentence." The bailiff shook his head and walked away.

Cornelia stood there stunned, as if her Versace pumps were glued to the floor. She felt a cold chill flow through her body and she clasped her right arm with her left hand while the right hand still held fast to Daruma. "Three hundred hours?" Cornelia asked no one in particular. "Three hundred? Can he do that?" she turned to ask her lawyer.

"Yes, he can. He's right, you got off easy. Your father will be pleased. Be thankful," Ms. S. Kirkwood said, turning around to greet Veronica.

"Thanks, Sally," Veronica said while shaking the lawyer's hand.

"Sally!" Cornelia said out loud.

"Yes?" Sally asked.

"Nothing, I just knew your name started with an 'S' is all," Cornelia replied without thinking.

"I just saved you from a month-long juvie stay and you don't even remember my name?" Sally asked. "The judge was right, you are a..." Sally stopped before she said something she would regret.

"It's o.k., Sally, you can say it," Veronica said. "My daughter is a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan." Sally tried to give a faint smile, but quickly packed up the contents of her suitcase and headed out of the courtroom. Cornelia turned around to shoot her mother a dirty look.

"Wipe that look off your face, CC. Sally's right; you got off easy. You're going to be a good girl, complete your service and be done with this whole sorted affair. In the meantime, you're still grounded. That means no TV, no cell, no Internet, and no Chad Barrington. You go straight to school or cheerleading practice, or your service and then straight home. And on game nights you're going straight to the game and straight home. No before or after parties. Do you understand me, Missy?"

"I might as well be in prison!" Cornelia screeched, stomping her foot on the wood floor boards.

"Honestly, Cornelia, I would have quite liked 30 days without you, but we have Samantha Hakim to thank for your continued presence, so go tell her your sob story. I don't want to hear it!" Veronica snapped, then turned to the clerk who was waiting to escort the pair to an office next door.

Cornelia was wounded by her mother's barbs, but she would never show it on the outside. Ever since her parents got divorced she felt like neither one of them loved her any more. Her father was busy with his new bride and her mother acted like everything Cornelia did was a burden on her. Even her friends made her feel unwanted. Since the divorce Cornelia didn't have the same allowance that she used to have, so she hadn't been able to do everything she used to do with them, like going shopping on the east side. Her suit was from an east side shop alright, but the truth was, it was a hand-me-down from her mother. Cornelia tried to wear it with pride, but inside a fire was brewing and she was afraid she might explode at any moment.
Chapter 2

Penance

It was with great annoyance that Cornelia put on her least expensive pair of jeans and a purple t-shirt that read, "SRHS Cheerleading." As she was tying her Nikes over a pair of ankle-length socks, she looked up at the Daruma doll sitting on the bookshelf between her desk and her vanity where she placed him after the trial. The second eye had still not been painted on, as Cornelia's wish had not come true on that day in the courtroom. She thought it looked like Daruma was winking at her in a very sinister way. He was all red with some gold markings, except for his face. His face was white as a ghost with black outlining his eyes, eyebrows and cheeks, and red outlining his enormous nostrils and mouth. His big eyes had orange shading around the perimeter. Cornelia always swore that Daruma's one good eye followed her around the room. The doll creeped her out, but what could she do? It was a gift from Chad and she couldn't get rid of it. That would break his heart.

She wished Chad was coming with her. His tree-hugging family would be all about cleaning up graffiti, but she was still grounded from seeing him, so she could not ask him to come. She was sure the site coordinator would report it back to Mrs. Hakim and then the hours she put in would be for nothing. It made her angry to think that Mrs. Hakim, who Cornelia believed had gotten her into this mess in the first place, was her service coordinator.

Cornelia walked over to her vanity and sat down. It was a beautiful vanity; the kind some girls only see in storybooks. It was cherry wood with a fresh coat of varnish and gold accents trimming every drawer and edge. The mirror always reminded Cornelia of the mirror from Snow White. But she never had to ask, "Who is the fairest of them all?" She knew that was MacKenzie Phillips, the head cheerleader at Storm River High School.

Kenzie had all of the boys at Storm River High falling at her feet. She was the queen bee of the most popular clique at SRHS. Cornelia was right on the edge of that clique, but because she was a freshman she wasn't quite in the inner circle yet. All of the popular girls at SRHS watched Kenzie's every move; they noted every piece of clothing, every mannerism, and every hairstyle. They all copied her, careful not to imitate too closely. That could get you singled out as a poser and that would mean banishment from the popular clique forever. Cornelia found herself hoping that Kenzie would not drive by while she was carrying out any of her community service. "Don't be silly," Cornelia thought to herself, "Kenzie would never be caught dead in the valley."

Cornelia put on some lip gloss, but opted out of any more elaborate make-up. She was headed for a day of manual labor, something to which she was completely unaccustomed. She didn't want to waste her expensive make-up on that. Her mother started limiting her to two make-up purchases a month, so Cornelia had to make it last. When it came to her hair, she settled for a ponytail, something she never wore at school, except for cheerleading practice when she didn't want her hair getting hot and sweaty. At the actual games it was different. There were boys there, so she had to let her hair down. She always looked her best at games.

Her uniform was always perfectly pressed. She was tan, with a little help from the tanning beds at Le Mieux Cheveux. Her make-up was always flawless. With her clear skin, she didn't need to wear foundation, only some blush, lipstick and eye shadow. Eye liner always took the longest to apply. Cornelia had to have it perfect. She had to smudge it so it didn't look like a straight drawn-on line like her mother, but she couldn't smudge it too much because then she would look like a pirate. A nice, soft, smoky line was what she strived for, but not on this day. This day she looked like Plain Jane and that's the way she wanted it. She was hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't see anyone she knew, or at the very least they wouldn't recognize her looking so drab. She threw on a plain beige baseball cap, just in case, and pulled her ponytail through the hole in the back.

Veronica dropped Cornelia off at the service site around 9 a.m. It was an unusually warm day for October, but Cornelia tied a sweater around her waist just in case. "I'll pick you up here at three," Veronica told her. "Call my cell if you're going to be late."

"Late? God, I hope it doesn't go past three," Cornelia replied in a snotty voice.

"You're lucky you're here at all, young lady," Veronica replied curtly.

"Whatever," Cornelia said as she got out of her mom's SUV, otherwise known as "the monster." After a short drive down the hill into the valley, she stepped onto the curb at the corner of Glenway and Gilsey Streets and looked around for The Family Connection, the organization that was sponsoring the clean-up. All she saw was a run-down looking building with graffiti painted on the side. As Cornelia walked around to the front of the building she saw a small sign that said, "The Family Connection." The windows were all boarded up; the place look abandoned. Cornelia knocked softly on the door. She could hear voices inside, but no one came to the door, so she knocked harder. The door opened by itself with the harder knock, so Cornelia pushed it the rest of the way open and went inside.

She saw a room full of teenagers who were mostly Hispanic and African-American. They were chatting amongst themselves. Cornelia noticed a few adults in the crowd; one was Hispanic, one African-American and one white. She approached the white woman. Doing so made her veins burn. She didn't want anyone to think she was racist. "What if the Hispanic woman didn't speak English?" she thought. "What if the African-American woman was from some African country and didn't speak English well?" she rationalized. The truth was, Cornelia felt more comfortable speaking to the white woman because they were the same race. For the first time that day, Cornelia felt ashamed.

"Hello?" she said inquisitively to the young woman with the long brown hair.

"Yes, hello!" the woman replied with a huge smile. Cornelia noticed that the woman's teeth were perfectly straight. She was pretty, and had a beauty mark on her right cheek. She wasn't wearing any make-up and was dressed in just jeans, a t-shirt, and no-name tennis shoes.

"Are you Natalie?" Cornelia asked.

"Why, yes, I am," Natalie replied.

"I'm Cornelia Drake. I'm supposed to report to you for community service duty," Cornelia said softly, hoping no one around her could hear.

"Oh yes, welcome! We're glad to have the help," Natalie replied. Cornelia thought that despite her appearance, the woman was from a wealthy family. She was very well spoken and overly friendly. Cornelia didn't think that poor people could be so happy. "You're actually going to be working with Monica. She's leading our troops today," she said, pointing to the African-American woman. Monica was tall and overweight and Cornelia thought she looked mean. "Don't forget to ask her to sign your paperwork later," Natalie said.

"O.k.," Cornelia replied as Natalie motioned for Monica to come over.

"Monica, I'd like you to meet Cornelia. She's going to be working with the girls today." Then Natalie began to whisper, "She's the one I told you about earlier, so she'll have a record for you to sign at the end of the day." She winked at Cornelia as if to say her secret was safe with her, but Monica didn't change her facial expression. She only held out her hand to shake Cornelia's. Cornelia placed her hand in Monica's but she winced in pain as the woman shook her hand. Cornelia thought Monica had the grip of a grizzly bear. Her hand felt smooshed by the time Monica let go.

"Alright ladies!" Monica yelled to the entire room, turning away from Cornelia. "Listen up," she continued, but many of the girls kept chatting. Monica looked even more annoyed.

The Hispanic woman yelled, "¡Cállese!" Cornelia was shocked at how loud the woman's voice was because she was such a tiny woman. She was probably five feet tall and very thin, but her voice bellowed throughout the room. It must have done the trick, because a hush fell over the girls. The Hispanic woman was also very pretty and wore no make-up. She had black curly hair that fell just above the shoulders. Her brown eyes had a twinkle to them and she had a bright, wide smile.

"Thank you, Isabella," Monica said, tipping her head in the Hispanic woman's direction. "Now that I have your attention, ladies, let's get ready to head out." After every sentence or two that Monica said, Isabella would repeat them in Spanish. This happened every time Monica addressed the group as a whole. At first Cornelia found it confusing, but after a while she could just tune Isabella out.

Monica went over the itinerary for the day, but Cornelia was distracted by a hang nail on the index finger of her left hand. Her perfect French manicure was now ruined and she didn't bring her purse, so she had no tools to fix it. She pulled off the nail, but she didn't have anything to file it down. She was trying to think of a substitute for a nail file.

"Cornelia, do I bore you?" Monica jostled Cornelia out of her reverie.

"What?" Cornelia said, accidentally.

"I said, am I boring you?" Monica had a little more irritated tone if that was possible.

"No," Cornelia replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Then stop staring at your little French nails and get your bubble goose out to the bus, we're on a schedule, girl," Monica said, lightly tapping Cornelia on the behind with her clipboard. Cornelia had just noticed that the rest of the girls were already headed out the back door. Cornelia was wondering what in the world a "bubble goose" could be, but she adhered to Monica's request and followed the rest of the girls out to the bus through the back door of the center.

When she stepped onto the short bus, Cornelia saw a sea of faces staring at her. She looked for the only other white face she had seen that day, but Natalie had apparently stayed behind at the center. The bus was nearly full, so she didn't know where to go to find a seat. The only empty seat was the first seat and her clique never sat in the first seat on a bus. Sensing her discomfort, Monica, who was climbing up the steps behind Cornelia, told her to stop where she was and sit in the first seat behind the driver. "You're sitting with me, we have some paperwork to discuss," Monica said in a hushed tone. Again, Cornelia obeyed.

After they sat down, Monica struck up a conversation with the driver, an older black man wearing a red t-shirt and blue jeans. Cornelia began to think that Monica didn't need to speak to her about the paperwork at all. She wondered why Monica had told her to sit in the front seat with her, but she didn't mind sitting quietly and was relieved that she didn't need to ask someone to move over. In fact, she was actually grateful. She didn't know what she could possibly have in common with the other girls on the bus and she didn't know what she could talk about with them. Plus, every minute on the air conditioned bus was one less minute spent out in the hot sun painting buildings.

Much to Cornelia's chagrin, the bus didn't travel very far before reaching its first stop. They had only traveled a few blocks to the corner of Beech and Latham Avenues. Monica stood up and told everyone to pile out. Isabella echoed in Spanish. Cornelia was the first off the bus. She looked around and saw decrepit houses with peeling paint, missing shingles and broken windows behind cracked sidewalks. It looked like a small tornado had hit a few years ago and no one ever bothered to clean up. Cornelia had never set foot in this part of town. She knew Price Valley was the poorer side of Storm River, but she had no idea it was anything like this. She suddenly felt self conscience in her Nike shoes and designer jeans.

Cornelia walked around the side of the bus and saw an old deli that looked like it had been built in the early part of the twentieth century. It had light blue aluminum siding that had some missing pieces and there was graffiti written all over it. Some of it was gibberish that didn't make any sense to Cornelia and some of it contained profanity. The other girls were coming off the bus carrying supplies, but Cornelia was frozen. She was suddenly flooded with guilt over her own crime.

It was a few short weeks ago that she stood outside Storm River High School holding a can of silver spray paint. Chad had driven her there, just as Cornelia had told her mother, but he didn't stay. He thought he was dropping her off for cheerleading practice. It struck him as odd that there would be cheerleading practice so late on a Sunday evening when the school was usually abandoned, but he trusted Cornelia and didn't question her.

Anger coursed through Cornelia's veins as she thought about the 'D' Mrs. Hakim had given her on her mid-term progress report on the previous Friday. She had spent her entire Saturday plotting her revenge. She thought about the many different terrible things she could do. She didn't want to harm Mrs. Hakim, physically, only repay her for her treachery. She finally decided that humiliating her in front of the entire school was the best revenge.

Even though it was a bad grade that drove Cornelia to that moment of insanity, she found herself thinking about her parent's divorce and the death of her grandmother as she scrawled Mrs. Hakim's name across the front wall of Storm River High School. As she stood back to look at the beginning of her masterpiece, tears welled up in her eyes. It was almost as if she couldn't control herself. She threw the first can down and grabbed another off the ground. Shaking the can with great force, Cornelia lunged toward the brick wall in a fit of rage. She started to write the most hateful, ugly thing she could possibly think of to say about Mrs. Hakim. It turned out to have nothing to do with Mrs. Hakim being a bad teacher, or being unfair, or even being mean. No, Cornelia had taken the lowest road she could possibly take.

"Cornelia!" Monica yelled, once again shocking Cornelia from a daydream. "Girl, would you stop daydreaming and try to keep up here?"

"Sorry," Cornelia managed.

"Listen, Little Ms. Daydreamer, you're gonna start on that end over there," Monica said, pointing toward the back of the building. Then she turned in the other direction. "Admeta, could you come over here and show Miss Cornelia how we do things here?" Monica was talking to a Hispanic girl, about Cornelia's age, who had been standing on the curb talking to Isabella in Spanish. The girl turned to face Monica. She hesitated before replying and Cornelia got the distinct impression that this girl did not want to show her the ropes.

"Yeah, o.k., Ms. M. I'll be right there," she said to Monica. Admeta then turned back to Isabella and said a few more things in Spanish before heading toward Cornelia. Monica went off to help some of the younger girls pour paint into pans and left Cornelia standing alone.

She heard Monica's words trail off as she walked away, "Girls, you're not doing that right!"

Cornelia looked once again at the wall. Some of the graffiti was quite colorful, almost pretty. The colorful ones were mostly what Cornelia surmised to be the initials of the artist. There were a lot of initials. It looked like a war zone where one set of initials was fighting to defeat the previous set. It was all overlapping, so much so that you couldn't really make most of it out anymore. Then Cornelia came across a word that she was familiar with. It was one of the words she had written on the wall at school. Unlike most of the graffiti, this word wasn't painted; it was written with a black permanent marker. The thick, cursive letters were smeared and difficult to read, but Cornelia knew full well what it said and it made her feel ashamed.

"Hey, Cornelia," Admeta said, almost as a question.

"Hey," Cornelia replied. Admeta as wearing an old blue t-shirt with different colored paint stains and ripped jeans that were frayed at the bottom and had holes in the knees. Her gym shoes weren't any brand Cornelia had heard of before. They were plain white, but the leather was beyond worn and the shoe strings were coming apart. Admeta's long, dark hair was pulled up in a bun on the back of her head, except for the short bangs that hung loose over the top of her big brown eyes. The girl looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but there in that moment and Cornelia thought she might have found common ground.

"So, this sucks, huh?" Cornelia asked.

"What did you say?" Snapped Admeta, as she pointed her index finger in the air.

"I said, 'Doesn't this suck?' " Cornelia said, thinking Admeta just hadn't heard her.

"Actually, you didn't 'say,' you 'asked.' And no, it doesn't suck. What sucks is being stuck with you, Cornelia, when I could be with my friends, but that's what Ms. M. wants me to do, so that's what I'm going to do," Admeta said with what Cornelia thought was a Mexican accent.

Offended, Cornelia replied, "Well I'm sorry to throw such a wrench in your works."

"What?" the girl replied.

"Never mind, you wouldn't understand," Cornelia responded.

"Oh now I know you'd better repeat what you said, mi amiga," Admeta replied, with one hand on her right hip and the other hand still waving in the air. Cornelia thought her accent sounded thicker all of the sudden.

"Fine! I said 'I'm sorry to throw such a wrench in your works.' There, are you happy?" Cornelia snapped.

"So...what? You didn't think I would understand your big metaphor, Princess Cornelia?" Admeta asked.

"You don't know me," Cornelia said indignantly, "how dare you call me that." Cornelia was puzzled by the girl's familiarity with her.

"I know you," Admeta replied. When Cornelia didn't say anything, the girl put both of her hands on her hips and continued. "This is unbelievable," she said, and then paused. "You seriously don't know who I am, do you?" she asked with an indignant laugh.

Cornelia looked at the girl more closely. She was pretty, but Cornelia thought she could stand to lose a few pounds. Cornelia was appalled by her clothes, of course, but she was appalled by her own clothes that day too, so that didn't really mean much.

"Should I?" Cornelia finally asked.

"I'm Admeta Vasquez," the girl responded, waiting for a reaction. "Oh my God," she continued, pointing her index finger in the air once again. "You seriously do not know who I am?" Cornelia was confused. Admeta continued, "I'm in your English class, Blondie. I sit two rows behind you. You are unbelievable."

"You go to Storm River High?" Cornelia asked.

"Duh. Do you have a problem with that?" Admeta asked.

"No. You just don't look..." Cornelia didn't finish her sentence before being interrupted.

"Look...what? Look like someone who could go to a snotty school like Storm River? Is that what you think? Don't I look good enough for your precious richie school?" Admeta asked, growing angrier.

"No, that's not what I meant. I was going to say that you don't look familiar is all," Cornelia said, defensively, placing both of her hands on her hips.

"We've been in the same English class for over two months and I don't look familiar to you? Do all Hispanics look alike to you or something?" Admeta snapped.

"No, of course not," Cornelia continued her defense. She crossed her arms over her chest and started to continue, but she was interrupted.

"Yeah, right," Admeta replied. "I know you, Cornelia Drake," she paused. "And I know what you did." At that, Cornelia knew she was fighting a losing battle. Her arms dropped to her sides. She didn't know what to say.
Chapter 3

Service Learning

The next few minutes were spent in silence. Cornelia was embarrassed that Admeta knew of her crime and Admeta was angry with Cornelia for not knowing who she was. Admeta grabbed a can of paint and poured it into a paint pan. Cornelia followed suit. The paint was a darker shade of blue than the siding they were about to paint over. Cornelia decided this issue was important enough to break the silence.

"This paint is too dark," she said in a soft tone.

"Of course it is," was Admeta's curt reply.

"But when we paint it on it's going to look weird," Cornelia protested.

"Look, Blondie, The Family Connection doesn't have your family's kind of money, o.k.? They couldn't afford to hire color matchers or anything like that. They picked the closest color they could find and they were lucky to get that. They run on donations, you know. They're non-profit," Admeta said, waving the paint roller in her hand.

"You mean they don't make any money?"

"Duh. What do you think non-profit means?"

"That's not what I meant," Cornelia began to say, but got cut off again.

"Then, what did you mean, Blondie?"

Annoyed, Cornelia asked, "Could you please stop calling me that? I'm not calling you, Darkie." Before the words even finished leaving her mouth, Cornelia knew she had said something horrible. She only meant that Admeta had dark hair, but it came out all wrong.

"What did you just say to me, white girl?!" Admeta screamed and threw her paint roller into the pan.

Just then Monica intervened. "Is there a problem over there, ladies?" Both of the girls stood there not saying anything but Admeta's eyes were on fire. Cornelia didn't want to risk losing her service hours, but she wasn't sure why Admeta kept quiet. "That's what I thought," Monica continued, "get to work and stop your playing!"

Cornelia whispered to Admeta, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. I just meant that calling me Blondie would be the same as me calling you..." she hesitated. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded, honestly." It might have been the most honest moment Cornelia had ever shared with anyone in her entire life. There she was with a girl she'd never bothered to get to know, who she said an awful thing to, and she was being more honest than she ever was with her own parents, friends, or even her boyfriend. It was quite possible that Cornelia actually felt badly about her poor choice of words. For some strange reason, she wanted Admeta to like her. But considering the crime Cornelia had committed, it was understandable that Admeta didn't believe a word.

"Fine, I won't call you Blondie. Can we just drop it?" Admeta asked.

"Absolutely," Cornelia said with relief. Admeta picked up her paint roller again and started rolling it in her pan and Cornelia did the same.

"You're putting too much paint on the roller. You have to roll it over the top part of the pan to thin out the paint, like this," Admeta said, demonstrating her technique. Cornelia mirrored Admeta. "Where should we start?" Admeta asked.

"Right here," Cornelia said, pointing to the nasty word written with the black marker.

"I should have known you would start there," Admeta said under her breath.

"What?" Cornelia asked.

"Nothing. That's as good a place as any," Admeta said. Cornelia decided not to pursue the answer to her question and started painting up and down on the siding.

"No, wait, you're doing it all wrong," Admeta said, putting her hand on Cornelia arm. "You don't go up and down on aluminum siding, you have to go side to side, like this," she continued, demonstrating once again. Cornelia turned her wrist to try the sideways approach. The two continued painting in silence for a few minutes.

Then Cornelia asked, "So, what did you do?"

"What do you mean?" Admeta asked, confused.

"What did you do to get here?"

"I don't understand the question."

"How did you get sentenced to community service?" Cornelia asked in a hushed tone.

"What do you mean 'what did I do to get sentenced to community service?' Just because I'm Hispanic you think I committed a crime?" Admeta asked. She stopped painting and put one hand on her hip. The other hand was waiving the paint roller at Cornelia who had put her roller down. "Just because you're here for being a juvenile delinquent doesn't mean the rest of us are here for that. I volunteered to be here today to help clean up my community; a topic that I'm sure is foreign to you. You richies up on the hill don't have to deal with gangs and all of the things that come with them, like violence and graffiti. This is my neighborhood and I'm proud to be from Price Valley. I do what I can to make it a better place to live. What's wrong with you? You're so racist."

"I am not racist," Cornelia said, crossing her arms again.

"Oh really? Assuming that because I'm Hispanic I committed a crime to be here isn't racist? You think what you wrote on the wall at school wasn't racist? You're in denial, white girl," Admeta said angrily, waving her paint roller so close to Cornelia's face that some paint splattered on her shirt.

"My shirt!" Cornelia exclaimed.

"Don't worry, racist, some turpentine can get that out."

"Stop calling me a racist," Cornelia pleaded.

"Why? It's true. Don't think I didn't notice that when you walked into The Family Connection you went straight for Natalie who just happened to be the only other white person in the room. You could have asked Isabella or Monica where you needed to go, or one of us for that matter, but you ran straight for Natalie. Face it, white girl, you're racist just like everyone else on the hill."

"That's not true!" Cornelia yelled.

When she heard Cornelia yelling, Monica stopped painting and came over to the girls. "You two at it again? Mmm hmm. What am I going to do with you?" she asked, frowning and crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry, Miss M., but this white girl is racist and I can't work with her," Admeta said.

"Oh, Miss Cornelia here is a racist?" Monica asked, skeptically. "Is that what you think, brown girl?"

"What did..." Admeta's voice trailed off before she said something disrespectful.

"What? You don't like being called brown girl?" Monica asked, with one hand on her hip.

"No, ma'am," Admeta replied through gritted teeth, her hands now down at her sides. She had a little more attitude than she had intended.

"Then I suggest you stop calling Miss Cornelia 'white girl.' That's racist too, you know. Sounds to me like both of you need to grow up and stop hatin' on each other. We don't have time for this silliness, ladies. Get back to work. And if you can't get along, then don't talk. I don't care if y'all's friends. I care that the job gets done," Monica said, and then went back to painting at the other end of the building.

Admeta stood and watched Monica walk away. Cornelia had already grabbed her roller. She was afraid that little outburst was going to cost her service hours. Admeta turned and looked at Cornelia, then rolled her eyes, before bending over and dipping her own roller into the paint pan. The two girls were once again working in silence. Within an hour, the group had the entire building finished.

Cornelia thought the building looked ridiculous covered with patches of paint that were darker than the siding. But she thought that was better than being covered in profanity, initials and gibberish that made no sense. As she and the other girls were cleaning up and packing the equipment in the luggage compartment of the bus, Cornelia asked Monica if she should call her mother to pick her up at the center.

"Watchu mean?" Monica asked.

"I want to give her time to get there so I don't have to wait for her," Cornelia replied innocently.

"Girl, watchu thinkin'?" Monica said. "You think this is it? One building and we're done? Ut uh." Monica waved her right index finger back and forth in the air. "We're cleaning up this whole 'hood. This was just our first stop, girl. Get on the bus with your naïve self," Monica said with a laugh, shaking her head and pointing toward the door.

Cornelia furrowed her brow, but she complied with Monica's order. She once again sat in the front seat with her service coordinator. And once again Monica was talking to the bus driver while Cornelia sat quietly. Their next stop was Glen Park on Glenway Avenue.

As the girls piled out of the bus, Cornelia could see the graffiti that littered the wall surrounding the park. As she walked up the stone stairs she saw a cornerstone that read, "WPA 1941." Cornelia imagined that the park had looked much nicer in 1941. She envisioned new walls, perfect equipment and no litter in sight. As she walked up the stairs, reality set in. She could see that graffiti artists had even written on the playground equipment. Cornelia wondered why anyone would write on a merry-go-round built for five-year-olds. Most of the children who used the park couldn't even read what the graffiti said, let alone care about the messages. She thought it was a pretty silly thing to do in a children's park. Cornelia had no idea what went on in that park after dark. It's where a lot of drug dealers met with customers and many gangs went to hang out or challenge each other.

Admeta knew this park all too well. It was where all of her brothers got jumped into their gang, La Hijos de El Salvador, or The Sons of El Salvador. Each time one of her brothers was initiated, they would come home bloody and bruised. Her oldest brother, Raoul, was beaten so badly, Admeta thought he was going to die. "Take it easy, pequeña hermana," he said, after coughing up blood. Pequeña ermana is Spanish for "little sister." All of her brothers called her pequeña hermana. "I'm fine. La Hijos will take care of me now. They'll take care of all of us."

"I don't care about La Hijos!" Admeta screamed, "I care about neustra familia!" Neustra familia means "our family" in Spanish. Admeta's family often spoke in Spanglish, which is a combination of English and Spanish. Admeta and three of her brothers were born in the United States, but her eldest brother, Raoul, was born in El Salvador. Once he was initiated into the gang, he made sure his younger brothers' jump-ins weren't as bad as his own. Admeta thought gangs were stupid. She wanted to go to college someday and she wasn't about to let a gang mess that up for her. She was disgusted by the sight of the gang graffiti and saddened by the fact that her brothers might have helped spread it.

"O.k. troops," Monica began. "Let's get to it. We're runnin' behind schedule."

The heat of the day was bearing down on Cornelia. She wiped her brow and walked over to Admeta. "How are we supposed to cover this rock?" Cornelia asked, referring to the wall around the playground.

"We use gray paint, look," Admeta replied, pointing to previous paint patches. Cornelia thought about how tacky the wall was going to look. It would all be patchwork, just like the deli down the street. She felt like the entire group was waging a losing battle.

"Why are we painting if they're just going to write graffiti all over it again and again?" Cornelia asked.

"We paint because it's the right thing to do," Admeta replied, matter-of-factly. "We paint because if we didn't they would win, and we can't let them win." Admeta seemed so sure of herself, Cornelia was taken aback.

"I admire your dedication," Cornelia said, truthfully. It was the first connection Cornelia and Admeta had made all day and it made Cornelia feel good to say it. She smiled at her classmate.

"If we don't fight for our own neighborhood, who will?" Admeta asked. "Aside from those who are forced to, of course." Cornelia's smile quickly turned to a frown.

"What's your problem?" Cornelia asked. "I was trying to be nice."

"I don't want you to be nice to me. I happen to like Mrs. Hakim and I don't like what you did to her. She's the best teacher I've ever had." Admeta poured gray paint into the paint pan and began rolling the roller.

"What's so great about her?" Cornelia asked sarcastically, pouring her own paint.

"She's a good teacher. She cares about her students; all of her students. Unlike a lot of the teachers at our school who only care about the rich ones, so they can please their parents and get large donations for the PTA," Admeta replied, as she began to paint over the f-word at the edge of the park wall.

Cornelia was painting a few feet away. "I don't think that's true," she said.

"Well, YOU wouldn't, would you? You're one of them. One of the richies on the hill. What would you know about being treated as a second-class citizen? Mrs. Hakim treats us all equally."

"Then why did she fight to get me a light sentence? If what you say is true she was probably hoping my father would make a nice financial gift to the school."

"You're an idiot, Cornelia. Mrs. Hakim couldn't care less about your father or his money. She has more important things to worry about."

"Like what?" Cornelia asked, but Admeta clammed up.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," she said, trying to change the subject. "She fought for you because she believes in you. I've heard her tell you in English class that she thinks you're a good writer. She even asked you to join Writers on the Storm once, don't you remember?"

"What's riders on the storm?"

"Not riders; writers," Admeta said, putting an accent on the 't.'

"O.k., then, what is Writers on the Storm?" Cornelia asked, mimicking Admeta with an exaggerated accent on the 't.'

"Oh my God, you are so thick. She only asked you to join like a million times. Do you ever listen to anyone but your stuck-up friends?" Admeta did not wait for a reply. "Writers on the Storm is the literary club at Storm River. For some reason Mrs. Hakim thinks your writing is really good."

"Why did she give me a 'D' if my writing is so good?" Cornelia asked, indignantly.

"Oh, I-D-K, maybe it's because you never do your homework, you turn assignments in late, if at all, and you talk with your snotty friends all through class instead of paying attention. Do you think that might have something to do with it, Cornelia?"

"I do my work!" Cornelia said, and then lowered her voice. "And stop calling my friends snotty and stuck-up."

"If the shoe fits," Admeta began, but then changed her mind. "You know what? I'm not going there with you. Mrs. Hakim thinks your writing is worthy of Writers on the Storm, but you couldn't care less about it. You didn't even bother to ask what it was until just now. It's not a club that you can just join, you know. You have to be invited by a member of the English department faculty. She obviously sees something in you that I don't."

"Why is that?" Cornelia asked.

"What?"

"You've seemed to have it in for me all day. It's more than just me not remembering you or you not liking what I wrote on the school wall. And it's more than just me being from Storm River Hill when you come from Price Valley. So what is it?"

"Oh, haven't you figured that out yet, Princess Cornelia?" Admeta asked, waving her paint roller in the air.

"No, I haven't, why don't you enlighten me, oh Great Admeta?" Cornelia said, waving her own paint roller around, mimicking Admeta.

"I don't like you because I'm the one who had to cover up the graffiti you put on the wall at the school!" Admeta yelled.
Chapter 4

The Day After

The rest of the service trip was spent mostly in silence for Cornelia. Admeta left Cornelia alone and rejoined her friends for the rest of the trip. Cornelia worked alone the rest of the day. The group went from one graffiti-littered place to another covering up vulgar messages from uncaring vandals. Cornelia was beginning to feel sorrier about her crime. She was still convinced that Mrs. Hakim had given her a bad grade out of malice, but she felt badly that she had damaged school property. Just like the buildings and walls she was working so hard to mask that day, it wasn't the school's fault that Mrs. Hakim had given Cornelia a bad grade. She shouldn't have taken her anger out on school property or anyone's property for that matter. Painting over someone else's vandalism had given Cornelia a conscience about her own crime.

At the end of the day, Cornelia called her mother to come get her and had Monica sign off on her paperwork. "You did good work today," Monica said. "I hope we'll see you on our next adventure. We're going out next Saturday." Cornelia wasn't looking forward to continuing her service. She felt as though all of the girls hated her and she was certain they all knew that she, unlike them, had not volunteered to be there. She was growing more and more ashamed of her crime.

Cornelia could have chosen to do her service with a different organization, but when she reviewed the duties, The Family Connection's service opportunities seemed a lot better than most. Other places would have her tutoring troubled kids or feeding the homeless. Cornelia was afraid to do any service like that.

As Cornelia stepped into her mother's SUV, she gave one last look at the building she was certain she would come to know a lot better in the coming months. Cornelia wondered why anyone would want to bust out windows on a building where people were trying to help the community. She didn't understand how people could commit a crime against an organization that was trying to help out. Then she came to the realization that she did exactly that when she wrote graffiti on the school's wall. And tomorrow she would have to return to the scene of her crime.

The next day was Cornelia's first day back to school after her suspension. She was permitted to keep up on her homework during her time out of school, so she was ready to return, academically. Physically, she could have stayed home watching soap operas for the rest of her academic career for all she cared. She didn't mind not getting up 6 a.m. or worrying about what to wear or how much make-up to put on. Cornelia thought the couch could have become her new classroom, but Mrs. Hakim wouldn't hear of it and that made Cornelia even angrier with her.

On Monday morning, Cornelia woke up at 6 a.m. and very carefully picked out a color-coordinated outfit for the day. Then she took a shower and used a blow dryer to dry and style her hair. As she applied her make-up, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her green eyes were sad. She didn't want to go back to school. The one saving grace was that she was going to get to see Chad in between classes even though she was still grounded from seeing him and she could return to cheerleading practice.

Cornelia didn't know what the other students' reactions to her crime would be. Did they even know what she did? She wasn't sure. Chad knew, of course. He saw it when he drove to school to pick up Cornelia only to discover her in the back of a police cruiser. He forgave her as he always did when she did something bad or stupid. Admeta knew, too, because she had cleaned it up. Would she tell everyone? Cornelia's friends knew she was suspended and that it had something to do with Ms. Hakim, but Cornelia was pretty sure they didn't know why and she wanted to keep it that way.

Cornelia finished up getting ready and grabbed half a bagel with light cream cheese and half a banana for breakfast. It's what she ate every morning, along with a half a glass of chocolate soy milk. After breakfast, Veronica dropped Cornelia off at school. As Cornelia was getting out of the SUV, Veronica tapped her on the arm. "Oh, CC, I forgot. Mrs. Hakim called yesterday while you were out. She said she wanted to put this whole ugly incident behind both of you and she invited you to join a school club called riders on the storm or something like that."

"Writers on the Storm," Cornelia corrected her with emphasis on the 't.' "She's been trying to get me to join that lame club since school started," she said, grabbing her book bag and purse and getting down out of the SUV.

"Well, now you have joined that lame club," Veronica replied.

"What?" Cornelia asked in disbelief.

"I told her you would be at the meeting tonight after school," Veronica said, pausing. "Why are you looking at me like that, CC?"

"I'm looking at you like this because you had the audacity to tell that..." Cornelia paused, searching for the appropriate word, "that...woman...that I would join her stupid club! That's why I'm looking at you like this!" Cornelia's brow was furrowed and one hand was on her hip near to where her purse was resting. Her other hand was holding the strap to her book bag which was sitting on the ground.

Veronica took a deep breath and said, "You listen to me, young lady, you need to drop the attitude right here and now. What's done is done. The least you can do for 'that woman' is join her stupid little club. She's the reason you're not in juvenile hall right now, so get over whatever your problem is and be sure to meet in her classroom after school." Cornelia gave her mother the dirtiest look she could possibly garner before slamming the door behind her and heading into school.

As she approached the front doors, she could see the red paint patches Admeta had painted over her graffiti, but she was too upset with her mother to feel one twinge of regret. Cornelia was early, which was unusual. She was usually racing to homeroom at record speed. She had come in early today because she was carrying every school book she owned in her book bag and needed to unload. The first thing she did was go to her locker.

There were very few people in the hallways that early, mostly teachers stopping to chat with one another before homeroom. Most of the students she passed walked by her with their heads down, but that was nothing unusual. Lots of kids walked through the halls like that. Cornelia shrugged it off. As she approached a group of teachers talking outside the Chemistry lab, she could have sworn that they stopped talking when she walked by, but she chalked it up to being overly sensitive.

As she approached her locker, Cornelia looked up to see a piece of white paper taped to the door. On it was a single word, written very crudely with a black sharpie in all capital letters: RACIST. Cornelia read the word over and over again. "Racist? I'm not a racist," she thought. But what she had written on the wall at school couldn't have been construed as anything but racist and Cornelia knew it. Cornelia looked around to see if the culprit was lurking, waiting to see her reaction. She saw no one.

When Cornelia stood in front of the school over two weeks ago with a can of silver spray paint in her hand, all she could think about was writing the most hurtful thing she possibly could. She didn't care if it was racist. All she cared about was making Mrs. Hakim pay for what she did. She didn't really think that what she was doing was a hate crime. She didn't think about much of anything at all, except for her contempt for Mrs. Hakim. The words she wrote were bad. They were really bad, especially one in particular, and Cornelia knew it. She just didn't think about just how bad they were or what the repercussions would be.

Cornelia traced her fingers over the letters in the word RACIST before quickly ripping down the paper, crumpling it up and putting it in the front pocket of her bag. She unloaded most of the books from her book bag and picked up a folder from the top shelf of her locker. As she pulled the folder down, she stopped to look at herself in the mirror that was magnetized to the inside of the door. She didn't think she looked very good. Her cheeks were flushed with anger and she was having a bad hair day. The part on the left side of her head didn't want to stay straight, so she had stray hairs going over to the wrong side. "Hello, Donald Trump," she said to herself, trying to straighten her part.

Then a picture of Chad caught her eye. Her locker was filled with pictures of her friends, and especially Chad. She thought he had the sweetest eyes she'd ever seen in her life. He was so sweet to her and she repaid him by implicating him in her crime. Since he's the one who dropped her off, her mother assumed he had something to do with it. Cornelia suddenly felt a twinge in her stomach. "What if people think Chad helped me?" she thought. Cornelia felt badly about what she had done as far as damaging school property, although she still held a grudge against Mrs. Hakim and was allowing that to cloud her judgment about what she wrote. But the thought that what she did might affect Chad in a bad way was something she hadn't considered before and the thought horrified her.

"Cornelia!" a female voice came bellowing down the hallway, jolting Cornelia, who turned to look. It was her friend, Amanda Stanfield, whom Cornelia met in junior high student council. Amanda was an extremely thin girl, about the same height as Cornelia, 5'7". All of her friends secretly suspected she was anorexic and talked about her behind her back, but no one ever commented about it to her face. Amanda was wearing a light pink tank top with an extremely short white mini-skirt and a pair of pink Dolce and Gabbana pumps. Amanda almost always wore pink. It was her signature color. "Hey," she said.

"Oh, hey," was Cornelia's weak reply. She still wasn't sure what to expect. She had been grounded from the phone, internet and cell. Chad was the only person she had contact with during her suspension and that was only because he was able to visit a few times after school when Cornelia's mother wasn't home.

"What's up? First day back, huh?" Amanda asked, cheerfully.

"Yeah."

"I tried to call you, but your mom wouldn't let me talk to you."

"I know. She's being a total..." seeing two teachers standing nearby, Cornelia decided to play it safe, "...witch. She grounded me and took away my cell and my laptop. I thought it was a bit harsh, myself."

"Wow, that is harsh. But, Cornelia," Amanda began.

"Yeah?"

"Well, what you wrote...that was harsh too," Amanda said, reluctantly, trying to find the right choice of words. "Don't you think it was racist?" Amanda asked and Cornelia answered with a sigh.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Cornelia replied. "I didn't mean it to be racist. I just wanted to hurt her, you know? I thought of the worst thing I could say and that was it."

"You certainly found the right words, then," Amanda replied.

"I know," Cornelia said, and paused. "Do you hate me?"

"No, I don't hate you, stupid," Amanda said, pushing Cornelia on the shoulder. "I would, however, appreciate it if you never use those words again." Amanda was the smartest person in Cornelia's clique and Cornelia respected her opinion a lot.

"Oh, believe me, I won't," Cornelia reassured Amanda.

Amanda thought about what Cornelia said for a few moments and then asked, "Is that because you're ashamed of what you said or because you got caught, CC?"

"Amanda!" Cornelia protested.

"Well? Be honest, CC," Amanda replied. Cornelia stood there like a statue for a moment.

"I guess if I'm being honest," she began, "it's a little bit of both." And for the first time, Cornelia felt genuine regret for her crime, not just because she got caught, but because of the hateful thing she wrote.

"Well, that's a start," Amanda said. "It really was an awful thing. I never thought I would hear words like that from you, CC."

"And I would never say that to anyone. I guess standing there with that can of spray paint I felt empowered to be meaner than I ever could be in person, you know? Like when someone's annoying you on the internet?" Cornelia asked.

"I guess," Amanda replied. "Why did you do it, anyway?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Amanda, if that's o.k. with you," Cornelia said, feeling sorry for herself because one of her best friends actually had the audacity to call her out on her bad behavior.

"Whatever," Amanda began but was interrupted by the sound of two female voices yelling in unison.

"CC!" the girls screamed. Cornelia was apprehensive at first, but when Rebekka Karol and Sarah Cushman came running over to give her a hug, she relaxed a bit. Rebekka and Sarah were both on the cheerleading squad with Cornelia. In fact, Sarah did everything that Rebekka did. When Rebekka cut her long, brown hair last year, Sarah cut her hair too. Although Sarah's light brown hair had grown out to shoulder-length while Rebekka kept hers short. When Rebekka tried out for cheerleading, so did Sarah, but Sarah barely made the squad. Rebekka was tall and thin, while Sarah was shorter and rounder and not able to pull off the moves as gracefully as Rebekka. Sarah even tried wearing green contact lenses to mask her brown eyes, but she kept getting infections, so she had to give them up. Sarah was Rebekka's shadow and Rebekka enjoyed having a lapdog to drag around.

"You're back!" Rebekka said, giving Cornelia another hug.

"You're back!" Sarah echoed, also giving Cornelia another hug.

"Yeah," Cornelia said.

"Well if you ask me, your suspension was much too harsh," Rebekka said. "That old dustbag, Hakim, had it coming. It was about time someone did something about her. Honestly, I don't know why they allow her to teach."

"Yeah," Sarah chimed in. "She's bizarre. And what's with that stupid veil she wears? It's so weird."

"She's Muslim, remember?" Amanda butted in.

"Oh, yeah, well there's that too," Rebekka replied.

"Yeah," Sarah chimed in, smiling.

"Who's to say we don't have a terrorist right here in our midst? Has the Department of Homeland Security checked this woman out, I wonder? Probably not. She could have a bomb strapped to her chest today for all we know and no one will do anything about it because they're all too afraid of being politically incorrect. I say she got what she deserved," Rebekka said, sternly.

"God, Rebekka, harsh much?" Amanda asked. Not awaiting a reply, Amanda turned to Cornelia. "I gotta get to homeroom. I'll see you at lunch."

"Ciao," Cornelia said, waving.

See ya, CC," Amanda said, not acknowledging Rebekka and Sarah. The truth was Amanda only tolerated the pair because they were Cornelia's friends.

"Tata," Rebekka echoed, adding under her breath, "stick girl." Sarah snickered but Cornelia ignored the remark.

"Come on guys, she's our friend," Cornelia said, turning around.

"If you can't make fun of your friends, who can you make fun of?" Rebekka began. "Oh wait, I spoke too soon. That's who we can make fun of," Rebekka said, pointing down the hallway. Cornelia turned in the direction Rebekka was pointing only to see Admeta pulling books out of her locker.

"Come on guys, let's just go to homeroom," Cornelia said, trying to push her friends in the other direction.

"And miss this priceless opportunity?" Rebekka asked, grinning. "I think not." Cornelia grabbed Rebekka's arm, but Rebekka pulled away and headed toward Admeta with Sarah hot on her heels.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle!" Rebekka said very loudly to Admeta. Admeta ignored her.

"Come on guys, let's go," Cornelia yelled from down the hall, but Rebekka and Sarah ignored her.

"I said, bonjour, mademoiselle; don't you have any manners?" Rebekka asked, kicking the back of Admeta's foot. At that, Admeta stood up and turned around to face her tormentors. Cornelia took off toward the three, looking around for the two teachers that had been there a few minutes before.

"Oh, I have manners, perdant. I just don't happen to be French so I saw no need to reply in kind," Admeta said, moving closer to Rebekka.

"What did you call me, Conchita?" Rebekka challenged. Sarah stood at Rebekka's back, ready to pounce if necessary.

"I don't see anyone named Conchita here, Rebekka. To whom are you referring, perdedor?" Admeta asked.

"There you go again, what is that?"

"What is what, sweetie?" Admeta asked, unafraid.

"That P word you were using," Rebekka said, indignantly.

"Can we just get to homeroom?" Cornelia pleaded.

"That p-word was actually two p-words," Admeta said, smiling sweetly.

"Fine then, what were they?" Rebekka insisted.

"The first time, I called you perdant, which is French, the language you addressed me in. The second time I called you perdedor, which is Spanish, and which just happens to be a language I am fluent in, even though English is my first language, just like you," Admeta said, defiantly, pointing her index finger at Rebekka's nose. "And that's the language you should address me in, seeing as how we're both Americans. Last time I checked, that's what Americans spoke." Admeta stood with her arms crossed in front of her and her book bag sitting on the floor. She didn't carry a purse like most girls.

"She's right, Beks, English is the official language of the U.S., now let's go," Cornelia said, tugging on her friend's arm.

"Actually," Admeta corrected, "the United States doesn't have an official language. English is the de facto language, but that does not make it the official language. You have to pass a law to do that and so far no one has." She gave Cornelia a fake smile. Cornelia was too busy watching her two friends to notice.

"Forget about the official language. You still didn't tell me what the freaking p-word means!" Rebekka shouted.

"You didn't ask me what the words meant, Conchita. You just asked me what the words were. Are you sure English is your first language, Rebekka?" Admeta asked and then snickered defiantly. Rebekka's eyes narrowed.

"What?" Admeta asked. "Why don't you say what you mean next time? On second thought, how about there not be a next time?" Admeta said, bending over to pick up her book bag. "I have more important things to do than hang out with racists."

"What did you say?" Rebekka shrieked.

"Yeah!" Sarah yelled, a little too loudly. Cornelia stayed silent as she thought about the note that she had found on her locker that morning.

"You need a hearing aid, Conchita? Because you sure ask a lot of questions," Admeta said, laughing. Then she turned to her right and said, "Oh, hello, Ms. Hakim," just before Rebekka could lunge at her.

"Good morning, Admeta" replied Ms. Hakim in a thick Arabic accent. The teacher was coming toward the girls from down the hall. She was short, of average build, and was wearing a brown suit with a brown veil over her head, covering her hair, neck and shoulders.

"I'm going to homeroom," Cornelia said, and then took off like a shot down the hallway in the opposite direction of Mrs. Hakim.

"This isn't over," Rebekka whispered to Admeta.

"It was nice to see you too, Conchita!" Admeta shouted at Rebekka, and then waved and smiled as wide as she could. "Oh, by the way, the word you were wondering about? It means," she said, and then put her thumb and index finger to form the shape of an L on her forehead to indicate the word, "loser." Rebekka was fuming, but with Mrs. Hakim there she could do nothing, so she headed down the hall. Sarah shot Admeta a dirty look and followed Rebekka down the hallway toward their homeroom.

"Conchita?" Ms. Hakim asked when she reached Admeta's locker.

"That's what she called me," Admeta said, looking down.

"Don't do that, Admeta," Mrs. Hakim said, putting her hand on the girl's chin to lift her head. "Don't ever let words make you feel badly about yourself, especially ones said out of hate, anger or ignorance. And never fight back with words of hate, anger or ignorance yourself. Loser? Isn't that what that means?" Admeta was shocked her teacher had understood her sign language.

"I know, Mrs. H, but those girls are so snotty and full of themselves. I had to say something. They walk around this school like they own it. They think they can say anything to anyone and get away with it. Look what Cornelia said about you," she said, with tears welling up in her eyes. "She barely got a slap on the wrist because she's from the hill and her family has money."

"Actually, Admeta, she got, how did you say, 'a slap on the wrist?' Because I asked the judge to give her a light sentence."

"I know," Admeta replied. "Why would you do that, Mrs. H.?" she asked.

"Because, my dear Admeta, of a little thing called forgiveness. I had to forgive Cornelia's crime just as you will someday forgive those girls. Someday, you will understand that their words were spoken out of ignorance and ignorance must be forgiven if we are ever to get past it."

"She deserves to be punished for what she did," Admeta said.

"What she deserves is forgiveness and education. And she's going to begin tonight. She's joining Writers on the Storm. She'll be at tonight's meeting," Mrs. Hakim said with a smile.

"What? Mrs. H., she didn't even know what Writers on the Storm was until yesterday. How could you let her join?"

"I let her join, my dear, because contrary to your personal feelings about Cornelia and despite the fact that she has issues in English class, she is a good writer. She will make a fine addition to our group, you'll see."

"I seriously doubt it," Admeta said, frowning.

"Well, then, Cornelia will just have to prove you wrong, now won't she? You're always up for a challenge, no?" Mrs. Hakim asked, still smiling. She had a way of rolling r-sounds when she spoke. Cornelia sounded like Corrrrnelia. Admeta thought Mrs. Hakim's accent sounded similar to a Spanish accent in that regard. Mrs. Hakim also pronounced her 't's as distinctly as Admeta and Admeta liked it that way. The way Mrs. Hakim spoke reminded her of her mother.

"I don't know, Mrs. H.," Admeta admitted.

"Well, tonight you shall see, okay?" Mrs. Hakim asked optimistically and patted Admeta on the shoulder blade. Admeta thought Mrs. Hakim sounded funny when she used American expressions like o.k. It just sounded funny coming from her. She was always very proper in her speech, but Americanisms would occasionally pop out when you least expected them.

"Whatever you say, Mrs. H." Admeta said, defeated by her teacher's positive attitude.

"Now let's get to homeroom. The bell is about to ring, no?" Mrs. Hakim asked in her usual cheery manner. Then the two turned and walked toward classroom 97.
Chapter 5

Writers on the Storm

The rest of the school day went by in a flash. Cornelia thought she was getting dirty looks from a lot of people and she could have sworn she heard someone whisper, "racist" to her as she was headed for the lunch line, but all in all it was a relatively uneventful morning. She spent lunch with Chad and her circle of friends, Amanda, Rebekka and Sarah. Nothing was said about Cornelia's crime and she preferred it that way. At the end of the day, Chad met Cornelia at her locker.

"How as your day, precious?" he asked.

"It was o.k., how about you?" Cornelia replied, but she kissed him before he had a chance to answer. Mr. Brockheimer, who was standing across the hall, cleared his throat and they quickly broke apart. There was no point in Cornelia getting into any more trouble than she was already.

"My day is better now that I can see you," Chad said and Cornelia thought to herself that she didn't deserve someone as sweet as him. "When are you un-grounded?"

"When I'm 18 if Veronica gets her way," Cornelia replied. Chad laughed and Cornelia had to laugh with him. Otherwise she might have cried. She was sick of being grounded. She was getting to know more and more that what she did was wrong on a much deeper level than just a teenage prank, which is what she thought she was pulling off. The judge was right, it was a hate crime and Cornelia was beginning to see that now. But Cornelia thought community service was punishment enough without being grounded on top of it. It was football season and Cornelia was missing out on all of the extra activities that go along with it. The parties and gatherings were where people like Cornelia scored cool points that could help them get into the more popular clique with Kenzie Phillips. By not showing up, Cornelia was missing her chance.

"Well, I have to get home," Chad said, tearing Cornelia from her thoughts. Cornelia walked him to his bike. Chad's family didn't believe in the school bus system. They thought that buses produced too much pollution, so Chad rode his bike nearly two miles each way even though he owned a car. And even though people made fun of him, he always wore his helmet too, much to Cornelia's chagrin. It wasn't because she didn't value safety, it was because Chad had all of these Greenpeace stickers plastered over every inch of his helmet: "Oil Companies Pump Lies, Don't Let Our Mountains Melt, Stop Global Warning, Save our Polar Bears," and Chad's favorite, "Save the Planet, Ride Bikes." Cornelia told Chad's parents that she got vertigo on bicycles so that Chad would be allowed to drive her places in a car. She wasn't lying; for some reason she was never able to keep her balance on a bike. When she looked down, she felt like she was falling.

"See you later," Chad said.

"Not soon enough," Cornelia replied and kissed his helmet. There were faculty all around supervising dismissal, so the couple didn't dare risk getting into trouble. Cornelia watched Chad walk his bike across the street. He used the crosswalk, naturally. Chad always took the straight and narrow path. When he was across the street, he climbed onto his bike and rode off, waving back at Cornelia. She watched him pedal down the street until he disappeared around the corner. Then she stood silently for a moment, thinking about what was facing her.

She was going to have to stride into classroom 97 and plant a fake smile on her face because that's what Storm River High School cheerleaders do. They grin and bear it. If she jumps and falls and skins her knee, she gets right back up and jumps again. "SRHS cheerleaders aren't quitters," Cornelia could hear Kenzie Phillips' words echoing in her head. She was determined to walk into that classroom with her head held high, even if her heart was hanging low.

As Cornelia approached classroom 97, she could hear people chattering inside. When she walked through the door, however, everyone stopped talking immediately. Cornelia scanned the room for a friendly face, but the only person she really knew was Admeta. After the run-in Admeta had with Cornelia's friends that morning, Cornelia was sure Admeta's face wouldn't be a friendly one. Since everyone was standing around, Cornelia decided to take a seat instead. She walked toward the back of the room and took a seat in the very back row, hoping she wouldn't attract too much attention. Every head in the room turned and scanned Cornelia as she walked.

Right after Cornelia took her seat, Mrs. Hakim entered the room carrying a stack of papers. "Ah, I see tonight's group is all here now," she said, motioning toward Cornelia. "Good, let's get started, shall we?" With that, the remaining students took their seats in the front of the room. Cornelia's cheeks turned red. She wasn't sure if that's where they always sat or if no one wanted to sit near her. Mrs. Hakim looked at them with confusion. "You know what is the drill, Writers; let us circle up," she added. Cornelia thought "what is the drill" sounded funny, but it was actually the correct way to say it. Mrs. Hakim was an English teacher after all.

Cornelia wasn't sure what she meant, but when everyone else started placing their desks in a large circle, she figured it out and moved her desk. She ended up sitting between Andy and Randy, the Turner twins. They were freshmen too and they were in Cornelia's Geometry class. They were real math whizzes. They called themselves The Ginger Twins, but Cornelia had no idea what that meant, although she suspected it had something to do with their short red hair. They were fraternal twins, but you wouldn't know it from looking at them. They were both tall and thin with freckles, although one was a little shorter than the other. They even dressed alike, which Cornelia found quite odd for teenagers. They were wearing white polo shirts with navy blue horizontal stripes and navy blue pants. Cornelia wasn't sure which one was Andy and which one was Randy.

Admeta sat directly across from Cornelia in the circle and sat her purse and book bag beside her chair. Cornelia thought Admeta was giving her a dirty look, so she pulled some paper and a pen out of her book bag and kept her eyes directed down toward her desk.

"Alright Writers, as you can see, we have a new member," Mrs. Hakim began and Cornelia's cheeks turned redder. "In honor of our new member, I think we should all introduce ourselves. I will begin. My name is Samantha Hakim." Cornelia was surprised to hear a teacher use her first name, it happened so rarely. "I was born in San Diego, California," she continued. Once again Cornelia was surprised. She thought Mrs. Hakim must have been from a foreign country, probably in the Middle East somewhere judging by her accent and name. Mrs. Hakim must have noticed Cornelia's surprise because she added, "my parents are from Iran." Cornelia nodded her head as if she had answered a question correctly. She did it without thinking and it made her feel uncomfortable. "We were forced to move back to Iran shortly after I was born because my parent's visa had expired. We were eventually able to return to the United States when I was sixteen." Cornelia now understood why Mrs. Hakim had an accent.

"I came to Storm River when my husband was transferred here for work," Mrs. Hakim continued. Cornelia tried to picture Mrs. Hakim's husband. She thought of a small Arab man with dark skin, eyes and hair. Perhaps he had a pudgy belly or a mustache, but Cornelia thought for certain she was in the ballpark. "I'm 30 years old." Cornelia was once again surprised that a teacher would tell her age. "I have three children. Raja is my oldest daughter; she is 8. My son, Nazeeh is 4 and my youngest daughter, Zayn is one-and-a-half." Again Cornelia was taken aback. She couldn't imagine Mrs. Hakim as a mother with young children. She always pictured her as more of a spinster with a lot of cats. "We have a dog. He is a poodle named Ralph." Cornelia giggled and everyone turned to stare at her. Cornelia was embarrassed.

"What? Ralph is a funny name," she said, defensively.

"My name is Ralph," came a booming voice from across the room. The voice was that of an overweight African-American boy, with oily black hair and pimples. Cornelia had never seen him before so she thought he surely must be older. He was wearing a striped shirt that was tucked into khaki pants. Cornelia didn't think someone of his size should be wearing horizontal stripes. They were much more flattering on the Turner twins. Vertical stripes would have been much more slimming, she thought. She also didn't like his shoes. They were white tennis shoes, but they didn't have a brand name and they were tattered. "I like my name just fine," he said with a frown.

Admeta jumped in quickly, "Ralph is a fine name! It means 'wise counsel.' Did you know that? Don't you listen to that girl, Ralph."

"Wise counsel? Did you just make that up?" Cornelia asked skeptically.

"My brother's name is Raoul," Admeta said sharply.

"And?" Cornelia asked, confused, shaking her head.

"Raoul means Ralph in Spanish, stupid," Admeta replied.

"Admeta!" Mrs. Hakim yelled and everyone was startled. "No one, let me repeat, no one," she said with emphasis, "in Writers on the Storm will ever call another member 'stupid.' Do you understand?" Cornelia thought it was ironic that Mrs. Hakim couldn't pronounce the word 'writers' properly. She thought her rolling 'r's sounded more like a speech impediment rather than just an accent. She also thought the way Mrs. Hakim said h-sounds was funny. It reminded her of someone clearing their throat rather than actually speaking. All the same she was shocked that Mrs. Hakim once again came to her defense.

"What if the shoe fits, Mrs. H.?" Admeta asked, looking directly at Cornelia, and raising one eyebrow.

"I will have none of this, Admeta," Mrs. Hakim said, and then she turned to address the entire group. "Listen up, Writers. Since this is Cornelia's first time in the group, perhaps I should go over the rules.

"Cornelia, in this group we try to be careful of others' feelings. You find the name Ralph funny and that's o.k., but you should have considered the fact that someone may be named Ralph or that someone would know someone named Ralph or Raoul or any other derivative of Ralph. We try to be sensitive to one another here." Cornelia's face was now burning.

She looked toward Admeta and continued, "Admeta, you should know that name calling is strictly prohibited in our meetings. We are to respect one another, not discourage, berate or disrespect members." Mrs. Hakim looked around the circle and continued, "When it comes to writing, there are no rules. You may write what you wish, but you must be willing to share your writing or at least some part of your writing, with the group. That's it. I don't think it's asking a lot, so I expect everyone in this room to adhere to these rules at all times."

Mrs. Hakim's face was turning pink and she banged her hand on the desk she had drug into the circle moments before. Then she rolled her eyes a little and started to wobble. She caught herself on the desk with her other hand and jumped to attention, standing perfectly stiff.

"Mrs. H.!" Admeta yelled, standing up and reaching toward her.

"It's o.k., Admeta, I am fine. I just got a little dizzy," Mrs. Hakim said, waving her hand at Admeta to tell her to sit back down. But Cornelia didn't believe Mrs. Hakim. There seemed to be something going on between Admeta and the teacher and Cornelia wanted to know what it was. She wanted to know why Admeta defended her teacher so adamantly and freaked out when she so much as bobbled. "I'll just sit down, o.k.?" Mrs. Hakim said, and Admeta sat back down too.

Mrs. Hakim sat down in a student desk, which was another strange move for a teacher, Cornelia thought. She looked over at Admeta who hadn't taken her eyes off of her teacher. "Do not look so worried, Ain," Mrs. Hakim said and took a deep breath. Cornelia didn't know it, but Ain means 'precious' in Arabic. The group was silent for a moment, but the silence was interrupted by the door opening. A pink blur came running into the room and sat down next to Mrs. Hakim.

"Sorry I'm late, Mrs. H.," Amanda said. Cornelia's mouth dropped open slightly. Amanda was one of her best friends and Cornelia had no idea she was a member of Writers on the Storm. Amanda noticed Cornelia sitting next to Andy and returned her look of surprise. Cornelia hadn't mentioned at lunch that she was joining Writers on the Storm.

Then Admeta worked up the nerve to break the silence. "We were just talking about Cornelia's racism," Admeta blurted, cocking her head and looking Cornelia in the eye.

"What?!" Cornelia yelled. "We were not." A few members of the group let out nervous giggles. "I mean...I am not a racist!" Cornelia was flustered and banged her fist on her desk. Cornelia wanted to ask if Admeta had put the sign on her locker, but she didn't want anyone else to know about it. Mrs. Hakim looked disgusted as the group once again teetered on the edge.

"Are too," Admeta replied. "You're racist against Ralph just for his name and everyone in this room knows what you wrote on the wall about Mrs. H.!" Cornelia was shocked that Admeta would bring up her crime in front of everyone. She looked around the room. Everyone's eyes were on her. They all appeared to be filled with hate or anger. All, that is, except Mrs. Hakim's eyes. They were sullen and sad. She was looking at Cornelia with pity in her eyes. Cornelia wasn't sure which look made her angrier.

"Admeta, that is quite enough for today," Mrs. Hakim said in a rather subdued voice, as if she felt defeated. The entire group sat silently for a few moments. Admeta wanted to continue to berate Cornelia, but out of respect for Mrs. Hakim she remained silent. Cornelia wanted to defend herself, but her actions were indefensible. She felt ashamed and embarrassed. She sat with her arms crossed and looked around the room at the eyes staring back at her.

The twins were looking down at their desks, but Ralph was looking deep into Cornelia's eyes. His eyes were welling up and his cheek looked damp. Cornelia felt a pang of regret for having upset him. The rest of the group looked nearly as upset. Cornelia could feel an indignant flash rush over her. All she said was that she thought Ralph was a funny name. She couldn't understand how it had blown up into something so big. She blamed Admeta.

Next to Ralph was Brenda Stark. Cornelia knew Brenda from student council. She was average height, thin, with long light black hair. She was African-American but her complexion was much lighter than Ralph's, leading Cornelia to believe that she was bi-racial. Brenda was the only senior in the group. She was your average over achiever. She was the editor of the school paper and the poetry quarterly. She was also an officer on student council, but Cornelia couldn't remember which office she held. Brenda was sitting between Randy and Ralph, looking at Cornelia as if she were a fleck of dirt on a beautiful white Versace skirt.

Cornelia looked to her left, past Andy and saw Amanda staring at the floor, Mrs. Hakim was beside her. Next to Mrs. Hakim was Valerie Regal, who was quite the opposite of Cornelia. She was short, overweight and had thick glasses and braces. They were the clear kind of braces, but they were unusually shiny when she smiled. She was Asian, although Cornelia had no idea what country Valerie's parents came from, and she wore pigtails on both sides of her head. Cornelia thought she looked ridiculous for a sophomore in high school. Valerie sat expressionless but Cornelia could have sworn there was hatred hiding behind her brown eyes.

Sandy Turner was sitting between Valerie and Admeta. She was the twins' older sister. She looked like a carbon copy of them. She was tall and thin, and had red hair and freckles. Her hair was long, though. It was untamed, like a wildebeest gushing blood after a long battle. Cornelia could have sworn she saw rats' nests. She was hoping there were no rats in them, although if Sandy did have rats, Cornelia was certain she would have thrown them at her.

Admeta was sneering beside Sandy and on Admeta's left was the final member of Writers on the Storm, Steve Esandros. Steve was a sophomore with snow white hair. Cornelia wondered if he was albino. He wasn't like the other boys in the group. He was muscular and attractive. Cornelia thought he must have been an athlete but she would have known him if he were on the football team. She wondered if he was on track or some other non-cheered sport. Steve had his head cocked to the side. He was looking at Cornelia as if he didn't know quite what to make of her. This time it was Mrs. Hakim who finally broke the awkward silence.

"Alright, Writers, we're going to try something different," she began. "Let's talk about racism. What is it? What does the word 'racism' mean to you?" she said, standing up and walking to the white board. She wrote, "racism-(noun)." Admeta spoke up.

"Racism is when an ignorant person does something or says something about another person based on their race or religion or culture or whatever." She flipped her head in Cornelia's direction. A few other students nodded their heads in agreement.

"Actually, Admeta, what you are describing is prejudice, not racism. Does anyone else have any ideas? What is racism?" Admeta looked very put off by her teacher's dismissal of her definition. She looked around the circle to see if anyone else had any better ideas. Valerie was slowly raising her hand. "Yes, Valerie?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

"I think racism is when you make someone feel bad because they're different."

"That's a good try, Valerie, but I think that is closer to the definition for discrimination." She paused, waiting for another hand to go up. "Perhaps this will help," she said, and Mrs. Hakim wrote more things on the board: "Prejudice + Power = Racism." Everyone stared blankly at this mathematical equation.

After a few moments, Mrs. Hakim seemed to give in to the blank stares. "Racism is the belief that one race or several races are superior to another or set of others.

"With this in mind," she continued, "Do you think Cornelia saying that she found the name Ralph funny was a racist comment? What about Admeta calling Cornelia stupid?" Mrs. Hakim looked around the room. All the heads in the circle, except for Admeta's and Cornelia's, shook from side to side. Admeta was too annoyed to respond and Cornelia was disgusted by the entire conversation. "Do you think their comments were prejudiced?" she asked, and again most of the heads were shaking in disagreement. "Were they discriminatory?" This time a couple of heads nodded while the rest of the class continued to disagree. "Some say yes, but most say no," Mrs. Hakim said. "I think you are on the right track." Cornelia looked confused at her teacher's comment.

"While I think Cornelia's comment about Ralph's name may have been spoken in haste, I do not believe she intended to make Ralph feel badly. After all she did not even know his name was Ralph, no? Admeta's comment, on the other hand, was precisely intended to make Cornelia feel badly. Does that make it racist? No. Does it make it prejudiced? No. Does it make it discriminatory? Perhaps."

Admeta mumbled defiantly, "Not if it fits."

"Excuse me, Admeta, what did you say? I could not hear you, please speak up," Mrs. Hakim said and Cornelia was relieved that Admeta was finally in the hot seat.

"Nothing, Mrs. H.," Admeta replied a little louder.

Mrs. Hakim hesitated for a moment, seemingly to catch her breath, and then she continued, "This isn't working, perhaps we need to try a different approach."
Chapter 6

The Chalkboard Incident

Mrs. Hakim looked around the circle that her students had formed. They were an interesting mix. She thought they were a good representation of the student body at Storm River High School. They were a diverse group from different walks of life and she thought their different backgrounds would make their writing even better. She wanted them to share stories with each other so they could learn from one another. She valued their diversity and hoped Writers on the Storm could help them see the world through each other's eyes. She felt as though Cornelia's crime was hanging over them like a dark cloud. She wanted to get everything out in the open so they could get past it.

"Alright, Writers. I'd like you to take out a pen and piece of paper. We're going to try some free writing. Do not put your name on your paper. I do not want to know who is writing what. This is just a writing exercise," she said, looking around at all of the eyes staring back at her. "I would like you to brainstorm," she continued, cautiously searching for the right words.

"I would like you to write down every racist word you can think of in your mind."

There was silence. The group looked at Mrs. Hakim as if she had two heads. "Remember, Writers, in this group there are 'no holds barred,' as they say. Just write down every name you have ever been called because of your race. Write down every word you have heard others say. Write down things you have seen on television and in the movies. Anything that comes to mind, write it down. Write down anything you have said or written yourself. Remember your name is not on the paper, so be honest." Cornelia could have sworn that Mrs. Hakim glanced her way when she said this.

Mrs. Hakim could see Ralph's hand rise slowly into the air. "Yes, Ralph?" she asked.

"Mrs. Hakim, I'm not comfortable with this exercise," he said, honestly.

"Ralph, I know writing these words down on paper is going to be uncomfortable. That's part of the exercise. Do you know why writing these words makes you feel uncomfortable?" Ralph shook his head and Mrs. Hakim continued. "Because they have power over you. And these words only have power because we give them power. By writing these words down, we are taking away some of that power. By discussing them intelligently, we are taking away even more of their power. If you take away enough power from these words, all that is left is prejudice. And prejudice is nothing more than ignorance. And ignorance is not irreversible. Do you understand?"

Ralph reluctantly nodded his head and picked up his pen, but he did not write. "Just write the first word that comes to your mind. Anything you've seen or heard." Ralph looked at Mrs. Hakim in disbelief, but he slowly began to write. As he made the first stroke on his paper, he stared at Cornelia. She could feel his eyes look straight through her into her soul. Cornelia didn't like the whole idea of this exercise. She sat for a moment, watching all the other pens scratch on their papers. Admeta was writing furiously as if she was trying to murder her paper with her pen. Cornelia felt very self conscious and looked down at her own blank paper. She knew the words that she should write first, but she couldn't bring herself to write them down. It was too mean, too cruel to repeat. She had written those words in a moment of anger a few weeks earlier but she couldn't bring herself to do it now.

Cornelia had gone to the school a few weeks ago, knowing she was going to write on the wall, but she had no idea what she was going to write. It wasn't until she was standing there, spray paint in hand, that she decided what to write. She wanted to write the worst thing she could write. The thing that would sting Mrs. Hakim the most. She searched for the words that would hurt her worst of all. And she found them. Two little words. Nasty words. Hurtful words. Disgusting words. A rush of heat once again poured over Cornelia. She felt guilty about what she had written. There was no way she could bring herself to write it again.

Cornelia thought about what Mrs. Hakim had said. "Just write down every name you have ever been called because of your race." Cornelia wrote down the word "honkey." She almost laughed out loud . She had never been called a honkey herself, but she knew it was a derogatory term for white people. She thought it was one of the funniest words she'd ever heard. She didn't think it held much power. "Cracker," was the next word Cornelia wrote, but it too sounded too funny to be hurtful. "Whitey," she continued. That sounded funny too. Her mother had actually had an uncle named Whitey. His real name was Charles, but everyone just called him Whitey. Cornelia had no idea why. He died before she was born.

Then Cornelia wrote the words, "Snow White." That was actually something someone called her once. An African-American girl at Cornelia's junior high didn't like the fact that Cornelia jumped ahead of her in the lunch line, even though, as Cornelia pointed out, she was only getting a Coke. "You must be trippin', Snow White," the girl said to her. Of course, Cornelia couldn't be sure if that was even a racist comment. Perhaps the girl was just referring to the color of her hair. Anything is possible.

Cornelia looked down at her paper. The words she had written were all silly. She didn't see any power in them at all. To top it off, she couldn't think of any more words. A Mexican guy once said to Chad, "Thanks; you're an o.k. gringo," after Chad had handed him back a twenty dollar bill that had fallen out of his pocket in the convenience store. But Cornelia wasn't sure if gringo was racist either. She was sure, however, that she would have kept the twenty dollars and not given it back to the man. Not because she was greedy or a thief, but because she feared the man.

He was wearing tattered jeans, a checkered shirt and a straw hat. Cornelia thought he looked as if he had just walked away from a field he had been tending to. His skin was dark, like strong coffee with one shot of cream. His eyes were squinty and his nose was red as if he had spent a lot of time in the sun. Cornelia was afraid he was a criminal or at the very least an illegal immigrant. She wouldn't have spoken to him at all, even to return his money. That rush of heat pierced through Cornelia's body again. As she thought about the man, more words came to mind.

She wrote the word 'beaner' on her paper and quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching her write. Everyone's head was down as they wrote on their own papers. The twins were each at least a foot from her, so she was confident they couldn't be reading her paper peripherally. She looked at her own paper again. She thought 'beaner' sounded just as funny as 'honkey.' But when she thought about the origin of the word, it didn't maintain its humor.

"Spic," she continued to write. This word wasn't as funny to Cornelia. It had a hateful tone, unlike the other words she had written. She often heard it hissed through gritted teeth at people like Admeta, who are of Hispanic decent. Cornelia wasn't quite sure what it meant, but she knew the intent. "Chicano," she wrote. Again, she didn't know what it meant and wasn't even sure if it was a racial slur, but she had heard people say it to Hispanics.

"Wetback," Cornelia continued. This she was certain was a derogatory term. She had heard an older white man call the man at the convenience store a wetback after the Mexican man accidentally stepped on his foot. She thought it had something to do with Mexicans crossing the Rio Grande to get to the United States, as she figured the man in the convenience store must have done. The white man said it with repulsion in his voice as if he was disgusted that part of the Mexican man's body had touched him. Chad told him to chill out, but the man just looked at him with the same disgust.

Cornelia looked over at Admeta. She was still furiously writing with her head turned down toward her paper. Cornelia wondered if Admeta was writing the same words on her paper. Then she looked next to Admeta at Sandy. She didn't seem to be struggling to come up with words either. In fact the entire group was writing feverishly, including Mrs. Hakim who was sitting at the top of the circle, closest to the board. Cornelia looked at the opposite side of the room at Ralph. He seemed to be writing the quickest out of everyone.

Cornelia wrote some more names on her paper. She was afraid to write some of the words she was thinking. They were too cruel. Too mean. Too bad. She didn't dare write them out of fear that someone would see the words on her paper. She especially couldn't bring herself to write the words she had painted on the wall. What would the rest of the group think?

They would think she was racist. Cornelia was convinced that they already thought that anyway, but she didn't want to give anyone ammunition. She continued writing for a few minutes until Mrs. Hakim interrupted the sound of the students' scribbling pens.

"O.k. I think that's enough time, Writers. Finish up your thoughts," she said.

"Wait, Mrs. H., I've got a lot more," Admeta protested.

"It's o.k., Admeta, I think we have enough for the purpose of this exercise. You don't need to write every name you know." Admeta looked annoyed again, but she complied with Mrs. Hakim's request and put down her pen. "O.k., Writers, turn your papers over and I'll collect them." Mrs. Hakim walked around the room picking up papers. Cornelia could see that some people had even written on the back side of their papers. She was impressed in a strange sort of way. At the same time she was embarrassed that she had written so little.

After Mrs. Hakim had collected all of the papers, she placed them on the teacher's desk and proceeded to mix them up like a child would mix up a deck of Old Maid cards if she didn't know how to shuffle. When she was finished, she picked up the stack and scanned each paper, one by one. Her facial expression never changed. She remained straight-faced and stern and yet there was something soft about her features.

Mrs. Hakim was pretty, although Cornelia would never have admitted that to anyone. She had gentle brown eyes and from what Cornelia could tell from what peeked out from under the veil, her hair was long and black. She had high cheek bones with a medium sized mole on her left cheek, just like Marilyn Monroe. Cornelia thought Mrs. Hakim must have plucked her eyebrows because they were perfectly shaped and not as bushy as she would have expected. Cornelia was surprised that Mrs. Hakim could remain unaffected by the words she was reading.

When she was finished going through the stack, Mrs. Hakim said, "O.k., Writers, when I looked at your papers, almost everyone began with the same expression, so we're going to start there." Cornelia felt flush. She tried to think back to the first word she wrote on her paper. "Honkey," she thought. She couldn't believe that everyone else had written honkey first. Then she came to the realization that her paper might have been one of the few that started with a different word.

"Oh, God," she thought. "What if I was the only one to write down that word?" Cornelia groaned inside her head. She was embarrassed at the thought that she was the only person who was different. She groaned even louder when Mrs. Hakim wrote the words on the board.

There, staring back at Cornelia, were the words she had painted on the school wall. Nasty words. Hurtful words. Disgusting words. Cornelia's face was on fire. She felt like she wanted to throw up. Her hand reached down to her stomach as she tried to steady herself. She wanted to be anywhere else except classroom 97. She looked around the room. Everyone was looking up at the board. Everyone except Admeta, who was staring directly at Cornelia. That made Cornelia feel even more self conscious. She turned and looked at Mrs. Hakim for some relief. It was ironic that she was looking to her victim to save her from her own words.

"Alright, Writers, let's break this down. The first word is 'sand.' By itself it's harmless enough," Mrs. Hakim said, matter-of-factly. She had no malice in her voice when she continued to define the word, "Sand, by definition, is nothing more than grains of rocks that have been worn down over time into tiny bits. On its own, 'sand' is a pretty innocuous word. In this case, I assume it refers to the desert," she said and then paused to look around the room. All eyes were now staring back at her.

"What about this word, Writers?" Mrs. Hakim asked, pointing to the second word. "What does this word mean?" Mrs. Hakim continued and then looked around the circle. Many people had their eyes fixed on Mrs. Hakim, deliberately not looking at the word, as if not looking at it could wish it away. Ralph and Brenda were staring at the word as if they would kill it if only they could. No one budged until Admeta raised her hand.

"Admeta?"

"I think Cornelia should answer the question, Mrs. H.," she said.

"Admeta, please only raise your hand if you are actually going to answer the question," Cornelia was relieved to hear Mrs. Hakim say that. Before Admeta could protest, Mrs. Hakim continued, "This group is an extra curricular activity. We do not force our members to do anything, especially if it makes them feel uncomfortable." Admeta squinted her eyes very briefly as if she had been put off by what Mrs. Hakim said. Cornelia felt nothing but relief. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes on the inhale and opening them upon exhaling.

"Let's look at its origins, shall we? It comes from the Latin word meaning black," Mrs. Hakim began. "Looking at this logically, however, this term is obviously not meant to describe black sand. So let's rule that out." Cornelia thought Mrs. Hakim was speaking to the group as if they were in kindergarten. Everyone knew what the term meant. Going through the origins was pointless in Cornelia's eyes and only served to further her embarrassment.

"What else does this word mean?" Mrs. Hakim asked. Cornelia was squirming in her seat. The entire conversation was making her feel uncomfortable. She was wondering why Mrs. Hakim was beating around the bush as if they were five-year-olds. Everyone knew what the word meant, but none of them wanted to say it out loud, least of all Cornelia. Again her teacher faced a room of empty stares. Cornelia thought that Mrs. Hakim must know that it wasn't that the Writers didn't know what the word meant. It was that no one wanted to be the one to say it. The entire group was uncomfortable at that point, but no one in the room could have been more uncomfortable than Cornelia.

Cornelia looked around and was relieved to see everyone still looking at Mrs. Hakim instead of her. Cornelia looked past Randy on her right and saw Brenda. There was a tear streaming down her cheek. Brenda quickly wiped the tear away as if nothing had happened. She didn't look around to see if anyone had seen what she had done. She just stared straight ahead at Mrs. Hakim as if she were blind. Ralph was beside Brenda and he too looked like he might cry. Cornelia felt a pang of regret. She never considered the thought that her words would hurt anyone besides Mrs. Hakim.

"Perhaps this word needs no definition. We all know what it's supposed to mean, do we not?" Everyone was still as if they thought the question was hypothetical. "We all know the intension. Correct?" This time Mrs. Hakim looked at a circle of nodding heads. "So obviously the use of the first word, 'sand,' indicates a particular part of the world. The part of the world my family comes from, perhaps. Somewhere in or near a desert." Cornelia felt as if she had been hurled at the sun. Her skin was burning with embarrassment and regret.

"And this second word, well, it is not as nice, is it? How does it make you feel?"

"Angry," Admeta said before she even thought about it.

"Angry. Good. What else?"

As if they were inside each others' heads, Randy and Andy said, in unison, "Sad."

"Sad. Another good emotion. Anyone else? How does this word make you feel?"

"Mad," Valerie chimed in.

"That's good, Valerie, but mad and angry are very closely related. Can you think of another word to describe how you feel about this word?" Mrs. Hakim asked as she was writing "angry" and "sad" on the board.

"Disgusted?" Valerie tried again.

"Good. Another," Mrs. Hakim prompted.

A small voice from the back of the room said, "Scared."

It was Brenda. Her voice was usually strong. Brenda was very opinionated in student council and never afraid to express herself. Her quietness surprised Cornelia as she saw another tear fall down Brenda's cheek. This time Brenda didn't bother to wipe it away. Instead she sat tall in her chair and held her head high. Ralph put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"Hateful," Ralph added.

"Hateful?" Mrs. Hakim questioned. "Ralph, do you feel the word is hateful or do you hate the word?"

"Both," Ralph said, taking his arm off of Brenda's shoulder and throwing his hands up in the air. "Why are we doing this, Mrs. H.? You're making me and Brenda feel uncomfortable."

"I apologize, Ralph, but once again that is the point. No? I, too, feel uncomfortable. After all, these words are referring to me. Are they not?" Ralph stared straight into Mrs. Hakim's eyes. Cornelia stared at the floor, embarrassed at the whole situation. "That's why I wanted to talk about these words first. We need to talk about these issues because they make us feel uncomfortable. If we don't talk about them, we are giving them power over us. By talking about them, the conversation will eventually become less uncomfortable and as a result, the words will lose their power," Mrs. Hakim said and then turned to write the word "hateful" on the board.

Mrs. Hakim turned her attention to the entire group. "Do you see all of the emotions associated with this word? Angry, sad, disgusted, scared, hateful. And that is just the tip of the ice block." There was a moment of silence. Cornelia wanted to snicker but she knew it would be inappropriate.

"I think you mean iceberg, Mrs. H.," Admeta interjected.

"Oh, my humblest apologies. Admeta, thank you for the correction. These emotions are only the tip of the iceberg," Mrs. Hakim corrected, putting emphasis on the word iceberg. Cornelia suddenly felt as though Mrs. Hakim had said "ice block" on purpose to diffuse the tension in the room.

"This is how much power this word yields. Yes?" Mrs. Hakim asked, pointing to the words on the board. "But why?" she paused.

"Why do these six letters invoke such anger, sadness, disgust, fear and hate? What makes them different?" The group was silent. Cornelia could have sworn that Mrs. Hakim's eyes were welling up a little too.

"Intent," she said. "That is what makes them different. Their intent is what gives them the power to make us react." Mrs. Hakim pointed to the equation she had written earlier, and said it out loud, "Prejudice plus power equals racism."

Mrs. Hakim paused and looked around the room. Brenda had stopped crying and Ralph's face didn't seem as angry. Even Admeta seemed to have softened a bit. "Writers, I want you to remember this moment. Remember how these words made you feel. Remember the emotions that just writing these words on the board and on your paper evoked. Think about the other words on your paper and how they also made you feel. That is the power of racism. The words that you write in this group have the potential to be just as powerful. In Writers on the Storm, no topic is off limits, not even racism," she concluded. Cornelia could finally see the point of the exercise, but she was not prepared for what Mrs. Hakim said next.

"This week, Writers, I have an important assignment for you," Mrs. Hakim began. "This week I want you to write a short story about racism. And this time I want a non-fiction piece. Write about an experience you have had with racism or racist attitudes." Cornelia rolled her eyes while Sandy raised her hand.

"Yes, Sandy," Mrs. Hakim said.

"Does it have to be racism exactly?" she asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she replied.

"I mean, could it be like sexism or something like that?"

"That's a good point, Sandy. Discrimination comes in many forms, not just racism. I'll amend the assignment to include all forms of discrimination. Writers, you may write about any form of discrimination you have experienced or witnessed," Mrs. Hakim said.

Steve raised his hand. "Yes, Steve?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

His voice was shallow, not at all like his physique. "What about homophobia? Does that count?"

"Yes, Steve, that certainly counts. Any type of discrimination counts," she said, pausing. "Let me just give you an example. You see the hijab I am wearing, no?" she asked, running her fingers over the brown veil she was wearing on her head. It was made of a silky material and had beads all along the edges. Cornelia always wondered what Mrs. Hakim's hair really looked like under her veil, but she could only catch glimpses of it sometimes when the hijab had a gap.

"This hijab is a symbol of my religion. Now, I don't want to get into a detailed discussion about religion in school, but I am often asked questions about my hijab because it is different. But, unfortunately, sometimes people also make assumptions because of my hijab. Sometimes people think that just because I am Muslim, I have strange ideas or do strange things, or worse.

"Some might even see me as a terrorist even though I have given them no indication whatsoever to that effect. There are terrorists who are Muslim, this is true. But there are also terrorists who are Christian and Jewish and any other faith on this earth. Because Muslims dress differently, Islamic terrorists stand out and they have given people of my religion a terrible stigma that is very difficult to overcome. As a result, there are people who make assumptions about me without knowing me. It is a sad fact," Mrs. Hakim said, circling the room with her eyes.

Cornelia wondered if Mrs. Hakim thought she assumed she was a terrorist. The thought had actually never crossed her mind despite Rebekka's rant that morning. Cornelia didn't even realize Mrs. Hakim's hijab was a religious symbol. She thought all women from the Middle East wore them. She did not know that Mrs. Hakim was Muslim. She didn't know much about the Muslim faith except for what she saw on television. Cornelia wondered if that is why Mrs. Hakim didn't wear make-up. She had a flawless complexion and dark, mocha-colored skin, so she didn't really need make-up anyway.

"People often make assumptions about other people, whether it is because of their race, religion, gender, the color of their skin, or simply because of the clothes that they wear," she said and looked over at Steve, "or the people that they love."

"I think that is enough for today, Writers. Emotions are high. Let us use those emotions to write our stories and be prepared to share a draft next week. Yes?" People started packing up their things to leave. Mrs. Hakim sat at her desk as if she was exhausted.

Cornelia's mind was racing. She had no idea what she was going to write about. She couldn't remember a time in her life when she was discriminated against. She felt like an outsider in Writers on the Storm. She resented her mother for forcing her to join. She couldn't relate to anyone, except for possibly Amanda.

Cornelia and Amanda walked out of the room together. "Can you believe this assignment?" Cornelia asked.

"Actually I think it's a really good assignment, Cornelia. Maybe it will make you think about what you did," Amanda said hastily and walked faster so that she wouldn't be seen with Cornelia.

Cornelia stopped in the hallway and watched her friend walk away. The rest of the group walked past her too. Admeta brushed Cornelia's arm when she went past. It was probably on purpose, although Ademeta would never admit it either way. As Cornelia stood in the hall, she suddenly came to the realization that her freshman year in high school wasn't going to be easy.
Chapter 7

Writer's Block

As Cornelia sat at the desk in her bedroom that night, she thought about Mrs. Hakim's words, "Write about any form of discrimination you have experienced or witnessed." Cornelia couldn't think of one situation where she had been discriminated against. "People often make assumptions about other people, whether it is because of their race, religion, gender, the color of their skin, or simply because of the clothes that they wear, or the people that they love," Mrs. Hakim had said. But this did nothing to jog Cornelia's memory. The only event of any substance she could think of was her own crime against Mrs. Hakim.

Cornelia looked up at the Daruma doll sitting on the bookshelf next to the desk. His one eye was fixed on her. She thought for a moment that he looked like Popeye the Sailorman, but his evil wink was much more sinister. She felt guilty every time she looked at Daruma. She felt that he could see inside her soul. He knew her every wish and her darkest fears. He knew what she did and his eye reflected her guilt. Daruma was sitting on the shelf above her shoulder the way a devil or angel would sit on people's shoulders in cartoons giving them advice about what to do. Only Daruma didn't speak. He just starred knowingly with his one beady little eye.

Cornelia turned her attention to her laptop screen. Her word processing program was open but the page was completely blank except for her name. She didn't even know what to title her story since she couldn't think of a plot. She thought perhaps she could make something up, but she was certain that Mrs. Hakim would see right through it. No, she had to tell the truth. Unfortunately, the only truth she could come up with was the crime of discrimination that she committed herself, not anything that was done to her.

She wondered if the other members of Writers on the Storm were having the same trouble. She thought about Ralph and Brenda. Surely they wouldn't have trouble coming up with something, she thought. She knew what Steve was going to write about already and she thought it probably wouldn't be too hard for Valerie to come up with something. She wondered what Amanda, Andy and Randy were going to write. She knew Sandy was going to write about being discriminated against because she's a girl and she thought Amanda would probably do the same, but she couldn't imagine what Andy and Randy were going to come up with.

After staring at the blank screen for what seemed like an hour, Cornelia decided to give up for the night. She wanted to instant message Rebekka and Sarah but she was grounded from the internet. She called Rebekka in secret instead. She snuck out into the hallway, looking around for her mother. She could hear the television on downstairs so she picked up the phone in the hall. She turned it on but did not dial. If her mother was sitting by the living room phone she might see the light that indicated that the phone was in use, so Cornelia waited for a minute. Unfortunately, she waited too long and the phone started making that horrible loud beeping noise that happens when you don't dial quick enough.

Cornelia quickly pushed the off button and waited silently, breathing heavily after the start she was given. She could still hear the TV but she didn't hear her mother moving around. After a few minutes she pushed the green button and waited for a shorter amount of time. After a few seconds she figured her mother hadn't seen the "in use" light go on, so she dialed very quickly and tip-toed back to her room with the cordless phone.

Rebekka told Cornelia that she was convinced that David Warton, the captain of the football team, winked at her in seventh bell. Cornelia told her she must be crazy because David is Kenzie Phillips' boyfriend and there is no way he would even look in another girl's direction. Rebekka told her Sarah saw it too, but Cornelia expected nothing less from Rebekka's lapdog. After some banal banter back and forth, Cornelia told Rebekka that she was going to bed because she had had an exhausting day. Cornelia tip-toed back to the hallway and hung up the phone then snuck back to her room and went to sleep.

The rest of the week at school flew by. There were no more signs hung on Cornelia's locker and no one even mentioned the spray paint incident, much to Cornelia's relief. She saw Admeta every day in English class, but the two did not speak. Cornelia stole private moments with Chad as often as she could and complained about Writers on the Storm to whomever would listen. That did not include Amanda, who was barely speaking to her. When the week was finally over, Cornelia did not breathe a sigh of relief. Not only had she not worked on her story, but she had to continue her community service on Saturday and she was not looking forward to it. The only bright spot was that she would get to cheer at the football game that night.

After school, Cornelia rushed out of the SUV and flew up to her room to get ready for that night's game. Her perfectly pressed uniform was hanging in her closet. Cornelia had worn a uniform to school that day as all cheerleaders were required to do on Fridays, but the uniform in her closet was her game uniform. It had to be perfect. Cornelia got undressed and put on her fluffy pink robe. She sat down at her vanity with her make-up lined up before her like little toy soldiers. There were eye liner pencils, lipsticks and blush galore. Even though she had put make-up on before school, she had to touch everything up before the game.

First she darkened her blush and applied some lipstick, and then she concentrated on her eye liner. After drawing dark lines on the edge of her eyelid and below her eye, she pulled out the pad she used for smudging. She carefully pulled her left eye to the side and starting smudging the lines. Every few seconds she would let go and look at herself in the mirror to evaluate the results. She was trying to get a smoky line, not too smudged and not too straight. When the left eye was to her liking she turned to her right eye. As she pulled it to the side and looked in the mirror, she suddenly thought of Valerie.

Cornelia was shocked at herself for thinking that she looked like Valerie when she pulled her eye toward her temple. It was mean and she knew it. She didn't like having these thoughts, but how could she help it? She couldn't control her impulses. She thought it was a very rude thing to think. She had never met Valerie before but she had nothing against her except for the fact that she was overweight. Cornelia thought fat people were lazy and gluttonous and she was sure that if they just exercised a little they could lose weight quite easily. But she didn't have anything against Valerie because she was Asian. She thought Asian kids were really smart.

Cornelia pushed her thoughts aside long enough to finish the liner on the right eye. She quickly finished up with some eye shadow and checked her make-up in the mirror. She looked over at Daruma whose eye was staring at her contently. Cornelia thought that Daruma's expression changed from time to time. She usually thought he looked quite mean, but now she thought he had a sad look on his face, almost as if he felt sorry for her. Cornelia's eyes narrowed as she addressed the little doll.

"You should look so good after spending nine years meditating in a cave without blinking an eye," she said. Just then she heard her mom calling her down to dinner. "Coming!" she yelled. "And," she said, looking at Daruma, "that's enough out of you."

Cornelia swiveled in her chair and went downstairs. She and her mother were silent for most of the meal. Cornelia was still upset with Veronica for signing her up for Writers on the Storm and she was angry that she wasn't able to go out to dinner with the rest of the cheerleaders like they usually did before a game. She resented eating dinner with her mother and didn't speak unless spoken to. Cornelia and Veronica spent most of their days that way. When they were finished with dinner, Cornelia put her dishes in the sink and ran back up the stairs.

She heard her mother yell after her, "CC you're doing the dishes tomorrow!" Cornelia ignored her and went into her room to get dressed. She could hear her mother loading dishes into the dishwasher as she flipped on the curling iron on her vanity and proceeded to get dressed. It took her a long time because she had to have everything just right. Her uniform was blue and white, the colors of Storm River High School.

Cornelia thought it was funny that her school colors were blue and white when the school mascot was a falcon. She had never seen a blue falcon before. The entire uniform was blue except for two white stripes across the bottom of the skirt and the V-shaped part at the top of the vest above where the blue letters with white trim (SRHS) were. There were two blue V-shaped stripes below the letters that Cornelia thought looked like a sign for victory. The shirt she wore under the vest was also blue and Cornelia wondered how the school was able to find cotton fabric that matched the polyester uniforms so perfectly. Even the briefs were blue. She wore plain white socks and sneakers with little blue and white pom poms tied to the shoe strings.

Before she got dressed, she had to put lotion on her legs so they would shine. She always used scented lotion to help cover the smell of her sweat while she was cheering. After she was dressed, Cornelia made sure her skirt was straight, her shirt was tucked in and her vest wasn't twisted. She wished she could wear the vest without the shirt underneath. She thought that would have looked much better, but the principal would not allow it. He thought the vests were too revealing.

When she was finally dressed, Cornelia looked at herself in the full-length mirror she kept in the corner of her room by the closet. She was nearly ready. All she had to do was curl her hair. She walked over to her vanity where the curling iron had been heating up on the fireproof pad that was placed beneath it. When Cornelia first bought her curling iron, she put it down on the wood and nearly burned the house down. At least that's how Veronica put it. Cornelia thought she had overreacted to a little burn mark. The mark was now hidden under the pad. Cornelia pulled the front of her hair back into a barrette. It's wasn't her grandmother's diamond crusted barrette; that was far too precious to her to risk losing at a game. It was a simple blue barrette with blue and white ribbons hanging down the back. Cornelia slowly and meticulously curled the ends of her long blonde locks being careful not to get the ribbons caught in the iron. When her hair was perfect, she went back to check her make-up.

She used a close-up mirror to make sure the lip liner was just right. Over her shoulder she once again saw her Daruma doll staring at her with his one beady little eye. Through the magnified mirror he looked even more ominous and she shuddered for a moment. The doll gave her the creeps every time she looked at it, but since it was a gift from Chad she tolerated the mild annoyance. She tried to fend off her annoyance by imagining that Daruma was winking at her because he thought she was gorgeous. Unfortunatley, that thought creeped her out and she shuddered again. She decided to ignore the one-eyed annoyance and concentrated instead on perfecting her lipstick.

When Cornelia was finally ready, she grabbed her purse and pom poms and went downstairs to get her mother. Veronica dropped her daughter off at school and reminded her that she was to call home the moment the game ended so she could be picked up. Cornelia was not permitted to attend any parties after the game. Cornelia usually received a ride from Rebekka's parents who dropped Cornelia, Sarah and Rebekka off at the Chili Parlor down the street from school. That's where the cheerleaders met up before games because it was close enough for everyone to walk back to the school afterward. Some of the girls didn't eat at all and those who did seemed to be having a contest to see who could eat the least. But since Cornelia was grounded, she was not permitted to attend the gathering or the after party.

After Veronica dropped her off, Cornelia walked into the girls' locker room to lock up her purse. She ran into Sarah and Rebekka on her way back up the stairs. Rebekka was wearing her uniform but Sarah was in jeans and a blue baby doll tank top. Sarah didn't make the varsity squad, so she had to cheer at junior varsity games on Saturday mornings. She had to wear her cheerleading uniform to school on Fridays, just like everyone else, but she wasn't allowed to wear it to the games since she wasn't cheering. Of course Sarah was still allowed to go to dinner and the after party even in street clothes and Cornelia was jealous.

"Hey girl," Rebekka said in a high-pitched shriek.

"Hey girl!" Sarah mimicked her in the same high-pitched shriek.

"What's up?" Cornelia asked.

"We're just going to lock up our purses, wait for us, I have loads to tell you," Rebekka said excitedly and she and Sarah descended the stairs in a hurry. Cornelia waited on the stairs for the duo to return. She checked her nails and was saddened when she realized that she hadn't touched up her finger nail polish before leaving for the game. She had little chips here and there and made a mental note to fix them in the morning. Then she remembered that she had community service in the morning and decided to wait until afterward. Painting the town was brutal on her nails.

"You will never guess what happened!" Rebekka shrieked, jostling Cornelia from her thoughts.

"What?" Cornelia asked with great curiosity and Sarah let out a giggle making it obvious that she already knew what Rebekka was going to say.

Rebekka lowered her voice to a whisper, "David Warton kissed me!" Rebekka could hardly contain her excitement and Sarah was giggling again as if she were the one who had been kissed.

"No way," Cornelia said in disbelief.

"I'm not lying!" Rebekka shrieked again, a little louder than she had intended. Lowering her voice again she said, "It was out behind the band building a few minutes ago. Sarah was there, ask her!"

"It's true. I was there," Sarah echoed, smugly.

Cornelia looked at the pair with disbelief. She couldn't imagine any boyfriend of Kenzie Phillips cheating on her. "How did this happen?" she asked.

"Well, I told you he winked at me in seventh bell the other day and there were some other things too. He kept staring at me all week but he never said anything. And I ran..."

"WE ran into him," Sarah corrected.

"Yeah, WE ran into him," Rebekka said, "but I'M the one he kissed." She shot Sarah a scolding look.

"Wait, go back a second. He just walked up and kissed you?" Cornelia asked.

"No, no no!" Rebekka was growing impatient, "Sarah interrupted me," she said, giving Sarah another dirty look. Sarah rolled her eyes, but remained silent so Rebekka could finish her story. "So WE ran into him behind the band building."

"What were you doing behind the band building?" Cornelia interrupted.

"Would you people please stop interrupting me long enough for me to finish my effing story?!" Rebekka shouted, then looked around to see if anyone could hear. The corridor was empty. "God!" she added. Cornelia gave Sarah a knowing look but the two of them remained silent as Rebekka lowered her voice once again and continued. "It doesn't matter why we were behind the band building. We just were, o.k.? Anyway...we ran into him and he asked if he could talk to me alone for a second. I said 'sure!' Sarah went off to the edge of the building to stand guard, you know, so no teachers would catch us.

"So anyway, he leaned in really close to me so that he was kind of whispering in this really sexy deep voice. Oh my God he is so hot. So then he says to me, 'Bekka, I wanted to talk to you in seventh bell but I couldn't work up the nerve.' Bekka! Do you believe that?! He has a pet name for me already!" Rebekka gushed. Cornelia wanted to throw up but she remained silent.

"So I said, 'What did you want to tell me?' And he said...are you ready?" Rebekka asked, hypothetically. "He said, 'I wanted to tell you that you have the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen.' Oh...my...God, do you believe that?!" Rebekka was jumping up and down on the step so much so that Cornelia was sure she was going to fall.

"Rebekka, your eyes are green," Cornelia interjected.

"Green, blue, what's the diff?!" Rebekka screeched. "You're missing the point."

"Well, what is the point, then?" Cornelia asked, trying to bring her friend back to reality.

"God, CC, you sure know how to ruin a story," Rebekka said with one hand on her hip.

"I'm sorry, do go on," Cornelia said with a British accent. Sarah snickered.

"Well, then," Rebekka continued after giving Cornelia a dirty look, "I said, 'Really?' And he said, 'yeah, I always thought that but I couldn't tell you with Kenzie and all.' Then he smiled the most brilliant smile I've ever seen. He has perfect teeth, you know. He was looking all dreamy and then he leaned in and kissed me right on the lips. Can you believe it?!" she repeated.

"No," said Cornelia. When Rebekka shot her another nasty look Cornelia back tracked. "I mean that's amazing. What happened next?" Rebekka wasn't sure whether or not Cornelia was being sarcastic but she didn't care. She was too caught up in her story to worry about it.

"Well the kiss lasted for five minutes at least," she boasted.

"At least!" Sarah chimed in.

"Yeah, that's what I said, Sarah. God! So then after what seemed like hours we broke apart and he asked if he could have my phone number. Can you believe it?!" she screeched without any thought to how loud she was being. Cornelia was still skeptical but Sarah was nodding her head. Just then their conversation was interrupted by footsteps coming down the stairs. It was Kenzie Phillips. Rebekka froze.

"Hey," Kenzie said to the trio as she passed them on the stairs.

"Hi, Kenzie!" Sarah yelled a little too enthusiastically.

"Hey," Cornelia said, but Rebekka remained silent, her eyes wide with fear.

Kenzie looked at Rebekka funny. She thought Rebekka looked like the cat that just ate the canary. She shrugged it off and opened the door to the locker room at the bottom of the stairs and stepped inside.

The second the door closed Rebekka said, "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, do you think she heard what I said?" Without waiting for a reply, she continued, "What if she heard? Did you see the dirty look she gave me? I think she may have heard!"

"She didn't hear," Cornelia assured her, "but she will if you keep yelling. Come on, let's go to the stands."

"Are you sure, CC? I could have sworn she gave me a dirty look," Rebekka said and Sarah nodded in agreement.

"It was your imagination. She said 'hello' to us. Would she have said 'hello' if she heard?"

"I guess you have a point," Rebekka admitted.

"I know I do. Now let's get upstairs," Cornelia said in exasperation.

The rest of the evening was filled with a lot of hard work. Kenzie would call out the cheers she wanted the squad to perform and they would do so dutifully. Sarah and Amanda met up and sat in the stands together, boy watching. They would shout the loudest when a cheer required a response.

For example, when the squad yelled, "Are....you...proud to be a falcon?!"

Sarah and Amanda would scream at the top of their lungs, "Yes...we....are!"

Or if the squad yelled, "Hey, it's time to fight, everybody yell blue and white!"

Then Sarah and Amanda would echo, "blue and white!"

Cornelia and Rebekka took a break at halftime and spent some time with Amanda and Sarah, even though Amanda didn't say much to Cornelia. It gave Rebekka another opportunity to tell her story. Despite the fact that Cornelia despised listening to the story again she was glad for the time to socialize. Chad's family didn't approve of sports, so Chad wasn't allowed to be there. Spending time with her friends was the next best thing. When Rebekka was through, Amanda looked at her in disbelief, just as Cornelia had. But since Sarah was backing up her story there was little she could do to deny it. Cornelia could tell that Amanda was not pleased with Rebekka's behavior, but she, like Cornelia, remained silent and the two fans returned to the stands while the two cheerleaders returned to the front of the bleachers.

It was an uneventful game for the most part. There was one time when David scored a touchdown and Rebekka yelled at the squad, "Let's do David's cheer!" Rebekka wasn't captain of the squad and wasn't supposed to be calling out cheers in the first place. The squad was so caught up in the game, however, that they obeyed without thinking: "Stronger than steel, hotter than the sun, David won't stop until he gets the job done!" They followed up with different jumps to the tune of "Go! David!" or "Good job, David!" Rebekka's was the most enthusiastic by far, and she even ended by doing the splits. Cornelia was concerned that Kenzie might figure out what was going on. Kenzie indeed looked annoyed, but Cornelia got the impression it was more because Rebekka called the cheer than anything else.

Cornelia's fears were confirmed when Kenzie confronted Rebekka after the game. Rebekka told her she was sorry, that she had just gotten carried away. Kenzie shot her a dirty look and told her not to let it happen again or she would see to it that Rebekka would be demoted to junior varsity. Cornelia could tell that Rebekka was biting her tongue under the contrite smile she was giving Kenzie. Sarah looked hurt by the "demotion" comment.

When Kenzie was finally out of earshot, Rebekka said in a snide voice, "I kissed your boyfriend!" Cornelia thought Rebekka sounded like a five-year-old but she said nothing. She had to call her mother to come get her. Rebekka and Sarah agreed that it sucked that Cornelia couldn't go to the party at David's house. Rebekka was angry that Kenzie would be there, so she and David weren't likely to get a lot of alone time. Amanda said nothing. Cornelia suspected she was still angry with her, so she decided to adhere to the silent treatment so as not to upset Amanda further. Rebekka, Sarah and Amanda eventually left for the party in Rebekka's father's car, leaving Cornelia standing alone on the curb waiting for her mother.

After she stood there for a few minutes she could hear the sounds of some teenage boys talking behind her. She did not turn around. The voices started to dissipate when she heard one of the boys distinctly say, "See you at your house, David." Cornelia froze. She could hear David's footstep coming up behind her. She wondered if he would be able to see that she knew about him and Rebekka. She hoped he would pass her by without comment.

"Hey, Corny," came the booming voice of David Warton. Cornelia cringed a little, partly because he had stopped and partly because he had called her Corny. "What's up?"

"Not much," was her curt reply. She thought the less said, the better. David walked up and stood beside her. Cornelia was a tiny china doll in his shadow. He was a bulky figure with strapping arms and a muscular build. He stood over six feet tall and had dark hair with a military-style haircut. His skin was tanned and Cornelia was jealous. Since she started community service she hadn't found the time to keep up on her tanning visits. Her skin was getting lighter by the day. She had a naturally porcelain complexion. Her mother was constantly telling her how bad tanning was for her skin, but Cornelia ignored her.

"Why is a girl as pretty as you standing here all alone? Where's that hippie, what's his name? Harrington?" he asked and put his arm on her shoulder.

Cornelia picked up David's arm and lightly threw it off her shoulder. As she turned out of his grip, she said, "His name is Barrington, Chad Barrington, and he doesn't happen to like football. And DON'T call him a hippie!" Cornelia's cheeks were burning with anger. She could strangle anyone who insulted Chad.

"Doesn't like football?" David asked, not seeming to notice that his hand was removed. "What is he, queer?" he laughed and playfully jabbed at Cornelia's midsection with his fists. Cornelia bent over to avoid David's hands touching her stomach.

"Rude much?!" Cornelia asked, suddenly thinking about Steve from Writers on the Storm.

"What's your problem?" he asked.

"My problem?" Cornelia asked. "I don't have a problem."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"Acting like what?!" she shouted a little louder than she had expected, startling both of them.

"Like a bitch," he said, smirking.

"Because I won't let you hang all over me I'm a bitch? Because you're a homophobe and I called you on it I'm a bitch? That makes sense," she said sarcastically. Cornelia didn't know what had come over her. David was the head of the popular clique right along with Kenzie. Ticking him off was not a smart thing to do if she wanted to fit in. She felt overcome by anger. She was angry with David and Rebekka for betraying Kenzie. If they wanted to carry on, the least David could do is break up with Kenzie first. The thought of Chad cheating on her made her sick to her stomach. She couldn't help but feel sorry for Kenzie in that moment. She was also realizing the kind of torture Steve must have to endure on a daily basis with people like David running around school.

"Yeah, you are," David continued. "I was just stopping to say 'hello.' You can forget about coming to my house tonight if you're going to be that way."

"I wasn't going anyway," Cornelia replied curtly.

"Oh come on, Corny, you don't have to be that way," David said, trying to touch her waist.

Cornelia drew back and this time screamed on purpose, "My name is Cornelia, not Corny! I'll thank you to remember that and to keep your filthy hands off of me. And you can keep your homophobic comments to yourself while you're at it. Do you think no one knows what you and Rebekka were doing behind the band building? Everyone knows about it. I think it's disgusting," she said without thinking.

"Is that right?" he asked. Cornelia braced herself for what was about to happen. "Well if I were a stuck-up bitch like you," David began, and Cornelia was reminded of the judge's harsh words.

She could hear his booming voice in her head, "You're a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan who will amount to nothing in this life."

David continued, "I would keep my opinion to myself and shut my mouth about things that didn't concern me," he said, giving Cornelia a threatening look. He stood there, staring into Cornelia's eyes for what seemed like hours. His eyes were menacing, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed in front of his enormous chest. Cornelia could tell that she pushed all of the wrong buttons. She didn't even know why she was saying what she was saying. Normally she would have simply kept her mouth shut as she did earlier when Rebekka told her story. "I'll see you around, Corny," David added. And Cornelia was relieved to see him walk away to the parking lot, yelling for another boy to wait up.

Her mother pulled up right at that moment and asked Cornelia who she was talking to. "No one," Cornelia replied. In her head she was thinking, "no one but the boy who has the power to make or break me at this school." She didn't sleep well that night wondering whether or not David was going to tell Rebekka what she had said.
Chapter 8

Service to Others

The next morning, Cornelia's alarm clock woke her up at the ungodly hour of five a.m. She had to shower and get dressed quickly so her mother could drop her off at The Family Connection by six. Again she wore little make-up and put her hair in a ponytail. She put a small pink barrette on a piece of hair that was being unwieldy. This time she borrowed an old t-shirt from her mother and wore a ripped pair of jeans and an old pair of tennis shoes. She had learned her lesson last time when she got paint all over her cheerleading shirt and Nikes. Her mother made her use varnish to clean them rather than buying her new ones.

When Cornelia arrived at The Family Connection, it was still dark outside. The air was brisk and Cornelia put on an old black hoodie that her dad left behind after the divorce. Her mother waved good-bye, but Cornelia did not reciprocate. She was in a hurry to get inside, out of the cold.

When she got to the front, a young African-American girl opened the door for her. Cornelia nodded in thanks and looked around the room. She thought about what had transpired during her last trip and decided to walk right up to Monica to report for duty rather than looking around for Natalie, who, as it turned out, was not there anyway. Monica towered over Cornelia. She looked as if she didn't want to be bothered, but Cornelia approached her anyway.

"Hi Monica," she said nonchalantly.

"Cornelia, can you see I'm in the middle of a conversation here?" Cornelia actually had not noticed. She was so focused on Monica that she did not see that Monica had been conversing with none other than Admeta. "I'm sure you can wait until I'm finished talking."

"Actually," said Admeta, "that's all I needed to know, Mo, thanks." At that, Admeta gave Cornelia a dirty look and walked in the opposite direction.

"Sorry," Cornelia said, honestly.

"Now what is it that was so important that you had to interrupt your classmate?" Monica asked.

"I—I was just reporting in," Cornelia said apprehensively.

"Girl, you don't have to report to me when you get here, you just have to give me your paperwork when the day is over so I can sign it. I don't need to see you before then."

"I said I was sorry," Cornelia snapped without thinking.

"Oh you're sorry alright," Monica said sarcastically and then laughed and shook her head. Cornelia could hear Monica mutter something about a "princess" as she walked away. When she reached the back door, Monica addressed the entire group of fourteen girls. "Listen up, ladies!" The girls were still chattering amongst themselves, except for Cornelia who stood alone in the middle of the room. "Ladies!" Monica yelled at the top of her voice and everyone got quiet. "Thank you. It's time to listen up. Today we're going to the soup kitchen to serve breakfast and lunch. It's in Over-the-River, so please do not get your little selves separated from the group."

Cornelia inadvertently let out a quiet whimper. Over-the-River was a terrible neighborhood just outside of Storm River proper. There were many homeless and poor people but there were also many gang members. Cornelia was aghast at the thought of not only stepping foot in Over-the-River, but also working at a soup kitchen. Cornelia had never even seen a soup kitchen before except on television. The thought of serving ex-cons and homeless people frightened her. She had come to the Family Connection to avoid this kind of community service, not participate in it.

"Cornelia, do you have a problem?" Monica asked in front of everyone and all the girls turned to look at Cornelia.

"N—No, I just thought we'd be painting again is all," Cornelia replied softly.

"It's too cold outside to paint and probably will be until spring, so today we're going to the Over-the-River Soup Kitchen, do you have a problem with that?" Monica raised both eyebrows and put her hands on her hips awaiting a response.

"No, ma'am," Cornelia replied, but her heart was beating very quickly under her mother's t-shirt. She could have sworn she saw Admeta roll her eyes, but everything was a kind of blur. The girls turned back to Monica who had started spouting other instructions. Cornelia wasn't listening. All she could hear was "Over-the-River Soup Kitchen" over and over again. She had the sudden urge to run. She wanted to jet out the front door and call her mother to come get her. She could make up the community service some other time. This was not the sort of thing Cornelia had signed up for. She thought about calling her father to protest, but he was still out of town and she didn't want to deal with her step-mother. Her father probably wouldn't have done anything anyway.

Cornelia looked over at Admeta. When she caught her staring, Admeta rolled her eyes again. She had seen the fear on Cornelia's face, and the terror in her eyes. This made Cornelia angry. She immediately tried to calm herself. "I'm in a large group of people. My phone is tucked away in my pocket and I'm not carrying a purse. I look like hell. No one is going to bother me. No one is going to bother me. No one is going to bother me," she repeated in her head. Cornelia took a deep breath and composed herself. She wasn't going to run. If Admeta could do this, so could she. She was going to stand her ground. She tried to look more nonchalant while Monica finished up her sermon.

"Let's go, ladies!" Monica yelled and the room full of girls filed out the back door to the waiting bus. Cornelia maneuvered her way behind Admeta in the front of the pack. When Admeta sat in an empty seat, Cornelia asked her to move over. When Admeta refused, Cornelia climbed over her and sat by the window. Admeta stared at her. Cornelia stared out the window. Admeta resisted the urge to move, curious as to why Cornelia had insisted on sitting next to her. A few minutes later, the bus was full and Monica was giving the driver directions to the soup kitchen. They were on their way.

The two girls sat silently for a while, then Admeta finally decided to break the silence. "So why did you sit next to me wh--" Admeta caught herself before insulting Cornelia.

"Why not?" Cornelia asked as if the two had been best friends.

"Why not?" Admeta repeated, furrowing her brow.

"Yeah, why not? You're the only one I really know here," Cornelia said, honestly.

"That's because you haven't taken the time to get to know anyone else," Admeta said and Cornelia could have sworn that her accent was thicker than usual.

"I've only been here once, hardly enough time to get to know someone," Cornelia retorted.

"Yeah, but that one time you didn't bother to even try to get to know anyone. Tell me one person's name here. Just one," Admeta insisted.

"Mo--" Cornelia began, but Admeta interrupted her immediately.

"Someone besides Monica," Admeta smirked.

"O.k. then," Cornelia began and looked around the bus. "Isabella!" She said a little louder than she'd planned. Truth be told she was excited that she could actually name someone because she knew Admeta was right. She hadn't gotten to know anyone.

"One of the kids, not the adults," Admeta corrected her.

"Fine," Cornelia snapped, looking around again. She scanned the faces and backs of people's heads but she couldn't come up with anything. She decided to improvise. "That girl over there," Cornelia said, pointing toward the front of the bus. "That's Maria."

"Where?" Admeta asked.

"Right there, in front," Cornelia tried to be vague.

"What is Maria wearing?" Admeta asked.

Unwilling to back down, Cornelia looked around the front of the bus for someone with a dark complexion like Admeta's. She found a girl in the second row and described what she was wearing. Admeta laughed.

"That is NOT Maria. That's Tryphena. You couldn't even pronounce her name if you tried. Do you think every brown girl is named Maria?" Admeta asked, putting a severe accent on the rolled 'r' sound in Maria.

"No!" Cornelia raised her voice. "I know someone's name is Maria, I just can't remember her face exactly. Her back is to me you know."

"Actually," Admeta corrected, "Maria is facing you. She's the tall girl in the pink t-shirt two rows back."

"Well I knew her name anyway," Cornelia said.

"You knew a name," Admeta corrected. "You didn't even know who she was."

"If you'll remember, Monica had me working with you the entire day last Saturday, Admeta," Cornelia shot back, not backing down. Admeta seemed to admire her spirit and did not pursue the subject further. The two were silent for a few minutes, and then it was Cornelia who broke the silence.

"Have you written your paper yet?" she asked.

"Which paper?"

"The one for Writers on the Storm," Cornelia replied.

"Yes," Admeta answered, simply.

"What did you write about?"

"I'm not going to tell you what I wrote about. We're going to share in class, you'll find out then," Admeta said, slightly affronted.

"Well you don't have to be rude about it. I was just asking," Cornelia replied, also affronted.

"Are you asking because you can't think of anything to write about? Is your life so perfect that you can't think of any time you were discriminated against because of your perfect blonde hair or your perfect green eyes or your perfect white skin?" Admeta knew she had gone too far and she felt a pang of regret for making things about race again. Before Cornelia could reply, she said, "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Cornelia was taken aback by Admeta's quick apology. Admeta seemed to be more mature than most freshmen in high school. It came from being the only woman in her house, but Cornelia didn't know that. The two were once again silent, both looking down at the floor. This time neither would break the silence.

As they sat in silence, Cornelia looked out the window. She soon came to realize that they were in Over-the-River. The bus had turned from the highway onto a downtown street, but it kept going past the business district until the towering skyscrapers turned into decrepit apartment buildings with falling down fire escapes and convenience stores that looked like they were robbed daily. Every building had bars on the windows. Cornelia wondered what it must be like to look out of your bedroom window and see only bars. She didn't know it, but Admeta had been thinking the exact same thing. Admeta lived in Price Valley, which was a bad neighborhood compared to Storm River, but it wasn't nearly as bad as Over-the-River on the outskirts of town.

Cornelia felt her pulse quicken. On every street corner there were young people, mostly boys who looked like they belonged to gangs (or worse), hanging out with friends. They were from all walks of life, but they seemed to group themselves by race. She saw groups of white kids, black kids, Asian kids and Hispanic kids, depending on the corner. All looked menacing and yet at the same time there was something about them that seemed sad, almost lonely. They were loud even through the closed windows of the bus. Many had mannerisms that were exaggerated, almost dramatic. Some of the kids turned to look at the bus as it went by. Some even yelled cat calls at the all female passengers.

Cornelia heard one African-American boy yell, "Hey white girl! How you doin', baby?" Cornelia looked away and pretended she didn't hear him. She was sure he was talking to her because she was the only white girl on that side of the bus. He yelled other things at some other girls on the bus, but Cornelia blocked him out. When the bus finally came to a stop outside the soup kitchen, Cornelia was almost relieved. As the girls began exiting the bus she began to look around. There were a lot of people hanging around outside the building which looked like a church of sorts. There was a cross above the door and a sign that said, "Over-the-River Soup Kitchen -- Bring us Your Hungry." Cornelia thought it was an odd expression but she was more worried about all of the people hanging around outside. Most of them didn't have coats and it was freezing.

"They look homeless," she accidentally said out loud as she passed Monica.

"Of course they look homeless. This is a soup kitchen, girl; they ARE homeless. What are you thinking?"

"I just meant—never mind," she said, knowing any justification would sound ridiculous.

After all of the girls had exited the bus, Monica rushed them into a side door. Apparently Monica didn't want to hang around on the streets anymore than Cornelia did. As Admeta and Cornelia were shuffling behind the girls in front of them, they heard a voice call out to them from amongst a crowd of boys standing not too far from the door.

A Hispanic boy wearing nothing but an A-shaped t-shirt, and baggy jeans which were hanging off of his blue boxer shorts was laughing, but Cornelia hadn't heard what he said. She thought he must be freezing with no coat on.

"What's the matter, princess, you don't speak Spanish?" he asked in what Cornelia assumed to be a thick Mexican accent. His 'T's sounded like 'D's and he rolled his 'R's the same way Admeta did.

Before Cornelia could speak, she was shocked to hear Admeta say, "Leave her alone." Turning to address Cornelia she said, "Let's get inside." Admeta recognized the tattoo on the boy's arm. It said "La Hijos de El Salvador." She knew it all too well. This boy belonged to the same gang that her brothers had all been initiated into. The same gang that her oldest brother, Raoul, ran in Price Valley. Admeta wondered if he took part in her brothers' jump-ins in the park. She wondered if it was his fist that blackened Jorge's eye or if the jagged ring on his finger was the source of the scar on Manuel's chin. She wondered if this boy had broken Vuello's ribs or if he was partially responsible for nearly killing Raoul.

"¿Qué es su problema, la princesa?" he called to Admeta.

"Cierre el infierno arriba y tenga inconveniente en su propio negocio, imbecile!" Admeta screamed and Cornelia grew nervous. She didn't know what Admeta was saying, but she was sure it wasn't nice. She was certain that 'imbecile' meant the same thing in Spanish that it did in English. The group of teenagers surrounding the boy laughed.

"¿No enseñó su le madre ninguna manera?" he asked. Apparently he touched a nerve because Admeta looked like she might cry.

"He conseguido sus maneras aquí mismo!" Admeta screamed, holding up the back of her fist in what Cornelia was sure was some sort of sign language for a foul term. "Move!" Admeta shouted at Cornelia and the girls were the last to shuffle through the door.

Cornelia stopped just inside the door. "What the hell was that?" she asked, confused.

"Nothing, let's just catch up to the group," Admeta said, her spirit obviously broken.

"Wait, it wasn't nothing, Admeta, what did that boy say to you?" Cornelia asked, standing her ground.

"Nothing, o.k.? Can we go now?" Admeta asked as Cornelia held her arm out to block Admeta's way.

"Since I was the one you were defending, I think I have a right to know."

"You have a right?--" Admeta was angry at the suggestion. "He called me a princess too, so I told him to shut the hell up and mind his own business. That's all."

"That is not all."

"O.k. he asked me if I had manners and I told him I had his manners right here. Are you satisfied?"

Cornelia wanted to laugh at the suggestion, but she was scared and angry because Admeta wasn't telling her the whole story and she knew it. "There must have been more to it than that. I heard the word imbecile in there somewhere," Cornelia pleaded.

"Well, he was an imbecile," Admeta said putting a Spanish accent on the last word. Now Cornelia couldn't help but laugh and Admeta's stern face eventually faltered and she found herself laughing as well.

"I have your manners right here, imbecile," Cornelia mimicked in a deep, manly voice. The girls laughed again and Cornelia felt as though she had finally found some common ground with Admeta.

"So what was that hand gesture?" Cornelia asked.

Admeta's smile faded as she grew impatient again. "It was nothing, Cornelia, God, do you need to know everything? Let's go," Admeta said and moved Cornelia's arm out of her way. Cornelia did not protest further. She could see that Admeta's mouth was still slightly curled into somewhat of a grin.

When the pair arrived in the kitchen, Monica was already in the middle of one of her introductory speeches. The girls started taking off their coats to hang on the hooks where the other girls had placed their coats.

"Oh, so nice of you two to join us, Miss Cornelia and Miss Admeta," Monica said. Cornelia wondered if Monica had noticed they were missing before they entered the room.

"Sorry, Mo," Admeta said softly, hanging her coat on an empty hook.

"Yes, sorry," Cornelia echoed also hanging her coat, and Monica continued her speech.

Cornelia looked around the room. It was clean, but to Cornelia the kitchen looked filthy. She was used to seeing sparkling white restaurants on the east side. The only cafeteria she ever stepped into was at school. The floor was made of old stone squares separated by cement that Cornelia imagined had once been white. Now it was a dull shade of dark grey, just like the stones. The silver countertops looked clean, but they were scratched and cluttered with different devises like food processors, large mixers and pots and pans. The other pots and pans were hanging on hooks above the counters. They looked a hundred years old and they all had charred bottoms as if they had been burned over open flames on more than one occasion. The walls had once been white too, but now they were stained by repeated grease spatterings.

And then Cornelia looked over at the industrial-sized sinks. They were the biggest sinks she had ever seen in her life. Even the lunch room at school didn't have sinks that big, not that Cornelia would have ever stepped foot in the high school kitchen. Cornelia noticed that the sinks had something in them. They were large chickens. And much to Cornelia's chagrin, they were still feathered. She let out another quiet gasp.

"Miss Cornelia, do...you...have....a...problem?" Monica said, impatiently.

"What?—No," and Cornelia started coughing to cover her faux pas.

"Good, you can begin by cleaning those chickens, Miss Cornelia." Cornelia looked over at the chickens and was struck with horror at the thought. Admeta couldn't help but laugh at the look of absolute terror on Cornelia's face. Monica, growing more annoyed with the pair continued, "And you, Miss Admeta, can help her!"

Monica waited for Admeta to protest, but the girl muffled her laughter and remained silent. "Is anyone else here a joker? Anyone feel a compulsion to hunt down Batman and Robin? If so, I think there are some fish that need to be gutted!" This time it was Cornelia who needed to stifle her laughter. She thought Monica was pretty funny. Admeta was still covering her mouth as well.

Monica did not notice their chests shaking with laughter and she continued handing out assignments. Half of the other girls got to make corn on the stove or chop vegetables on large wooden cutting boards on the counter. The other half of the group got to serve the residents breakfast. The breakfast items must have been prepared before their arrival. Cornelia was a little jealous of the servers. She stood staring at the chickens for what seemed like ten minutes, but was really only about 30 seconds.

"They aren't going to get cleaned by staring at them, Cornelia," Admeta said as she walked over to the sinks.

"What exactly does she mean by clean?" Cornelia asked, looking around to make sure Monica couldn't hear them. She must have been in the next room because Cornelia only saw other girls around them.

"You have got to be kidding," Admeta said, laughing again. When Cornelia shook her head, Admeta added, "I'll show you." Cornelia looked on in revulsion as Admeta grabbed two chickens that Cornelia could now see still had their heads and feet attached. She let out another gasp. "Oh, get a grip," Admeta said, still giggling. "Haven't you ever seen a dead chicken before?"

"Not one that hadn't been cooked! Or one with its head still on!" Cornelia said. Admeta laughed harder. "Hey, stop laughing at me," Cornelia said, but she too was now laughing. She had to laugh, otherwise she might cry. She didn't want to touch the poor birds whose feet, she could see now, were bound together by rope. After Admeta laid the first chicken on a wooden cutting board, Cornelia reached for the first knot to try to untie its legs.

"No, not like that," Admeta protested, and then picked up a large butcher's knife out of its holder. "Like this!" she said, slamming the knife down on the chicken's legs with as much force as she could muster. Cornelia let out a blood curdling scream.

"Oh my God, Cornelia, calm down or you'll have Mo in here yelling at us again. Ut oh, too late," she stopped abruptly, pointing toward the door to the dining room.

"Miss...Corn...eeee....lia!" Monica shouted as she came through the door. "Are you TRYING to give everyone a heart attack?!"

"I'm sorry, Mo', but Admeta just cut this chicken's legs off," Cornelia replied, then cupped her hand over her mouth looking as if she might throw up.

"Well, of course she did, girl. What else do you think 'clean the chickens' means? And who told you to call me Mo'?" Monica had one hand on her hip and the other pointing a finger at Cornelia while shaking her head in exasperation. "Girls, let me tell you what," she said, still shaking an index finger in their direction, "if I have to come in here one more time for your silliness there's gonna be heck to pay; you hear me?" Monica was being completely serious but Cornelia could tell that her lips were slightly curled as if she was trying to hold back a grin.

Cornelia and Admeta nodded their heads and Monica turned around and started back out of the room. Cornelia could hear her whispering under her breath, "Girl ain't never seen nobody skin a chicken. Lord have mercy," and she shook her head as she passed through the door.

Admeta smacked Cornelia on the shoulder, lightly. "Cornelia, you're going to get us kicked out of the program if you keep that up."

"Sorry," Cornelia replied. "I didn't mean to. I've just never seen anything like that before."

"You sure have lived a sheltered life," Admeta said, honestly. There was a pause and then both girls were laughing again. They tried to stifle themselves so Monica would not come back in the room.

"I guess I have," Cornelia replied when she was finished laughing. "How do you know how to do this anyway?"

"My dad works on a farm. Sometimes he brings home chickens for us to eat and I help him clean them."

"Oh," Cornelia replied, surprised that Admeta's father could be a farm worker.

"What? You have a problem with my dad being a farmer?" Admeta asked and Cornelia was disappointed that the sharpness had returned to Admeta's voice for the first time since they were on the bus.

"No, not at all," Cornelia exclaimed. "I was surprised that there are farms in Storm River. Like you said, I've lived a sheltered life. I didn't even know there were farms nearby." Cornelia was looking hopefully at Admeta.

"Oh," Admeta began, changing her tone. "You're right, there aren't. My dad drives about an hour to work."

"An hour? And I thought my dad's commute was bad. He drives a half hour into the city."

"What does your dad do?" Admeta asked, rearranging the chicken on the board.

"He's a lawyer," Cornelia replied. Realizing that his occupation would reinforce Admeta's idea that Cornelia was rich, she added, "but my parents are divorced. I live with my mom."

"What does your mom do?" Admeta asked and then slammed the knife clean through the neck of the chicken, chopping its head off. Cornelia put her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream. "Get a grip," Admeta said again as she nudged Cornelia with her elbow in a friendly manner.

"I'm o.k." Cornelia said, waving her hand in front of her mouth as if she was trying to give herself more air, but she still felt like she was going to throw up. Admeta quickly brushed the feet and head into a trash can and Cornelia was relieved that she no longer had to look at the chicken parts.

"So?" Admeta asked.

"What?" Cornelia asked, hoping Admeta had forgotten the question.

"What does your mom do?"

"Oh," Cornelia was disappointed. "She doesn't do anything really." Seeing the knowing look on Admeta's face, she added, "but she's looking for a job."

"Doing what?" Admeta asked.

Cornelia paused while Admeta lined up the second chicken on the chopping block. As Admeta slammed the knife down on the second chicken's legs, Cornelia replied, "I don't actually know." She was so taken aback by her realization that she didn't have time to feel nauseous about the poor, legless chicken.

"You don't know what your mom does?" Admeta asked, curiously while flipping the chicken around on the cutting board.

"No," Cornelia said and she was slightly ashamed. "What does your mom do?" she asked, changing the subject. Admeta slammed the knife down hard, cutting off the second chicken's head with such tremendous force that she startled Cornelia who jumped a little.

"You're too jumpy," Admeta said, trying to avoid the question.

"I'm beginning to get that," Cornelia said. "So what does your mom do?" Cornelia repeated as Admeta swept the other chicken parts into the trash.

Admeta hesitated and then gave a laugh and said, "Nice try." Cornelia was confused. "When you tell me what your mom does," she continued, "then I'll tell you what my mom does.  
An eye for an eye, you know?" Cornelia got a sneaking suspicion that there was something more to Admeta's avoidance of the question, but she left it alone, just happy that the two were getting along.

"That's not what that expression means, you know," Cornelia said, looking at Admeta out of the side of her eye.

"I know, but you understood what I meant," Admeta replied as she put one of the dismembered chickens in front of Cornelia and one in front of herself.

"What now?" Cornelia asked apprehensively.

"Now we pluck," Admeta said. Noticing the look of disgust on Cornelia's face, she continued. "It's not so bad, look," Admeta said while pulling out a feather from the recently decapitated chicken and throwing it in the trash can. Cornelia reluctantly mimicked Admeta's actions, throwing the feather away in the trash can on her right. The feathers were harder to pull out than she expected. She had to use quite a bit of force. By the time the two had stripped both chickens completely naked, Cornelia's arms ached. Admeta asked someone who worked at the kitchen what they should do next and the little elderly African-American woman taught the girls how to season the chickens and put them in the oven.

Next, Monica gave the girls a tray covered with bowls. They were to put a mix of fruit in the bowls. At first they tried to pile the bowls high, but the elderly woman, who Monica called Miss Thompson, told them they had to make the bowls small in order to stretch the fruit as much as possible. The thought made Cornelia sad somehow, but she and Admeta complied with her wishes. After a few more odd jobs and some idle, but pleasant conversations, the girls were ready to help serve lunch as the other girls began to prepare supper. Other volunteers were going to serve supper later that evening.

As they carried trays out to the dining room, Cornelia was puzzled by the tiny pieces the chickens had been cut into. Miss Thompson had guided some other girls as they pulled all of the meat off the bones and cut them up into pieces that Cornelia felt were way too small. As she looked around the dining room she could see long wooden tables stretched out in three rows. There were benches on each side of the tables. It was dark in the dining hall. There were no windows and the walls were stone, like the floor. The place was ancient and Cornelia thought it must look like a prison cafeteria.

The place where they deposited the food trays was not unlike the lunch line at school. There was one long line of silver counter tops with holes cut out for trays of varying size. There was a sneeze guard stretching the length of the line and a silver banister a few feet from the counter to prevent line cutters. Two girls were setting out drinks at the end of the line. The only thing missing was a cash register.

As Cornelia and Admeta placed a tray of fruit and a tray of corn into the holes in the counter, Cornelia noticed a line of people waiting just outside the door to the dining room. She wondered how long they had been standing there. The other girls were filling up the remaining holes. When all was said and done there was chicken, fish sticks, soup, fruit, rolls and various vegetables along the lunch line. Cornelia noticed a tray full of peanut butter and butter and jelly sandwiches behind the counter that had not been put out. At the end of the counter the girls were finished setting out small pints of milk and juice and cups for water. There was a small water fountain at the end where people could fill their own glasses.

Miss Thompson said, "All right, girls, take a position in front of a tray. Remember everyone gets just one serving of anything in particular. Do not give them more even if they beg." Cornelia was taken aback. How could she deny someone who was begging for more? How could the soup kitchen do such a thing? As if she could hear her thoughts, Miss Thompson continued, "If we go around doing that there won't be enough for everyone. There already won't be enough for everyone as it is, so we just can't do it. One more thing, girls, don't take any gruff off of nobody. If someone gives you a hard time you see Miss Thompson, you hear?" Cornelia thought it was funny that Miss Thompson spoke about herself in the third person, but she was growing more nervous with every word that was spoken. "Don't offer anyone food unless they ask for it. We don't want to give anyone more than they need. Waste not, want not. Got it?" Miss Thompson asked and the girls all nodded.

As the girls took their positions, Cornelia stood behind the chicken while Admeta stood behind the corn on her left. "Shift over to the other side of me," Admeta said.

"What do you mean?" Cornelia asked.

"That's Miss Thompson's spot at the head of the line, you need to move down."

"Oh," Cornelia said as she moved to Admeta's left side behind the fruit. She had perfect timing as Miss Thompson came up behind the girls just then and took her place at the head of the line. Monica was at the other end with the drinks.

"Miss Monica?" Miss Thompson questioned.

"Yes, Miss Thompson?"

"It's time to open the gates."

"Yes, ma'am," Monica said with great respect resounding in her voice and she walked up to the door to open the steel gate that had been keeping customers out. It made a hideous screeching noise that hurt Cornelia's ears. She thought it was worse than fingernails on a chalk board.

Miss Thompson addressed the incoming crowd, "Good afternoon, everyone. As always there is no pushing or shoving in this dining room. You will mind your 'P's and 'Q's and go with God, always. And if'n you don't, you will deal with the wrath of Miss Thompson and don't you forget it." Cornelia wanted to giggle but she could tell Miss Thompson was totally serious. Cornelia wondered what Miss Thompson would do if anyone really did get out of line. She was a tiny old woman who looked like she could barely stand.

Despite her tiny stature, Cornelia was amazed by Miss Thompson. She greeted every single person and called them by name. When she didn't know someone's name she would say, "You are new here, what's your name?" When the person answered, Miss Thompson would tell the person, "It's nice to meet you, Stan," or whatever the person's name was, "I'm Miss Thompson." Then she would spout the rules that she went over when the gates were opened. She would also tell them that if they wanted food they would have to ask for it with a "please."

As people went through the line, they would say to Admeta, "May I please have some corn." Then they would turn to Cornelia and say, "May I please have some fruit." Cornelia was caught completely off guard by this behavior. She thought it was terribly thoughtful and completely unexpected.

The people were also bewildering. They came from all walks of life. There were people there from many different races. They were also all ages. Cornelia was surprised to see small children, even babies waiting in line, usually with their mothers. Some people were dressed like you would expect homeless people to be dressed, but others, whom Cornelia guessed were newly homeless, were dressed just like her, in jeans and a t-shirt.

Cornelia was suddenly glad she didn't wear designer jeans and shoes to this service event. She was self-conscience about the big home she was going to return to where there was plenty of food in the cabinets and the refrigerator. Cornelia had never wanted for anything in her whole life except for expensive toys that her father usually eventually provided after much begging. Her cheeks flushed as she thought about her life of privilege and she felt ashamed, not for being privileged, but for not raising a finger before now to help those less privileged than herself.

As the line progressed, an older Hispanic man approached Admeta's station and spoke to her in Spanish. She was startled when Miss Thompson yelled, "Ut uh, Señor. We speak English in this here dining room. Comprende?" Her accent was horrible and Cornelia thought she was being quite rude. Admeta repeated something to the man in Spanish and he replied in kind, disregarding Miss Thompson's warning.

"It's o.k. Miss Thompson, he doesn't speak English. He was only asking for corn."

"Well teach him how to say 'please' in English then and tell him to say that to all the girls. It ain't nothin' personal. I don't want any foreigners saying things to my girls that I can't understand, you hear? They could be saying terrible things and I wouldn't know it. No, sir, I can't allow that, you understand?" she asked Admeta. Admeta said a few things to the man in Spanish and Cornelia could tell that she was teaching him to say "please" to everyone else.

The man repeated the word "please" to Admeta. She responded, "si, si, excelente." The man smiled at her fondly.

As he walked in front of Cornelia he said only one word, "Please."

His lips were curved in a very apprehensive grin. Cornelia could tell that he was worried he did not say it correctly and Miss Thompson might yell again. "Excelente!" Cornelia exclaimed before she even thought about it and she smiled at the man brightly as she served him a fruit bowl. "Gracias," he exclaimed and he smiled brightly.

"De rien," Cornelia replied. The man looked confused and Admeta turned to look at Cornelia.

"What does 'de rien' mean?" Admeta asked.

"It means 'you are welcome,' " Cornelia replied.

"Not in Spanish it doesn't. What language are you speaking?"

"French."

"The man speaks Spanish, Cornelia, he has no idea what you just said."

"Well, I'm taking French so it's the only way I know how to say it not in English." As the words came out of Cornelia's mouth, both of the girls laughed at the silliness of it. "Well how do you say 'you're welcome' in Spanish?" The man was still looking at Cornelia with confusion.

"De nada," Admeta said with a laugh.

"De nada," Cornelia repeated, bowing to the man, still smiling.

"Oh, si!" said the man and he smiled once again. Cornelia could see he was missing some teeth. She felt sorry for him. For the first time in her life she felt lucky she had to wear braces for two years in junior high. She was feeling lucky about a lot of things.

Now as the man worked his way down the rest of the line, he had the confidence to say "please" with a huge smile on his face. All of the girls returned his smile and those who could speak Spanish said a few words of encouragement as he went along. When he reached the end of the line and picked up his drink he looked back down the counter at Cornelia and said "de rien!" and waved to her. Cornelia blushed and waved. She resisted the urge to laugh because she didn't want him to think she was making fun of him. In reality it was herself she wanted to laugh at for ever thinking that someone who spoke Spanish might understand French. She could see Admeta's stomach shake as she stifled her laughter, so she gave her a playful nudge with her elbow and smiled at her.

More and more people filed through the line. The sight of the children made Cornelia particularly sad. She smiled brightly despite her feelings. She didn't want to make any of the customers feel worse than they must have already felt. There were young people who like they might have been teenage runaways. There were old people who looked as if all hope had vanished from their world. Cornelia smiled extra wide for them, hoping she could brighten their day somehow. Most of the time it worked. Sometimes it just wasn't enough and that hurt Cornelia's heart. The sadness of it all was difficult to internalize.

One particular little girl especially touched Cornelia's heart. She was a young African-American girl who was standing in line holding her mother's hand. Her hair was pulled back in corn rows, capped with little pink barrettes. One of her barrettes had fallen off and she was crying because she feared it was lost forever.

"Don't worry, you'll find it," Cornelia said, but the little girl did not stop crying and her mother shook her head, trying to cut Cornelia off. It was obvious the little girl had lost a lot in her life and her mother didn't want to set her up for any more disappointment.

"Let me tell you what, you can borrow my barrette. And if you don't find yours, then you're welcome to keep it, would that be o.k.?" Cornelia asked. She was addressing the little girl, but also asking the mother's permission. The mother nodded, but the little girl looked apprehensive, although she stopped crying long enough to consider the offer. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks.

"Look, it's pink, just like your other ones," Cornelia said as she removed her barrette and held it out to the little girl, under the sneeze guard. After a moment's hesitation, the little girl reached for the barrette. After examining it for a moment, she too smiled brightly and stopped crying all together. She wiped the tears from her face and tried to put the barrette in her hair by herself, but it was too difficult for her little hands.

The girl's mother put the barrette in her hair instead and said, "What do you say, Oceanna?"

"Thank You!" the little girl shouted and jumped up and down as she tried to examine the barrette bouncing around the side of her head.

"You're welcome," Cornelia said and the mother and daughter moved down the line.

Admeta would never have admitted it, but she was impressed. She had been so convinced that Cornelia was racist it never occurred to her that Cornelia might have just made a very bad mistake out of anger when she wrote those things on the school wall. Admeta watched Oceanna as she reached the end of the line. The little girl seemed to recognize Monica. She told her all about her new barrette and Monica bowed her head in Cornelia's direction in approval. The excited little girl went out to the dining room to eat with her mother.

People continued to go through the line, but the food was beginning to run out. First it was the fruit, then the vegetables. When one little Asian boy took the last piece of chicken, Miss Thompson pulled out the tray of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to replace it. The little boy's mother let out a sigh. She was a very tiny Asian woman who couldn't have weighed much more than her son. She looked malnourished and Cornelia found herself wondering if the pair had a place to sleep that night.

"Here, mommy, you can have my chicken," the little boy said, pointing to his tray. When his mother shook her head, he pleaded, "It's o.k. mommy, I want peanut butter, it's my favorite." The mother smiled back at her son and seemed to know that he wouldn't take "no" for an answer, although she did not speak. Cornelia wondered if she spoke English, but she seemed to understand what her son was saying. She switched trays with him and gave him a kiss on top of the head and they moved on. The drinks, too ran out and the mother and son had to drink water instead. It was one of the hazards of arriving late to the soup kitchen.

The group passed out all of the food until there were only a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches left. As they were packing up Miss Thompson commented, "You girls must be a lucky charm. We didn't run out of food today. Didn't have to turn no one away, yes sir that's a good day. A good day indeed. May we be this lucky at supper, thank you, Jesus." Miss Thompson said as she held her hands up to the ceiling. Her statement pierced Cornelia's heart like a jagged sword. There were some days when people like the little boy who gave his chicken to his mother had to be turned away hungry. She wondered how little girls like Oceanna could go hungry in such a wealthy nation. Cornelia's chest was pounding. She couldn't believe how harsh the reality of the situation was. Her heart broke for each and every person in the dining room.
Chapter 9

Epiphany

When everyone was finished eating, the girls helped clean up and were given peanut butter and jelly sandwiches of their own, along with an apple each. Their reward for a hard day's work. By then the dining room was empty and the girls sat in a group to eat. They were too tired to talk. Or perhaps they were simply too sad. Everyone looked morose.

Cornelia was sitting next to Admeta on the farthest bench from the door. She heard a noise and looked over. Standing by the door was a teenage girl wearing a hijab. She was short and slender and was wearing an unusual outfit. It was a very loose fitting linen dress that looked more like a robe. It had vents on both sides and it was so long that Cornelia could not see the girl's shoes. Her hijab was not elegant silk like the ones Mrs. Hakim wore. It was plain brown linen, like her suit and it was very tattered. Cornelia thought it looked itchy.

Without thinking, Cornelia rose from the table and walked to the door to greet the girl. Admeta had not seen the girl, so she was confused when she saw Cornelia get up and leave without a word. She watched as Cornelia walked to the entrance. Cornelia started to lift the gate that had already been pulled shut, but not locked. Just then Miss Thompson walked out from the kitchen.

"Girl, what you doin'?" Miss Thompson asked Cornelia.

"Oh," Cornelia began, still lifting the gate. She gave a grunt as the gate gave way and went all the way up into the ceiling. "I was just letting her in," she said, pointing to the girl.

"Oh, no, ut uh!" Miss Thompson said, waving an index finger in the air. "We're closed, young lady," she said to the girl who looked quite sad. "I'm sorry, darlin', I truly am, but rules is rules and I can't go breakin' no rules for one person. Otherwise I'd have to break them for everyone. You understand?"

"Miss Thompson, please. You don't even know what she wants," Cornelia pleaded.

"She wants what everyone who comes here wants, child. I'm sorry, but rules is rules," Miss Thompson said sternly. Cornelia could see that Monica was standing behind Miss Thompson watching the scene play out. The girl turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Cornelia said, and grabbed the girl by the arm. "What's your name?" she asked.

The girl looked at Cornelia as if she was going to answer, but then she looked over at Miss Thompson. Cornelia turned too. Miss Thompson's face stayed stern for a moment, but then seemed to soften. Monica's expression did not change. It was as stern as ever, but she was watching with a great deal of interest.

"Well, go on girl, she asked you a question. Least you can do is answer," Miss Thompson said, waving her hand and giving the girl permission.

Shyly, the girl very quietly replied, "Talibah." She pronounced it Tah-lee-bah with a heavy Arabic accent, much thicker than Mrs. Hakim's accent. Cornelia couldn't help but think it sounded a lot like Taliban. She instantly felt ashamed of her thoughts. Why did her mind always go to these places? She couldn't understand it. She led a sheltered life before attending public school, but it wasn't like her parents taught her to think these things about people of different colors and ethnicities. She dreamed this stuff up on her own and it frightened her to think that she always went to a bad place first. She tried to push the thought far from her mind.

"My name is Cornelia. It's nice to meet you," CC said and offered her hand.

The girl looked at her hand for a moment before shaking it. She looked frightened and Cornelia wanted to put her at ease. She barely gripped Cornelia's hand and Cornelia was afraid she might break the girl's fingers if she squeezed at all.

"Are you hungry?" Cornelia asked. She could see Miss Thompson out of the corner of her eye. She looked like she was getting ready to say something, but the girl spoke first.

"I do not wish to cause trouble," the girl said. Cornelia thought she sounded a lot like Mrs. Hakim but her accent was different somehow and much heavier. Neither Mrs. Hakim nor the girl used contractions when they spoke.

"It's no trouble at all," Cornelia said, grabbing the girl's hand and leading her into the cafeteria. Before Miss Thompson could protest, she added, "I'm not hungry, you can have my lunch." She looked at Miss Thompson who seemed satisfied with the compromise.

"Look, now, girls. Rules is rules, but if you want to give this girl your lunch, then that's on you and I ain't gonna interfere. Just so we're clear. Don't forget to put down the gate, now. We don't need no stragglers," Miss Thompson said and then she turned around and walked back into the kitchen followed by Monica who Cornelia could have sworn smiled just a little.

Before Cornelia could grab the gate the girl stopped. "Really, I do not wish to cause any trouble. I can go."

"Oh, no you don't," Cornelia said, pulling her arm. "You heard Miss Thompson. You're already here now. It's no trouble. What's trouble is disobeying Miss Thompson," Cornelia said reassuringly.

She could hear Miss Thompson in the kitchen say, "You know that's right."

Cornelia pulled the gate shut once again and the girls walked over to the table. The other girls didn't seem to notice the scene at all. They were all tired and eating their lunches quietly. Admeta was the only one who was paying attention. She scooted down on the bench so Cornelia and Talibah would have enough room to sit. As they sat down, Cornelia scooted her untouched lunch in front of Talibah. The girl hesitated.

"It's o.k.," Cornelia said. "This is Admeta," she continued, pointing to Admeta.

"Hi," Admeta said with a wave.

"Hello," Talibah replied. "I am Talibah. I am sorry I came late."

"Don't worry about it," Admeta said. "We're all friends here." Admeta smiled at Talibah and then Cornelia. Cornelia was touched that Admeta called her a friend and she smiled back. Talibah looked down at the plate. She looked as if she could devour the entire thing in one bite, but she picked up the sandwich and ate very slowly as if she were savoring every bite. Admeta elbowed Cornelia and handed her half of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Cornelia smiled and accepted it without a word. She had lied when she told Talibah she wasn't hungry and Admeta knew it.

When the girls were finished eating, their energy level returned and they were all chatting happily. Cornelia and Admeta were talking to Talibah. It was small talk at first. They explained where they were from and that they were volunteering for The Family Connection. They told her the story of plucking the chickens. Admeta was a very good story teller and she made Talibah laugh. Cornelia couldn't help but wonder if this was the first time the girl had ever laughed. She looked so forlorn.

"Where are you from?" Cornelia asked. Admeta gave her an elbow to the side. "Ouch!" she said, rubbing her ribs.

"What was that for?"

"That's a rude question, Cornelia."

"Really? I didn't mean to be rude," Cornelia said, honestly.

"No," Talibah said and she laughed at the girls' banter. "It is o.k. I am from Iraq," she said. The girls looked on in awe. Neither of them had met anyone from Iraq before. The Iraq War had been long over but American troops were still there dying every day, along with civilians. Admeta and Cornelia couldn't imagine what it must be like to be from such a war torn country.

"My family came here to escape the war," she added.

"Where is your family?" Cornelia asked and again Admeta elbowed her.

"Would you stop that?" Cornelia asked. "She said it was o.k."

Talibah laughed again. "You must be good friends," she said. Cornelia and Admeta couldn't help but burst with laughter.

"What is funny?" Talibah asked, confused.

"Oh, nothing," Admeta said, still laughing. "It's just that if you would have said that before today I would have been disgusted at the thought," Admeta said. Then she looked at Cornelia's hurt face and added, "I said before today, Cornelia. You know it's the truth." And she jabbed Cornelia in the ribs again, this time playfully.

Cornelia laughed and said, "Yeah, you're right, I guess. I can be an idiot sometimes." She wasn't kidding. She was looking at Talibah and thinking about the hurtful words she wrote about Mrs. Hakim. She wondered what Talibah would have thought had she seen what Cornelia wrote. It probably would have broken her heart or at the very least her spirit. Cornelia looked into Talibah's eyes. They were a very light color, like nothing Cornelia had ever seen before. They weren't quite hazel and they weren't quite brown. They were the color of an iced mocha and Cornelia felt there was quite a story hiding behind them.

"Oh my," Talibah said, looking at the clock. "I must go," she said and stood up.

"But why?" Cornelia asked. Talibah hesitated. She looked at the two girls who had been so kind to her. She didn't want them to think less of her, but she also could not tell a lie.

"I have to get to the shelter before all of the cots are taken," she said, looking down at the floor, ashamed. "It is first come, first served and if you don't come early they can turn you away," she finished. The girls didn't know what to say. Their hearts sunk to think of someone their age living in a homeless shelter not knowing if she'll have a place to eat or sleep from day to day.

"But what about dinner?" Admeta asked. Cornelia nodded as if she wanted to ask the same question.

"It is a choice," Talibah said. "You can either eat dinner or have a place to sleep. It is cold outside. I choose a warm place to sleep.

"Besides," she continued. "Thanks to your kindness I have eaten and my stomach is full." The girls were looking at her with great sadness in their eyes. Cornelia felt as though she might cry.

"Do not fret, my friends. What I have described is a good day. I thank Allah for my many blessings and I thank both of you. I really must go," she said and she headed toward the gate before Cornelia or Admeta could say anything. But what would they say anyway? It wasn't like they could take her home with them. They barely knew her. Admeta's father couldn't afford another mouth to feed and Cornelia's mother would go through the roof is she brought home a stranger. Both girls had heavy hearts. They sat there watching Talibah open the gate and shut it behind her. She faded away out of sight as the girls simply watched, helpless. They did not speak, but simply sat in silence, still looking at the gate.

Monica came in from the kitchen and interrupted the silence. She asked Cornelia and Admeta to fetch some boxes she had brought from The Family Connection while the rest of the girls started to clean up the kitchen. The boxes contained some clothes to be donated to the soup kitchen. Cornelia and Admeta went through the kitchen and out the side door to search the bus.

When they got outside, Cornelia scanned the area for Talibah, but she was long gone. Cornelia's heart hurt for her. She couldn't bear the thought of Talibah giving up dinner so she could get a cot at some church, surrounded by strangers. She wondered why Talibah hadn't answered the question about her family. Cornelia wondered if she had any family at all. Then she thought about Mrs. Hakim. She had come to America from Iran when she was 16, just a few years older than Talibah. Cornelia wondered what she was like back then. She thought she was probably a lot like Talibah and it pained her to think about her crime. For the first time she not only know what she did was wrong, she knew that she must apologize to her teacher as soon as possible.

She was just about to tell Admeta about her plan, but she was interrupted. Before the girls reached the bus, the Hispanic boy who had approached them earlier stepped right in their path.

"You never answered my question earlier, chica," he said to Admeta, brushing his finger on her chin to raise her eyes to his. "¿Qué es su problema, la princesa?"

"You'd better leave her alone!" Cornelia yelled before she even thought about it.

"I don't have a problem," Admeta interrupted. "You're the one who's going to have the problem." Admeta pushed the boy's hand away from her face and he grabbed her around the waist.

"Let go of her!" Cornelia screamed. She was terrified that the boy was going to pull out a knife or worse. Cornelia grabbed the boy's arm but she couldn't make him release his grip on Admeta who didn't make any attempt to free herself. In fact, she remained perfectly calm. The crowd of teenagers the boy had been standing with earlier had gone. Only a few boys remained behind. They were laughing at the scene, but they made no attempt to interfere with what was happening.

Cornelia did the only thing she could and scraped her well-manicured nails across the boy's arm, leaving crimson scratch marks in their wake. "What the--!" the boy yelled and pushed Admeta to the ground.

"Oh, you just made the wrong move, white girl!" he yelled in English. Then he wrapped his wounded arm around Cornelia's neck and turned her around to face Admeta.

"Your friend doesn't have any manners either, chica!" he spat. Admeta struggled to get to her feet while the other boys laughed and pointed.

"You'd better let go of her right now, la Hijo," Admeta said, putting an accent on the Spanish part.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me. If you don't let her go right now I'm going to tell my brother."

"Oh really? Did you hear that, boys? Little Hispanic Princess here is going to tell her brother on me! Oh, I'm scared, amiga!" His grip on Cornelia loosened as he made fun of Admeta, but she was still frozen with fear.

Admeta had a strange look on her face, like a cross between terror, anger and smugness. "My brother is Raoul Vasquez!" she screamed and the boy released his hold on Cornelia almost immediately. Admeta grabbed Cornelia's arm so she didn't fall. Cornelia gasped for a moment and bent over to catch her breath, rubbing her neck with her other hand.

"Raoul?" the boy questioned as if he hadn't just been holding the girls hostage.

"Yeah," Admeta said, flipping her chin in the air arrogantly.

"Is Raoul your only brother?" the boy asked skeptically.

"No, stupid," she said, "Jorge, Manuel, and Vuello are also my brothers." Admeta smiled a little bit as if she were drunk with power. Cornelia was still holding her throat and catching her breath. Cornelia wanted desperately to run back to the kitchen for help but she was afraid of what might happen to Admeta if she left her there and Admeta did not relinquish her grip on Cornelia's arm.

Admeta and the boy stood there staring at each other for a moment, then the boy roared with laughter. His group of cronies followed suit. "Did you hear that, hermanos? This is the Raoul V's sister! Why didn't you say so in the first place?" he looked at Admeta curiously.

"Because I didn't think I needed to condescend to address filth like you." Admeta pointed her index finger right at the boy's nose. Cornelia nearly had a heart attack. Just when she thought the boy was going to leave them alone, Admeta went and tried to pick a fight with him. But to Cornelia's surprise the boys just laughed.

"I like you, Raoul's hermana. You have spirit. Why aren't you with your brothers? Over-the-River can be a dangerous place, you know what I mean, amiga?" Cornelia thought he meant dangerous right at that very moment, but Admeta knew exactly what he meant. He was asking her why she wasn't in the gang.

"I have better things to do," she said and Cornelia was wondering why she continued to provoke the boy who was obviously unstable.

"Whatever, chica," the boy said, waving both of his hands in dismissal as he walked back to his friends.

Admeta pointed to Cornelia and added, "And she's under Raoul's protection too, so don't go bothering her again!"

Admeta pulled Cornelia's arm and headed toward the bus. Cornelia protested. She wanted to go back in the kitchen to get help. Admeta whispered to her, "If you run, they will see your fear, let's just do what we came to do. Show them they don't matter. They'll respect that." Cornelia did not reply, but reluctantly followed Admeta's lead.

As they picked the boxes up off the back seat of the bus, Cornelia could see the group of boys still staring at them from the corner. They were laughing and making exaggerated motions, seemingly reenacting the scene. "Don't look at them," Admeta said. "Don't give them the satisfaction. Just pretend they don't exist."

"That's not so easy to do considering he almost just killed me," Cornelia said in a surprisingly calmer voice.

"You're exaggerating," Admeta replied. "Don't worry. They think you're under my brother's protection, they won't bother you again."

"What does that even mean?" Cornelia asked.

"My brother is the head of their gang," Admeta said, matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Cornelia said, surprised. She had never known anyone in a gang before, or even the sibling of someone in a gang.

"It's o.k., I'm not a member or anything. I think that stuff's stupid. My brothers are wasting their lives just like those idiots over there," Admeta said, careful not to look in the boys' direction. Cornelia did not reply; she didn't know what to say.

The two girls carried the boxes back to the kitchen in silence and Miss Thompson accepted the donations and thanked the group for coming. She said she hoped to see them someday soon. Monica promised to return in the future. Cornelia was actually happy about her reply. She wanted to come back again, despite what happened with the gang. She felt for the people she met that day and she wanted to do something more for them.

The girls didn't talk much on the way home. They were all tired and drained. When they got back to The Family Connection, the other girls departed while Cornelia waited around for Monica to sign her community service log.

When Admeta turned to leave, she said, "See you in school."

"Yeah," Cornelia replied and she turned to Monica holding out her papers.

"Here you go Mo'—er, sorry, Monica."

Monica laughed a little and said, "No, it's o.k. girl, you can call me Mo'. You've earned the right today girl," she said, signing her name to "day two" on the log.

Cornelia smiled and said, "Thanks, Mo," and turned around and walked out the front door.

As she was walking she could hear Monica repeat, "Earned the right," and Cornelia felt a certain level of pride, not just for earning Monica's trust, but for the work she had performed that day. As she rode home with her mother thinking about the day's events, she suddenly realized what she was going to write about for Writers on the Storm.
Chapter 10

Write On

On Monday on her way to drop Cornelia off at school, Valerie told her she was going out and wouldn't be able to pick Cornelia up from Writers on the Storm.

"Great," Cornelia spat back, "I have to walk home."

"I'm not going to argue with you, CC, I haven't had a night on the town since your father and I got divorced and I'm going. End of conversation."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Later that day, Cornelia met her clique for lunch as usual. She was going to tell them all about Talibah and how she wanted to apologize to Mrs. Hakim, but Rebekka had given Cornelia the cold shoulder in Geometry class and she wanted to know why. As she approached the lunch table with Chad at her side, Rebekka's eyes were shooting daggers.

Before she even sat her tray down, Rebekka said, "So I hope you're happy with yourself, Corny."

Affronted, Cornelia sat her tray down hard and said, "Do NOT call me Corny, Rebekka. Let's be adults. Why don't you tell me what you're talking about? Are you upset that your boyfriend accosted me or that I told him off?"

"Wait, who accosted you, CC? Did someone hurt you?" Chad asked, setting his tray down next to Cornelia's. CC hadn't had a chance to tell Chad what had happened on Friday.

"She wishes," Rebekka said and Sarah gave a little laugh.

"Accosted might be a poor choice of words, but it was David Warton whom 'Bekka,'" she said in a snide tone, mocking Rebekka, "was snogging behind the band building, that grabbed me after the game Friday," Cornelia said, adding to Chad, "but he didn't hurt me." Cornelia took a moment to smile at her concerned boyfriend before scowling back at Rebekka.

"Oh, he didn't grab you," Rebekka said skeptically.

"Actually he did grab me, Rebekka, TWICE! And he had no right," Cornelia said angrily. Chad was looking on with great concern.

"Wait, he grabbed you?" Chad asked.

"Well even if he did, you were antagonizing him first," Rebekka said. "You threatened to tell Kenzie about us, CC, and that's not cool."

"I did not! Did he tell you that? He's a liar! I told your creepy boyfriend to keep his hands off of me and he got pissed. That's all that happened. Did he mention that he told me how pretty I was? Did he tell you that he put his arm around me? That's the kind of snake you're messing around with, Rebekka."

"He - He did what now?" Chad asked, now quite concerned.

"I got away from him fast," Cornelia said, trying to ease Chad's fears.

"That's not the point, CC," Chad replied.

"Get over it, Chad, David didn't touch Cornelia and even if he did, what's a scrawny guy like you going to do about it?" Rebekka asked, rudely.

"Hey!" Interceded Amanda as she laid her tray on the table. "Everyone is looking at you; do you think you can keep your voices down?"

Cornelia ignored Amanda's warning. "I don't care who you think you are, Rebekka, you can't talk to my boyfriend like that. We're leaving!" Cornelia picked up her tray and walked away and Chad followed. The couple sat at an empty table. Cornelia could see Amanda questioning Rebekka and Sarah to see what had just transpired. Cornelia was certain Rebekka would deny insulting Chad and that Sarah would back her up. Cornelia was seething with anger wondering who Amanda would side with. Since she wasn't very pleased with Cornelia at the moment, Cornelia was sure she would side with Rebekka.

Chad try to quell her anger, "Calm down, CC, I don't care what Rebekka thinks of me. I only care about you." Cornelia looked into to Chad's eyes and found her anger slowly melting away.

"She has no right," she added almost as an afterthought.

"Don't worry about Rebekka. She's a spoiled brat who only thinks about herself."

Cornelia paused, then furrowed her brow and asked, "Is that what you've always thought?" She looked at Chad, who looked away, not wanting to respond.

"Why haven't you told me until now?" Cornelia persisted.

Chad gave in, "She's your friend, CC. I keep my mouth shut about your friends, so I guess I'm kind of taking advantage of your anger to voice my opinion."

Seeing the surprise on her face, he added, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, it's not that," she reassured him. "I just wish I had known that's how you felt about Rebekka."

She continued, "How do you feel about Sarah and Amanda while we're being honest?"

"I don't have any argument with Amanda except that I'm pretty sure she has an eating disorder. But Sarah," Chad hesitated.

"Yes?" Cornelia prodded him with a smile and poke on the shoulder.

"Well, she's sort of a lapdog for Rebekka, isn't she?" Chad looked sincere. Cornelia looked at him for a moment then let out a laugh.

"She sure is," Cornelia replied and they both laughed together. Chad suddenly became serious again.

"Now back to the subject, CC, did David hurt you?"

"No, he really didn't. He just annoyed me. He wasn't trying to hurt me. I actually think that was his twisted way of flirting with me. I don't know. I just know that he's a scum bag," Cornelia said.

"Yes, he is, and I want you to promise me you'll stay away from him, CC."

"Don't worry about that. I'll avoid him like the plague. I don't like the guy," Cornelia said.

"I have your word?" Chad asked skeptically.

"Yes, you have my word, King Chad. And my word is as good as the gold in your crown, your majesty," Cornelia said, tapping him on the head and leaning over the table to kiss him on the end of the nose. The pair laughed nervously, trying to shake off the bad feelings. Cornelia looked over at Rebekka, Sarah and Amanda. They were in what looked like a heated discussion.

"Don't pay any attention to them, CC," Chad said. "You and I know the truth."

Cornelia smiled. "I can't believe you still have faith in me after what I did." She was referring not only to her act of vandalism weeks earlier, but also the lie she told to get Chad to drive her to school that day. She now understood that both were wrong.

"We all make mistakes. I'll never stop having faith in you, CC," Chad said and smiled, putting a French fry in her mouth. Chad's parents never let him eat junk food, so he took every opportunity at school to get a fix. French fries were his favorite.

Cornelia shoved one of her fries in his mouth and the two were laughing again. Cornelia could see Rebekka staring at them through the corner of her eye. She hoped Rebekka would find out how wrong she had been someday. She wanted an apology. Then for some strange reason, Mrs. Hakim came to mind. Cornelia knew she owed Mrs. Hakim an apology. She didn't know why she couldn't see it before she met Talibah. She was just so angry, but that was no excuse for what she did. Meeting Talibah helped her realize how wrong she was to lash out at Mrs. Hakim because of her race. Deep down it wasn't even about that. It was about hurting her the only way Cornelia knew how. That way just happened to be by attacking her race. It was an easy thing to do.

People fear what they don't understand and since the War on Terror began in 2001, people had been afraid of Muslims. It was a religion most Americans didn't understand. It was difficult for most to separate radical extremists from average Muslims. It was no different than radical Christians who bombed abortion clinics in the United States, but not many people could understand that. Fear breeds hatred. Cornelia understood that now. Meeting a Muslim her own age somehow gave her a better understanding of Mrs. Hakim. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. She had to apologize, but she knew she didn't deserve forgiveness.

Chad and Cornelia spent the remainder of lunch alone and next bell, during study hall, Cornelia drafted her letter to Mrs. Hakim. She wrote and rewrote half a dozen times but nothing sounded right. She didn't think her words were contrite enough but she didn't know how else to verbalize her apology. She knew she had done something stupid out of anger, but she didn't know how to apologize for it. When the bell rang, Cornelia ripped up all of her drafts and put them in the trash.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Cornelia didn't speak in English class. Every time she looked at Mrs. Hakim all she could think about was the ripped up apology notes in the trash can. She didn't even speak to Admeta except to say hello. After school, Cornelia once again walked Chad to his bike and then headed for classroom 97 for another Writers on the Storm meeting. When she arrived, the desks were already in a circle. Mrs. Hakim was smiling brightly at the front of the room.

"Writers, please take the same seats you had last week so our new members can have a chance to learn your names," she said.

Everyone shuffled to their seats, except one person who had not been there last week. One person whom Cornelia had no idea was a member of Writers on the Storm. One person who turned out to be the last person Cornelia suspected would be involved in a writer's group.

Kenzie Phillips took a seat between Admeta and Steve, across from Cornelia. Cornelia was suddenly very self conscious. After all, she had only been arguing about Kenzie's boyfriend all through lunch. She knew David was cheating on Kenzie with Rebekka and the guilt was eating her up inside. She suddenly wanted to jump out of her chair and confess everything to Kenzie, but who was she? Why would Kenzie believe her? They barely knew each other. Cornelia's thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Hakim.

"O.k., Writers, obviously we have another new member this week. Most of you probably know Kenzie Phillips. We started to introduce ourselves last week, but we got side tracked, so let us try again, shall we? I will begin," Mrs. Hakim said.

"My name is Samantha Hakim. I was born in San Diego, California but my family moved to Storm River earlier this year. I have three children. My daughter, Raja is 8, my son, Nazeeh, is 4, and my daughter, Zayn is one-and-a-half and our poodle is about 35 in dog years," she said. Everyone gave a laugh. Cornelia noticed that Mrs. Hakim didn't mention the dog's name this time. She thought perhaps the teacher was trying to avoid another argument.

Mrs. Hakim pointed to her right and said, "Amanda, you go next."

"What should I say?" Amanda asked as she stood up.

"Just describe yourself," the teacher replied.

"O.k. well," Amanda began. "I have brown hair and hazel eyes."

"No no, dear," Mrs. Hakim interrupted politely. "You misunderstand. It is my accent, I know," she lied so Amanda wouldn't feel stupid. "I meant, tell us about yourself. What do you like to do in your free time? What other groups are you involved in? Do you have any pets? That kind of thing. Why don't you start with your name and grade?" Mrs. Hakim smiled in an attempt to alleviate Amanda's embarrassment.

"Oh, right," Amanda said. "Sorry."

"No need to be sorry, dear. When someone misunderstands us or our writing it is up to us to make it right, no?"

"Right," Amanda said. "Well, my name is Amanda Stanfield. I'm a freshman. I'm in student council and Writers on the Storm, obviously," she said, nervously. "I'm also a reporter for the Storm River Chronicle where I write about student council mostly." Cornelia was surprised to hear this. She had not known that Amanda was so into writing.

"My mom has a pet Maltese that I hate with a passion. She barks any time you go near her. That's about it I guess," Amanda concluded and quickly sat down.

"Thank you, Amanda," Mrs. Hakim said. "Andy, please go ahead."

Andy stood and said, "Well, I'm Andy Turner, half of the duo known as Andy and Randy Turner, or the Ginger Twins," and then laughed. A few other students laughed with him. Cornelia still had no idea what he was talking about.

"I'm a freshman. I like to fish and write about fishing. This is pretty much the only group I'm in at school. Oh, and I like to make people laugh," he said and made a funny face. Some people laughed, but not Cornelia. She thought Andy looked demented.

"Randy and I have a pet snake named Nagaina. She's not a cobra though, she's only a rat snake. Our mom wouldn't let us have a cobra, which is what we really wanted. She said we would be dead within a day if we were allowed to have one." Everyone again laughed. Everyone, that is, except Cornelia. She hated snakes. The very thought made her skin crawl. As Andy sat down, panic overtook her as she realized it was her turn. She didn't like to speak in front of groups of people.

"Thank you, Andy, please take your turn, Cornelia," Mrs. Hakim said and Andy bowed before he sat down. A few students laughed again.

Cornelia stood up, but she remained silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I'm Cornelia Drake and I'm a freshman too, I don't have any pets" she said, and then stopped. "Uh, I'm not sure what else to say," she said. She stood there looking at everyone for a moment.

"Why don't you tell us what you like to do, Cornelia?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

Cornelia remained sitting and said, "Well, I'm a cheerleader, so I like yelling and jumping." Some people in the room laughed. Cornelia wasn't trying to be funny, so her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, but she was not offended. She felt foolish talking about her likes and dislikes when she knew everyone in the room disliked her, except for maybe Admeta and Amanda and the latter was still mad at her. She felt like what she was saying was nonsense. She knew what she should be saying. She just had to work up the courage to do it. She paused for a moment and cleared her throat.

"Mrs. Hakim," she continued, "would it be o.k. if I said something more?"

"What do you mean, dear?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

"Well," Cornelia began, and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. This was strange for Cornelia, who usually didn't show much emotion, especially in a group of strangers. Before she spoke she had been thinking about Talibah, but now her only thoughts were of Mrs. Hakim and what she did to her.

"I think everyone here knows that I owe you an apology," she said as she looked around the room and noticed everyone staring at her unblinkingly. She didn't care. For the first time in her life, Cornelia didn't care what people thought of her. She turned her attention to her teacher, who did not interrupt. It was as if everyone else in the room had vanished. She could no longer feel their eyes on her. The only eyes that mattered were Mrs. Hakim's. As she spoke, it was from her heart, not because it was what everyone thought she should do, but because she believed it was what she should do. She was finally owning up to her crime, being honest with herself and everyone else and feeling genuine remorse.

"I tried to put an apology in writing several times, but the words just never came out right. I ripped them all up," she said, not taking her eyes off of Mrs. Hakim who was staring back at her with a slight twinkle of pride in her eyes. Mrs. Hakim had always known Cornelia didn't mean the things she wrote. She had always believed Cornelia wrote something she would someday regret; it was just a matter of time and distance.

"I did something really awful to you because I was mad about getting a grade that it turns out I deserved. It was childish and stupid, I knew that even as I was doing it, but what I didn't know was that it wasn't just a crime against you. It was a crime against everyone in this school," she said and then thought about the judge from her trial. "It was a crime against everyone in our community," she echoed his words. "Worst of all, it was racist," Cornelia finally admitted. It was the first time she said it out loud and the first time she even admitted it to herself.

"I didn't mean it to be, honestly I didn't," she said, looking around the room as if she were pleading for forgiveness from everyone.

"I know that sounds stupid because what I wrote was racist. What I mean was that it wasn't my intention. My intension was to hurt you the same way I hurt when I saw that D on my progress report. That was all I was focused on. The judge said I was a stuck-up, spoiled rotten hooligan and he was right. I lashed out in a really stupid way.

"I know some people may think I'm apologizing to you just to suck up or get them to forgive me, but I want to apologize to you because it's the right thing to do. You're the only person I want forgiveness from," she said, pausing to wipe away a tear that had slipped down her right cheek.

"Mrs. Hakim, I thought words didn't mean much, but I've learned that's not true at all. As I tried to write an apology to you over and over again, I learned that words have the power hurt. And I'm hoping they can heal too.

"All I can say is I'm very sorry to you, to everyone here and everyone else affected by what I did. I did a horrible thing and I can't take it back," Cornelia's voice was now wavering. Her lips quivered as she spoke. This was the most adult conversation she had ever had in her life.

"Cornelia," Mrs. Hakim interrupted, wanting to put Cornelia out of her misery. "Your apology is accepted." Cornelia began to speak, but Mrs. Hakim again interrupted. "Nothing else need be said on this matter, Cornelia. As far as I'm concerned it is over. I appreciate your apology. I'm sure the group does as well, no?" she asked the group. Everyone sat perfectly still with the exception of a few nodding heads. Cornelia was grateful, but she felt like she should say more.

"Mrs. Hakim?" Admeta inquired.

"Yes, Admeta?"

"I also have an apology to make," Admeta said. Cornelia looked at her classmate in confusion.

"Cornelia, I was the one who put that sign on your locker," she said, rolling her eyes. "It was childish and stupid and I apologize." It sounded more like a command than an apology, but Cornelia got that Admeta was not used to apologizing either. She was not surprised that it had been Admeta who put the racist sign on her locker.

"Thanks," Cornelia replied. The two girls stood looking at each other, knowingly.

"Well, this is good, Writers!" Mrs. Hakim said. "We are opening up the lines of communication and letting our words flow, not only in our writing, but in our speech. Unless someone else has anything to apologize for," she said, pausing for an interruption that never came. "Good. Let us continue with our introductions." Mrs. Hakim smiled and raised her hand to Randy. "I believe it is your turn, Mr. Turner." Cornelia was glad that she didn't have to continue with an introduction and she and Admeta both sat down.

Randy stood up and said, "Uh, hi, I'm Randy Turner. That's a weird act to follow." He let out a nervous laugh. "Um, pretty much everything Andy said applies to me too," Randy said, and then sat down. He wasn't as cheerful as his twin. Cornelia wasn't sure if all the apologies made him uncomfortable or if he was always that way.

Brenda went next. "My name is Brenda Stark. I'm also on student council and the school newspaper staff. I'm the editor," she said and Cornelia could have sworn a look was exchanged between Brenda and Amanda. "I'm also the editor of Poetry by Storm and I'm a senior." Brenda smiled darkly and sat down. Cornelia thought she was a pretty humorless girl.

Ralph stood up and said, "I'm Ralph Ziggler. I'm a junior and like writing." He sat down before he even finished speaking. He looked very uncomfortable and Mrs. Hakim didn't argue with his short introduction.

"My name is Steve Esandros," Steve said, standing up. "I'm a sophomore. I'm on the wrestling team." Cornelia suddenly understood why she had never met Steve. There are no cheerleaders in wrestling. That also explained his physique. "I have a five-year-old collie named Sparky. That's about it, I guess," he said and sat down.

Kenzie stood up and Cornelia watched her every move. "My name is Kenzie Phillips. I'm a senior. I've been in Writers on the Storm the last three years." Cornelia was wondering why Kenzie hadn't been at the previous week's meeting. "I'm a cheerleader," Kenzie continued and Cornelia was surprised that she did not mention that she isn't just any cheerleader, but the head cheerleader. "I'm also on the debate team, student council, the business club, drama and Fine Arts Club. I have a Chihuahua named Van. I'm thinking of changing his name, though." Kenzie stopped abruptly, fearing she had said too much. She rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling, seeming to rack her brain as if she had forgotten something, but satisfied that she did not, she sat down. It was Admeta's turn.

"Admeta," Mrs. Hakim said, waving her hand in Admeta's direction.

Admeta stood up with one hand on her hip. Cornelia thought she looked nervous for the first time since she'd known her. "Umm," Admeta began. Then she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and put her hand on her other hip. Her entire demeanor seemed to change.

"My name is Admeta Maria Theresa Inez Vasquez." Cornelia noticed that Admeta's accent seemed thicker and stifled the urge to laugh. She didn't want to offend Admeta after all of the progress they had made. Admeta was waving her right hand around animatedly.

"I'm a freshman. I'm from Price Valley. That's right, the valley, not River Hill," Admeta said with attitude, looking around the circle for any sign of objection. She saw none.

"I like to write, watch TV, surf the Web, basic stuff. I hate people who are fake..."

Mrs. Hakim interrupted, "Admeta, why don't we just leave it at what you like, not what you dislike."

"Well then that about covers it, Mrs. H."

"Very well, Admeta, you may sit," Mrs. Hakim replied and Admeta sat back down, seeming relieved. Cornelia secretly wondered if Admeta had been referring to her when she said she didn't like people who are fake, but they had come so far yesterday that she tried to put that thought out of her mind.

Sandy went next. "I'm Sandy Turner. I'm a junior." Andy coughed and Sandy gave him a funny look. "I like music, books, all kinds of stuff, really." Now Randy coughed. Cornelia was beginning to wonder what was going on between the Turner siblings. Sandy gave Randy a dirty look.

"I like fashion magazines, tabloids, anything to do with celebrities." This time Andy and Randy coughed in unison.

"O.k.! Enough, Ginger Twins! I get it! I'm also Andy and Randy's sister, there, are you happy?" she asked, quite annoyed with her little brothers, and then promptly sat down.

The group was mostly puzzled by the transaction that had just taken place. Ralph and Admeta were shaking their heads as if this hadn't been the first time Andy and Randy had put on a show for Writers on the Storm.

Cornelia didn't see the point. She didn't think it was funny. In fact she thought it was rude of Andy and Randy to interrupt their sister. Cornelia was suddenly glad she was an only child.

"Thank you, Sandy," Mrs. Hakim said to diffuse the tension. Cornelia could have sworn she shot a knowing look at the Ginger Twins. "Valerie, dear, would you be so kind?"

Valerie giggled nervously. She was struggling to get out of the desk, which was a snug fit on her full figure. Valerie's olive skin turned bright red with embarrassment. Normally Cornelia would have found Valerie's struggle funny, but after seeing the look on Valerie's face she felt rather sad. She was amazed to find herself thinking that the school should have been more considerate when they bought desks. Not everyone is a size 6.

Valerie rubbed her left eye under her thick black-rimmed glasses and began speaking. "Umm," she said and then giggled again. "I'm Valerie, of course." She crossed her arms nervously. It was if she were trying to hide her entire torso.

"I really like video games. I can beat all of my friends at any game, on any console. I'm in the math club, the physics club, the chess club and Writers on the Storm, of course. Umm," and Valerie was giggling again, and Cornelia could see the glimmer of her shiny braces.

"I think that's about it," she said. "Oh, I almost forgot. I have a pet rat named Mrs. Frisby. She's really, really cool. She runs around my house in a traveling ball and has a huge cage with a maze, and an exercise wheel and lots of tunnels." When Valerie pronounced her 'S's they hissed a little through her braces.

Andy suddenly interrupted, "I'd like to introduce Mrs. Frisby to Nagaina," he said and then laughed hysterically. Randy was laughing too, but Valerie shrieked. The rest of the group showed little interest in Andy's comments.

"I'm sure Andy was only joking," Mrs. Hakim said as she stood up and walked over to Valerie. She gently placed a hand on Valerie's shoulder and Valerie sat down with tears in her eyes.

"Isn't that right, Andy? You were only joking even though it wasn't your time to speak?"

Andy's chest deflated and he suddenly looked defeated. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry Valerie," he said. Valerie just stared down at her desk. Mrs. Hakim still had her hand on Valerie's shoulder.

"Let's move on, shall we?" she asked. "Alright, Writers, last week I asked you to write about any form of discrimination you have experienced or witnessed," Mrs. Hakim said. "Let's see what you came up with, shall we?" She seemed to linger on her L sounds a little too long. It was just another aspect of her accent which Cornelia was thinking was quite different from Talibah's accent. She thought it was strange for people from neighboring countries to have such different ways of pronouncing things. Before she had thought that all Arabs sounded the same.

Cornelia was very still in her desk. She was afraid any kind of movement she would make could be misconstrued as a sign that she would like to volunteer to share. The truth was she was hoping that everyone else would take up the entire meeting time sharing their stories and she would not have to address the group. Apparently she was not alone as no one else jumped at the chance to go first either.

Mrs. Hakim looked around the room at the nervous faces. "Writers," she said, "I know this is a difficult topic, so I will go first." Cornelia was surprised that the faculty advisor actually participated in the activities. Mrs. Kerrier, the Student Council advisor, usually just sat in the corner of the room with her head bobbing up and down, trying not to fall asleep while they conducted their meetings. Then a sudden flash of fear entered her mind. They were supposed to write about discrimination. What if Mrs. Hakim had written about what Cornelia did?

"My story is about the first time I ever heard the expression 'dune coon,' " she said. Cornelia was relieved that Mrs. Hakim was not going to read about what she had done, but she was also confused. She had never heard that expression before and didn't know what it meant. As far as she knew, Dune was a book she was forced to read in sixth grade English class and coon, she could only surmise was short for raccoon. Mrs. Hakim had skin around her eyes that was sometimes slightly darker than the rest of her face and Cornelia wondered if that was what it was a reference to. She soon found out that is wasn't.

Mrs. Hakim read her paper out loud for the group, showing no emotion whatsoever. Cornelia wondered how she could share something so personal without demonstrating at least a little emotion. Mrs. Hakim's paper was about the first time she came to visit America since she was a baby in San Diego. On that trip, her family went to the zoo. She said a man in a red cap pointed to her family and yelled, "Look son, they even have some dune coons here."

Mrs. Hakim said that her older sister began to cry and as her parents tried to comfort her, she looked on in amazement. She was too young to understand what the words meant, but her sister had known. Her sister knew they were hateful words. Mrs. Hakim said that even though she didn't know what the words meant, she could judge from her sister's reaction that they were intended to be hurtful. The man and his son walked away laughing as Mrs. Hakim's sister stood inconsolable.

While reading her paper, Mrs. Hakim explained that "dune coon" was a racial slur against Middle Eastern people. She explained its meaning and the ignorance that gave it life. She talked about the power that the word had to upset her sister so and how impressed she was with her parents for their restraint and strength in the face of such adversity.

The most moving part for Cornelia was Mrs. HaHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHakim's description of how the word made her feel once her parents explained what they meant. She didn't cry, like her sister; she got angry. She wanted to go find the man and his son and give them a piece of her mind, but her father explained that it wouldn't do any good. He thought there was no point in trying to confront ignorant people.

He said it would only fuel their hatred. Mrs. Hakim said that her father was right about confrontation, but she wished she could go back in time and tell the man how those words made her sister feel badly and how he should have apologized. She wondered if trying to reason with an ignorant person would have done any good.

The group was mesmerized by every word of Mrs. Hakim's story and when she was finished, you could hear a pin drop. Mrs. Hakim looked around the room at eyes that were afraid to meet her gaze, especially Cornelia's. Cornelia thought about Mrs. Hakim's emotions and wondered if she had been angry with Cornelia for what she wrote on the wall at school. She wondered if Mrs. Hakim had the urge to confront her as well, or to explain to Cornelia how her words made her feel. Cornelia felt a rush of shame pass through her and could feel her cheeks turning red with embarrassment, but mostly shame.

Mrs. Hakim knew the group was still uncomfortable, but she tried to motivate them. "Would anyone else like to share their story?" she asked. After a few moment of inactivity, Brenda slowly raised her hand.

"Yes, Brenda, please read your story," Mrs. Hakim said, pointing her upturned hand in Brenda's direction.

Brenda did not stand, as group members had before during their introductions. Instead she sat at her desk and read her paper aloud to the group. Brenda's story was about the first time someone had called her an Oreo. Unlike Mrs. Hakim's story, Cornelia knew exactly what Brenda was talking about, and it wasn't a cookie.

Oreo was a word people used to describe biracial people. The thought made Cornelia very uncomfortable and she squirmed in her chair as Brenda described the scene. She was on the playground in Kindergarten when a group of children began to taunt her. Cornelia was surprised to learn that the children were not white, as she had expected them to be, but African-American. She was shocked that black children would make fun of someone for being half black themselves.

Also unlike Mrs. Hakim's story, the children didn't simply laugh and walk away. They started pushing and shoving Brenda around in a circle while calling her other names. And then an older boy punched her in the face before a teacher broke it up. A few of the members of Writers on the Storm gasped out loud when Brenda read that part and she stopped and looked up from her paper. Cornelia covered her mouth so she wouldn't utter a sound and Brenda soon continued.

Brenda explained how she didn't understand what the word Oreo meant either until they called her a zebra. That was a word she had heard before, mostly on television or in books. It was only then that she knew why the children were tormenting her, although she still didn't understand it. Cornelia was horrified by Brenda's story and was suddenly self conscience that her own story was so recent. Everyone else seemed to be telling childhood tales. When Brenda finished, Mrs. Hakim thanked her for sharing and asked for another volunteer.

Ralph raised his hand. It seemed as though Brenda's story had given him courage.

"Yes, Ralph, please," said Mrs. Hakim as she motioned for him to go ahead with his story.

"I will never forget," he began, but then paused for a moment. "I will never forget," he repeated and stopped again. Cornelia thought he might be choked up.

"It's o.k., Ralph, you are amongst friends here. No one is judging you now," Mrs. Hakim said and then smiled at him brightly.

Ralph looked at his teacher for a moment then took a deep breath and began again. "I will never forget the first time I was ever called a nigger." You could hear a pin drop in Classroom 97. No one made a sound, except for Brenda who squirmed in her chair. He didn't say, "the n-word;" Ralph had said "nigger," one of the worst things you can possibly call a person. Cornelia was all too familiar with the word.

"I think I was three," Ralph continued. "I was at the grocery store with my moms." Cornelia wondered why Ralph added an 's' to the word mom, but she was too mesmerized by his startling candor to question him.

"A white man tried to cut in front of my moms at the counter. When she objected, the man said, 'you can go on back down to the bayou; I hear they need some alligator bait down there, but while you're up here I ain't waiting in no line behind a bunch of niggers.' I didn't know what he meant about the alligator bait, but nigger was a word I had heard before; it was just never said to me. My grams told me all about it, so I knew it was about the meanest thing you could say to a person.

"My moms didn't do anything. She just stood there and stared at the man while he checked out. The cashier didn't do anything either. Even though I was little, I can still remember being angry at both of them. I couldn't understand why they allowed that man to speak to us like that without so much as a word of protest," Ralph said. He paused a moment to catch his breath, and Cornelia thought perhaps to choke back a tear.

"When we got out to the car I asked my moms why she didn't say anything to the man. She said, 'Son, when you are faced with ignorance like that, there is no point in fighting it. Best you just ignore it and let it pass or you could be in a world of hurt.' I didn't understand. I think my moms just didn't have fight left in her anymore. That was the first time I had been called a nigger. It was probably the hundredth time or more that my moms had been called that. She just couldn't stand up to people anymore. I swore that day I would never be that way. That I would always fight ignorance.

"That's why I've always tried really hard to get good grades so I could go to college, because my moms never did. I was called a nigger for the first time that day, and it was not the last. Not by a long shot. But it was the last time I was ever called a nigger without fighting back. I've been punched, kicked, slapped and spit at, but I have never been called a nigger again without a fight. And I never will," Ralph concluded. Everyone was silent and every eye was on Ralph as he remained staring at his paper.

"Thank you very much, Ralph, for sharing your story. It was very nicely written and it was very brave of you to share something so personal," Mrs. Hakim said, breaking the silence.

"Who would like to go next?" she asked and Steve raised his hand.

Steve wrote about the first time anyone had ever called him a faggot. Cornelia was shocked to learn that it was his own father who called him this. Cornelia could see tears streaming down Steve's cheek as he read about his decision to come out to his parents before anyone else and his torment when his father berated him and called him a faggot. Steve explained how his parents got divorced shortly after he told his parents he was gay. He was sure that his father left because of him. When Steve was finished, Cornelia surprised herself by speaking up.

"You know, Steve, if your parents got divorced it wasn't because of you

. They must have had other problems. That's what my parents told me when they got divorced." Steve wiped his eyes and shook his head.

"Parents are supposed to tell their kids that it's not their fault," he said. "They lie to us to make us feel better."

"Steven, I'm certain what Cornelia said is true," Mrs. Hakim interjected. "I am sure your parents had other problems that led to their divorce, but this is not the forum to speculate on such matters. I think you are very brave to share your story. You are all very brave to share your stories. I know this is a difficult topic. Let us please continue. Who shall go next?"

Valerie raised her hand and began reading a story about the first time someone called her a Chink. "I'm not even Chinese," Valerie said, and everyone let out a little nervous laugh at her indignation. Each time someone read their story the topic got a little easier to talk about.

Some of the stories were funny. Sandy wrote about how the swim coach who told her she couldn't be on the swim team if she didn't use tampons during her period. She thought it was sexist but, she conceded that she understood why they had the rule.

"I guess it would be pretty gross if they didn't," she said, and everyone laughed.

Her brother, Andy, wrote about being teased for being ginger, which, Cornelia finally learned, meant that he had red hair and freckles. He turned it around on his tormentors and started calling himself ginger and after that, and people started leaving him alone. His story was filled with humor and everyone laughed with him, although Cornelia had a sneaking suspicion that Andy didn't find it as funny as he was letting on.

Andy's brother's story was about being teased for being a wimp, and it wasn't funny. Randy read about being cornered in the locker room during gym class and beaten by a couple of bullies who were bigger than him.

Andy jumped in at that point and asked, "Hey, where was I? I would have had your back." Randy was not amused.

He answered, "It was David Warton and his toadie Jermaine Shinkle, what could you have done?"

Cornelia saw Kenzie's cheeks turn crimson. She was obviously embarrassed to learn about her boyfriend's secret pastime. Cornelia felt a twinge of satisfaction that Kenzie was finally learning what kind of jerk her boyfriend was. She only wished she could tell her more.

"Writers, let's not mention names, please. I don't want anyone open up for a law suit for slander, no?" She said with a weak smile. Cornelia thought she looked a little pale.

"Kenzie, I believe it is your turn, dear."

Kenzie's story began, "I was born a poor fat girl in Rising Sun, Indiana." Cornelia was surprised to learn all three things about Kenzie. She couldn't imagine Kenzie being poor, since her father was the mayor of Storm River and they lived in the biggest house on the hill. She couldn't imagine Kenzie growing up in the country since she was always the most highly regarded fashion maven at the school. And she couldn't possibly imagine Kenzie ever being fat since Cornelia thought she was perfect in every way.

Kenzie told stories about how her brothers and sister would torment her for being overweight. They called her things like Jaws, Buddha and lard ass. She apologized to Mrs. Hakim for using the word "ass."

Mrs. Hakim said, "It is o.k., Kenzie, I want you all to be honest in your writing even if it means using harsh language. If that is the truth, it is the truth and you should not change it to please your audience." Cornelia was once again surprised that a teacher would give students permission to curse.

Kenzie even told the group how her parents sent her away to fat camp for a year where she was finally able to get in shape and lose weight. After that her brothers and sister left her alone.

"But the scars," Kenzie said, "still remain to this day."

When Kenzie was finished, Amanda told stories about kids in school teasing her by calling her anorexic, bean pole and other such things. Cornelia could have sworn that Kenzie looked annoyed and she was right. In the middle of Amanda's story, Kenzie raised her hand.

"Excuse me, Amanda; Kenzie, do you have a question for Amanda?" Mrs. Hakim asked and Amanda stopped reading.

Kenzie said that she thought that being made fun of for being thin couldn't compare to being made fun of for being fat.

Before Amanda could respond, Mrs. Hakim interjected, "Kenzie, it is not fair to compare one's hurt to that of another. The words said to both of you were based on hate. They were a result of discrimination and ignorance and I am certain that Amanda feels just as strongly as you do. While I encourage you to share your feelings, I strongly discourage comparisons as they will only breed resentment. I appreciate you sharing your feelings, however." Kenzie still looked annoyed, but she did not speak.

"Amanda, please continue with your story," Mrs. Hakim said.

Amanda continued reading, although she was obviously annoyed by Kenzie's interruption. Cornelia had never been made fun of for being fat or thin, so she couldn't really relate to the debate. She was, however, shocked to learn that Amanda knew that people were accusing her of being anorexic behind her back.

"I can't help it if I'm naturally thin!" Amanda yelped at one point and shot Cornelia a look. Cornelia was not convinced, however. She had known Amanda since grade school and she knew she had lost a lot of weight in recent months. She also knew that Amanda rarely ate lunch at school. She was convinced Amanda had a problem.

Admeta went next. She wrote about the first time she had ever been called "spic." Admeta was very animated when she read and her accent got even thicker the more excited she got. When she described the Caucasian boy who spat the word at her, she was waving her arms in the air and raising her voice in anger.

"I'm not even a spic!" Admeta yelled.

Mrs. Hakim interrupted, "Admeta!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Hakim. I mean I'm not even Latina. I'm Hispanic. White people don't even know there is a difference."

"Admeta, you should not be using generalizations and stereotypes in a paper that is supposed to dismiss generalizations and stereotypes. Do you see what you are doing?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

Admeta was obviously put off by Mrs. Hakim's repeated interruptions, but she kept her voice level. "I'm sorry, Mrs. H., but they don't. Do you?" Admeta asked, looking around the circle at the white faces staring back at her.

"Do you know the difference between Latina and Hispanic?" She asked indignantly.

Brenda responded, "Latinas are females from Latin American islands, like Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. Hispanics are men or women that come from any Spanish culture including Mexico, Spain and Latin America." She looked quite pleased with herself.

"You're not white!" Admeta said, a little louder than she had intended. Brenda looked affronted.

"Admeta!" Mrs. Hakim said, also a little louder than she had intended.

"Well she's not, Mrs. H. Of course Brenda would know the difference, because Brenda knows what it's like to be discriminated against because of her race. She would be willing to take the time to know the difference because she knows how it feels. White people don't."

"Admeta, we should not be dividing the room by race. Several people have read their papers and several of those people have been Caucasian and I believe that every single paper has displayed discrimination, so do not sit there and say that there are people in this room who cannot relate because they can!" Mrs. Hakim's pale face began turning crimson. Cornelia could almost feel the fire in Mrs. Hakim's cheeks.

"Their discrimination wasn't based on their race, Mrs. H. I can't change the color of my skin. Kenzie lost weight. Amanda could gain it if she wanted to. I will always be this color!"

"I cannot gain weight," Amanda protested. "I have an overactive thyroid!"

"Oh, whatever, bean pole, you just don't get it" Admeta spat back.

Mrs. Hakim stood up. "Admeta, one more word and you will not only be out of this classroom, but you will be out of Writers on the Storm for good!" she said, pointing toward the door.

"I will not have our members calling each other names, do you hear me?!" Mrs. Hakim slammed her fist down on the desk and everyone jumped a little.

"I mean it, Admeta. I do not know what is wrong with you today, but this stops now!"

Mrs. Hakim stopped talking abruptly. She looked confused for a moment and the very next moment she hit the floor.

"Mrs. H.!" Admeta screamed and then ran to her side. Everyone got up out of their desks and circled Mrs. Hakim's still body.

"Somebody call 911!" Admeta screamed. Cornelia rushed to Mrs. Hakim's other side and together the two girls rolled Mrs. Hakim over.

"You shouldn't move her!" Brenda yelled, but it was too late. Suddenly there was blood everywhere. Mrs. Hakim's head had a gash along her forehead where she had hit the floor. Valerie began crying.

"Shut up, Valerie!" Admeta yelled. Everyone turned to look at Valerie while Admeta quickly removed Mrs. Hakim's hijab. It only took a split second, but Cornelia could see when the hajib was pulled off that some of Mrs. Hakim's hair started to come with it. She looked at Admeta who shook her head rapidly. Cornelia looked around to see if anyone else had seen, but they were all focused on Valerie who was now wailing. Admeta fixed Mrs. Hakim's hair very quickly and put the hijab over the cut, applying pressure to the wound.

Amanda was on the phone with a 911 operator and Brenda walked over and put her arm around Valerie to try to calm her down.

"Did someone call an ambulance?!" Admeta yelled.

"Yes, Amanda's on the phone right now," Cornelia replied, rather calmly.

"Ralph, go see if someone is in the office," Admeta said, motioning to Ralph with her free hand and he took off like a shot.

"Randy, give me your sweatshirt," she demanded. Randy looked confused.

"What?" he asked.

"Give me your freaking sweatshirt, Ginger!" she yelled.

"Admeta, you're not supposed to call people names," Andy chastised.

"Are you serious?" Cornelia looked at Andy like he had two heads.

"I'm just saying," Andy began, then stopped abruptly. "What's wrong with her?"

"Don't worry about it," Admeta said, and gave Cornelia a wild-eyed look. Cornelia knew something was terribly wrong. Randy took off the sweatshirt he had on over a t-shirt and tried to hand it to Admeta.

"I've got my hands full, Cornelia can you put that under her head?"

"Sure," Cornelia replied, then rolled up the sweatshirt and put it under Mrs. Hakim's head.

"Don't just stand around! The rest of you go see if you can find someone to help!" Admeta screamed.

Everyone ran out the door except Admeta and Cornelia, who were helping Mrs. Hakim, Amanda who was on the phone with 911, Valerie, who was still in shock and Brenda who was trying to help her.

"I don't know what's wrong with her, she just fainted or something!" Amanda yelled, "Please hurry!" Amanda started to sob and let her hand with the phone in it fall to her side; she was no longer able to speak.

Brenda grabbed the cell phone from her and said, "Hello?" to the operator.

"We need to know where to go once the ambulance gets to the school," the operator said.

"We're in classroom 97," Brenda replied.

"O.K, hun, but you're going to have to give me directions. Where do the paramedics go once they get inside the front door of the school?"

"Oh, umm, go up the stairs, turn left and go straight. It's on the left," she added. She kept one arm around Valerie who was shaking. "Thank you. Please tell them to hurry," she said, but she could already hear sirens coming toward the school.

"Amanda!" Admeta yelled. "Amanda, you need to snap out of it and go to the front door to lead the paramedics here!"

"What?" Amanda said, confused.

"Oh, I'll do it!" Brenda yelled.

Just then the principal, Mr. Beckardi, came in with Ralph, followed by Andy and Randy.

"Oh my God," Mr. Beckardi said. "What happened?" he asked, kneeling next to Admeta.

"She just fainted and hit her head," Admeta said. "It's no big deal. She'll be fine. She's just going to need some stitches is all."

Cornelia couldn't understand how Admeta could be so flippant about the whole situation and neither could Mr. Beckardi.

"What do you mean it's no big deal? The woman is bleeding profusely!"

"All head wounds bleed like that, Mr. B. I don't know why. It's a head thing," Admeta said suddenly calm. Before Mr. Beckardi could respond, Sandy rushed in.

"The paramedics are here. They're coming. They're coming," she yelled, out of breath. "Brenda is showing them the way."

Mr. Beckardi stood up as the paramedics came into the room. Amanda who had finally snapped out of her daze led Valerie aside as two men in blue jackets and white pants wheeled a gurney into the classroom. They were followed by Andy and Randy who wanted a closer look. Cornelia thought one of the paramedics was really cute, but the other one reminded her of her father. They pulled rubber gloves out of their back pockets and put them on while they were asking Mr. Beckardi what happened. Amanda had stopped crying, apparently relieved that help had arrived, but Valerie was still crying.

"They said she fell," Mr. Beckardi said.

"You weren't here?" the cute paramedic asked.

"No, just the students," Mr. Beckardi replied.

"You," the cute paramedic said, pointing at Admeta, "Did she fall face first or on her back?" Valerie's sobs got louder.

"She fell face first; we rolled her over and put pressure on the cut," Admeta said, still very calm. Cornelia was holding Mrs. Hakim's left hand and Valerie started wailing again. Mr. Beckardi seemed to just notice that Valerie was there and he put his hand on her shoulder.

"It's alright, Ms. Regal, Mrs. Hakim is going to be fine," he said. Steve and Kenzie were the last of the group to return to the room. They were with the custodian, Mrs. Baumgartner.

"Oh, boy, someone's gotta clean this up, yes sir, this is a fine mess this is," Mrs. Baumgartner said, looking at the blood on the floor. Cornelia always thought the custodian had a few screws loose, so she was not surprised by her outburst.

"Mrs. Baumgartner, please," Mr. Beckardi said as he watched the paramedics lift Mrs. Hakim onto the gurney. Admeta was still at her side, putting pressure on the wound.

"Alright, Miss, I can take over from here," the older paramedic said to Admeta.

"No! I'm not leaving her," Admeta said, refusing to let go of the hijab.

"I need to put sterile dressing on the wound, Miss," the paramedic insisted.

"Can't you do that in the ambulance?" Admeta asked, not stopping for an answer. "Let's get moving. I'm going with her."

"Fine, kid, whatever; just let us do our jobs and keep pressure on that wound."

The paramedics raised the gurney as Admeta stood by Mrs. Hakim's side still applying pressure. Cornelia had released her hand when the paramedics picked her up.

"What's her name?" the cute paramedic asked.

"Samantha," Mr. Beckardi said.

"Samantha?" the cute paramedic said. "Samantha, can you hear me?" he was patting her hand. "Samantha, I need you to wake up now."

"Are you serious?" Admeta asked. "Mrs. H., Andy just called me a beaner!" Admeta yelled in her ear.

"Hey!" Andy yelled.

"Ms. Vasquez, are you out of your mind?!" Mr. Beckardi asked. The other Writers on the Storm watched in amazement as Mrs. Hakim began to stir.

"What?" Mrs. Hakim said in a muted whisper.

"Whoah," the cute paramedic said, gripping her hand tighter. "Try not to move, Samantha." Mrs. Hakim was wriggling on the gurney, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Oh, my head hurts," Mrs. Hakim said, putting her hand on her head. "My hijab!" she said, startled.

"It's right here, Mrs. H.," Admeta said. "I'm sorry, it's a little messed up. It was the first thing I could think of to grab when you started bleeding."

"Bleeding?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

"You fainted, Mrs. H. You know, from stress," Admeta said, patting Mrs. Hakim's arm.

"Stress?" Mr. Beckardi asked.

"Yeah, I was stressing her out," Admeta said.

"Samantha," the cute paramedic interrupted, "We're going to take you to Mercy General now, o.k.? We'll dress your wound in the ambulance."

"Let me get my coat," Mr. Beckardi said.

"No!" Admeta yelled a little louder than she had intended.

"Ms. Vasquez, I know this has been a very stressful situation for all of you, but you really need to get a grip, young lady."

"No, no," Mrs. Hakim said, looking at Mr. Beckardi. "She is right, Bradley." Cornelia was shocked to hear Mrs. Hakim call Mr. Bechardi by his first name. Cornelia didn't even realize he had a first name.

"Samantha, you're one of my teachers, I'm going to the hospital with you."

"No, Admeta will come with me, Bradley. You are the principal and your first responsibility is to the students. Can you please be sure that the Writers get home safely? I'm sure this has been an unsettling event for them."

"Don't worry about us, Mrs. Hakim, you just get better," Brenda said.

"Bless you, Brenda. Don't worry about me. I am perfectly fine." She could hear Valerie sniffling behind Mr. Beckardi.

"Did you hear me, Valerie? I am fine, dear. You need not worry. I am sorry if I frightened you."

"It's o.k.," Valerie said between sobs.

"Writers, I want you to do some free writing this week on any topic you like. I'll see you next week," Mrs. Hakim said as the paramedics starting wheeling her out of the room. Cornelia couldn't believe her ears. Mrs. Hakim was actually giving out assignments from an ambulance gurney.

"Can you come?" Admeta asked a stunned Cornelia.

"Um, yeah," Cornelia said, taken aback by Admeta's request.

"Absolutely not!" Mr. Beckardi said.

"It is o.k., Bradley," Mrs. Hakim said.

"But she's a juvenile delinquent..." Mr. Beckardi began.  
Mrs. Hakim interrupted, "Bradley, I'm the patient and I would like these two young ladies to accompany me. The patient is always right.

"Bradley, would you mind terribly calling Daniel and telling him where I am and then calling the girls' parents and letting them know where they are as well? Tell their parents that Daniel will be driving them home. Could you do that for me, please?"

"Of course, Samantha. Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" he asked, giving Cornelia the stink eye.

"I am certain," she replied. "These young men will take care of me and these young ladies will keep you updated. There is no need for further concern."

On their way out the door, Cornelia saw Brenda hand the cell phone back to Amanda. Cornelia remember her and Admeta's purses and book bags and ran back in the room to get them.

"See you tomorrow," Cornelia said and Amanda nodded as Cornelia raced out of the room.

As they walked down the hallway toward the front door of the school, Cornelia knew she was in for a long night.
Chapter 11

The Diagnosis

Other than chatter between the paramedics, everyone was silent until Mrs. Hakim was loaded into the ambulance. Then the cute paramedic told Cornelia and Admeta to put their book bags on the small counter and strap themselves into seat belts on a small bench on the other side of it. Cornelia thought that must have been where the paramedics sat on their way to emergencies. She had never been in an ambulance before. Admeta was told she could release the pressure she was applying so the paramedics could clean and dress the wound.

Cornelia looked at Admeta. She was covered in blood and clutching Mrs. Hakim's hijab, yet she remained very calm.

Mrs. Hakim began to speak, but the cute paramedic cut her off. "Ma'am it's better if you just stay as still and as quiet as possible."

"That's all well and good, young man," Mrs. Hakim answered, "but if you are to treat me, there are a few things you need to know."

She took a deep breath, but the paramedic did not protest further. "I'm going to tell you what this young lady already knows," she said, pointing to Admeta, "and I am assuming this young lady knows as well or she would not be here." Cornelia saw Mrs. Hakim pointing in her direction.

"She doesn't know, Mrs. H.," Admeta protested. "She just saw..."

"I--I saw the wig," Cornelia finished for Admeta who was obviously flustered.

"Wig?" The older paramedic asked.

"Yes, you see?" Mrs. Hakim said as she pulled off her wig. Cornelia was shocked to see a nearly bald scalp peeking out from underneath the wig that now rested under Mrs. Hakim's head. There was a tear in the wig where Mrs. Hakim must have hit her head. Admeta had been covering it up with the hijab. Cornelia tried not to gasp. She had known something was going on when she saw Mrs. Hakim's hair move back in the classroom, but she had no idea about this. She was also disgusted by the wound underneath the wig. It was bleeding less profusely than before, but blood was still trickling down Mrs. Hakim's head. Even still, Cornelia thought Mrs. Hakim looked almost serene. She was very proud despite her hair loss and gaping wound.

"I have stage three breast cancer, gentlemen. I passed out because I did not eat much today. Chemotherapy does not give you much of an appetite, you see." Cornelia's heart sank. Lying in front of her was a woman she once despised, whom she just found out was suffering from the same disease that had killed her grandmother the summer before. Cornelia's grandmother also wore a wig to cover her head. She also fainted from fatigue during her chemo. Cornelia tried to fight back the tears, but soon they were streaming down her face in spite of herself. She was embarrassed and ashamed. Admeta was sitting so stoic it made Cornelia feel like a child.

"I am sorry you had to find out this way, child," Mrs. Hakim said to Cornelia. "I did not want anyone to know, you see. Admeta found out by accident over the summer and I swore her to secrecy. I am sure she knew you would figure it out on your own. That is why she asked you to come. I must ask that you keep my secret, Cornelia." Cornelia nodded her head, but said nothing. The realization that Mrs. Hakim was already suffering with cancer when Cornelia wrote those horrible words on the wall of the school made her sick to her stomach. Her hands gripped at her midsection.

"Samantha, this is something they should have told the 911 operator," the cute paramedic said.

"Yes, but as I said I do not want anyone to know and Admeta honored my wishes," Mrs. Hakim replied, matter-of-factly. She smiled at the frustrated paramedic and continued, "Now, if what you say is true about me lying still and conserving my breath, I shall let you...how do you say? Get down to business?" Admeta chuckled a little and Mrs. Hakim smiled at her, then closed her eyes. Cornelia wondered how the two of them could be so upbeat about such a horrible topic.

The cute paramedic looked from Mrs. Hakim to the two teenagers in his rig. One was covered in blood, the other in tears. He decided not to push the subject any further. "Come on Stan, let's start an IV and get some dressing on this wound," he said to the older paramedic.

The girls remained silent as the paramedics cleaned the wound with gauze and a clear liquid that Cornelia thought smelled like alcohol. Mrs. Hakim didn't move a muscle even when they poured the liquid right on her wound. The cute paramedic then dabbed at the wound and applied some butterfly tape. The wound had finally stopped bleeding at that point. Then the two men put more gauze around Mrs. Hakim's head and put an IV in her arm.

Finally, the cute paramedic yelled to the front of the ambulance, "O.k., let's go, Hardy."

With that, the ambulance pulled away from Storm River High School. Cornelia looked out the back windows at classroom number 97. She could see people looking out the windows, but she was certain they hadn't seen what was going on inside the red and white ambulance that was now screaming down the road.

Cornelia's thoughts raced as the siren screeched in her ears. When she committed her crime, she never considered that Mrs. Hakim might be sick. Then she wondered what she would have done if someone would have written nasty things about her grandmother while she was sick. "I would have killed them," she thought. And she suddenly felt truly, unabashedly ashamed of herself, not just because Mrs. Hakim was sick, but because what she did was despicable and she knew it. She didn't just see it, she felt it.

She felt the pain and anguish Mrs. Hakim's children must have felt when they were told that their mother had breast cancer. She felt their warm, salty tears on her cheeks. She felt pangs of regret over unspoken words and harsh words spoken and written out of anger. Most of all, she felt shame burning through her veins. She and Admeta remained silent as the paramedics worked to make Mrs. Hakim more comfortable.

"Samantha, you have to stay awake. You may have a concussion."

"Oh, very well," Mrs. Hakim said, opening her eyes. The paramedics did their best to clean up the blood that had gotten everywhere, including all over the wig.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence except for the fussing paramedics. By the time they arrived at the hospital, Cornelia had stopped crying, but she was still hurting. Admeta was just as stoic as ever. The paramedics offloaded Mrs. Hakim from the ambulance and pushed her into the Emergency Room doors. Cornelia and Admeta followed them. When they got inside the cute paramedic asked the girls to wait in the waiting room.

"We want to go in with her!" Admeta protested.

"It is alright, Admeta, they are going to change me into one of those drab hospital gowns. You young ladies do not need to witness that. These young me will call you when I am ready for visitors," Mrs. Hakim said as the paramedics pushed her gurney through some flapping doors.

Cornelia looked around the waiting room, clutching her purse. It was the same purse she had at her trial a few weeks before, but somehow it meant less to her. She handed Admeta her purse without speaking. In the waiting room sat people of every race and color. Some young, some old, and some in between. Some of them looked sick, and some just looked tired, but they all looked sad somehow. Everyone except one little blonde-haired girl in the corner. Before Cornelia could turn to walk away, a nurse had come up to Admeta. She was holding blue scrubs and a plastic bag. Admeta took the bag and clothes and went into the bathroom to change.

Cornelia looked again at the little girl who was laughing and playing with some toys the hospital put out for pre-schoolers. The little girl was wearing a pink, poofy dress and had curls all the way down the middle of her back. Cornelia thought she looked like an angel. She walked over and sat beside her.

"Hi!" The little girl said to Cornelia.

"Hi," Cornelia said back. She was relieved by the distraction.

"My name is Gwendolyn, what's your's?" the little girl asked with a smile.

"Cornelia."

"Cornelia? That's a funny name," the little girl laughed.

"Hey, I didn't make fun of your name, Gwendolyn. It's not nice to make fun of mine," Cornelia said sternly. If Writers on the Storm had taught her anything it was that words can wound worse than fists.

"I'm sorry," Gwendolyn replied. "Do you forgive me?"

Cornelia thought it was a strange request from such a young girl, but she was happy to oblige. "Yes, I do," she said.

The little girl looked around the room. Cornelia admired her porcelain skin and bright blue eyes. The little girl moved closer to Cornelia and whispered, "Do you think Jesus will forgive me too?" Then she looked up at the ceiling as if searching for a lightening bolt to strike her down.

Cornelia leaned in close to the little girl's ear and whispered back, "Yes, I think he will."

"Cool," Gwendolyn replied and smiled widely. "Is your friend hurt?" she asked.

"My friend?" Cornelia asked.

"The one in the bathroom," Gwendolyn replied.

"Oh, Admeta. No. She's fine," Cornelia said.

"But she had blood on her clothes," Gwendolyn persisted.

"That wasn't her blood," Cornelia said, trying to reassure the girl.

"Are you sure?" Gwendolyn asked skeptically.

"Quite sure," Cornelia said and giggled a little at the girl's persistence.

"Maybe it is her blood," Gwendolyn supposed. "Sometimes my mommy gets blood on her clothes when Aunt Flo comes to visit."

"What?" Cornelia asked, confused.

"She gets blood on her pants sometimes and has to clean it off. Whenever that happens she tells me that her Aunt Flo has come to visit and she will be gone in a few days. I've never met Aunt Flo; I think she's mommy imaginary friend. But I don't know why her imaginary friend makes her bleed." Cornelia couldn't help but giggle. She had never heard anyone refer to menstrual flow as Aunt Flo before. The little girl looked confused.

"I'm sorry," Cornelia said, choking back laughter. Then she suddenly remembered why she was at the hospital and she felt guilty for laughing. Gwendolyn was still looking at her quizzically.

"I don't think your mom's imaginary friend hurts her. Maybe her friend is a doctor and she accidentally spills vials of blood," Cornelia felt pretty silly saying this, but she couldn't find any way out of it.

Admeta had come out of the bathroom during this odd conversation and sat down next to Cornelia. Her bloody clothes were tucked into the bag that once held the scrubs she was now wearing.

"Hello! My name is Gwendolyn and yours is Admeta!" Gwendolyn said.

"Umm, yeah, it is," Admeta said, looking at Cornelia with her brow furrowed. Cornelia shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

"Was that your blood on your clothes?" Gwendolyn asked.

"No," Admeta replied with what Cornelia thought was a tone of regret.

"Oh," Gwendolyn said and looked down at the floor. Then she moved to the chair cattycorner to Cornelia's. "Sometimes my brother's blood gets on my clothes," she said.

Admeta and Cornelia looked at each other with alarm.

"What do you mean?" Admeta asked.

"He can't help it," Gwendolyn said, "he doesn't do it on purpose. Sometimes it just happens. Then I have to call my mommy so she can take him to the doctor."

"Where is your mommy?" Cornelia asked, still looking concerned.

"She had to go back with my brother," she said, pointing to the flapping doors.

"Where's your dad?" Admeta asked.

"Don't have one," the little girl said, matter-of-factly. "He left when Gabriel got sick."

Cornelia and Admeta looked at each other knowingly. Cornelia couldn't imagine a father leaving his children because one of them was sick. The thought made her feel sick again.

"Gwendolyn!" a female voice shouted. Admeta and Cornelia looked up to see a large African-American woman standing in front of the flapping doors wearing colorful scrubs. She was an ominous presence. She had braids pulled back into a ponytail. The braids had little streaks of silver hairs running through them, leading Cornelia to believe she was in her forties.

"Gwendolyn, girl, where are you?!" she yelled.

"She's over here," Admeta shouted back. When the girls looked back over at Gwendolyn she had vanished. Cornelia and Admeta looked at each other with concern. Cornelia felt something on her leg and jumped out of her chair. When she looked underneath her chair, she saw a bundle of blonde curly locks peeking out.

Noticing this, the nurse continued, "Gwendolyn, girl, you just scared the bejesus out of your mother. Get your fanny in here right now." Gwendolyn crawled out from under Cornelia's chair and slowly walked toward the nurse as if she were marching to the beat of an invisible drummer. She had her right hand to her right eyebrow in a salute. This made the girls giggle.

"I gotta go see Gabe," Gwendolyn shouted back at the girls. "It was nice meeting you." With that she toddled through the flapping doors, followed by the annoyed nurse. Cornelia and Admeta looked at each other once again.

"What the heck was that about?" Admeta asked.

"I don't know," Cornelia said as she sat back down.

"I wonder what's wrong with her brother," Admeta said.

"Me too," Cornelia said. "Do you think Mr. Brockheimer called our parents? My mom grounded me from my cell phone, so I can't call her. Hopefully she's not freaking out."

"My dad never gets home until late, so he won't worry. I'm sure one of the nurses would let you use a phone if you want to call her," Admeta said.

"No, that's o.k. She'd probably just yell at me anyway. I've been pretty mad at her for punishing me. That was pretty stupid of me too. I guess I have someone else to apologize to," Cornelia said, bowing her head and looking at her feet. Admeta wanted to say something, but she was too tired.

The next few hours were spent in silence, with the girls looking through magazines and watching whatever was on the tiny television across from them. It was really old and the color was faded. Cornelia didn't like the news programs that were on and she had already read anything that interested her on the magazine rack.

"How much longer do you think it will be?" she asked, interrupting the silence.

"I don't know. You can call your mom to come get you if you want. I'll stay," Admeta said.

"That's not what I meant," Cornelia said.

"I know what you meant," Admeta interrupted. "I'm just saying if you want to go home, you can."

"No, I'd like to stay," Cornelia replied. "Besides, I don't think my mom's home. She said she was going out." Admeta wasn't listening.

"This is all my fault," she said.

Startled, Cornelia asked, "Why do you say that?"

"I got Mrs. H. all upset and that's why she collapsed," Admeta replied. And for the first time since Cornelia had known her, she thought she saw the beginning of tears in Admeta's eyes.

"That's not why she collapsed," Cornelia protested. "You heard her in the ambulance, she collapsed because she didn't eat enough today." Cornelia wanted to put her hand on Admeta's shoulder to comfort her but she wasn't sure they had reached that point in their relationship.

"She was probably just saying that to be nice," Admeta offered.

"No she wasn't!" Cornelia said. "When my grandma was going through chemo she did the same thing. I'm sure it had nothing to do with you, so shut up and stop feeling sorry for yourself. You need to stay positive for Mrs. Hakim and stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over."

Admeta looked at Cornelia in slight disbelief. She hadn't known that Cornelia's grandmother had cancer and she was surprised by her unexpected lecture. She wasn't sure how to respond, so she changed the subject.

"So, what was your story about?" Admeta asked.

"What?" Cornelia asked, confused.

"You didn't get to read your story, so what was it about?"

"Oh, that. I wrote about the homeless shelter," Cornelia replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I wrote about that boy calling me 'white girl' and how you shut him up by telling him your brothers were in his gang," Cornelia began.

"What?!" Admeta snapped loudly, and then whispered, "You were gong to tell everyone in Writers on the Storm that my brothers are gang members? What's wrong with you, Cornelia?"

"Uh," Cornelia was startled by Admeta's outrage and didn't know what to say. "I guess so, yeah. Is that a secret or something?"

"Of course it is! I don't go around broadcasting my business to everyone. Do you know how people would treat me if they knew my brothers were in La Hijos de El Salvador?" she asked.

"No I don't," Cornelia said, honestly. "Why would they treat you differently because your brothers are in a gang?"

"La Hijos de El Salvador isn't just any gang. It's the worst gang in Storm River," Admeta said. "My brothers are probably responsible for a lot of the pain and misery in this town. If people knew I was related to them or had any connection to the gang, they would put me down. You can't tell anyone, Cornelia; you just can't!" Admeta persisted.

"O.k.," Cornelia replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was a secret. I had no idea." Admeta calmed down after hearing Cornelia's reassurances that she would not tell anyone.

"I'll write another story, but I don't know if I'll ever get to share it," Cornelia said, sadly.

"What do you mean?" Admeta asked

"I just don't know if Writers on the Storm will continue without Mrs. Hakim," Cornelia said glumly.

"What do you mean 'without Mrs. H.?' " Admeta shrieked. "Don't you talk like that! Don't you EVER talk like that! Just stop it right now, Cornelia! Didn't you just tell me to shut up and stop feeling sorry for myself? Didn't you say that I need to stay positive for Mrs. Hakim and stop blaming myself for something I had no control over? You need to take your own advise, Cornelia."

"I just don't want to have false hope," Cornelia replied and both girls were silent.

"Girls!" the large African-American nurse called out to them.

"Us?" Admeta asked her.

"Yes, you. You can come on back now, girls. Samantha can see you now." Cornelia and Admeta immediately forgot their conversation and stood up to follow the nurse.
Chapter 12

Reality Bites

The girls seemed like tiny figures compared to the massive nurse walking before them. The woman pushed the elevator button to go up and turned around to address them.

"Now listen up, ladies. My name is Nurse Robin. I'm an oncology nurse. We've gotten Samantha a bed and we're going to keep her overnight for observation. I'm going to take you up to her room for a very brief visit and Samantha's husband is going to give you cab fare to get home. He's staying here with her tonight. Now when you get in there, she may not look so well."

At that point, Admeta interrupted. "We just saw her covered in blood, Robin, I think we can handle it."

The woman's brow furrowed and she put one hand on her hip and the index finger of her other hand in the air. Cornelia was very familiar with this stance. She knew they were in for a lecture of some kind.

"Now you listen to me, little girl," Robin said to Admeta. "First of all, my name is not Robin, it's Nurse Robin. That's what you'll call me and you will have some respect in your voice when you say it." Admeta took a defensive stance. She wasn't about to back down to the nurse or anyone else.

"I am telling you what you need to know to prepare you for what you're about to see. Don't stand there and tell me you know what to expect. I give this spiel to all visitors and I will thank you to be quiet and listen. And you can wipe that look off your face while you're at it because I'm not going to stop talking until I've said what I need to say.

"Now, when you get into Samantha's room I want you to make it short and sweet. No small talk. No complaining. No whimpering. And absolutely no crying. You hear me, girls? No tears will be shed in that room," Nurse Robin said, now pointing her finger at both of them.

"Put on a happy face like your life depends on winning an Academy Award because I won't have tears in my patient's room. Now I can't tell you if your teacher is going to live or die, only God knows that, but I can tell you that everyone in this hospital wants her to live just as we want all of our patients to live." Admeta's face started to soften. Cornelia just stood respectfully listening. She wanted to tell Nurse Robin that she didn't believe in God. That if God existed then she hated Him because He had taken her precious grandmother and was probably going to take Mrs. Hakim too. But she remained silent.

"She is very weak and needs her rest," Nurse Robin continued, "so you do as I say and I will call a cab to meet you at the emergency room doors. Are we clear?" Both girls nodded and the doors to the elevator opened. Admeta must have decided that arguing would be pointless. Nurse Robin would have won regardless. The trio walked inside and Nurse Robin pushed the button for floor thirteen.

"You have a thirteenth floor?" Admeta asked Nurse Robin.

"Of course we do, there's a number thirteen, isn't there?" Nurse Robin replied, annoyed.

"Yeah, but some buildings go from twelve to fourteen," Admeta said, her accent thickening.

"What's the point in that?" Cornelia asked.

"Because some people don't like the number thirteen," Admeta replied.

"You sound like Chad; he's superstitious too," Cornelia said, smiling.

"What she means is some people have a crazy fool notion that the number thirteen is bad and some of those people just happen to be architects. When they skip thirteen that just makes floor fourteen the thirteenth floor no matter what the number on the elevator says, am I right?" Nurse Robin asked, not waiting for an answer.

"Thirteen is just a number; it's not going to determine if anyone lives or dies and I won't hear talk of it in my hospital." The girls looked at each other. Cornelia felt the urge to laugh but she kept it inside. She didn't want to face the wrath of Nurse Robin. Looking at Admeta, she could see that she felt the same way. The elevator rode all the way to the thirteenth floor without stopping and the trio got out.

"We're headed for room 1392," Nurse Robin said.

"Columbus sailed the ocean blue," Cornelia said.

"What?" Nurse Robin asked.

"In 1392 Columbus sailed the ocean blue," Cornelia replied.

"Girl, you're about a hundred years off," Nurse Robin said and shook her head. Cornelia looked at Admeta.

"She's right, it was 1492," Admeta said, smirking.

"Well, whatever; I had the 92 part right," Cornelia said indignantly as Admeta and Nurse Robin burst out laughing.

"I'm glad I could be this evening's entertainment," Cornelia said, looking annoyed. Nurse Robin wasn't laughing anymore. She stopped abruptly.

"Here we are girls. Remember what I said. Short and sweet. Now you two march in there with smiles on your faces and you tell your teacher she's going to live. She has to." Nurse Robin gave them both a little push on their backs to shoo them into the room.

It was a private room with mauve colored walls and tacky paisley wallpaper trim. There was oak wainscoting along the front wall and a tiny bathroom just inside the entrance. The girls walked past the privacy curtain to see their teacher lying in a hospital bed with several IVs sticking out of her arms. Her wig was gone and she wasn't wearing a hijab. She looked very tiny lying there in a hospital gown with no hair. Cornelia remembered her grandmother looking just as small, but she fought the urge to cry.

"Hey, Mrs. H., when are they going to spring you from this joint?" Admeta asked, trying to fake a smile.

"Hello my dears," Mrs. Hakim said. Her Arabic accent seemed faded and her voice was just as small as she was. She self-consciously put her hand on her head. Cornelia thought she was probably embarrassed for her students to see her this way and she wanted nothing more than to run out of that room and have a good cry, but she knew she couldn't do that, so she simply diverted her eyes.

"Cornelia, would you be a dear and get me a towel from the restroom, please?"

"Sure," Cornelia replied, glad for the diversion, and went off to grab a towel. She could hear Mrs. Hakim and Admeta whispering, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. She found a white towel on a silver rack in the bathroom and brought it back to Mrs. Hakim. Admeta and Mrs. Hakim stopped speaking as soon as Cornelia came out of the bathroom. She couldn't help but think they must have been talking about her. She wondered what they were saying. She thought Admeta was probably reassuring Mrs. Hakim that Cornelia would keep her secret.

"Thank you, Cornelia," Mrs. Hakim said, accepting the towel. She unfolded it and wrapped it around her head. Cornelia couldn't figure out how Mrs. Hakim had managed to fasten it, but when she was through the towel looked just like a hijab. It was a hijab made of terrycloth, but a hijab just the same.

"My husband went to see if the hospital had any hijabs, but being that this is a Catholic hospital I am in serious doubt that he will be successful on his mission. This will do for now," she said and tried to smile. Cornelia thought her smile looked as forced as Admeta's.

"Oh, do not look so glum, girls. This is not the end of me. If it were the end, you would be visiting me in Hospice. As long as I am in the hospital, and not Hospice, I am alive. No worries," she said, taking Admeta's hand.

"What's Hospice?" Admeta asked.

"It's where terminal patients go," Cornelia offered.

"That is correct, Cornelia. That is spoken like someone who knows a little about that terrible place," Mrs. Hakim said.

"I -" Cornelia began, but she was interrupted.

"You do not have to speak about, dear. I will not ask anything further, but I am sorry that you ever had to step foot in Hospice," she said, looking into Cornelia's eyes. Cornelia felt guilty that her victim was offering her comfort when it should have been the other way around. She wished she could say something positive, but then she thought about her grandmother.

"I hope never to step foot there, myself. But only time will tell."

"Don't say that, Mrs. H.," Admeta cried and ran to the side of the bed.

"Do not trouble yourself, child," Mrs. Hakim said, patting Admeta's hand. Her accent was thicker and her voice stronger now. "I'm not giving up, Admeta. I assure you of that."

Admeta's outburst reminded Cornelia of the last time she ever saw her grandmother alive. It was July 4th. Everyone was having picnics and barbeques to celebrate Independence Day, but Cornelia and her family were saying their good-byes to their beloved matriarch. The doctor had told them it would only be a number of hours before she passed away. She had already been in Hospice for two weeks at that point. Veronica had explained to Cornelia what Hospice meant and she was devastated.

Before she got sick, Cornelia's grandmother was a strong, independent woman. She had been a widow for many years and lived alone. She didn't depend on anyone for anything. She even still cut her own grass and did all of the yard work by herself. She never asked for help from her children or grandchildren. She would never have admitted it, but Cornelia was her favorite grandchild. That's why she left her the diamond-crusted barrette. It was a family heirloom passed down for many generations. She was wearing it that day in Hospice. Cornelia remembered watching the light flicker off of the diamonds when her grandmother turned her head.

As Cornelia, her mother, aunt, uncle and cousins stood and watched, her grandmother labored for every breath she took. She could no longer speak words, but her eyes spoke volumes. Cornelia could see she was glad to see her, but she could also see death looming. She knew it wouldn't be long. The adults went out to speak to the doctors and the children stayed in the room. Each one said their good-byes to their grandmother. They sat on the bed, leaned in close to speak to her and then kissed her on the forehead.

Her cousins repeated this routine one by one until there was only Cornelia and two of her cousins left. The two brothers went up to her together. The older brother was helping his younger brother who didn't know what to do. They both kissed their grandmother on the forehead and promptly broke down in tears. The older brother, who was in his 20s, ran out of the room. He didn't want anyone to see him crying. The younger brother, who was a little bit younger than Cornelia, just stood there, weeping for what felt like an hour. Cornelia said nothing. She had held back her tears up to that point. She was determined to be brave. But the sight of her eldest cousin crying had opened the flood gates and there was no shutting them.

The younger brother finally turned around and walked out the door. Cornelia still did not move. She just stood there looking at her grandmother. She thought if she didn't say good-bye then her grandmother couldn't leave. Surely she would never leave without telling Cornelia good-bye. She was crying so hard that she started heaving uncontrollably. She bent over and held her stomach. She thought she might throw up. Then she heard a sound. It was very faint.

Cornelia tried to pull herself together. She was the last one in the room. It was her turn to say good-bye and she couldn't waste the chance. Not everyone gets the chance to say good-bye. She stood up straight and tried to catch her breath. That's when she heard the noise again. She looked at her grandmother again. The noise was her trying to speak. She had one arm lifted off of the bed, toward Cornelia.

Cornelia rushed over and grabbed her grandmother's hand just as Admeta had grabbed Mrs. Hakim's hand. Her grandmother tried once again to speak, but the cancer that took both of her breasts had spread to her esophagus and she had a tracheotomy tube in her throat. It was impossible. She was so weak that she couldn't hold a pencil to write anything either. Cornelia patted her grandmother's hand. She knew she had to be strong for her.

"It's o.k. grandma. You don't have to speak. You just rest," Cornelia said and she wiped her tears away with her other hand. Her grandmother rested her arm on the bed and stopped trying to speak. She just looked at her granddaughter and Cornelia knew what she wanted to say.

"I know what you want to say, grandma. You want to tell me that you love me," Cornelia whimpered a little, then pulled herself together again.

"And I love you too. That's why I'm here. That's why we're all here, grandma. Because we love you. And we don't want you to go," Cornelia stopped again and began to cry. She could feel her grandmother squeeze her hand. She was reminded of her grandmother's strength. She wouldn't want people crying over her. Cornelia tried once again to stop. She sniffed and wiped away her tears. She had to be strong for her grandmother.

"We don't want you to go, grandma, but if you have to –" she paused, trying to keep her composure. "Well, then you can. I know you've fought hard to stay with us, but we're going to be o.k., grandma. All of us." Cornelia didn't believe her own words. She was only trying to make things better for her grandmother, but she knew she wasn't going to be o.k. She didn't think she would ever be the same again. Not ever.

Cornelia's grandmother tried to smile, but Cornelia could see the tears streaming down her cheeks onto her pillow. Cornelia's tears were flowing too, despite her best efforts. They just sat there, staring into each other's eyes. No more words needed to be said. Each knew what the other felt. They had always had a connection like that. It was as if they could read each other's minds. Cornelia just sat with her grandmother, holding her hand and crying. She didn't know how much time had passed by.

When the adults came back in the room, Cornelia knew she had to leave. She had to give her mother, aunt and uncle time alone with their mother. Cornelia suddenly had a thought that disturbed her. She wondered if this is what it was going to be like when her mother died. Would she be one of the adults coming in to say good-bye? Cornelia was an only child. She was all her mother had in the world. The thought made her cringe. She pushed it out of her mind. Cornelia looked into her grandmother's eyes and then kissed her on the forehead as her cousins all had before her. She felt the barrette as she touched her on the back of the head.

"I love you, grandma. I love you," Cornelia said through tears. Then Cornelia ran out of the room in tears. She ran past her cousins in the hallway into the nearest restroom. She locked the door and melted to the floor where she sat and wept until her mother came to get her hours later. She knew her grandmother had passed away. Veronica didn't have to say a word. Mother and daughter left the hospital together. Both crying, but otherwise silent.

"Girls!" Cornelia heard Nurse Robin calling from the doorway. "Your taxi is outside, it's time to say good-night." Cornelia got the distinct feeling that Robin was angry with Admeta for crying. Cornelia was surprised to see Admeta show so much emotion about a teacher that seemed to argue with constantly in Writers on the Storm.

"Mrs. H., I don't want to go!" Admeta exclaimed.

"There, there, young one. Do not fret about me one more minute. I have told you, I am fine. The two of you were very brave today, and I am proud of you, but I am very tired and need to get some rest now. My husband is staying with me, Admeta; you have nothing to worry about," Mrs. Hakim said. The girls said their good-byes. Admeta hugged Mrs. Hakim, but Cornelia only waved. She didn't know what to do with herself.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. Here, Admeta. Mr. Hakim left some money for cab fare. Have the driver drop Cornelia off first since she lives closer, then you can pay him. If there is anything left over, just give it to the driver. He or she will have a nice tip, no?" she asked, faking another smile.

"Sure, Mrs. H.," Admeta replied.

"Now go girls; go off into the night and try not to think about me. I am fine. We are all fine," Mrs. Hakim said, waving to the girls. They waved back and walked out into the hall with Nurse Robin. She escorted them to the lobby and pointed to the cab waiting outside the emergency room doors.

As they were walking out, Admeta asked, "By the way, what happened with your grandmother?"

"What? Oh.." Cornelia began. "She died last summer."

"Oh," Admeta said. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Cornelia replied.

"What kind of cancer did she have?" Admeta asked.

Cornelia hesitated for a moment before replying, "breast cancer."

"Oh," Admeta said, unable to say anything else. She could feel a knot tighten in her throat as she tried not to cry.

The girls spent the cab ride in silence staring out the windows. Cornelia had never ridden in a taxicab before; it was another first for her that day. Her heart was in turmoil. She didn't think she could care so much about the well being of someone she once thought she hated. She was terrified that her teacher was going to meet the same fate as her grandmother. It made her angry and sad at the same time. She was filled with regret as the cab pulled up to her house.
Chapter 13

Daruma's Revenge

When Cornelia arrived home, she said good-bye to Admeta and the cab sped off. That's when she saw Chad standing by her front door.

"CC!" Chad shouted as Admeta drove off in the cab.

"Chad, what are you doing here?"

"Brad Jenkins said you were in the hospital. I called your house and no one answered, so I came over here and no one was home. I was so scared. I just decided to sit and wait," he said approaching her on the sidewalk. "I'm so glad you're alright," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"I'm fine," Cornelia said, exhausted. "It wasn't me who was sick," she continued but then she stopped when she remembered her promise not to tell anyone about Mrs. Hakim's illness.

"Who was then?" Chad asked, taking her hand and walking her to the door.

"Umm," Cornelia began. Her first instinct was to lie but she couldn't imagine lying to Chad's sweet face. She figured he would hear something about Mrs. Hakim in school the next day anyway, so she just decided to tell the truth while leaving a few things out.

"Mrs. Hakim fell and hit her head during our Writers on the Storm meeting," she said. Adding, "It was no big deal," for effect.

"Oh my gosh, is she alright?" Chad asked. This was one of the things Cornelia loved about Chad. He didn't even know Mrs. Hakim and yet he was genuinely concerned about her wellbeing. He was always showing concern for people he didn't know, just like the people at The Family Connection; just like Admeta; just like Mrs. Hakim.

"She will be," Cornelia said as she turned her key in the deadbolt lock on the front door.

"I guess I'd better go. If your mom catches me here she'll ground you for another month."

"No, it's o.k. She's out. She told me not to wait up. Come on in," she said and opened the door. The couple walked inside. Cornelia's house was a two-story mini-mansion. It was the same cookie cutter mold they used for every house on her street. In fact, it was the same as every other house in her subdivision. The outside was brick with stone accents and brown shutters. The inside was big and airy with vaulted ceilings and skylights in the living room and dining room.

Every room was a different color, always a warm, pastel color. The dining room and kitchen had huge sets of doors that led to a patio surrounding the in-ground swimming pool. Past the kitchen was a hallway that led to Veronica's bedroom, a bathroom, the work-out room and a room that Veronica now called her "sewing room," although Cornelia had never seen her mother sew anything in her life. When Cornelia's father lived with them, that room was his den. He had an entire library of legal books in there, but when he left, Veronica removed every remnant of Harrison Drake, Esquire from their house.

Cornelia hung her coat on a hook in the foyer and then led Chad up the grand staircase in the front of the house to the second floor and they walked to her room. There were four bedrooms and two bathrooms on the second floor. Cornelia was in the master bedroom. She had her own private bathroom. The other bathroom was down the hall between two rooms that were being used for storage. One room still had a lot of boxes that Cornelia's father needed to pick up.

The fourth room had been used as Harrison's home office, but that of course was gone as well. Cornelia surmised that her father put his office upstairs in order to get as far away from Veronica as he could. Cornelia now used that room as a library. She put up some bookcases with all of the books she could find. She even took a few of her father's law books and other books he left behind to give the room character. Her father left his desk which Cornelia used for her desktop computer. She usually used her laptop in her bedroom, but sometimes when she wanted to feel close to her father she would just go and sit behind the desk in the library. She had many good memories of interrupting her father in there when she was little. That was before Brandy. Before the divorce. Before the death of Cornelia's grandmother. And before the death of their family.

When Cornelia got to her room she immediately grabbed her childhood teddy bear, Scottie. He was a light brown bear that her father had given her for her fifth birthday. He has rested on her bed ever since. Her father used to speak through Scottie, using a Scottish accent. This was especially funny considering that Scottie has always worn lederhosen. Cornelia cherished those memories before her parents grew bitter. She gave Scottie a bear hug and sat down on her bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daruma was looking at her with his one beady eye.

"What's going on, CC?" Chad asked.

"Nothing," Cornelia protested.

"Come on CC," Chad said, closing the door. "I know you better than that."

"I know you do," Cornelia admitted. "I apologized to Mrs. Hakim today."

"That's great, CC. Why would you be glum about that?"

"I don't know," she lied as she began pulling at Scottie's ears. "I guess it was just something I should have done a long time ago and I'm disappointed in myself that it took this long. In fact it's something I shouldn't have had to do at all because I should never have done what I did. I'm a horrible person, Chad," she said, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"No you aren't, CC; you're just someone who made a mistake," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "It's too late to cry about it now, CC. What's done is done and you apologized. I assume she accepted?" he asked, pulling back to look her in the eyes. Cornelia was too upset to answer, so she just nodded. Chad pulled her closer.

"Well, see, then? It's over. It should be a time of celebration, not a time to cry." Normally Cornelia loved Chad's optimism, but she was beside herself at that point.

"You don't understand, Chad. I am a horrible person!" Cornelia yelled and stood up, releasing herself from Chad's grasp.

"Do you see this doll?" she asked, pointing to Daruma who just looked on as if he were amused by the whole situation.

"Of course," Chad began, but Cornelia interrupted.

"Do you remember that day you gave him to me? You came here and painted on the eye and told me to make a wish?"

"Yes, I told you to ask for leniency."

"Yeah, I know. But that's not what I asked for, Chad. I told you, I'm a horrible person. Do you know what I asked for that day?" she asked and then started rummaging through the drawers in her vanity.

When he didn't answer she yelled, "Do you?!"

"Jeez, CC, no I don't" Chad was affronted.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to yell at you. I never mean to yell at you. You're the best thing in my life and I would never want to hurt you. Do you see? I don't want to hurt you and I am. What's wrong with me?!" Cornelia was bordering on hysteria and the tears were flowing like a rushing creek on a stormy day.

"CC.." Chad began but was again interrupted.

"It was a rhetorical question, Chad. I know what's wrong with me," she said, now throwing things all over the place searching for something in her drawers.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, pulling a black Sharpie out of her drawer and slamming it shut.

"What's wrong with me," she began as she grabbed the Daruma doll off the shelf, "Is that I'm a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan who will amount to nothing in this life."

"CC, what are you doing?" Chad asked, standing up.

"I'm doing what you told me to do, Chad!" Cornelia yelled.

"What?" Chad asked as he watched Cornelia feverishly scribble on the Daruma doll. With tears still streaming down her face, she tried to steady her hand.

"When you gave me this doll you told me that you're supposed to paint on one eye when you make your wish and paint on the other eye only after your wish has been granted, right? Isn't that right, Chad?!"

"CC, you're starting to worry me," Chad said, afraid to get closer in case he might spook her.

"I should worry you, Chad! I should!" she yelled, looking up for a moment to meet his eyes.

"Stop looking at me! I don't deserve to have you looking at me," she wept as her hand was still hard at work on Daruma.

"That day, when you gave me this doll, you told me to ask for leniency, but I didn't. No, not me. Not a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan who will amount to nothing in this life. No, sir," Cornelia's face was as red as a tomato as she continued to scream and cry at the same time.

"No, I had to wish for the most spiteful, most disgusting thing I could wish for, Chad! Look. Look here. There he is," she said, showing Chad the Daruma doll, who now had two eyes. One was carefully hand-painted by someone with the skill of a master craftsman, and the other was scribbled on by a trembling hand using a permanent marker. The new eye looked as if it were drawn by a five-year-old. It was uneven and distorted and it was placed in the center of the eye, unlike the eye that Chad had painted, which touched the bottom outline of the eye. Daruma now looked like a crazed madman. Cornelia was staring down at her creation, still weeping.

"CC, why did you do that?" Chad asked, stepping closer and placing one hand on her shoulder. Cornelia shrugged his hand off her shoulder and put the Daruma back on the shelf.

"No, I don't deserve pity. Not from you. Not kind, virtuous, Chadwick. I don't deserve your pity or your kindness and I especially don't deserve your love," Cornelia said in a calmer voice, staring up at Daruma with one hand on her hip as if she were checking to see if he was sitting up straight.

"You see him, there, Chad? Do you?" Chad nodded and looked away from his hysterical girlfriend long enough to glimpse the now grotesque face of Daruma. Chad could have sworn Daruma would have jumped off the shelf and killed them both with an ax if he could only become animated long enough.

"He has two eyes now," she continued. "He can truly see, just as you should truly see me for what I really am. A stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan who will amount to nothing in this life. That's me. And do you know why?" Cornelia asked, sniffling but not waiting for an answer.

"Because that day when you told me to make a wish," she paused, seemingly ashamed of what she was about to say.

Her voice quivered with her next line, "I wished that Mrs. Hakim would get what was coming to her." There was a long pause before Cornelia continued. "And she did, Chad, she finally did! That's why Daruma has two eyes. My wish came true! She got hers. She really got hers," she said, thinking about the cancer that was eating away at Mrs. Hakim's body. Chad stood quietly, thinking that Cornelia was talking about Mrs. Hakim getting injured. He was afraid to touch his distraught girlfriend as she sobbed even harder. Her chest was going in and out rapidly as Cornelia began to heave. Chad decided something needed to be done.

"CC, let me help you," Cornelia was too upset to refuse Chad's help as he put his arm around her shoulder and led her to edge of her bed where he sat next to her.

"You need to calm down, CC. First of all, it's just a stupid superstition. It doesn't mean anything. Secondly, you made that wish a long time ago. You told me yourself you apologized to Mrs. Hakim today and she accepted your apology. You weren't wishing that she would 'get hers' today, were you?" he asked, patting Cornelia on the back lightly.

Cornelia sniffed, and then said very quietly, "No."

"See? Here's a tissue," he said, pulling a Kleenex out of the box on her vanity and handing it to her.

"Dry your eyes, CC," Chad said and Cornelia blew her nose. "O.k., that works too," he said, trying to make her laugh. It didn't work.

"Look, CC, when Mrs. Hakim forgave you, your wish was forfeited," Chad said, trying a different route.

Cornelia looked up at Chad, sniffling. "It was?" she asked as if she was a five-year-old asking her father if she was a good girl.

"Yeah, CC. Totally. Once you apologized you weren't at the same point you were at when you made that wish, so it doesn't count. We're going to have a do-over."

"What?" Cornelia asked, a little bit louder and a little less sniffly.

"It's something my dad says all the time. We're going to do have a do-over. We're starting fresh. Do you have any white nail polish?" Chad asked.

"Over there on my vanity," Cornelia pointed to a little white bottle that was sitting in the middle of a bunch of other colors and Chad got up to fetch it.

"O.k.," he said as he grabbed the nail polish and took the deranged Daruma off of his shelf. Chad sat in the vanity chair and carefully painted over Daruma's eyeballs with the white nail polish as Cornelia looked on in silence. She stopped crying and wiped her eyes and nose with the tissue Chad had given her as she watched him make gentle and precise strokes.

"There!" he proclaimed after applying the last stroke. He then turned the eyeless Daruma to face Cornelia.

"He's as good as new," Chad said as he picked Daruma up and put him back on the shelf looking much less deranged. Then Chad put Cornelia's nail polish back where he found it and sat next to Cornelia on the edge of the bed.

"See?" Chad asked. "Now when you're ready you can make a new wish and color in one of his eyes, then you can color in the second eye when that wish comes true. If what you say is true then this is a powerful Daruma and your new wish has to come true, doesn't it?"

Cornelia was well aware that Chad was patronizing her, but she didn't care. She loved him for his kindness, especially after he heard about the terrible thing she had wished for. She looked up into his striking blue eyes and Chad leaned down to kiss Cornelia gently on the mouth. Just then they heard a car pull up in the driveway.

"Oh my god, it's my mom!" Cornelia yelled.

"I'm on it!" Chad shouted and shot off the bed in a flash. "I'll see you in school tomorrow," he said and flew out of the room and down the stairs in a flash.

Cornelia didn't even get the chance to say good-bye or to thank Chad for his kindness. She walked to the stairs to be sure Chad was able to get out the back door before her mother opened the front door. She heard the back door close just as Veronica was putting her key in the front door. She was saying something to someone, but Cornelia could not hear what she was saying. Cornelia decided to go back in her room and close the door. With any luck Veronica would go straight to bed and Cornelia wouldn't have to explain the evening's events.

Cornelia was right. Veronica didn't stop up to see her before retiring to her room on the first floor. As Cornelia heard the sound of her mother's bedroom door closing, she picked Daruma off of his shelf and sat down at her vanity. She sat motionless for a moment, staring into the empty slots that used to be Daruma's eyes. She felt like he could still see her despite the fact that he was missing eyeballs. This time she didn't think he was sadistic or taunting. For the first time, she felt Daruma was feeling compassionate.

She sat the little monk on her vanity and picked up a bottle of black nail polish. This time she painted on one eyeball in the left socket with precision. It wasn't a nice as the one Chad had painted, but it was a lot better than her last attempt with the Sharpie. She made it perfectly centered and made it touch the outline of the eye on the bottom, just as Chad had.

After she made sure the eye was filled in just right, she closed her eyes and silently made another wish.
Chapter 14

Getting to Know You

Cornelia did not sleep easy that night. She tossed and turned and woke up every few hours. She kept dreaming about the day's events and about her grandmother. She once again remembered visiting her grandmother during her final weeks. She remembered how tiny she looked, just as Mrs. Hakim looked in that hospital bed.

At six in the morning, Cornelia's alarm clock shook her out of a terrible nightmare. She was once again reliving the day her grandmother died. Cornelia woke up sobbing. She had never had such an intense dream before. Shaking the feelings from her nightmare wasn't easy. She tried to pull herself together in the shower but she was still shaken when she went down to breakfast in her fuzzy pink robe and slippers.

Half of a bagel with light cream cheese and half a banana were sitting on a plate on the kitchen table next to a glass of chocolate soy milk. Cornelia didn't see her mother, so she sat down and ate. When she put her dishes in the dishwasher she could see that her mother had already eaten and much to Cornelia's surprise, apparently Veronica had company.

"Ew, gross!" Cornelia said out loud, wrinkling up her nose.

"Cornelia, is that you?" Her mother called from the dining room.

"Yeah," Cornelia replied.

"Let me know when you're ready to go," Veronica said cheerily. Cornelia thought she might vomit. She had never heard her mother so cheery in the morning.

Cornelia ran upstairs to get ready for school, careful to avoid the dining room. Only today she wasn't as careful when picking out her outfit and she wasn't as precise when putting on her make-up and styling her hair. She opted for a hoodie with jeans and tennis shoes with her hair in a ponytail, which was very unlike the girl who usually opted for more stylish clothes. When she was ready, she grabbed her purse and book bag and walked downstairs, uneasy about the person she was about to meet. The person that made her mother so chipper.

When Cornelia walked into the dining room, she was relieved to see a woman sitting across the table from Veronica. Both women looked up at Cornelia when she walked in the room. She was short with red, curly hair that was slightly tousled. Her eyes were bright green and she had freckles. Cornelia thought she walked right off a poster advertising trips to Ireland. She glanced under the woman's chair for a pot of gold, but saw none.

"Oh, CC, I'd like you to meet my friend, Michelle," Veronica said, pointing to the woman. Cornelia politely waved. She was worried that her mother had brought a man home, so she was happy to exchange pleasantries with her mother's new friend.

"Are you feeling o.k. CC?" her mother asked.

"Yeah, mom, I'm fine," Cornelia replied.

"O.k." her mom said, looking at her daughter's untidy appearance.

"Well, I guess you're ready," Veronica said and both women stood up. "I'm going to drive Michelle home too," she said, noticing Cornelia's curious look. The three women walked out to the SUV. Michelle sat in the front, so Cornelia was stuck in the back seat. The two women were chattering back and forth, but Cornelia wasn't paying any attention to them. She was thinking about Mrs. Hakim and hoping she would see her in school. She spent the trip to school in silence. The two women didn't seem to notice.

When they arrived at the school, Cornelia took her backpack and exited the SUV and Veronica and Michelle waved as they drove away. As soon as she walked through the door, Cornelia made a beeline for classroom 97. But when she got there, all she found was Admeta staring out the window.

"Hey," Cornelia said.

Admeta turned around and echoed back, "Hey."

"So, she's not here?" Cornelia asked.

"No. There's a substitute. He's with Mr. Beckardi right now."

"Oh," Cornelia replied.

"Don't worry, Cornelia. She's going to be back. Mark my words. Mrs. H. isn't a quitter. She'll be back." Admeta sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.

"I hope so," Cornelia said. "I guess I'd better get to homeroom."

"See ya," Admeta said as Cornelia walked down the hall to her locker and then continued on to homeroom. She passed Rebekka and Sarah in the hallway. They had their backs to her and were chattering excitedly about something. Cornelia kept on walking, hoping they wouldn't turn around. She got her wish.

When she arrived in homeroom, some of the students were in a circle talking. Cornelia couldn't hear what they were saying but she thought she heard Mrs. Hakim's name mentioned. When Mr. Brockheimer, Cornelia's homeroom teacher, walked in, the group immediately stopped talking. Students slowly filed in until the bell rang and several students, including Rebekka and Sarah, rushed through the door. They all went to their seats quietly, hoping not to get a lecture about being late.

Mr. Brockheimer took attendance and then there was some idle chatter until homeroom let out. Cornelia tried to rush out the door without an altercation with Rebekka and Sarah, but her luck had run out. As she strode down the hallway, Rebekka and Sarah each grabbed one of her arms and began to walk with her.

"So, CC, we hear you were a big hero yesterday," Rebekka said.

"Yeah, a hero," Sarah echoed like a good lapdog.

"What?" Cornelia said, pulling her arms away from her captors. They had first bell together, so there was no point in trying to walk a different direction.

"It's all over the school about how you and what's-her-name, Conchita, or whatever, saved Mrs. Rag-head's life," Rebekka said snidely.

"What did you say?" Cornelia shouted and stopped in the middle of the hallway, causing a bottleneck. "Her name is Admeta, not Conchita and Mrs. Hakim isn't what you called her either, Becky," Cornelia said, knowing full well that Rebekka hated being called Becky.

"My name's not Becky and you know it!" Rebekka shot back.

"Well maybe if you were more careful and called people by their proper names, then I would be more careful with yours, Becky!" Cornelia said and then she took off ahead of the duo. She could hear them saying things behind her back, but she couldn't make it out. She could also hear the occasional person saying, "there she is" or "that's her" as she walked past them in the hallway.

The entire day went like that with Cornelia avoiding Rebekka and Sarah every chance she got. Apparently Amanda had had enough of the evil duo too because she had forgotten about her anger with Cornelia and sat with her and Chad at lunch. Cornelia noticed that Amanda wasn't eating but she didn't want to anger her again by mentioning it.

"Rebekka told me what she said to you this morning, CC," Amanda said.

"Oh, she shared the joy?" Cornelia asked smugly.

"For the record I think it's disgusting. Honestly I don't know why you ever hung out with that girl. I only hung out with her because you hung out with her. She just makes me sick."

"I'm glad I'm not alone," Chad said. "What did Rebekka say?"

"You don't want to know," Cornelia replied. "It was nasty and racist and I hate her. Can we talk about something else?"

"O.k. shoot," Chad said.

Cornelia spoke to them about her nightmares, but she did not reveal anything about Mrs. Hakim's cancer. That was a secret she had vowed to keep. Chad offered a sympathetic ear. Amanda didn't know what to say, so she just nodded a lot and picked at her food. The three went their separate ways after lunch and after study hall, Cornelia headed to English class where Mrs. Hakim would have been.

When Cornelia arrived in Classroom 97, she found Admeta waiting for her. "I'm going to Mrs. Hakim's after school, do you want to come?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure. She's out of the hospital?"

"Yeah. Mr. Beckardi told me."

"How are you getting there?" Cornelia asked.

"She lives in the village; we can walk," Admeta said. Cornelia was so concerned for Mrs. Hakim that she didn't even feel a moment of apprehension about walking through the village.

"Cool. I'll tell my mom not to pick me up from school," Cornelia said and sat at her desk in the front row. The seats were in alphabetical order, so Admeta was at the back of the class.

When the bell rang signifying the start of class, a very tall, thin man with light brown hair and glasses closed the door. He was wearing khaki pants, a short-sleeved button down checked shirt that was untucked and a pair of beat-up old leather loafers with no socks. He walked over to the white board and wrote the word "CARL" in big capital letters.

"Hello!" he said and smiled brightly, showing off the space between his front teeth. Cornelia thought he had a nice smile but she would rather have seen Mrs. Hakim. She glanced behind her and saw Admeta scowling. Cornelia thought Admeta wouldn't give any substitute a chance if they were replacing Mrs. Hakim.

"I'm Carl Zeland," he continued, "but you can just call me Carl." Cornelia was surprised. She had never had a teacher who asked to be called by his first name. She suddenly thought that Carl bore a slight resemblance to Chad. He had an air about him that said he was raised by hippies too.

"I'm sorry to say that we don't know how long Mrs. Hakim is going to be gone," Carl said. "I'm very sorry that your teacher is injured and I know that you are all probably very attached to her. I want you to know that I'm not here to replace Mrs. Hakim. I'm just a substitute. I will be very glad to turn the reins back over to Mrs. Hakim when she is able."

Carl paused and looked around the room. "With that said," he continued, "let's get things started."

"I'd like you all to take a look at this book," he said, holding up a copy of "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." Mrs. Hakim wanted you to read this book, but I was told by your principal, Mr. Beckardi, that this book is banned from the curriculum at Storm River High School. This is unfortunate, as I find Mark Twain to be one of the most insightful authors of his time. Mrs. Hakim must have thought this too, since she wanted you to read this book. I'm dismayed that you will not be able to read it, but I encourage you to read it on your own." Cornelia thought that wasn't likely with most of the students at Storm River, but the fact that the book was banned made her want to read it.

"We can't read the book, but I was able to obtain a censored copy of a mini-series that is based on the book. Normally I wouldn't want to share something that is censored, but since Mrs. Hakim really wanted you to be exposed to this story, I think it's important that you see this series, even if it is censored. We'll be watching this for the rest of this week. Please take notes as we will be having a discussion next week and I don't want you to forget the important points. Are we cool?" Carl asked and some of the students laughed. Teachers just didn't say "cool."

"Good!" Carl said, smiling widely again. He started the computer projector and began the film. The class remained relatively quiet, which surprised Cornelia. They were normally more rambunctious when there was a substitute. To Cornelia's surprise, she found the film quite compelling even though the bleeping of the n-word was distracting. Cornelia understood why it was censored. The n-word was a horrible word and she was ashamed that she had ever used it. In the context of "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," however, it was appropriate because that's the way they spoke in that time. Even still, part of her was glad it was bleeped. She hated hearing that word. It reminded her of what she had done and that burning feeling of shame and guilt swept over her every time she heard it.

When class was over, Carl greeted everyone at the door with a, "good-bye" or "see you tomorrow." He still had that huge goofy grin on his face. Cornelia found it endearing.

"I'll meet you at your locker after school," Admeta said as she and Cornelia left the classroom. Cornelia went to the office to call her mother. She was still grounded from using her cell phone. Her mother agreed to pick her up from school whenever Cornelia called to let her know they were back from Mrs. Hakim's house. Veronica was surprised to hear that Cornelia wanted to visit Mrs. Hakim, so she did not make a fuss about being inconvenienced.

The final bell was gym class. Cornelia walked mindlessly from the office to the gym, still hearing people whisper about her. She ran into the Turner twins and assured them that Mrs. Hakim was fine. She didn't like lying. Inside she knew Mrs. Hakim wasn't going to be fine, but she had promised to keep the secret.

After grueling games of dodge ball, the last bell finally rung and Cornelia headed to her gym locker to change. She was glad gym was at the end of the day so she didn't have to go to some much trouble to redo her hair make-up after sweating. After she locked up her gym clothes, she went to her regular locker to put away some books. Chad met her there and she quickly said "good-bye." She told him that she and Admeta were going to visit Mrs. Hakim. Chad did not say so, but the look on his face was one of happy surprise. He kissed Cornelia on the cheek and went to get his bike. Just after he left, Admeta arrived.

"You ready?" was all Admeta said.

"Yeah," Cornelia said as she picked up her purse and her now-lighter book bag and put on her coat.

The pair walked out of the side door of the Business Wing and headed down Harrison Street in silence. After a few blocks, Admeta stopped to open a gate. Cornelia looked at the two-story yellow cottage with white shutters as if it mystified her. It reminded her of something you would see in a story book. It was nothing at all like what she expected of a house in Price Valley. It was sweet and homey. Admeta swung open the white picket gate and the girls walked into the front yard.

"Quick, close the gate!" Admeta yelled as a big gray poodle sprang up and put his front paws on her shoulders. Cornelia complied with Admeta's hasty request. When Mrs. Hakim said she had a poodle, Cornelia had been expecting a teacup-sized fluffy white dog with a bushy tail, not the dark monster that stood before her, pawing her friend.

"O.k., Ralph, hola!" Admeta said, laughing and trying to push the dog down. "A little help?" she asked, turning her head toward Cornelia.

"Down, doggie," Cornelia said meekly, pointing toward the ground.

"Oh, thanks, Cornelia, that really helped," Admeta said, laughing again.

"Well, I don't know," Cornelia said, cracking a smile. "What do you want me to do?"

"Come here, Ralph!" called a man's voice from the porch. The girls looked up to see a handsome man in his thirties slapping his thighs to attract the dog's attention. Cornelia wondered who the man was. She thought he might have been a nurse sent by the hospital.

"Hello Mr. H.," Admeta said.

Cornelia's mouth slacked open a little. Realizing what she was doing, she quickly shut it. She didn't want to be rude, but Mr. Hakim was nothing like she expected. For starters, he was white, with not a hint of Middle Eastern descent in him, not even an accent. Secondly, he was devastatingly handsome with short, messy blonde hair, a five o'clock shadow and a muscular build. Not that Mrs. Hakim was ugly by any means, but Mr. Hakim was definitely a pinch out of her league, in Cornelia's opinion. Cornelia flinched. There she was being judgmental again and she was ashamed of her thoughts.

"Hello, girls," Mr. Hakim said. "I don't believe we've met," he continued, reaching out a hand to shake Cornelia's. Cornelia was suddenly struck with fear. What if Mrs. Hakim had told him about the awful thing she did? What if he wasn't as forgiving as his wife? The two girls walked up the steps and Cornelia shook his hand.

"This is Cornelia Drake," Admeta said, looking at Cornelia cross-ways, wondering why she didn't introduce herself.

"Well, hello, Cornelia Drake," Mr. Hakim said, smiling, with the dog by his side. He wasn't wearing a coat and his breath was creating clouds when he spoke. Cornelia breathed a sigh of relief. Either he didn't know what she did, didn't realize she was the girl who did it, or he had forgiven her just like Mrs. Hakim had. Cornelia didn't know which of those options was correct, but she was glad Mr. Hakim hadn't yelled at her as she had expected. She wondered what she would have said to him had he written something like that about Chad and was again ashamed. She knew she wouldn't have been forgiving.

"Hi, Mr. Hakim," Cornelia said, releasing her hand from the sake, still wondering if he would put the pieces together.

"Oh, around here I'm just Daniel. Pleased to meet you," he said. Cornelia smiled, but said nothing further. She was still testing the waters. "Come on in, girls, it's freezing out here," he continued, opening the front door.

The Hakim's house was immaculate. There was not a doily or vase out of place in the entire home. In the foyer stood a grand wooden staircase, with an elaborate red and yellow carpet running down the middle of the steps. Near the door were a bench and table that looked like antiques, only they weren't like any antiques Cornelia had ever seen. They were made of hand-carved wood, although Cornelia didn't know what kind, and they had very elaborate designs and markings that Cornelia did not recognize. The table had a round white doily that looked hand-made and it had a vase centered exactly in the middle.

The vase was bone-colored and decorated in black paint. At the top there was a character that appeared to be Satan looking down on different battle scenes. In the middle, facing Cornelia, there was a couple embracing and above them some chariots racing. There were maidens in distress and old men praying and in between stood elaborate buildings with round tops like mosques. Cornelia thought the vase was quite beautiful even though it was what her mother would have called "busy."

"Take your coats off, ladies," Daniel said, pointing to a very odd coat rack. "You can put your book bags on the floor right there," he continued, pointing to the floor next to the coat rack. The coat rack didn't match anything else in the foyer. The stem was made of oak and had very crude brass hooks nailed to it. The base was a pan that had been painted red and filled with cement which was also painted red. As Cornelia hung her coat and put her bag down, she could see tiny handprints in the cement and then she understood. This coat rack had been made by a child. Now it all made sense. She had forgotten Mrs. Hakim said she had children.

Next, Daniel led the girls into living room where Mrs. Hakim was lying on the couch covered in a red quilt. The quilt had plain red embroidery except for the very middle where there was a depiction of a couple. The woman was wearing a red wedding dress and the man a red suit. Cornelia thought it was an odd color for a wedding, but she didn't know anything about Muslim weddings. The quilt seemed to portray the man fixing the bride's veil. Above the couple was a single heart. Cornelia surmised that the quilt had been a wedding gift.

The rest of the living room also had an antique look. Cornelia was surprised to see there was no television. There was a bench that looked similar to the one in the foyer and it was covered in an ornate red quilted pillow. There was a table in front of a bay window that was covered in a white lace table cloth similar to the doily Cornelia had seen earlier. It also held plants that were housed in planters as nice as the vase in the foyer.

The couch was a vibrant red and yellow pattern, which matched the pillow-top bench. There was a curio in the corner of the room filled with the most beautiful china Cornelia had ever seen. It was even lovelier than her parent's wedding china and Cornelia wanted to get a closer look but again, she couldn't be rude.

She looked at Mrs. Hakim. She still looked tiny. At least now she had a new hijab, so she did not have to sit before them bald. This hijab wasn't as nice as the ones Mrs. Hakim wore at school. It was plain white with no ornamentation. It made her skin look darker, although Cornelia still thought she looked pale. She could see the corner of a bandage sticking out from under the hijab.

"Welcome, girls," Mrs. Hakim began. "You really did not have to come all this way to see me. I am perfectly fine."

"It was only five blocks," Admeta said.

"Even so, it was no necessary for you to burden yourselves," Mrs. Hakim said, adjusting her hijab to make sure it was straight.

"Where are my manners?" Daniel asked. "Please have a seat, girls," he said, motioning toward the bench. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," the girls said in unison as they sat on the bench and Cornelia sat her purse on the floor by her feet. The dog came over and sniffed Cornelia's purse, then laid down beside her.

"Honey, can I get you something?" He said to Mrs. Hakim. Cornelia thought it was odd to hear him call her "honey."

"No, dear, I am fine. Is it not time to pick up the children?"

"Oh, you're right," he said, glancing down at his watch with surprise. "You girls take good care of her while I'm gone," he said before leaving and winked at his wife. She smiled back. He grabbed a leather coat off of the homemade coat rack in the foyer and headed out the door.

After Daniel left, Mrs. Hakim said, "He fusses over me entirely too much."

Admeta said, "So how are you really, Mrs. H.?"

"I told you, my dear Admeta, I am fine. You also fuss too much," she said with a smile.

"You nearly died yesterday," Admeta persisted.

"Now you exaggerate as well, my dear," Mrs. Hakim said with a laugh. She pulled the blanket up toward her shoulders and Cornelia, too, got the impression that she might have been lying. "How was English class today?" Mrs. Hakim asked, trying to change the subject.

"Stupid," Admeta said.

"Admeta," Mrs. Hakim said in a weary tone.

"I'm serious, Mrs. H. That guy Carl is missing a few screws."

"You mean Mr. Zeland," Mrs. Hakim corrected.

"No, I mean Carl. That's what he told us to call him. Do you see what I mean? He's weird, Mrs. H."

"I will concede that it is different when a teacher requests that you call him by his first name, but it is not 'weird' as you say," Mrs. Hakim replied. "Just different," she added for good measure.

"If you say so, Mrs. H.," Admeta said.

"What did you think of English class, Cornelia?"

"Huh?" Cornelia was startled for a moment. She had been lost in thought. "Oh, Carl was o.k. I guess," she said. "It was too bad the book you wanted us to read was banned."

"What?" Mrs. Hakim asked, surprised.

Admeta interjected, "Yeah, Mrs. H., the school said we couldn't read it because it contained the n-word, so Carl is playing a censored version of the mini-series. It's silly."

"I kind of like it," Cornelia said, but Mrs. Hakim wasn't paying attention.

"They banned Adventures of Huckleberry Finn? But that is an American classic, no?" Mrs. Hakim asked, confused.

"Yeah, Mrs. H., but the school doesn't want us reading the n-word. Maybe they're afraid we'll start saying it or something," Admeta responded, then she tried to avoid the glance she could feel coming from Cornelia. She truly hadn't meant to offend her.

"Well that is just ridiculous," Mrs. Hakim said. "I have had you read Shakespeare and I have yet to hear anyone start speaking in Elizabethan English." The girls both laughed, which diffused Cornelia's discomfort, but Mrs. Hakim remained dismayed.

Cornelia didn't want Mrs. Hakim upset, so she tried to change the subject, "Are you really o.k., Mrs. Hakim?"

"As I said, I am fine. Why do the two of you young ladies not want to believe that, may I ask?"

"You -" Admeta began, but then hesitated.

"Yes?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

"Well, you don't look so good, Mrs. H.," Admeta said and then turned her eyes toward the floor. Mrs. Hakim did not look affronted.

"And here I thought I was ready for the Miss America pageant," Mrs. Hakim joked. Cornelia laughed but Admeta did not flinch.

"I'm serious, Mrs. H." Admeta said, looking back up at her.

"I know that you are, my dear," Mrs. Hakim replied sympathetically. "But you must let me worry about my health, Admeta. That is not your burden to bear. Neither of you," she added, looking at Cornelia.

A tear was streaming down Admeta's face and she wiped it away quickly. Cornelia offered, "We can't help it, Mrs. Hakim."

Admeta offered, "We can't lose you," and another tear streamed down her right cheek as Cornelia nodded in agreement.

Admeta wiped away the tear and added, "And we're not going to lose you." She almost sounded like she believed it.

"That is a lovely sentiment, both of you, but you really must leave my health to me. You have more important things to worry about. Like your school work." The girls said nothing. "And boys too, yes?" she added and winked at Cornelia.

Cornelia did not smile. She couldn't smile. She was just as concerned about Mrs. Hakim as Admeta. Perhaps more so because she had seen what breast cancer can do to someone. Mrs. Hakim was already showing the signs. She was pale and losing weight. Cornelia couldn't help but think she looked very tiny underneath the massive quilt.

"You're deflecting again," Admeta said, knowingly. Then a key turned in the lock and Mr. Hakim entered with three small children in tow. The two older children handed their coats to their father and then came running into the living room to hug their mother. Mr. Hakim hung the coats and then started getting the baby out of the carrier so he could take off her coat too.

"Alright, alright," Mrs. Hakim said, hugging her children. "I know you are excited to see me home again, my precious ones, but we have company, did you not see?" The children stood up and turned to face the girls. "Do you remember Admeta, children?" she asked.

The oldest girl said, "Yes, momma."

"Then what do you say?"

"Hello, Admeta," the oldest girl and the little boy said in unison, waving to Admeta.

"Good. And this is Cornelia," she said, motioning to Cornelia. "Cornelia, this is our daughter, Raja and our son Nazeeh. And over there is our youngest daughter, Zayn," she said, pointing to the coatless baby that Mr. Hakim was now holding in his arms. The baby was round and olive skinned with dark hair. She was wearing a pink dress and socks and leaning on her father's shoulder, half asleep. Raja's skin was much darker and her hair was as dark as raven's feathers. Nazeeh's complexion was lighter and his hair was light brown. Cornelia thought he looked more like his father.

"What do you say?"

"Hello Raja, hello Nazeeh," Cornelia said. The children looked confused and Mrs. Hakim, her husband and Admeta laughed. As soon as the children heard the adults laughing, they knew it was o.k. to laugh themselves. Their laughter sounded like the cries of joy you hear from children at a carnival. Cornelia looked on in confusion.

"I was speaking to the children, Cornelia. Youngsters should always greet their elders first," she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cornelia said, contritely.

"No, no, dear, do not apologize. You did not know. It was, how do you say, 'off the hook,' no?" That made everyone laugh even harder and Cornelia finally cracked a smile.

"I don't think you're using that phrase, right, honey," Daniel said, still laughing.

"Well, I guess I'm not hip to the latest lingo then, no?" she asked.

"Definitely not, Mrs. H." Admeta said with a chuckle.

When they were finished laughing, Mr. Hakim said, "I'm going to put Zayn down for a nap."

"O.k., dear," Mrs. Hakim replied and then turned toward the children. "And children, you have homework to do, no?"

"Yes, momma," they replied in unison and then left the room as Admeta and Cornelia waved. Mrs. Hakim yawned and pulled the blanket in closer.

"We don't want to keep you, Mrs. H., I know you're tired. We just wanted to check in," Admeta said.

"I appreciate it, really, but I know that you lovely young ladies have more important things to think about."

"Nothing is more important than cancer," Cornelia said, sadly.

"Oh, Cornelia, so cynical for such a young woman. There are certainly more important things than cancer, you will see. You are young. But, Ms. Admeta, you are right about me being tired. I appreciate the visit, ladies, but I really must rest now."

"When will you be back at school?" Admeta asked.

"Oh, Admeta dear, let us just take it one day at a time, shall we?" Mrs. Hakim asked with a smile. But Cornelia could have sworn that the smile was masking a cringe of pain.

"Then can we come again?" Admeta asked.

"Well I do not believe you need to," Mrs. Hakim began, but after seeing the look on Admeta's face she conceded, "but if it will put your mind at ease, you may come by after school whenever you like." Admeta smiled and Mrs. Hakim returned in kind. Cornelia was still uneasy as the girls said their good-byes, grabbed their coats and book bags and headed back to school to be picked up.
Chapter 15

The Long Road

On the way from the Hakim's house to school, Cornelia said to Admeta, "So that wasn't your first time visiting, huh?"

"No," Admeta replied. "Mrs. H. used to tutor me in English."

"Oh," Cornelia said.

"It's not because I couldn't speak it," Admeta said sarcastically.

"I didn't think that it was," Cornelia said defensively. "Why are you always so quick to think the worst in me?"

"I'm sorry. It's not just you; it's everybody. People hear my accent and they immediately think English isn't my first language," Admeta said, apologetically.

"That must suck," Cornelia said, empathetically.

"Not as bad as having cancer," Admeta said, sadly.

"Yeah," Cornelia said as her feet crunched through some leaves on the sidewalk.

"Do you think she'll be coming back soon?" Admeta questioned.

"No," Cornelia said, honestly.

"Cornelia!" Admeta yelled.

"Why did you ask if you didn't want to hear my honest answer?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I was looking to you to give me some hope!" Admeta said, putting one hand on her hip.

"I guess I don't have any to give. I'm sorry, Admeta. I've seen what breast cancer does."

"Don't say that!" Admeta screamed, stopping in her tracks and waving her index finger back and forth. Cornelia turned around to face her. "Don't you dare say that!"

"Admeta, I'm just being honest," Cornelia said.

"No. No you're not. You're being pessimistic! I know you had a bad experience, but -" and then she was cut off.

Cornelia was angry, "No, you don't know. You don't know anything about my experience. You have no idea what it's like to watch someone you love die. I saw my grandma get sicker and sicker until she had tubes and wires and probes all over her body. She stopped talking. She couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. She was in terrible pain and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. We all had to just watch while she slipped away. That's what breast cancer does, Admeta. It did it to my grandmother and now it's going to do the same thing to Mrs. Hakim!" Both girls were red-faced and exasperated with each other.

"No it's not! I'm sorry for what you went through, Cornelia, I really am, but you don't know that the same thing will happen to Mrs. H.! It's NOT going to happen. It can't," Admeta's voice became calmer. "We can't lose her; I can't lose her."

The two girls looked at each other for a while, allowing their anger to subside. Cornelia finally broke the silence, "I can't help the way I feel, Admeta, but for what it's worth I hope you're right," she said and then turned to start walking again.

Admeta was still standing in place and she crossed her arms. "I am," she said defiantly. "I know I am." And then Admeta started walking too. The girls were silent the rest of the way back to school, except for the rustling of leaves under their feet. When they arrived they discovered that the doors were locked.

"Do you have a cell phone?" Cornelia asked.

"No, why?" Admeta asked, wondering why Cornelia didn't have one of her own.

"I'm grounded from mine and I need to call my mom to come get me."

"Well, you can walk to my house and use the phone if you want," Admeta offered. Cornelia was reluctant once again to walk through Price Valley, but she would never have let Admeta know it.

"O.k.," she said and the two were off on foot again.

This time they went the opposite direction and headed down Miami Avenue into the west valley. Cornelia pulled her coat in at the pockets as the cold wind blew. They walked for what seemed like twenty minutes. Just after they passed the library, Admeta crossed the street and turned left to walk up a long set of wooden steps that led to a small white ranch house with one black shutter on the front window. The other one must have fallen off at some point. The little house was in desperate need of a paint job and some yard work. The house had a rickety wooden porch that both girls climbed onto before going inside.

When they walked in, Cornelia was shocked at how small Admeta's house was. The front door opened right into the living room. There was an old brown checked couch, a coffee table and a television set, but not much else. The coffee table had burn marks that looked as if they were made by cigarettes and it was all scratched up. The couch was torn and the TV was really old and small. It was on an unstable TV stand that leaned a little to the right. The carpet was ugly brown shag and the left side of the living room opened up into the tiny kitchen. The kitchen didn't have a table or chairs, just countertops, cabinets, a stove and what looked like two refrigerators. All of the walls were completely bare and white.

"Why do you have two refrigerators?" Cornelia asked.

"That one's a freezer," Admeta said, pointing to the one closest to the living room. "My dad brings home lots of things to freeze for later," she continued. "The phone's right there." Admeta pointed to the half-wall that stood between the living room and kitchen. Sitting on top of it was a phone.

"Oh, thanks," Cornelia said as she put her book bag on the floor and picked up the phone to dial her mother. But when she tried to dial out, nothing happened. She hung up and tried again.

"Admeta, am I doing something wrong? I can't get it to work right."

"Let me see," Admeta said. She fiddled with the phone for a moment, but as soon as she had picked it up she knew what was wrong. Her father couldn't afford to pay the bill and it had been shut off again. There was no other explanation. Too embarrassed to admit the truth, Admeta pretended to try to fix it.

"I don't know what's wrong with it," she lied. "If you wait around until my dad gets here, he can drive you home," she offered. "He should be home soon." Cornelia looked skeptical, but she accepted Admeta's offer.

"What do we do until then?" Cornelia asked.

"I don't know. We could watch TV," Admeta offered.

"I don't watch a lot of television," Cornelia said.

Admeta knew if the phone had been shut off then so had internet access. Her father always skipped those bills first because he didn't see them as necessities. She was relieved the lights were still on.

"Well, there's not much else. What do you want to do?" Admeta asked.

"I don't know. I guess we can just wait."

"O.k., do you want something to eat or something?"

"No, my mom probably cooked something. Thanks anyway. She's going to be so pissed at me." Admeta was suddenly and irrationally irritated with Cornelia's remark.

"Well I'm sorry, Princess Cornelia, but the world doesn't always revolve around you," Admeta snapped.

"What?" Cornelia began, but was interrupted.

"You have to learn that you can't always get what you want in this life. Look at Mrs. H.; do you think she wanted cancer? No. But there it is anyway. No one gets everything they want. It just doesn't happen that way. So I'm sorry my dad couldn't afford to pay the phone bill this month and you didn't get to call your precious mother to come get you," Admeta was on a roll, but Cornelia interrupted her.

"What is with you? Are you bipolar or something? I didn't say anything and you unload all of this stuff on me. Jeez, Admeta, I didn't know your dad couldn't pay the phone bill. I'm sorry about that, but you can't keep yelling at me for every little thing I say. Not everything I say is an insult or slight against you. I don't know why you're so defensive all the time."

Both girls were then silent. Cornelia's brow was furrowed but Admeta's face was expressionless. She knew she had once again jumped to the wrong conclusion about Cornelia. She couldn't help herself sometimes. She always felt like the kids who lived on the hill took their privileged lives for granted. She was always quick to assume anything they said to her was going to be an insult.

"Sorry," Admeta said. "I'm not used to having a friend like you, CC. Sometimes I get the wrong idea about people, you know?"

"Did you just call me CC?" Cornelia asked.

"Oh, sorry," Admeta said.

"No, it's o.k. You've just never called me that before."

"Was I not supposed to?" Admeta asked with a little attitude in her voice.

"There you go again," Cornelia said, but this time she laughed it off. Admeta laughed too.

"Maybe I am bipolar, I don't know," Admeta said, smiling.

"You totally are," Cornelia said, pushing Admeta on the shoulder.

"You are," Admeta said and pushed her back. "You can put your coat and purse on the couch," she added and then took her own coat off and laid it on the coffee table. Just then the front door opened. A young handsome Hispanic man walked in. He was wearing baggy pants, a black t-shirt and a black bandana on his head. His coat was black too, with quilt-like squares. He had very short black hair and a thin moustache.

"Jorge!" Admeta said.

"'Sup pequeña hermana?" Jorge said.

"What are you doing home?"

"I live here," he said. When he smiled Cornelia saw a gold tooth with a diamond in the middle. He turned to catch Cornelia's eye, "Oh, but what's your excuse, pretty little white girl?" Cornelia did not answer. She wasn't sure what to say. If she insulted him like she wanted to, Admeta would just get mad again.

"Shut up, Jorge!" Admeta yelled and stood up.

"Whoa, settle down pequeña hermana. What's the matter? Is she your girlfriend or something?" he asked and then laughed hysterically. Cornelia just sat still on the couch. She didn't see what was funny about his statement. She thought he had a very threatening demeanor.

"You're an idiot. Can you just go to your room, please?" Admeta asked with one hand on her hip.

"I'm sorry, did you just tell me to go to my room, little sister?" he asked and his accent was suddenly gone. Cornelia surmised that this must have been his angry tone, but she wondered why the "idiot" comment hadn't bothered him.

"Please, Jorge?" Admeta said and then pouted a little. Cornelia was almost amused at how Admeta was trying to manipulate her brother.

"And what will you do for me?" he asked.

"I'll do the dishes when it's your turn," Admeta offered.

"Alright, pequeña hermana, I'll go to my room like a good little boy, but if white girl needs anything at all, you just give me a holla, k?" he asked and winked at Cornelia. Then he kissed his fingers and gave Cornelia a peace sign as he walked to his room which was right behind the living room.

"What was that about?" Cornelia asked.

"Nothing, my brothers are just stupid," she replied. Just then loud music erupted from the room he had walked into. It was so loud that the wall vibrated. "Jorge!" Admeta screamed as she pounded on the wall and the music was lowered, slightly. "God!" Admeta was obviously annoyed.

"How many brothers to you have?" Cornelia asked.

"Four. Raoul is the oldest, then there's Manuel, Vuello and Jorge. He's the youngest as you could probably tell by his behavior."

"Wow, do you have any sisters?"

"Nope, I'm the only girl in the house," Admeta said, hoping Cornelia would not ask where her mother was. Cornelia got the hint. She only saw two bedrooms and a bathroom behind the living room, so she asked Admeta where her bedroom was.

"I sleep downstairs," she said, pointing to the basement door that Cornelia hadn't noticed on the left side of the living room.

"Oh," Cornelia said, but quickly added, "it makes sense to have boys on one floor and girls on another." She knew it sounded ridiculous, but she didn't want Admeta jumping to the wrong conclusion again. Cornelia realized that all four of Admeta's brothers must share one bedroom and her father must have the other. She wondered what Admeta's room was like, but she didn't want to be pushy.

"You want to see it?" Admeta asked, much to Cornelia's surprise.

"Sure," Cornelia answered and the two girls stood up to head downstairs. Admeta stopped and turned around.

"Umm," she said, "You might want to bring your purse and book bag with you."

"O.k." Cornelia said, careful not to have any kind of inflection that could be misunderstood. She wondered why Admeta wanted her to bring her purse and bag, but she didn't question her and simply picked them up, along with her coat.

The basement stairs were steep. They had ugly red and black flat carpeting and the walls were wood paneling. At the bottom of the steps was a doorway with an American Flag acting as a door. Admeta pulled the flag aside and invited Cornelia inside.

Admeta's room was a complete contrast from the rest of the house. Her walls were covered from ceiling to floor in posters of boy bands, actors and girly things like flowers, butterflies and unicorns. Her bed was completely pink from the pillows to the bed skirt and it was covered with heart-shaped pillows and a few stuffed animals. Her curtains were pink too, with little yellow flowers. Her windows were high up on the wall on account of being in the basement. Unfortunately, her room was stuck with the ugly red and black carpeting from the stairs.

There was a desk and chair in the corner. Cornelia thought they must have been purchased at a thrift store because they were all beat up. Admeta also had two bookshelves. One was filled with books and the other had knick-knacks and music boxes. There were postcards propped up against some of the music boxes. They had scenes from someplace that looked like Central American and they had Spanish writing on them. Cornelia had no idea what they were or who they were from.

"What are the postcards?" Cornelia asked, placing her book bag, coat and purse on the bed.

"They're from my mom," Admeta answered. "She's in El Salvador."

"Oh," Cornelia said, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Admeta asked and Cornelia could see she was ready for another fight.

"Because your mom is so far away," Cornelia said, matter-of-factly.

"Oh, thanks," Admeta said. "She sends me postcards whenever she can. Sometimes she even sends me presents. Most of the music boxes are from her."

"This one's cool," Cornelia said, pointing to a ballerina on a spinning case.

"That's my favorite," Admeta said. "I wanted to be a ballerina when I was a little girl."

"What happened?" Cornelia asked.

"Reality happened," Admeta said with a laugh.

"What does that mean?" Cornelia laughed too.

"It means gravity didn't agree with my choice of vocation." Admeta was grinning.

"I know what you mean," Cornelia grinned. "I took ballet when I was five. I didn't last more than six months. I'm uncoordinated."

"Me too," Admeta said.

"Are all of these books yours?" Cornelia asked as Admeta put her coat on the desk chair and then sat down.

"Yeah," Admeta answered.

"Hey, you have Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Aren't you afraid of being arrested?" Cornelia joked.

"That's one of my favorite books," Admeta replied. "You can borrow it if you want."

"I just might do that," Cornelia said, picking up the book and reading the back. When she was through, she walked over to the bed and laid the book down on Admeta's night stand. She wasn't sure if they were good enough friends to start borrowing things. What if Admeta bugged her to give it back before she was finished? She didn't want any bad blood between them, so she decided to leave the book.

"You want to check out a funny video I saw on the Web?" Cornelia asked.

"I can't," Admeta replied, embarrassed. "The internet isn't up either. It must be a tight month for bills." She couldn't understand why she was being so honest with someone she barely knew and up until a few days ago didn't even trust.

"That sucks," Cornelia said and she felt genuinely sad for Admeta. She had never known what it was like to not be able to afford the phone bill or the internet bill. She had never wanted for anything her entire life. "I'm grounded from the internet at home," she added to try to make Admeta feel better.

"It's not so bad. I can use the internet at school if I really need to. I just go in early," Admeta said. The girls heard the front door open.

A man's voice called, "Hola?"

"It's my dad," Admeta said. "Grab your stuff."

Cornelia gathered her things and Admeta grabbed her coat and pushed the flag aside to go up the stairs.

"Hola, papa," she said, and then she continued in Spanish so quickly that Cornelia couldn't keep up, let alone understand anything being said. Mr. Vasquez's skin was dark and sunburned and his eyes were squinty and wrinkled. Cornelia could have sworn she had seen him someplace before. When the conversation was over, Cornelia surmised that Admeta was asking her father to drive Cornelia home.

"O.k.," her father said in English. "I know you?" he asked Cornelia in broken English. His accent was much thicker than Admeta's.

"I don't think we've met, Mr. Vasquez, I'm Cornelia," she replied, reaching out her hand to shake his. Mr. Vasquez shook her hand, but then he held it and pointed the index finger of his left hand at her.

"No, no, I know you," he said, and then released her hand. He stood staring at her for a minute and Cornelia just smiled. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say.

"Yes, yes, now I know," he said, and his 'Y's sounded more like 'J's. He pointed his index finger to his lip. Cornelia just looked at him quizzically. "You were with the gringo who gave me back the money I drop at the store. He was skinny, kind of scruffy looking, you know."

"Dad!" Admeta yelled.

"No, it's o.k. Admeta, Chad is a little scruffy looking," Cornelia laughed. "I remember you now." Cornelia realized he was the man in the convenience store months before. She was again ashamed of herself because she had been afraid of him then. She remembered thinking that her fear would have kept her from returning his money to him. Then she thought about Mr. Vasquez not being able to pay the phone or internet bills. That twenty dollars could have made a big difference in his life. She was never so proud of Chad and ashamed of herself at the same time.

"Yeah. You still go with that boy?" he asked.

"Dad!" Admeta yelled again.

"Yes, sir," Cornelia replied.

"You tell him I said thank you, o.k.?" he said and then laughed heartily, showing Cornelia that he was missing some teeth. Admeta was mortified, but Cornelia thought her father was funny. She couldn't believe this gentle man was the one she had feared in the convenience store. She had been foolish and she knew it.

"Let's go, Poppy," Admeta insisted, grabbing her father's arms and pulling him out the front door. The girls piled into the front of an old beat-up pick-up truck. Admeta sat in the middle. Cornelia sat by the window watching as Price Valley became more and more distant.

"We going the right way?" Mr. Vasquez asked Admeta.

"Yes, Poppy," she assured him. Cornelia told him to turn right at the next light and he complied. When they arrived at Cornelia's house, Mr. Vasquez let out a sigh that almost sounded like a shriek.

"This your house?" he asked Cornelia.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"You live in a mansion," he said and then laughed.

"Poppy!" Admeta shrieked in horror, but Cornelia and Mr. Vasquez just laughed at her embarrassment.

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Vasquez. I'm sure my mom can give you money for gas," Cornelia said cautiously. She didn't want to offend the Vazquezes but she knew that if the phone and internet were turned off in their house that they might need it.

"Oh, no, your boyfriend gave me that the day he found my money on the ground and gave it back to me. If he didn't do that, my family not eat that day." Admeta's face was now red with embarrassment.

"If you're sure," Cornelia said, grabbing her book bag and purse. "Thanks for the ride," she said and headed to the front door of her house. When she got to the porch she turned around and waved. Mr. Vasquez waved back but Admeta just looked out the window.
Chapter 16

Changes

When Cornelia got in the house, she found her mother sitting on the chair in the living room, staring at her.

"Sorry, mom," Cornelia said, but she got cut off.

"You're sorry? I've been worried sick for hours but you're sorry?" Veronica said. "I have a mind to ground you for another three months, young lady! As a matter of fact I think I will. No internet, no cell phone, no television, and no Chad Barrington. Do you hear me?!"

"Mom, you didn't even give me a chance to explain," Cornelia pleaded.

"You want to explain? Fine, but don't expect the outcome to be any different."

"I couldn't call you because I don't have a cell phone," Cornelia said, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Why didn't you use the phone at school?" Veronica asked.

"The school was locked by the time we got back," Cornelia replied.

"Why didn't you use your friend's cell phone? What's her name?"

"Admeta doesn't have a cell phone."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious."

"You have a friend who doesn't own a cell phone, or did she get hers taken away too?" Veronica asked skeptically.

"No. Her family can't afford a cell phone. Their home phone was shut off too. That's why I couldn't call you from her house either, before you ask. They aren't like us, mom," Cornelia said. When she was through berating her mother, Veronica inexplicably started to laugh.

"I'm serious, mom. It's not funny. I feel bad for them," Cornelia said, annoyed.

"No," Veronica said, trying to stop her laughter. "No, I know you're serious, CC. I'm actually proud of you for feeling bad for them. That's not why I'm laughing."

"Then why are you laughing?" Cornelia asked.

"Because this is all a farce, CC," Veronica said motioning around the room. "All of it."

"What do you mean?" Cornelia asked, puzzled.

"I mean that you coming home late was the perfect excuse to ground you from your cell phone, internet and the television longer. You fell right into my plan. It was exactly what I needed."

"I don't get it," Cornelia said.

Veronica became somber, "Don't you see, CC? I didn't ground you from those things because of what you did. Well it WAS because of what you did, but there was more reasoning behind it than that. I also grounded you from those things because I can't afford to pay the bills anymore," she said.

"What do you mean?" Cornelia asked.

"I mean that your father's alimony and child support aren't enough to sustain us in the lifestyle to which we have become accustomed, my dear," she said and Cornelia began to suspect that her mother was drunk. "It's not just those little extras like the cell phone and the satellite. It's the house payment too," Veronica said and stopped laughing. Cornelia looked frightened and sat down on the couch adjacent to her mother, but she did not speak.

Veronica leaned in close to Cornelia. The smell of red wine was on her breath. "I'm afraid we're going to have to sell the house and move into a smaller place," Veronica said, putting one hand on Cornelia's knee. "I've been putting off telling you, but there's no point in keeping it from you anymore. That's why Michelle was here, CC. She's a real estate agent. She was appraising the house," Veronica said.

"And it took her all night?" Cornelia asked, pushing Veronica's hand off her knee.

"No. We went to dinner to discuss the sale and it got late so she spent the night. The next morning she toured the house and told me where she thought the appraiser would set the value. The appraiser is coming Friday while you're at the game, by the way."

Cornelia sat quietly for a moment, then said, "So, you were just going to do all this behind my back and hope I didn't find out? Didn't you think I might suspect something when I saw the for sale sign on the lawn?"

Veronica was affronted. "Oh, that's right, CC, it's all a conspiracy against you," she said, rolling her eyes. "I wanted him to come while you were at the game so I could put off telling you. Do you think this is easy for me, CC? It's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, to admit that I can't take care of you," Veronica said and her voice quivered with emotion. Cornelia suddenly felt sick to her stomach. It was like her entire life was a lie since her parents' divorce.

Cornelia put down her bag and purse and took off her coat and left them all on the couch as she got up. Then she went over to sit on the arm of the chair and put her arms around her mother. She wasn't sure if she was comforting her mother or if it was the other way around, but one thing was for sure, Veronica and Cornelia hadn't had a moment like this since Cornelia was a little girl.

"It's o.k. mom. This house is too big for the two of us anyway," Cornelia offered and her mother began to weep. She wasn't just crying, she was wailing. Cornelia had never seen her mother act that way before. She was shaking from the mere force of Veronica's sobs. Veronica had always been very stoic, almost cold, and Cornelia was suddenly sorry for every bad thing she ever said to her. Soon tears were streaming down Cornelia's face too. Mother and daughter embraced tighter. Cornelia hadn't felt that close to her mother in a very long time.

Suddenly the two began apologizing to each other as if it were a contest. "Mom, I'm sorry I've been such an idiot lately."

"No, it's not your fault, CC, it's mine. I've failed you as a mother and I'm sorry."

"Come on mom, you did the best you could. I'm the one who has been screwing up and I'm the one who's sorry."

"No, CC, I failed you not only as a mother but as your provider."

Cornelia looked slightly annoyed. "Mom, I'm trying to apologize here, can't you just let me have this one?" The two pulled out of their embrace and looked at each other. Suddenly both broke up with laughter. Cornelia was laughing so hard she slid to the floor and hugged her mom's shin. "It's going to be o.k. mom," Cornelia reassured her mother, and their laughter died down as they both wiped their tears.

"CC, since we're being honest," Veronica said. "I should probably tell you something else."

"What's that?" Cornelia asked.

"Michelle didn't spend the night because it got late," Veronica said, and then hesitated. "She spent the night because I asked her to."

"Oh," Cornelia said innocently. She sat a moment and thought about what her mother had just said. Veronica was holding her breath. "Oh!" Cornelia said again, putting the pieces together. The two of them were suddenly very still and staring straight ahead.

After a few minutes, Cornelia stood up. "Well, I should do my homework," she said, and picked up her book bag and purse.

"CC, don't you want to have dinner first?" Veronica asked, starting to stand up out of her chair.

"No, thanks, mom, I'm not hungry, just put mine in the fridge," Cornelia shouted back as she went up the stairs. Veronica began to protest but Cornelia had already reached the upstairs landing. When she closed her bedroom door she let out a huge breath she had been holding in since her mother's revelation. She began to almost hyperventilate, but she tried to calm herself.

Daruma was looking at her sympathetically. "Oh, as if you can relate," Cornelia said to him, putting her book bag down on the ground and sitting on her bed. "I suppose you have a jobless lesbian mother too?" Cornelia asked rhetorically. "You can't relate unless it happens to you, Daruma," Cornelia said. "Oh my God, is this what I've become? Someone who talks to a doll?" Cornelia said, but she was smiling as if amused by the whole thing.

She finished her homework and spent the rest of the night lying on her bed thinking. She didn't go down to get her dinner because she was afraid she'd run into Veronica and she didn't know what to say to her at that moment. Her thoughts were racing all over the place. When she tried to sleep her mind just kept going.

"Oh my god, we're going to lose our house and everything else we have," she thought. Then her thoughts turned to her mother. "Oh my God, my mom is gay." Cornelia thought her entire world had been turned upside down. She didn't really care much about Veronica being gay except for what Steve had said in Writers on the Storm. She had a few gay friends and it didn't bother her that her mother could be gay. But Steve talked about how people picked on him, even physically assaulted him because he is gay. She didn't want that for her mother. She worried that her mother could get hurt.

Through the darkness she could still see Daruma's one sympathetic eye staring at her. "Let's you and I get some things straight, Daruma," she said, sitting up in bed and pointing a finger at Daruma. "First, you're not going to judge my mother because she's gay. That's a given. Second, you're not going to feel sorry for me about anything that happened today. And third, we are going to be just fine. Do you hear me, you creepy old monk? FINE! That's what we're going to be, me and my mom," she said, but it was clear she was really trying to reassure herself.
Chapter 17

The Morning After

The next day Cornelia got up very early after barely sleeping a wink. She tried to get ready and leave the house before her mother got up, but when she reached the top of the stairs she saw her mother sitting in the foyer waiting for her.

"Nice try, CC," Veronica said.

"Nice try?" Cornelia asked innocently.

"I know you were trying to sneak out before I got up."

"Nu uh," Cornelia choked out, trying not to show her nervousness.

"CC, just come down and have breakfast with me. I won't bite."

"Well duh, mom, I know you don't bite. Why would you say something like that? As if you were a snake or something," Cornelia said and then laughed ever so slightly. "Oh just shut up, CC," she thought to herself, "you sound like an idiot."

"Let's go, kiddo," Veronica said, leading the way to the kitchen table that was already set with Cornelia's usual half a bagel with light cream cheese, half a banana, and half a glass of chocolate soy milk. Veronica had cereal. For the first time, Cornelia noticed the cereal was the generic brand instead of the name brand they usually bought.

Cornelia looked at her glass of soy milk. "You know mom," she began, "you can stop buying soy milk if you want. I know it costs more."

Veronica laughed then coughed to stifle her laughter. "Actually, CC, I've been filling an old soy milk carton with regular chocolate milk for quite a while now."

Cornelia looked at her mother for a moment then laughed. "What else haven't you told me?" she asked.

"I think that's it, CC. Except -" she began, "Michelle thinks I might do well in real estate. She's going to help me get my license. I haven't had any job prospects and Michelle has already offered me a place at her center."

"Well that's good," Cornelia said.

"Maybe," Veronica said. "I don't know if I'm cut out for it, really."

"Sure you are, mom," Cornelia replied.

"Why do you say that?" Veronica asked in between bites of cereal.

Cornelia swallowed a piece of bagel and said, "Well, first of all, you've got the best wardrobe of any real estate agent this side of the Pacific Ocean and we all know real estate is just as much about the agent as it is the houses. Secondly, you could sell snow to Eskimos."

Veronica laughed. "I think it's ice to Eskimos, CC."

"Well whatever, you can do it. Remember that time you convinced dad to put in the pool because you said it would increase the property value? He didn't even hesitate."

"Thanks, CC," Veronica said and finished her cereal. "Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?" She asked and raised her eyebrows.

Cornelia hesitated for a moment and then said, "No. We'll be alright, mom. Don't worry."

"That's not what I meant, CC. Do you have any questions about Michelle?"

"Ew, gross, mom. No I don't have any questions about your girlfriend just like I didn't have any questions about any of your boyfriends. I don't want to hear about your love life," she said, adding, "no offense."

"None taken," Veronica said, "but if you ever do have any questions you can just ask."

"We've gotta go," Cornelia changed the subject.

On the way to school Cornelia told Veronica she would be visiting Mrs. Hakim again and this time she would use Mrs. Hakim's phone to get a ride home so that the fiasco that happened the day before would not repeat itself. The two said their good-byes and Cornelia made her way to her locker. Much to her chagrin, she saw David Wharton walking toward her. She looked away, hoping he would pass.

"Hey Corny," he said.

"No such luck I guess," Cornelia said out loud.

"What?"

"Nothing, what do you want? I'm in a hurry," Cornelia said while throwing books into her book bag.

"I want to know why you're giving my girlfriend a hard time," he said.

Cornelia looked at him as if he had two heads. "Which one of your girlfriends would that be?" she asked and then smiled wickedly.

"Don't play stupid with me. I'm talking about Rebekka."

"Don't you mean, Bekka?" she corrected in a snide voice that sounded just like Rebekka.

"Whatever, stop messing around," David began to get agitated.

"What about Rebekka? I haven't spoken to her lately."

"She said you're turning Amanda against her and I'm not going to let that happen." Cornelia laughed at this revelation.

"Amanda hates Rebekka. She always has. I didn't have to turn her against Rebekka. That's stupid," Cornelia said, closing up her book bag. Just then David slammed her locker door shut. Cornelia jumped a little in spite of herself.

"You're going to listen to me," he said in an aggravated tone.

"No, actually, I'm not!" Cornelia spat back. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She thought it was Chad to the rescue, but, in fact, it was Admeta.

"Why don't you go take a shower with all of your jock friends, Davey?" Admeta said, smirking and pointing her thumb over her right shoulder. Just as David started to make a move toward the girls, he saw the principal out of the corner of his eye and stopped. That was who Admeta was pointing to.

"This isn't over," he said and stomped off.

"What was his problem?" Admeta asked.

"I don't know. He said I was turning Amanda against Rebekka."

"That's stupid," Admeta said.

"I know, that's what I said." The two girls laughed at the idiocy of it all.

"Are you going to Mrs. H's house tonight?" Admeta asked.

"Yep," Cornelia replied and picked up her book bag.

"O.k., I'll meet you at your locker," Admeta said and turned to go to her homeroom and the dreaded Carl.

"I'll see you in English class. I can't wait to hear what Carl has for us today," Cornelia said with a laugh.

"I know. He's el loco," Admeta said and for once Cornelia did not need a translation. The two girls laughed and went to their separate homerooms.

In Cornelia's homeroom, Rebekka and Sarah arrived late again. Cornelia thought it was probably because they were talking to David Wharton or doing who knows what else with him. Cornelia didn't want to think about it. The thought made her skin crawl. Both girls gave Cornelia a dirty look, but she ignored them.

When it was time to leave, Cornelia was the first one out the door and she walked so fast that Rebekka and Sarah couldn't keep up. First bell was the only class they had together so if she could avoid them on the way she was sure she could avoid them after class too.

Just as she suspected, after History class the two girls went the other way as Cornelia headed to second period Geometry class. The next four periods went as they normally did. Cornelia was half listening to lectures and half-heartedly completing school work when instructed. All the while she daydreamed about lunch when she would get to see Chad.

When lunch finally arrived, it turned out to be even better than Cornelia hoped. As she, Chad and Amanda sat down, Admeta stood next to them and asked if they would mind if she sat with them.

"Of course not, have a seat," Chad said because Cornelia's mouth was full.

"Thanks," Admeta said as she sat next to Cornelia.

"Hey," Cornelia said after swallowing. "Do you two know each other already?"

"Yeah," Admeta said.

"Admeta's in my Spanish class," Chad said. Cornelia turned to Admeta with a very puzzled look.

"I could use an easy 'A,' " she said with a shrug and the foursome laughed.

Everyone was at ease and Cornelia was happy about that. She knew if they had still been sitting with Rebekka and Sarah that there would have been a scene. She didn't know where Admeta had been spending her lunches before now, but she was glad that she joined them. Lunch passed by with idle chatter back and forth.

"How was History this morning?"

"Fine, how was Geometry," etc.

Right before the bell rang, Rebekka and Sarah came up behind Cornelia.

"Hey CC, When did you start eating with the trash?" Rebekka asked and laughed a hideously hateful laugh. Admeta started to jump up, but Cornelia grabbed her arm and made her sit back down.

"Don't," she said. "She's not worth it. She's the one who's trash, just ignore her."

"You're right. She's so not worth it," Admeta replied, knowing inaction would make Rebekka angrier than giving her the attention she desire. Infuriated, Rebekka stormed off with Sarah at her heels. Chad let out a little chuckle and Amanda was smiling.

"I'm proud of you two for not letting her goad you into a fight. That's all she wanted," Amanda said.

"I know," Admeta said, "but I wanted to punch her in the face so bad."

"I'm glad you didn't because you would have been suspended and we couldn't walk to Mrs. Hakim's together," Cornelia reminded Admeta.

"Good point," Admeta said and the foursome got up to leave the lunch room.

Cornelia spent her study hall time finishing up some History homework that she had been given in first bell. Then it was off to English class. As she entered room 97 she saw Carl standing at the front of the room with a silly grin on his face as he watched students shuffle in. Cornelia couldn't help but think he had a certain goofy charm about him. She greeted Admeta and then the two took their seats.

When the bell rang, Carl was his usual chipper self. "Hello!" he said and once again smiled brightly. "In case you have forgotten, we are watching 'Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.' In part one - " Carl began to recap, but Cornelia tuned him out and rolled her eyes at Admeta who smiled back. When he was through he started the projector and the class sat quietly watching the story that their principal forbad them to read.

When class was over, Cornelia went off to gym in the basement and Admeta went to her Government class on the third floor. After last bell, Admeta walked to Cornelia's locker. She was putting away a few books. Admeta had her coat wrapped around her waist and her back pack thrown over one shoulder. Chad showed up about a minute later and he and Cornelia said their good-byes. Admeta turned the other way to be polite, but mostly because she just didn't want to see them do whatever they were going to do. Then Cornelia grabbed her book bag and coat and the pair headed out of the building and down the street.

On the way to Mrs. Hakim's house, the two didn't say much. They spoke about their day and how much homework they had, but little else of substance. As they approached the house with the white picket fence, Cornelia was nervous but she didn't know why. This time there was no dog in the yard, so the girls entered and knocked on the big oak door. They immediately heard barking.

"Ralph, it's us," Admeta said through the door, but the dog didn't listen.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Hakim came to the door and welcomed the girls in while holding Ralph back.

"See, Ralph, these are friends, no need to bark, حسن الكلب," Mrs. Hakim said and the dog immediately stopped barking as if on command. Cornelia didn't understand the language Mrs. Hakim had just spoken and she didn't know that the translation was "good dog" in English.

"Take off your coats, girls," Mrs. Hakim said and the girls put their coats on the coat rack and sat their book bags on the floor next to it. "Shall we?" Mrs. Hakim asked, pointing to the living room.

Cornelia thought Mrs. Hakim didn't look well at all. Her skin was yellowish and her hijab was crooked. She had an afghan wrapped around her shoulders, but Cornelia thought the house was really hot for November. She hated what the cancer was doing to her teacher but what she hated more was that there was nothing she could do about it.

The three sat in the living room and exchanged stories. The girls told about their day at school and Mrs. Hakim told a funny story about Robin, the nurse at the hospital. Apparently one of the orderlies wanted to play a joke on her so he jumped out from under the nurse's station wearing a Michael Myer mask and holding a scalpel like a knife. Nurse Robin didn't think it was a very funny joke because she chased the man all the way to the stairwell where he fled for his life. Then she came back to the station and lectured everyone about appropriate hospital behavior. The girls laughed. Mrs. Hakim offered them tea and crumpets. They accepted to be polite.

Cornelia had never had a crumpet before and she thought it tasted very bitter. She wanted to spit out the piece she had in her mouth, but she didn't want to be rude so she slowly chewed it up and swallowed it and quickly took a drink of tea to wash away the flavor. She tried not to grimace.

The three spoke for about an hour, but they mainly ignored the elephant in the room. Mrs. Hakim wanted to talk about anything else besides cancer. Then Mr. Hakim came home with the children and Cornelia and Admeta visited with them for a while before calling Cornelia's mother to come pick them up. Cornelia gave her mother directions to Mrs. Hakim's house and asked if she could drive Admeta home. Veronica did not object. She was secretly happy that Cornelia was making new friends. She didn't like the people she had been hanging out with.

Admeta tried to argue, but Cornelia said that giving Admeta a ride home was the right thing to do since her father had given Cornelia a ride home the day before. Admeta surrendered. After a few more minutes of chit chat, Veronica pulled up to the fence and honked her horn. As the girls exited the house, Mr. and Mrs. Hakim waved from the door. The girls waved back and climbed inside Veronica's massive SUV.

"Mom, this is Admeta; Admeta, this is my mom," Cornelia said from the back seat.

"You can call me Veronica," her mother said. Admeta and Veronica exchanged pleasantries and then Veronica asked for directions to Admeta's house. Unlike Cornelia, Veronica didn't blink when Admeta told her it was in the valley.

When they arrived, Veronica was saddened by the condition of Admeta's house, but she of course said nothing. Cornelia had told her a little bit about Admeta's family situation earlier. She felt bad for a young woman having to live in such a house surrounded by men and no women. She could only imagine what the inside looked like. All she knew was that the telephone was turned off and that was enough for her.

Cornelia and Veronica said their good-byes and Admeta walked up to her house. She turned and waved as she walked inside and Cornelia and her mother drove off.

"You told her I'm a lesbian, didn't you?" Veronica asked.

"What?!" Cornelia yelled, nearly laughing.

"You told her I'm gay and that's why she was so cold to me."

"Oh my God, mom, you have gone totally over the edge," Cornelia replied.

"Oh, so because I'm gay I'm over the edge?" Veronica asked sharply.

"No, mom, you're over the edge because you're out of your mind. First of all, I didn't tell Admeta you're gay. And secondly it wouldn't have made a difference if I had. Admeta's not like that. We have lots of gay friends."

"Is that so?" Veronica asked skeptically.

"Yes, Steve in Writers on the Storm is gay and no one cares, mom."

"Why didn't you tell her I'm gay, then; are you ashamed of me?"

"What? No, mom, I'm not ashamed of you. It's not something you just blurt out about someone. It's not like I'm going to say, 'Hey Admeta, meet my gay mom!' for Pete's sake," Cornelia shouted.

"O.k., CC, I get it. I just wanted to be sure there wasn't anything unsaid between us."

"There's nothing unsaid. You're gay or whatever and I'm cool with that. I don't think dad will be, but I'm fine with it."

"I didn't give a thought to what your father might think."

"He's going to be pissed," Cornelia said.

Veronica laughed and said, "Good. Serves him right. Let him think he turned me gay." And the two women cracked up laughing.

The next few weeks passed the same way, with Cornelia avoiding Rebekka and Sarah, especially at football games, and then going with Admeta to Mrs. Hakim's after school. Sometimes Veronica drove them home and sometimes it was Admeta's father. Each time they visited, Mrs. Hakim seemed to get sicker and sicker.
Chapter 18

We are the Champions

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, the football team had their last game of the season. It was the regional championship game and all of the cheerleaders were excited. Cornelia was no exception. Despite everything that was going on, she was eager to cheer at the big game. The team was excited about having the home field advantage and Cornelia knew she and the other cheerleaders would add to that excitement. She was glad the season had run so long. Cheering was a welcome distraction.

As Cornelia was getting ready, Amanda was holding Daruma in her hands. Amanda was going to catch a ride to the game with Cornelia. Cornelia was excited because Chad was going to attend too. She had never gotten to cheer in front of Chad before. He never went to the games. He hated football, but he knew how much the game meant to Cornelia and so he agreed to go. Since this was a championship game, his parents let him. Although she was still grounded from seeing him, what her mother didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"This is the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Amanda said with a laugh.

"I know, right?" Cornelia replied. "But Chad gave it to me, so I love it."

"That's weird. I thought it was his right eye that was painted on, but it's his left."

"It might have been the right before. I'm having a do-over," Cornelia said while she was looking for her other pom-pom.

"What?" Amanda asked.

"It's something Chad said. I took back my wish and made a new one. If it comes true I'll paint on the right eye."

"How charming," Amanda said sarcastically and put Daruma back on the shelf.

"That's what I said," Cornelia said with a laugh. She turned around after she found the second pom-pom and tossed them on the bed next to Amanda.

"That's it. Now just a little make-up touch-up."

"You don't need any more make-up, CC," Amanda said.

"Just give me a minute," Cornelia replied, sitting down at her vanity.

She could see Daruma in the reflection of the mirror and it made her think about Mrs. Hakim. She wished Mrs. Hakim were well enough to attend the game, but Cornelia knew that wasn't possible. She couldn't even come back to work. Students were beginning to wonder what was going on. They thought she had only hit her head but they knew she had been out too long for a simple concussion. They were asking questions, but Cornelia and Admeta deflected them.

Cornelia touched up her blush and eye shadow and applied some lip gloss. As she gave herself one last check in the mirror she tried to avoid Daruma's gaze. She felt as though he was looking down on her for going out and having a good time while Mrs. Hakim was so sick. Cornelia glanced at his backward reflection and allowed herself one moment of regret. "No," she thought to herself. "I know I'm being selfish, but it's only one night," she reassured herself.

"Are you ready yet, CC?" Amanda asked.

"Yeah," Cornelia replied. "I'm good to go." Cornelia grabbed her pom poms, coat and purse, and the pair went downstairs to find Veronica and Michelle sitting in the living room talking. Cornelia had not known that Michelle was there.

"Oh, Hi Michelle," Cornelia was caught off guard. This was the first time she had seen Michelle since her mother's revelation. "This is," she began speaking to Amanda, then hesitated, "my mom's friend, Michelle." She decided that was the most diplomatic way to put it. Then she pointed to Amanda, "and this is my friend, Amanda. I mean," she stumbled, "she's my friend from school," Cornelia offered, and then blushed. She didn't want Michelle to get the wrong idea, but she was only confusing Amanda, to whom she did not confide her mother's secret. Cornelia laughed to offset the awkwardness of the moment and Michelle gave her a knowing glance, then the two women stood up from their seats. Cornelia noticed that Veronica was holding a "number one" foam finger.

"Um, mom, why do you have that?" Cornelia asked.

"Because Michelle and I are going to the game," Veronica answered matter-of-factly.

"What?" Cornelia asked with a slight hoarseness to her voice.

"It's the championship game, CC, I wouldn't miss it," Veronica said with a slightly harsh tone. Cornelia took the hint, but she was still very dismayed that Veronica had not shared her plans with her. This wasn't in Cornelia's plans at all. Now she wouldn't be able to hang out with Chad at half-time.

"Are you ready girls?" Veronica asked.

"Yep," Amanda replied for the both of them. The two women grabbed their coats and the four of them headed to the SUV.

On the way to the game Michelle and Veronica spoke in the front seats mostly about real estate. While in the back seat Cornelia was grumbling to Amanda that she would not be able to see Chad during the game. Amanda agreed that was harsh. The two exchanged words about how nasty Rebekka and Sarah had been lately and how they hoped to avoid a scene.

When they arrived, Veronica dropped Cornelia and Amanda off in front of the school as she drove around back to find a parking space. Amanda left Cornelia at the door to the locker room and went to find Chad in the crowd. Meanwhile, Cornelia went to lock her coat and purse in a locker. As expected, Rebekka and Sarah were waiting.

"Hi Corny," Rebekka said in a snooty voice.

"Oh come one, Rebekka. Can't you be an adult?" Cornelia asked, placing one hand on her hip. "You don't like me, I get it. Can't you just leave me alone? If you don't like me so much, why are you always going out of your way to harass me? Just leave me alone. I won't talk to you if you don't talk to me. Problem solved," Cornelia said sounding more like a 40-year-old than a 14-year-old.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Sarah asked.

"Shut up, Sarah," Cornelia and Rebekka said in unison.

"Ha, see there? We can agree on something," Cornelia said with a laugh as Sarah flashed an evil frown.

"Let's go, Sarah, I don't need to waste any more time on this trash. You just make sure you stay the hell away from my boyfriend," Rebekka said, brushing Cornelia's shoulder as she passed by.

"I wouldn't touch your boyfriend with a ten-foot pole," Cornelia got in before Rebekka and Sarah scooted out the door.

After the girls left she thought of a hundred snappy come-backs she could have said, isn't that always the way? Cornelia snickered to herself about her "ten-foot pole" comment. She thought it sounded like something her mother would have said. Then she locked her purse and coat in a locker, put on her cheerleading sweater, the only thing they were allowed to wear in cold weather, and headed upstairs to see if she could find Chad without her mother noticing.

She walked up the stairs and out of the locker room and thankfully did not run into Rebekka and Sarah again. She looked around the stands to see if she could see Amanda and Chad, but they were not there. Then she walked around behind the stands. Just as she'd hoped, Chad was under the bleachers waiting in line at the concession stand. Cornelia ran over and gave him a big hug.

Someone behind them yelled, "Hey, no cutting!"

Cornelia replied, "I'm not buying anything, I'm just standing here." The guy who yelled grumbled a little, but said nothing further.

Cornelia turned back to Chad. "My mom is here," she said.

"I know, Amanda told me? But why?"

"I don't know, something about it being important to me," Cornelia replied.

"Well that's nice of her, but I was hoping to finally get to spend some time with you."

"Me too," Cornelia said sadly.

"Well, don't be too down. It's the championship game and you're going to help the Falcons win, right?" he asked with a grin and gave her pom-poms a shake. Cornelia melted on the spot. Chad could find the good in everything.

"Where's Amanda?"

"She went to the bathroom. She's probably back in the stands by now."

"Ah. Well, I'd better go. My mom will be wondering where I went and Kenzie will be waiting." She gave Chad a quick kiss and headed to the cheer pit.

When she arrived Amanda waved from the center set of bleachers. She was sitting next to Veronica and Michelle who were deep in conversation. Much to her surprise, she also saw Admeta sitting by Amanda's side. Cornelia had never seen Admeta at a football game. In fact on one of their visits to Mrs. Hakim's house, Admeta had told her how much she despised American football. Soccer was the real football as far as she was concerned. Admeta did not wave. She was holding a video camera. She looked almost embarrassed to be there. She was huddled down in her silver coat with the hood pulled over her head. Cornelia thought she looked rather silly.

As Cornelia looked around some more, she saw more members of Writers on the Storm in the stands. It seemed like most of the school was there. The bleachers were completely filled and there were people standing along side and even underneath them. It was even standing room only outside the fence, along the sidewalk. Cornelia saw Sandy, Andy and Randy Turner near the top of the bleachers in the center. Sandy looked bored but the twins were hooting and hollering. They were wearing matching Falcon coats that must have been purchased at the local vendor down the street. They also had their faces painted bright blue. Cornelia thought they looked like deranged members of the Blue Man Group.

Brenda Stark and Ralph Ziggler were sitting together in the front row on the left. Cornelia wondered if there was a love match happening or if they were just friends. She saw Valerie Regal with her mom and dad sitting toward the right side of the crowd. Her parents both had blue "number one" fingers just like Veronica's. Cornelia wondered if Valerie was embarrassed by her parents' enthusiasm, but she didn't look bothered. And finally, Cornelia saw Steve Esandros standing by himself under the right side of the bleachers. He had his hands shoved in his coat pockets and looked as if he wished he were invisible. Cornelia wanted to run over and say "hello," but Kenzie had already begun her pre-game monologue. She was pleased to see Chad walk over and greet Steve. He probably didn't want to chance sitting near Cornelia's mother.

Kenzie was giving the run down of cheers and giving the girls a pep talk about how their cheering helps lead the guys to victory and that this championship meant a lot to the entire school. She talked about how lucky they were to have a home-field advantage in a state playoff game. Cornelia was barely listening. She was thinking about Mrs. Hakim and how she knew she would have been at the game if she could. She was thinking about her own father who didn't bother to show up at yet another event that meant a lot to her. And she thought about Chad whom she would not be able to spend time with. Then she realized how self-centered she was being and she tried to concentrate on what Kenzie was saying.

As the football players ran out to the field, Kenzie and Rebekka held a banner for the boys to run through. Cornelia thought it was pretty ironic that David Wharton's current girlfriend and ex-girlfriend were acting as a team. She was sure that David pulled some strings to get Rebekka in there because she certainly wouldn't have been Kenzie's first pick. The two girls didn't get along before the love triangle. They certainly weren't going to get along now.

As the boys ran through the banner, the crowd on the home side cheered and the crowd on the away side booed. The rest of the cheerleaders were in a frenzy, standing on the sidelines cheering on their football squad. When the other team was announced everything happened in reverse. The SRHS cheerleaders, however, did not boo. It was considered poor sportsmanship and Kenzie would not allow it even though the visiting team's cheerleaders had booed the Falcons.

After all of the announcements, it was finally time for the kickoff. The Falcons got the ball first and the crowd went wild. The crowd had never been so enthusiastic before. It just reinforced the importance of the game. The first quarter went by very quickly. No one scored a point, despite all of the encouragement. The cheerleaders were doing their best to keep the team hyped up.

"Falcons are ready! Falcons are smooth! Falcons will take control! And stomp all over you!" they screamed at the top of their lungs. They had to. The crowd was so loud you could barely hear yourself think.

"Number 12," Kenzie said and all of the cheerleaders shouted, "Come on, get up and scream. We're going crazy for the Storm River team!"

Cornelia's favorite cheer was the one that taunted the other team who happened to be the Yellow Jackets. Cornelia thought that was a silly mascot. How threatening is a yellow jacket, she thought. Their uniforms were white with brown and yellow trim. Cornelia thought white was a terrible color for football uniforms. She imagined how dirty they must be after a game.

She screamed the taunting cheer the loudest, "When you're up, you're up. When you're down, you're down. When you're up against the Falcons you're upside down! Hey, Yellow Jackets, you're upside down! Yeah, you're upside down." The cheer didn't quite make sense, but Cornelia didn't care. For a little while she was able to forget about Mrs. Hakim and all of her troubles and just immerse herself in the game.

During the second quarter, the Falcons scored two touchdowns. Each time they scored the cheerleaders shouted, "Check out the score. Yeah, we want more! No, we aren't needy! We're just greedy!" They also cheered for individual players. As usual, when they cheered for David, Cornelia didn't put much effort into it.

"David, David, he's our man, if he can't do it, no one can." Cornelia noticed that Kenzie was less than enthusiastic as well while Rebekka was nearly jumping out of her shoes.

At the end of the second quarter, the score was 14 to 0, Falcons. Everyone on the home team side had a sense of euphoria. Cornelia ran into the bleachers to greet her friends and family as did the other cheerleaders.

"Hey guys," Cornelia said to the group.

"Hey CC," Veronica replied and the others echoed.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Cornelia said to Admeta.

"I didn't expect to be here," Admeta replied.

"So why'd you come?"

"I know Mrs. H. wanted to be here, so I thought I would video tape the game for her so she can see it. You know?"

"Wow," Cornelia replied. "That's a great idea."

"That's really nice of you," Amanda added.

"She would do the same for me. I mean if it were the World Cup or something," Admeta said and the three girls laughed. Veronica and Michelle were caught up in conversation again but they were interrupted by an unlikely source.

"Mrs. Drake?" a sweet voice asked and Cornelia turned around to see Chad standing there.

"Hello, Chad," Veronica said rather cheerfully. "Michelle, this is my daughter's boyfriend, Chad Barrington. Chad, this is my friend Michelle."

Greetings were exchanged, and then Chad continued. "May I have the honor of escorting these lovely young ladies to the concession stand?" he asked and then smiled the sweetest smile Cornelia had ever seen. Her knees felt shaky and she couldn't wipe the silly grin off of her face despite herself.

Veronica looked from Chad to her daughter and back again. "Oh, go ahead you kids," Veronica said, much to Cornelia's surprise.

"Thanks, mom!" Cornelia shouted but she was already halfway down the bleachers with Chad, Amanda and Admeta in tow. The group went to the concession stand to buy some drinks. They greeted friends and members of Writers on the Storm along the way. They ran into everyone except Steve. He and Chad had gone their separate ways after the second quarter ended. They ran into the Turners who accompanied the group to the concession stand. Afterward, they headed around the side of the band building to return to the stands before the second half started.

As they approached the corner, they could hear the distinctive voice of one David Wharton taunting someone. When they turned the corner, they saw David's victims hunched over as if he had been hit in the stomach. It was Steve Esandros.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cornelia shouted.

"Stay out of this, Corny. It's none of your business," said Rebekka who was standing beside David and a group of his friends who were laughing. Sarah was looking on but she wasn't laughing like everyone else. She looked scared. Some of the others were football players in uniform and others were in jeans and t-shirts.

"Leave him alone!" Admeta shouted and ran over to Steve to see if he was alright.

"This is none of your business either, wetback!" David spat at Admeta.

"What did you call her?" Cornelia asked.

"CC this is a bad idea," Amanda whispered as Cornelia pulled away to confront David. Chad dropped his drink and ran up behind her.

"You heard me, Corny. Why don't you and your wetback friend go home and take this faggot with you before I kick his head in some more? I'm sure your mom, the dyke, will take care of him."

Cornelia didn't miss a beat. She threw her drink in David's face and soaked him and Rebekka beside him.

"Oh, bonus," she said, smiling at Rebekka.

"You b-!" David started to say as he leapt toward Cornelia, but he was stopped dead in his tracks by Chad's fist. David went down like a red wood tree that had been cut off at the base of the trunk. His friends just stood there for a moment, shocked by what had transpired. They weren't laughing anymore and Rebekka ran to David's side to see if he was o.k., but he was out cold.

"Bam!" Andy shouted.

"Take that, Mr. Quarterback!" Randy added.

Before David's friends had a chance to move, two of the coaches had come over to see what the ruckus was about. They ran over to David and pushed Rebekka aside. Rebekka was sobbing like a crazy person and Sarah walked over and put her arm around her shoulders trying to calm her down.

"He's just knocked out, Bekka. He's going to wake up," Sarah said and Cornelia was shocked Sarah had an original thought.

"Shut up, Sarah, what do you know?!" Rebekka screamed at her. A few feet away, the group of friends was contemplating the scene.

"I can't believe you did that," Cornelia said to Chad, looking at him in surprise.

"I'm sorry, CC," he said with regret.

"Don't be," Cornelia said, "the pig deserved it."

"What happened here?!" one of the coaches shouted.

A boy wearing a black t-shirt with a skull on it pointed to Chad and said, "He hit him."

"Him?" the coach asked, looking at Chad as if he didn't believe Chad could have laid David out so badly.

"He deserved it Coach Miller," Amanda jumped in. "He was beating Steve up," she continued.

The coach looked over at Steve whose eye was swelling. He was still hunched over in pain. "Get the paramedics over here, Bill," he said to the other coach. As the other coach ran off, Coach Miller was slapping David in the face lightly, trying to wake him up.

"Oh my God, he's dead! You killed him!" Rebekka screamed, still sobbing.

"He's fine," the coach said. "He just got clocked. Look, he's breathing. Just calm down." David made a groaning noise as he started to wake up. "See, he's coming around now."

"What?" David asked, confused.

"Just lie still, Wharton, the paramedics are on their way, lie back, your nose is bleeding," Coach Miller said. By that time a large crowd had gathered. Cornelia noticed her mother and Michelle standing in the crowd and wondered how much they had seen and heard. They made their way over to Cornelia to ask what happened. Cornelia was relived to learn that they hadn't heard what David said.

"It's nothing, mom," she said. Veronica wanted to protest but she could tell from Cornelia's intenseness that she shouldn't push.

When the paramedics arrived they split up. One went over to David to put gauze up his nose and checked his pupils and the other asked Steve where it hurt. When the second paramedic spoke, Cornelia recognized his voice. He was the cute paramedic who had taken Mrs. Hakim to the hospital the month before. Cornelia approached him to see how Steve was doing. Admeta was still by his side.

"You two again?" he asked, looking at Admeta and Cornelia. The girls said nothing.

By that time Mr. Beckardi had arrived on the scene. He was asking questions and getting statements from everyone. All of Cornelia's friends told him how David had been beating Steve up and Chad put an end to it. All of David's friends said they didn't know what happened to Steve and that Chad had just sucker punched David out of nowhere. Cornelia was furious. Steve said nothing. Then the police arrived.

The game was delayed as the police took statements from everyone at the scene. Then the paramedics started to put Steve and David in the same ambulance. Steve and David both protested.

"You can't put Steve in there with that pig!" Cornelia yelled at the cute paramedic.

"Well we only have one ambulance, what do you propose I do?" he asked.

"What about that one?" Cornelia asked, pointing to an ambulance that had been parked next to the field throughout the game.

"If we take that one you'll have to forfeit the game. There has to be an ambulance on the premises or the game can't go on."

"Well then stop the damn game!" Cornelia shouted.

"Young lady-" Mr. Backardi began.

"No, Mr. B., you can't put Steve and this disgusting waste of human flesh in the same ambulance," Admeta interrupted.

Cornelia could tell that David wanted to call Admeta names but he didn't dare with the principal standing right there. Rebekka climbed into the ambulance but the cute paramedic told her to get out. Rebekka protested, but the cute paramedic wouldn't budge. He said there wasn't enough room with two patients on board.

"It's o.k., I don't need to go to the hospital," Steve said, finally.

"Yes you do," Admeta objected.

"She's right, you have to go," Cornelia said, putting her hand on Steve's shoulder. Steve refused to get in the ambulance. Rebekka was then allowed to ride along since there was only one patient. Apparently David's parents were somewhere in the crowd and were told to meet the ambulance at the hospital. The group could hear David protesting about leaving the game but the coach insisted that he go to the hospital and the ambulance drove away with David as its only patient.

"We'll take Steve to the hospital," Veronica offered. Cornelia was startled. She had forgotten her mother was even there.

"Yeah, we'll take him," Cornelia echoed. "Come on Steve." Cornelia, Veronica and Michelle turned around as Amanda and Admeta helped Steve walk. But before they could take a step, they saw a police officer handcuffing Chad.

"Oh my God. What are you doing?!" Cornelia screamed and ran to Chad's side.

"It's o.k., CC," Chad said. "I'll be fine."

"He assaulted someone, Miss. We have to take him in," an older police officer said as he tightened the cuffs.

"But what about David? He assaulted Steve. We all saw it."

"Did you actually see the quarterback hit this young man?" he asked, motioning toward Steve.

"Well no, but it was obvious!" she began.

"Well, Miss, no one here can deny that this young man hit the quarterback, but no one can agree on who hit your friend here," he said. "Now if he would just make a statement maybe we could do something about it." Steve just shook his head.

"What's wrong with you? Why won't you tell them what happened?" Cornelia asked, but she already knew the answer. She and Steve locked eyes. He was not about to budge. If he told the police that David hit him he would have to tell them why. He didn't want to suffer further humiliation in front of the entire school, most of whom were still watching the scene.

"If you change your mind and decide to press charges against someone, you just let me know," the officer said to Steve and handed him a card.

"CC, just take Steve to the hospital, o.k.? I'll be fine," Chad said.

Cornelia looked into his big blue eyes. She couldn't stand what was happening. It wasn't fair that Chad was going to juvenile hall while David walked away free and clear.

"This isn't fair," she said out loud.

"I-," Chad started to speak, but was interrupted by the officer.

"Come on now, Miss, we have to go," the officer interjected.

"I'm going to call my dad. He'll help you," Cornelia said. The couple said good-bye with their eyes, unable to talk privately.

As Chad was led away he turned around and said, "Hey CC, do me a favor."

"Anything," she replied.

"When you get to the hospital will you check to make sure David is going to be o.k.?"

"What?!" Cornelia asked, outraged.

"Just do it for me, please, CC?"

"Fine. For you," she said and Chad was put in a waiting squad car and driven off.

The women helped Steve into the front seat of the SUV next to Veronica and the rest piled in the back. Luckily the SUV had an extra seat in back to fit eight people. Michelle offered to climb into the back and Cornelia was impressed with her thoughtfulness.

The ride to the hospital was filled with groans from Steve and each woman taking a turn asking, "Are you sure you're o.k.?" Everyone except Cornelia. She had borrowed Amanda's cell phone to call her dad. Brandy, Cornelia's young step-mom, answered the phone.

"Brandy, I need to talk to my dad," she said.

"Who is this, please?" Brandy asked.

"Who do you think it is? It's Cornelia. Let me talk to my dad," Cornelia said, frustrated. She could hear Veronica whispering something under her breath.

"Your dad is busy, CC," Brandy replied.

"Well tell him NOT to be busy. And don't call me CC!" Cornelia said.

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady," Brandy said angrily.

"Young lady?" Cornelia asked. "I'm only ten years younger than you. Now put my dad on the phone, Brandy!"

"You listen to me, Cornelia Drake," Brandy began.

"No, you listen to me you stupid bimbo!" Cornelia shouted and she heard her mother snicker from the driver's seat. "This is a freaking emergency and I need to talk to my dad. Now put him on the phone or I'm going to tell him that my life is over because of you. Who do you think means more to him, me or you? Put my freaking dad on the phone right now!" she shouted. There was silence on the line but Cornelia could tell Brandy had put the phone down to go get her dad.

"Jeez, CC," Admeta chuckled a little and Amanda followed suit.

"I hate my step-mom," Cornelia replied. When Cornelia's dad finally picked up the phone he began to chastise Cornelia for being mean to her step-mother.

"Daddy, I need your help," she interrupted.

"Oh God, what did you do now?" he asked.

"It's not me, it's Chad. Why did you just assume I did something?" she asked. "Oh never mind. I really need your help, Daddy. Chad's in trouble," she said in her best daddy's little girl voice. Veronica never liked Chad, but Harrison was friends with Chad's parents. He did some work for their non-profit organization, so Cornelia was confident he would help.

"What did he do?"

"He hit a boy. But the boy deserved to be hit, Daddy. He was beating up one of our friends and then he came after me. Chad stopped him," Cornelia tried to keep her voice down. She didn't want to upset Steve.

"Are we talking about the same Chad?" he asked.

"Yes, daddy, Chad Barrington," Cornelia replied, annoyed. "You have to help him, Daddy, please."

"Alright, CC. They probably took him to district 3 headquarters, I'll go see what I can do."

"Thank you, Daddy!" Cornelia screeched into the phone. "Call Mom's cell phone when you know something, o.k.?"

"Alright, CC." Cornelia gave Amanda back her phone and was relieved that her father was going to help, but she was still worried about Steve. The hospital was only a few minutes from the school, so they arrived pretty quickly.
Chapter 19

Truth or Consequences

The girls helped Steve to the emergency room, but he wouldn't let them come back with him.

"Is there someone we should call?" Veronica asked, but Steve shook his head.

"Poor kid," she said after he had been led back to an examination room. "He must have someone."

"I don't think so, Mrs. B.," Admeta said. "I think Steve's parents pretty much disowned him after they found out, you know," she paused.

"No, I don't know," Veronica replied, completely clueless about the situation. The girls all looked at each other until Cornelia had the courage to tell her mother that Steve was gay. She was worried that finding out that this had been a hate crime against a homosexual would upset her mother, but she remained calm.

"Oh," was all she said, but Cornelia could see a worried look on her face. She guessed that Veronica was thinking about herself and Michelle and how it could just as easily been one of them. She guessed this because that's exactly what Cornelia had been thinking too. She had been worried for her mother's safety ever since she came out to her, but this event reinforced her worst fears. Michelle and Veronica took off their coats and sat down, but the girls remained standing.

"How could his parents be like that to their own son?" Amanda asked.

"I don't know," Veronica answered.

"Well I do," Michelle said. "My parents were the same way."

"Really?" Veronica asked.

"Oh yeah," Michelle said knowingly. Veronica seemed surprised by this revelation. The other girls seemed to put the pieces together. If Michelle was gay, it was likely that Veronica was also gay, but they were only guessing since Cornelia hadn't shared that fact with them. After seeing Steve beaten like that, they understood why she would keep her mother's sexuality a secret.

"That's just wrong," Admeta said.

"Mom," Cornelia interrupted. "Could you wait here and see how Steve is doing?"

"Sure, why?"

"I have to go check on the pig for Chad."

"That's not a good idea, CC," Amanda said.

"Yeah," echoed Admeta.

"I have to agree," Veronica added.

"I have to," Cornelia said. "I promised Chad. You guys stay here. I'll be fine."

"No way," Admeta and Amanda chimed in unison.

"Take your friends with you, Cornelia," Veronica insisted.

"Amanda, you can come, but Admeta, he's just going to be a pig to you again."

"I don't care what that piece of trash says about me," Admeta insisted, "I'm coming."

"Girls, don't go getting yourselves in any more trouble," Veronica pleaded.

"Don't worry, mom, we're in a hospital, he wouldn't dare try anything."

"That's not comforting, CC," Veronica replied. Admeta and Amanda left their coats and purses with Veronica and Michelle. Admeta gave them the video camera too. Cornelia realized just then that she had left her coat and purse in her locker at school. It was locked, so she thought it would be o.k. The three girls then set off to the information desk while Veronica looked on nervously. Michelle reached over and grabbed her hand to comfort her. The elderly woman at the information desk didn't look too pleased to have been interrupted while typing something into a computer.

"Can you tell us what room David Wharton is in?" Cornelia asked.

The woman looked the three girls up and down over her bifocals and asked, "Are you family? The dad said only family can visit." Cornelia looked at her funny. The woman had a very hoarse voice as if she had smoked all of her life. Cornelia wondered how she could have lived so long. She figured the woman must have been at least 90.

"I'm his sister," Admeta jumped in. The woman once again looked at Admeta over her bifocals. "I'm the black sheep of the family," Admeta said then smiled at the old woman. Amanda and Cornelia tried not to laugh.

"He's in room 413," she said.

"Thanks," Cornelia replied.

As they walked to the elevator Ademeta said, "Can you imagine David's face if that woman tells him his Hispanic sister was here to see him?" All three girls laughed. They went up to the fourth floor and followed the arrows to room 413.

"Maybe we can just ask a nurse how he's doing," Amanda offered.

"No, I have to see for myself. I promised Chad," Cornelia said.

"Don't shut the door behind you," Admeta warned.

"Good idea," Cornelia said as she knocked and then opened the door slowly. When she opened the door she could see Rebekka and a couple who must have been David's parents standing by his bed. Cornelia took one step inside and took a deep breath. Amanda and Admeta were standing behind her, ready to step in if needed.

"David, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to be here, but Chad wants to know if you're going to be o.k. So are you?" Cornelia asked quickly.

"Who are you?" the man next to David's bed asked.

"She's the girlfriend of the boy who did this to David!" Rebekka said in a shrill voice. "She started it all. Her and her friend there," she said, pointing to Admeta.

"Oh really," the man said.

"I don't want any trouble, Mr. Wharton. I just want to know if David is going to be o.k. That's all. Will he be o.k.?"

"Well maybe you should have thought of that before you and your wetback friend started this!" the man yelled. The woman grabbed his arm as if she wanted him to be quiet. Cornelia could suddenly see how David could be such an idiot with a father like that.

"Yeah, Corny. You and that beaner caused all of this," David said.

"O.k., I'm just going to take that as a yes, thanks," Cornelia said and the three girls turned around and left the room quickly, closing the door behind them.

"Well if he's up to insulting people he must be o.k.," Cornelia said, adding, "I'm sorry, Admeta."

"Don't be sorry for those pigs," Admeta replied.

"Don't listen to them," Amanda added. "They're idiots."

"I know," Admeta replied confidently, but Cornelia could tell that what David and his father said had hurt her feelings.

"Just forget about those morons," Cornelia said. As the trio began to walk away, the door to David's room opened. The girls turned around. It was Rebekka.

"Where do you think you're going, Corny?" she asked.

"Rebekka, why don't you just shut up for a change?" Admeta asked.

"I wasn't talking to you, beaner," Rebekka spat.

"Listen up, white girl. You keep calling me names and you're going to get a fist in the mouth," Admeta said and Cornelia pulled her back as she started to approach Rebekka.

"There are three of us and one of you, Rebekka," Cornelia offered. "I know math isn't your strongest subject. Well, let's face it, you have no strong subjects, but even you can figure out the odds here." she said. Amanda giggled.

"What are you laughing at, Ms. Anorexia?" Rebekka asked.

"Apparently you," Amanda answered and now Cornelia was pulling Amanda back too.

"Let's just go. She isn't worth it," Cornelia said to her friends, sneering at Rebekka.

"You got that right," Admeta added.

"You're going to be sorry!" Rebekka yelled down the hallway. As the girls headed to the elevator they could hear a nurse telling Rebekka to be quiet.

As they pushed the down button for the elevator Admeta said, "Well that was pleasant," and all the girls laughed, breaking the tension.

"I don't know why Chad wanted to know how that pig was doing," Amanda said.

"That's just how he is," Cornelia said. "Even though David's a pig, Chad couldn't stand the idea that he hurt another human being. He's so sweet."

"Sweet?" Admeta asked.

"Yeah," Cornelia answered.

"If you say so."

Cornelia started to ask, "What do you mean," but the elevator door had opened. As the girls stepped on, they saw nurse Robin. Admeta and Cornelia said hello.

"You ladies are on the wrong floor," she said.

"What do you mean?" Admeta asked.

"Mrs. Hakim is on the 13th floor," Robin replied.

"What? She's here?" Cornelia asked, alarmed.

"Yes, she was just admitted tonight," Robin said. "I thought you were here to see her."

"No, we're here with another friend," Amanda said.

"It sounds like the two of you just get into all kinds of excitement. Well, I'm sure she'd be glad to see you," Robin said. "I've seen you around here before too," she said to Amanda.

"Huh? No, I don't think so," Amanda replied.

"Are you one of Mrs. Hakim's students?"

"Yes."

"Well I'm sure she'd enjoy a visit from you too."

The girls pushed the button for the 13th floor and waited while the elevator went down and back up. It dropped Robin off on the first floor where the cafeteria was. She said she would see them later and exited the elevator.

After Robin got off, Cornelia said, "Amanda, there's something you have to know."

"What?" Amanda asked as she saw a look exchanged between Cornelia and Admeta. Admeta nodded her head.

"Mrs. Hakim didn't just hit her head," Admeta said. "She has breast cancer."

"Oh my God," Amada said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"She made us swear not to tell anyone," Cornelia answered. "If you go in with us, just be prepared for what you might see." Amanda suddenly looked worried.

"She can handle it," Admeta said. "But you can't tell anyone, Amanda. I mean it."

"I promise," Amanda said. She looked as if someone had knocked the wind out of her.

The girls were making their way up to the 13th floor when the elevator stopped to let two doctors on. They were talking about their plans for the weekend and didn't pay any attention to the worried girls on the elevator with them. They got off on the 10th floor and the girls continued up to 13. After they got off, Cornelia approached the desk and asked a nurse what room Mrs. Hakim was in. Admeta cringed when the nurse replied, "1313."

Cornelia rolled her eyes at the superstitious Admeta and the three girls headed down the hall to room 1313. Their steps seemed to get slower and smaller the closer they got to the room. They almost seemed to stop a couple of times, but they continued on. When they arrived, the door was open, so the girls stepped inside.

Mrs. Hakim didn't have a private room like David. In the first bed was an elderly African-American woman. "Oh I know y'all ain't here to see me, children," she said with a laugh.

"The skin color gets lighter the farther left you go," she whispered and pointed at the curtain next to her. The girls looked confused.

"Well go on now, girls, don't be shy," she said and the girls proceeded to the next bed as the woman turned back to the book she had been reading.

Mrs. Hakim was lying in the next bed with her eyes closed. She wasn't wearing her hijab and the girls were startled by her completely bald head. She had lost weight since the last time the girls had seen her and Cornelia thought she looked dead. She was reminded once again of her grandmother and she fought back tears.

"We shouldn't wake her," Admeta whispered. Cornelia and Admeta suddenly heard sobbing and turned to look at Amanda.

"Amanda!" Cornelia whispered quite loudly. "You need to shut up right now. If you can't, then go out in the hallway. She doesn't need to see you crying."

"I'm sorry," Amanda said and she ran out into the hallway. Admeta and Cornelia looked at each other. They could still hear whimpers coming from the hallway. When they turned back around they saw that Mrs. Hakim was awake.

"Girls," Mrs. Hakim said, sitting up in bed. "I did not know you were here."

"We're sorry, Mrs. Hakim; we didn't mean to wake you," Cornelia said.

"What do you mean 'we?' " Admeta asked and looked at Cornelia. It was an awkward moment. The two almost wanted to laugh but they knew it would be inappropriate. Cornelia called that kind of laughing "funeral giggles" because it's the kind of nervous laughter you might get at a funeral, which is the most inopportune moment ever to have giggles. Cornelia didn't have funeral giggles at her grandmother's funeral but she remembered some of her younger cousins had. Their mother had to take them outside.

"Admeta, could you hand me my hijab? It's on the window sill."

"Sure, Mrs. H.," Admeta replied then retrieved the pink-colored hijab from the window. Cornelia was surprised by the color. Usually Mrs. Hakim wore a brown or tan hijab. This was much brighter.

"Oh, you like the color, no?" she asked, noticing Cornelia's look. Cornelia and Admeta nodded. "It is pink for breast cancer awareness."

"It's very nice," Admeta said.

"Not my usual taste, but appropriate do you not think?"

"Sure," Cornelia said.

"Mrs. H. what happened?" Admeta asked.

"Oh, do not worry yourselves, dears. It is nothing."

"Nothing doesn't land you in the hospital," Cornelia said.

"It is just a little dehydration and anemia from the chemo. I will be fine. Besides, my last round of chemo is almost over. Just one more session," she said sweetly, but Cornelia didn't believe her. She looked worn out. She had dark circles around her eyes and seemed very weak.

"You don't look so good, Mrs. H.," Admeta said.

"Admeta!" Cornelia chastised.

"Well she doesn't," Admeta said, honestly.

"I am sure you are right, Admeta," Mrs. Hakim laughed. "But I am going to be alright. I promise," she added.

"You shouldn't do that!" Cornelia shouted a little louder than she had intended.

"Cornelia," Mrs. Hakim began, but she was interrupted.

"No. You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," Cornelia said and then began to cry. "My grandmother promised me she would be o.k. and she wasn't. It's not fair. You shouldn't say things like that. You don't know what's going to happen. You shouldn't give us false hope!"

"Cornelia!" Admeta shouted back at her and grabbed Cornelia's arm.

"No, Admeta, I'm sick of walking on eggshells. This is a horrible disease and it's eating away at her. Just look at her."

"Cornelia!"

"No, it is o.k., Admeta, let her get this off her chest," Mrs. Hakim said calmly.

From the other side of the curtain they heard, "Could she get it off her chest a little quieter? I'm reading over here."

"Sorry, Mrs. Johnson," Mrs. Hakim said to the curtain. "Go on a little quieter, Cornelia."

But Cornelia was silent. She pulled away from Admeta's grasp and ran out of the room in tears. Admeta did not follow. She heard Mrs. Johnson say something under her breath and then she sat by Mrs. Hakim's side on the bed.

"She's just scared, Mrs. H.," Admeta said to her teacher.

"I know that, dear. I am too."

"Me too," Admeta said, relieved that they were both finally admitting it.

"I meant what I said, though, dear. I am going to be alright. I am already feeling better," Mrs. Hakim said, patting Admeta on the hand.

"No offense, Mrs. H., but if you're feeling better, what are you doing in the hospital?"

Mrs. Hakim laughed. "Yes, dear, you make a good point, but I know my body and I know I am getting better. You will see," she paused. "Are you not supposed to be at the football game?" she asked.

"Yeah. That's a long story, Mrs. H. Nothing for you to worry about." Admeta paused, then continued, "I taped the game for you, but I didn't bring it with me."

"That is alright, Admeta. I was just going to go to sleep. I will watch it another time," Mrs. Hakim smiled. "Do not tell me if they won or not, it will be a surprise." Admeta did not want to tell her that she didn't know if they won or lost because she had left early.

"There is one other thing," Admeta said hesitantly.

"What is that, my dear?"

"Amanda was with us when Robin told us you were here, so we had to tell her. You know. About the cancer," she whispered the last part.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Hakim replied. "Do you think she will keep my secret?"

"She promised she would."

"Why is she not here?"

"Same reason as Cornelia," Admeta said simply.

"Oh, I see," Mrs. Hakim replied knowingly. "What were the three of you doing in the hospital if not to see me?"

"That's another long story, Mrs. H. Everyone is o.k., though," she said. Admeta didn't want to upset Mrs. Hakim by telling her that Steve was hurt. She thought she would just worry and that couldn't be good for her health. Luckily Mrs. Hakim did not press her.

"Where's your family?" Admeta asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, I sent Daniel home. We did not bring the children, of course. I do not want my children seeing me in the hospital and I did not want the babysitter to spend the night, so I made Daniel go home. He was determined to spend the night here, but I would not allow it," she said.

"Do you want me to stay, Mrs. H.? My dad wouldn't mind."

"Oh no, dear. You have done enough just by visiting and recording the game for me. I want you to go home and not give me another thought. I am fine. Truly I am. I will probably be released in the morning, Admeta." Admeta liked when Mrs. Hakim said her name. It was the closest to the Spanish pronunciation that any non-Hispanic could get.

"Alright, but I'm coming to your house tomorrow."

"No you will not. I am going to go home tomorrow and I need my rest. You and the other girls need to enjoy your weekend and stop thinking about me. Enjoy yourselves. Live life to the fullest, my dear. You are only young once."

"But I like visiting you."

"I appreciate that, Admeta but you have to live your own life too. Now promise me you will do something fun this weekend." Admeta hesitated, but after seeing the pleading look on her teacher's face, she gave in.

"O.k. I promise, but I'm coming over Monday after school."

"No you will not. Mr. Backardi told me that Writers on the Storm is starting back up on Monday."

"What? It can't. Not without you!" Admeta protested.

"Life goes on, my dear. It is an inevitability. Besides, it is only temporary, remember?"

"Who's going to be the faculty advisor? Don't tell me it's Carl."

"Yes, it is."

"No! I won't go. I'm serious, Mrs. H., Carl is a goof."

"Admeta, you should not speak about faculty members in that way. I am sure Mr. Zeland will be fine. He has e-mailed me for some tips. He will be a fine temporary replacement."

"No he won't, Mrs. H. Nothing will be fine until you're back where you belong."

"Oh, my dear, I appreciate your sentiment, but it is going to be fine. I promise."

"There you go making promises again," Admeta said and tried to smile.

"Well, I mean it, Admeta. It will be fine. Now you go and find your friends and forget about me. Enjoy your weekend."

"I don't want to leave you."

From behind the curtain came, "Can't you take a hint, kid? She's tired. Chemo kicks the crap out of you and she wants to go to sleep. Now scram."

"Thank you for your astute assessment, Mrs. Johnson," Mrs. Hakim said to the curtain then rolled her eyes at Admeta who wanted to laugh.

"Alright, I'm going but I'll see you on Tuesday," she said. "Do you want me to put that back?" she asked about hijab.

"No, I rather like the color, no?"

Admeta knew Mrs. Hakim was lying. She didn't want to take off her hijab because she knew her bald head made the girls uncomfortable. She didn't push.

"See ya later, Mrs. H.," Admeta said. She gave Mrs. Johnson a dirty look as she was leaving the room.

"Yeah. You know I'm right, little girl," Mrs. Johnson said after her. Admeta was annoyed, but did not look back. She found Amanda waiting in the hallway. She had finally managed to compose herself.

"Where's Cornelia?" Admeta asked.

"I don't know. She ran past me. I tried to stop her but she just kept going."

"Which way did she go?"

"That way," Amanda said and the two headed toward the elevator. "I think she went into the stairwell. We're never going to find her."

"I have a feeling I know where she is," Admeta said and they took the elevator to the sixth floor.

As the pair entered the hospital chapel, Admeta genuflected. Amanda stopped behind her and gave her space. The chapel was very simple. It had about ten pews and a single cross hanging in the front of the room. Everything was brown and dull. The girls saw Cornelia sitting in the front pew and went to sit beside her. She was no longer crying, but she had mascara marks on her cheeks that revealed the truth. Admeta said nothing, but knelt and said a silent prayer. Amanda sat quietly out of respect.

When Admeta was finished, she used her right hand to trace the sign of the cross from her head to her lips and then both sides of her chest.

She whispered, "May Christ's words be in my mind, on my lips, and in my heart." Amanda had seen people on television do this but never someone in person. She was not Catholic. Cornelia did not acknowledge her friends' presence.

"Cornelia, you're going to have to talk someone," Admeta whispered as if speaking out loud would have been a sin.

"I don't even know what I'm doing here," Cornelia said. "I don't go to church."

"Maybe it's time you started," Admeta said.

Cornelia looked at her friend. "I doubt it," she said.

"It's o.k., CC, you don't have to go to church to be close to God," Amanda said.

"I don't even know if I want to be close to God. I don't even know if there is a God," Cornelia said as she wiped a stray tear from her left eye.

"Don't say that," Admeta said.

"It's true. Why else would there be so much suffering in the world if there is some omnipotent being in the sky who could put an end to it? Tell me that, Admeta."

"I can't," Admeta said. "I just believe. It's faith."

"Well I have no faith, just like I have no faith that Mrs. Hakim is going to get any better."

"Don't say that, Cornelia!" Admeta said, louder than she had intended. She immediately started to whisper.

"You don't know that. No one does. Now let's go check on Steve." Cornelia reluctantly agreed and Amanda followed as the girls made their way back down in the elevator to the Emergency Room waiting area. When they arrived they saw Sarah sitting by Veronica and Michelle.

"What's she doing here," Cornelia asked.

"CC, what took you so long? I was worried," Veronica said.

"Well maybe if I weren't grounded from my cell phone you could have gotten a hold of me," Cornelia spat and immediately felt bad.

"I'm sorry, mom. We found out someone else is in the hospital."

"Who?" Veronica asked.

"Just another friend," Cornelia replied.

"Well, you should be nice to Sarah. She brought your purse and coat."

"What? How did you get into my locker?" she asked, outraged.

"Your combination is always Chad's birthday, CC. It wasn't hard to figure out. I didn't come here to upset you."

"Why are you here?" Cornelia said impatiently.

"I came to see if Steve is o.k.," she said.

"Yeah, right," Admeta said skeptically. "You came to see David."

"Believe what you want. I just wanted to make sure Steve was going to live."

"So David won't go to prison for murder?" Amanda asked.

"Whatever," Sarah said. "Look, I wasn't part of what David was doing. I told Rebekka we should stop it but she didn't listen. What could I do?"

"What could you do?" Cornelia asked. "How about not being Rebekka's lap dog for starters!"

"Cornelia!" Veronica shouted.

"It's o.k., Mrs. Barrington," Sarah said. "I've done some pretty rotten things with Rebekka. I just didn't have any idea how cruel she could be. I'm really sorry about what happened to Steve. I just wanted to bring Cornelia's purse and jacket and let you know that we won."

"Oh goody, we won!" Admeta said, clapping her hands. People in the waiting room began to stare. "Who cares what happened to Steve as long as we won the game?" she asked sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant," Sarah said.

"If you cared so much, why did you wait until the game was over to check on Steve?" Cornelia asked.

"Kenzie asked me to stay. She said she was already short two cheerleaders. So I put on my uniform and helped out."

"How noble of you," Cornelia said.

"Give her a break, CC," Amanda interrupted. "She sounds like she's seen Rebekka for what she really is."

"Well it's about time," Admeta said.

"I didn't mean to start anything. Just tell Steve I'm glad he's going to be o.k., would you?" Sarah asked and then turned to leave.

"Do you need a ride?" Veronica asked.

"Mom," Cornelia said, but Veronica ignored her.

"No, it's o.k. I took the bus. Thanks," Sarah said and then went out the front doors.

"Sarah Cushman took the bus?" Admeta asked. "Maybe she really is sorry. I just can't picture that."

"I don't care if she's sorry," Cornelia said. "Is she right? Is Steve going to be o.k.?"

"Oh, yes, the nurse just told us. They patched him up and he should be allowed to go home soon," Veronica said. "There was no internal bleeding."

"Thank God," Admeta said and then she used her right hand to make the sign of the cross from her forehead to her chest and between both shoulders. Cornelia rolled her eyes but she didn't let Admeta see.

"Did Daddy call yet?" Cornelia asked.

"Not yet, CC," Veronica replied and Cornelia sighed.

"Steve!" Amanda said and she ran over to hug Steve who had just come out of the Emergency Room.

"Ow, Amanda," Steve said and grabbed his ribs.

"Sorry," she said and let go of her grip. All the other women came to greet him too. They collected their jackets and purses and Amanda helped Steve put his coat back on.

"Thanks for the ride over here. I can take the bus home," Steve said.

"Oh no you won't," Veronica said and she grabbed Steve's arm and started leading him toward the door. Cornelia was impressed by her mother's command of the situation. "We're taking you home."

Most of the car ride home was spent in silence other than Admeta telling the others that Writers on the Storm was going to meet with Carl on Monday. Everyone groaned, but no one seemed to know what else to say. They were all glad Steve was alright, but they knew he didn't want to talk about it. Steve's was the first house they came to. He lived in Price Valley, just like Admeta. His house was a small brown ranch with green shutters. A porch light was on, but the house was dark.

"Are you sure you'll be o.k.? It doesn't look like anyone's home," Veronica said.

"I'll be fine, Mrs. Barrington. Thanks for everything," Steve said. Amanda started to get out to help him, but he stopped her. "I'll be fine," he repeated.

"See you in school Monday," Amanda said.

"Yeah," he said half-heartedly and then walked to his front door. He was bent over a little, so Cornelia could tell he was still in pain. She felt sorry for him. He didn't seem to have anyone in his life that cared about him except his friends. Cornelia decided right then and there to try to be one of those friends.

Veronica made sure he got inside before she pulled away to drop off the rest of the girls. Admeta was next since she lived down the street from Steve, and Amanda's house was just a few blocks from Cornelia's. Both girls said their good-byes and went on their way. Michelle came home with Veronica and Cornelia. Just as they walked in the door, Veronica's phone rang.

"Oh my God, answer it, mom!" Cornelia squealed.

"Calm down, CC," she said to her daughter. "Hello?" she said into the phone. "Hold on." Then she turned to Cornelia and said, "It's your father," and handed her the phone.

"Daddy?"

"I got Chad out on bail, CC, but this kid is bound and determined to plead guilty. You're going to have to talk to him."

"Is he o.k.?" she asked.

"He's fine. He went home with his parents."

"Oh, thank God," Cornelia said in spite of herself.

"You're welcome," Harrison replied.

"Thanks, Daddy."

"Alright, CC, I'm going to bed now. Try not to have another crisis tonight, o.k., princess?"

"Very funny, Daddy," CC said and hung up the phone.

"Well?" Veronica asked.

"He's out on bail but Daddy said he wants to plead guilty."

"Well, he is guilty," Veronica said.

"Mom!"

"I didn't say the guy didn't deserve it, CC. I'm just saying Chad did what they are accusing him of doing. Maybe he's right to plead guilty," she said and looked knowingly at her daughter.

"Well I'm going to convince him not to."

"I don't know how you're going to do that since you're grounded from seeing him, but right now you're just going to go to bed," Veronica said. "It's late."

"Alright, mom."

"Oh, CC, who was your other friend in the hospital?" she asked as Cornelia walked up the stairs.

Cornelia turned around and said, "Just someone from school."

"Oh, well I hope they're o.k.," Veronica said.

"Yeah, me too," Cornelia replied and then turned back around and went up to bed, leaving Veronica and Michelle standing in the foyer.
Chapter 20

A Helping Hand

The next day, Cornelia called Chad straight away. She didn't even care if her mom caught her on the phone. She wanted to tell him that she thought about him all night and that she wanted him to plead not guilty. Chad was glad to hear from her, but he wouldn't hear anything about a not guilty plea.

"I did what they said, CC. I threw the first punch."

"The only punch," Cornelia said proudly.

"I'm guilty of assault."

"But the freak deserved it."

"That doesn't matter, CC. When they ask for a plea they don't ask you why you did what you did. They just ask whether you're guilty or not and I'm guilty, even if he deserved it, which I'm not saying he did."

"Of course he did."

"What he said was wrong, CC, but I shouldn't have turned to violence as an answer."

"It was an effective answer," Cornelia said with a laugh.

"It's not funny, CC. I hit another human being. I'm ashamed of what I did."

"Well I don't think you should be ashamed. You were standing up for Steve and Admeta and protecting me. This is all my fault. I should be the one pleading guilty. I threw my drink on the pig."

"You had a knee jerk reaction just like me," Chad said. "What's done is done."

"It's still not right," Cornelia said. Then she heard a noise in the hallway. "I think my mom's coming, I have to go," she whispered and hung up the phone before Chad could even say "good-bye."

There was a knock on Cornelia's door.

"CC, are you awake?" Veronica asked.

"I am now," was her reply.

"Michelle made breakfast. Eggs and bacon. Are you interested?"

"Mom, I always have half a bagel with light cream cheese and half a banana for breakfast."

"I know, CC, but it's fun to try something different every now and then. Are you sure you're not interested?"

"I'm sure, mom," Cornelia said. "But thanks anyway."

"Your loss," Veronica said and she went back downstairs.

Cornelia sat up in her bed and saw Daruma's beady little eye staring at her.

"Oh, shut up, you!" She said to the little doll, but he did not change his expression.

Cornelia huffed at him as she threw her blankets off and got ready for the day. She wasn't sure what she was going to do since she was still grounded, so she just put on some sweats. Then she had an idea. She knew Writers on the Storm would be starting up again on Monday so she decided to rewrite her first paper which she never got to read to the group. Admeta didn't want anyone in Writers on the Storm to know her brothers were gang members so Cornelia had to start from scratch. This time she was going to be brutally honest.

That's how Cornelia spent her day, taking breaks now and then to get something to eat or answer questions from her mother. When she was finished she got caught up on some homework. Then she decided to go into her father's old library to see if she could find a copy of "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." Sure enough, it was there. The cover was tattered and the pages were yellow, but it would certainly work for her purposes.

Cornelia spent the rest of the evening reading the book. She was enthralled by the story, but she grimaced every time she read the n-word. It reminded her once again of her crime. She wondered if it would always be that way. She was so caught up by Huckleberry's adventures that she fell asleep reading the book.

The next morning Veronica woke Cornelia up early.

"Mom, it's Sunday!" Cornelia protested.

"Yes it is, CC, I'm glad you still know what day it is. I barely saw you yesterday. You have community service today, did you forget?"

"Oh, crap," Cornelia answered. "O.k., mom."

As Veronica walked back downstairs Cornelia threw off her blankets, but she threw them so far that they hit Daruma and knocked him off the bookshelf. Cornelia picked up the blankets and threw them on the bed. She only made her bed when company was coming over and Michelle didn't count since she was Veronica's guest. Cornelia then picked up Daruma. She breathed a sigh of relief after examining him and discovering that he was unscathed. She held him in the palm of her hand and looked into his eye.

"Are you looking at me?" she asked. "Are you looking at me?" She thought she had heard those lines in a movie once and she laughed at the absurdity of it and then put Daruma back on the bookshelf. He made her think about Mrs. Hakim. Cornelia hoped she had gotten home from the hospital and was feeling better.

Cornelia looked through her closet for something to wear. The Family Connection had told her to dress nice, but not too nice. She wasn't quite sure what that meant. Was a skirt too nice? Cornelia supposed so and went for a pair of khaki pants and a regular button-down shirt. She got dressed and put on a pair of loafers. She didn't know what they were doing today, but she was sure it wasn't painting or cooking if she had to dress nice-but-not-too-nice.

After putting on her make-up, Cornelia had breakfast. She could tell by the smell of oatmeal in the air that Veronica and Michelle had already eaten. Michelle had started spending the weekend at their house in recent weeks. Just as she was finishing, Veronica came in and told her they had to leave now so she wouldn't be late. They both grabbed their coats and headed out.

"Where's Michelle?"

"She had phone calls to make." Other than that, not much was said on the way to The Family Connection until Veronica drove right by it.

"Mom, you just missed it," Cornelia said.

"Oh, didn't I tell you, CC? The venue changed. I got a call a few days ago from someone named Natalie I think. She said you're supposed to go to the Price Valley Community Center instead."

"Are you kidding?" Cornelia asked.

"No, why?"

"It's just that the Price Valley Community Center is in the roughest part of Price Valley."

"Oh it's broad daylight, CC, you'll be fine. I'll make sure I'm not late picking you up."

"O.k.," Cornelia said with reservation in her voice.

"There it is," Veronica said as they turned the corner onto Grand Avenue. Cornelia looked at the tattered building. It was a yellow brick building with bars on all the windows. Even with the bars there were still some windows broken out. There was also graffiti plastered all over and odd sections of yellow paint on the bricks where Cornelia surmised past graffiti had been painted over. Maybe it had even been done by Family Connection volunteers. As they pulled up to the front door, Cornelia saw a line of mostly women and children waiting to get in.

"There's Natalie," Cornelia said, pointing to the door. Natalie saw Cornelia pointing and waved.

"She's cute," Veronica said.

"Ew, mom, don't be gross!" Cornelia said.

"I didn't mean it like that, CC. Would you have said that if I told you a guy was cute?"

"Yes! I don't want to know who you think is cute, mom. Their gender doesn't matter."

"Really?" Veronica asked.

"Yeah, mom. You can like whoever you want, but I don't want to hear about it. You're my mom. Do you think dad goes around telling me what chicks he thinks are hot? Gross."

"O.k., CC, point taken," Veronica said with a laugh and Cornelia got out of the SUV.

"See you at six," Veronica said before Cornelia closed the door.

When Cornelia got to the center's door, she saw a big sign that said "The Family Connection Annual Health Fair." Then she was greeted by Natalie who sent her inside to lock up her coat and purse and get her assignment from Monica. Cornelia only glanced at the waiting crowd. She could see people from every walk of life waiting to get in. They looked anxious. A lot of the women were surrounded by children. Some of them had no coats, only jackets. You could see your breath when you spoke, so Cornelia was sure they must be freezing, but no one was complaining.

When she got inside, the community center improved somewhat. There was no graffiti on the walls, just signs and banners all over the place. It was a gymnasium, but there were booths and tables set up like some sort of convention. There were tables for local community centers, including The Family Connection, and other services that were free to the community. On the right were lockers with keys in them. Cornelia opened one, put her stuff inside and tucked the key into her pocket.

She looked toward the back where there were booths that Cornelia assumed were examination rooms for the doctors. Each booth was enclosed and had a curtain for a door. They had signs over them saying "Pediatrics," "Gynecology," "Mammograms" and "Breast Exams" only the "Breast Exam" sign was misspelled, "Brest Exams." Cornelia resisted the urge to laugh. It wasn't a funny subject after all.

Her mind wandered to Mrs. Hakim. She wondered how Mrs. Hakim had found out that she had breast cancer. Was it a yearly breast exam that caught a lump? Was it a self exam that led to a mammogram? Cornelia didn't know and she didn't dare ask. She could only imagine how frightening it must have been no matter how Mrs. Hakim found out. Her grandmother had found out about her breast cancer after a yearly mammogram. The importance of the health fair was really starting to sink in.

Cornelia looked in the lower corner of the gym and saw Monica speaking to a group of volunteers, including Admeta. She joined the group and the two girls made eye contact and nodded in greeting. They didn't dare speak while Monica was speaking. Monica was saying something about everyone having their assignments and she wanted everyone to be kind but quick.

"Kind but quick, people, that's the game plan. Now let's go." Everyone dispersed, including Admeta so Cornelia was forced to ask Monica what her assignment was.

"Miss Cornelia. Glad to see you could make it this fine morning. I've got a very special job for you, young lady. Today you're going to be our door greeter. Do you know what a door greeter does?"

"Greets people at the door?" Cornelia asked, hiding the sarcasm in her voice.

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner here, Miss Cornelia. That's exactly what you do, greet people at the door," Monica said, pointing to the front door. The pair walked over to the front entrance. There was a u-shaped set of tables with volunteers on one side of the door and a set of bleachers on the other. Admeta was sitting on the outside of the u-shape, on the right.

"Now, Miss Cornelia, what will happen is that Natalie will let people through the door a few groups at a time and you say 'good morning, take this number and have a seat and we'll be with you as soon as we can.' There are red numbers and blue numbers and they are exactly the same. You give the patient the blue number and you give one of these volunteers the matching red number, then the volunteer will call their number when they're ready for them.

"If the patient speaks English, give them this survey to fill out while they wait. Then the volunteers only have to spot-check and we can process people faster. Do you think you can do that?" Cornelia was annoyed. She wasn't sure if Monica was being punchy or just condescending, but she didn't dare show any disrespect.

"Yes, Monica," she replied.

"Good, now if you get someone who doesn't speak English, ask them if they ' _habla Español_.' If they say 'si,' then give their number to Admeta or Isabella over here on the right and give them a Spanish survey. All of the surveys are on this desk," Monica said as she pointed to the first desk in the u-shape.

"The big pile here is in English, the rest are labeled with what language they're in. Just gesture to the bleachers and they'll get the message. Most of these people come here every year. They know the drill. You'll get a lot of Spanish speakers today.

"Now, if they don't _habla Español or English, use this list." Monica handed Cornelia a clipboard with a list containing different phrases that meant, "Do you speak this language?"_

_The first line said "Do you speak Spanish?" Below that, in italics, it said "_ ¿ _Habla Español?" and beside that, in parenthesis, it said, "ah-blah es-pan-yole." The list contained about fifteen different languages. Cornelia thought the Japanese phrase was the most interesting, "Anata wa nihongo o hanashi masuka." She wondered how any one person could know that all of the phrases were correct. She also wondered how she would determine which one to try._

_"Always greet patients in English first. Most non-English speakers know enough to say, 'I don't speak English.' In this neighborhood you're mostly going to get English and Spanish, but every now and then we get a little variety. I don't advocate racial profiling, but obviously if someone looks Asian, try the Asian languages. If they look Middle Eastern, try Arabic. That one's really difficult. We used to have an Arabic translator but Samantha hasn't been around in a while."_

_Cornelia interrupted, "Samantha Hakim?"_

_"Yeah, is she your Language Arts teacher? I know she teaches over there at Storm River High School."_

_"Yeah, she's my teacher. I didn't realize she volunteered here."_

_"She has ever since she moved here. It's too bad she couldn't come, but we have questionnaires printed in Arabic and the other languages on your list, so hopefully we'll be able to help everybody today._

_"I heard Samantha had an accident or something last month. Is she o.k.?" Monica asked. Cornelia didn't know how to reply._

_She was relieved when Natalie shouted, "O.k. everybody, we're ready to open the doors!" in her usual cheerful manner._

_Monica forgot her question and gave Cornelia more last minute instructions. She concluded with, "If you get in a bind or just can't handle the flow, give me a holler. I'll be at the TFC Booth over there," Monica said, pointing to a table close to the u-shaped registration area. "You o.k. to go?"_

_"Sure," Cornelia replied._

_"Alright people, smiles all around, let's have a good fair today!" Monica yelled and Natalie nodded and opened the door. She let people in a few groups at a time just as Monica had indicated. Cornelia greeted everyone with a smile. She was relieved when most people spoke English, even people who appeared to be of Hispanic descent. Most of them could speak English, but preferred to fill out their questionnaires with a Spanish speaker, so Admeta and Isabella were busy all day. Cornelia was surprised to see how many Hispanic people lived in Price Valley._

_She ran into a few people who didn't speak English or Spanish. One woman, who was very thin and had wild black, curly hair and five children, spoke Russian. The Family Connection didn't have a Russian translator, so Cornelia gave her a questionnaire printed in Russian. She clipped it to a clipboard and gave the woman a pen. Even though they didn't speak each other's languages the woman was able to understand enough to know that Cornelia wanted her to fill out the questionnaire and she went over to the bleachers._

_When one of the English speaking volunteers called her number, they had a hard time communicating what the woman wanted. Cornelia could see them using sign language. The woman would point to the parts of the body she wanted examined. It wasn't ideal, but at least they were able to help her._

_The morning flew by as Cornelia greeted person after person. One woman surprised Cornelia when she thanked her and shook her hand. She was a small elderly woman with unkempt gray hair, who was wearing a denim jumper and a white, faded shirt underneath. Her shoes were white generic tennis shoes that were stained and had holes in them. She wasn't wearing a coat._

_As she shook her hand, the woman said, "I can't thank you enough for all that you do. If it weren't for this health fair I wouldn't have any medical care at all. This is the only doctor's appointment I have all year. God bless you, young lady."_

_Cornelia didn't know what to say as the woman took her survey and walked to the bleachers. She stood for a moment until she realized she war staring and then she walked over to a volunteer to give her the woman's number._

_The volunteer said, "That's Miss Edith, she comes every year."_

_Cornelia nodded and smiled. She couldn't get those words out of her head. "This is the only doctor's appointment I have all year."_

_Cornelia was saddened by the woman's plight. She didn't think anyone should have to go without health care. It's not a topic Cornelia had ever given thought to before. She figured the reason was that she rarely thought about anyone else but herself. In actuality, she was thinking about a lot of other people now, especially Samantha Hakim._

_At noon Monica relieved Cornelia at the door and told her to get something to eat in the cafeteria. Admeta and one of the English speaking volunteers were also told to get lunch. The three walked through a long hallway to the cafeteria. After going through the line, which included choices of different types of pizza and soda, the English speaking volunteer saw some friends and went to join them. Admeta and Cornelia went to sit at a table for two by themselves._

_"Did you hear from Mrs. Hakim?" Cornelia asked._

_"I was going to ask you the same thing," Admeta said, sadly._

_"I think I would be the last person she would call," Cornelia said, also somber._

_"That's not true, Cornelia. She forgave you for what you did. You're welcome in her house, aren't you?"_

_"Yes, I know. But I still must not be her favorite person."_

_"I think you're loco," Admeta said and then shoved a piece of pepperoni pizza into her mouth._

_The two girls ate quietly after that. Their voices were tired from talking all day. When they were finished they headed back to the front door. They didn't want to be gone too long. On their way through the long hallway Cornelia asked, "Are you going to Writers on the Storm tomorrow?"_

_"I don't know. It's with_ _Carl_ _you know," Admeta said, placing a sarcastic emphasis on the name Carl._

_"Well, I haven't got a choice. Joining Writers on the Storm was part of my punishment."_

_"I wondered about that," Admeta said, matter-of-factly._

_"Yeah, but I like it. Don't get me wrong."_

_"I know."_

_The two girls were developing a friendship where they could interpret each other's thoughts. Cornelia was happy about that. She wondered if Admeta felt the same way. Before she could ask they were already back to the front door and Cornelia took over from Monica so she could eat too. Admeta sat down and Isabella went to lunch._

_The rest of the day continued the same way. Every now and then someone would speak Spanish or some other language and Cornelia would help them the best she could. Everyone was very polite and seemed to enjoy the fair. The booths gave away a lot of free stuff like school supplies, toothbrushes and lots and lots of magnets with the different organizations' logo and contact information on them. One booth was giving away coupons for turkey dinners from the food bank for Thanksgiving. People who walked in without a coat, like the woman who had thanked Cornelia, left with a lightly used coat. Cornelia was amazed by how many people were helped._

_Every now and then the buzz of the fair was interrupted by a child screaming in the background. The screams were coming from the booth marked "Vaccinations." Cornelia cringed every time she heard a shriek but she knew the doctors were helping the children even if they had to hurt them a little. Every child got a sucker after they were through with their shots. That usually calmed them down. Cornelia was genuinely glad they were getting help and she wondered why The Family Connection didn't do this every month. She figured it was probably the cost of putting on such an event that hindered them._

_The fair was only open until 2 so the rest of the day flew by and before Cornelia knew it, it was over. By her count, the fair had helped 269 adults and that didn't even include the children. Cornelia thought it had to be more but the paperwork spoke for itself. She was just glad there was no one left in line when the doors were closed. That would have broken her heart._

_While the other agencies were packing their things, Natalie called all of The Family Connection volunteers together. Most were able to go home for the day. Only TFC workers and a handful of volunteers stayed behind to pack up. Admeta was one of those who stayed behind, so Cornelia told her she'd see her at school tomorrow. She looked at the volunteers and wished she had been asked to stay but she wasn't bold enough to say so. She took a long look at the community center and then grabbed her things from her locker and headed out the front door. As promised, her mother was waiting._

_"Well, how was your day, CC?"_

_"Great," Cornelia replied and smiled at her mother. "We helped 269 adults and a lot more children."_

_"That's great, CC. I'm proud of you. Do you realize this is the first time you've returned from community service with a smile on your face?"_

_"Come on, mom," Cornelia protested._

_"No really, CC. It's true."_

_"Well, I really did have fun," Cornelia replied. "We helped a lot of people. I'm just hoarse from talking so much today."_

_Mother and daughter drove the rest of the way home in silence._ Veronica was prouder than she could express. She thought Cornelia was finally learning something she couldn't teacher her: empathy.
Chapter 21

Live to Write Again

The next day, school went as it usually did. Before homeroom, Cornelia and Chad had a few minutes to get caught up. She told him about the health fair. He was happy to see her so excited about her community service. He told her that he saw David Wharton in the hallway, so he was glad that he was going to be alright. They did not exchange words. Chad wanted to apologize but he knew it would just be a scene. There were teachers around so David didn't do anything either.

Cornelia did her best to avoid Rebekka and Sarah who didn't seem to be spending much time together. At lunch, Rebekka was sitting with David, but Sarah was nowhere to be found. Cornelia sat with Chad, Amanda and Admeta. Cornelia asked Admeta about Mrs. Hakim, but all Admeta knew was that she was home. Cornelia and Admeta then talked more about the health fair. Admeta related some fun stories about some of the questionnaire questions being translated incorrectly and how much confusion it caused. She told another story about having to ask a 75-year-old woman if she was pregnant. The woman looked at her for a minute and then started laughing.

In Spanish the woman said, "Lordy, young lady, I certainly hope not." Everyone laughed.

They went their separate ways after lunch. Later, when English class was over, Admeta and Cornelia exchanged their unhappiness about Carl taking over Writers on the Storm before they went to their last class of the day. At the end of the day, Cornelia walked Chad to his bike as usual, and then she set off for classroom 97, unaware of what could possibly be waiting.

When she arrived, everyone was in a circle already and she took her seat across from Admeta. Steve was sitting next to Kenzie with his head down. He still had a black eye and some visible bruises. Cornelia could tell he didn't want to be there, but it was probably better than being at his home.

The Turners were the only ones not there yet, but they came in right after Cornelia and took their seats as well. Cornelia was sitting quietly when Randy Turner leaned over to tell her how cool he thought it was that her boyfriend knocked the quarterback out cold. Cornelia told him to forget about it. Then Andy leaned over and said he thought it was cool too. It was common knowledge that the Turner twins had the biggest mouths of anyone on campus, so Cornelia thought the entire school must know by now. Cornelia repeated the same thing to Andy and the twins backed off, but they didn't like it.

Just then Carl walked through the door with a huge grin on his face. "Hello, Writers!" he exclaimed. "That's what Mrs. Hakim calls you, isn't? Writers?" Everyone nodded. "Mrs. Hakim and I have been e-mailing back forth about all the fun you guys have been having this year," he said, enthusiastically. Admeta hid her mouth with one hand and pretended to stick the index finger of her other hand down her throat. Cornelia let out a muffled laugh then coughed to cover it up.

"You'll be happy to know that Mrs. Hakim is feeling better these days. I'm sure she'll be back real soon."

"Don't you mean 'really' soon, Carl?" Admeta interrupted.

"Why, you're right, Admeta. Thank you for the correction," he said just as happily as can be. Cornelia was convinced it was all an act. There was no way someone could be that happy all the time.

"So, kids, I hear you were supposed to do some free writing. Is that right?"

"Uh, Carl," Cornelia interrupted.

"Yes, Cornelia, isn't it?"

"Yes. In our last meeting I'm the only one who didn't get to read their paper."

"Oh. What was that assignment?"

"We were supposed to write about discrimination."

"Oh, how interesting," Carl began. "Well, please go right ahead."

Cornelia looked around the circle and saw every face staring back at her. Admeta looked worried. She had told Cornelia not to tell anyone her brothers are in a gang. Cornelia was suddenly very nervous. Her hands were shaking so she pushed them on the desk to flatten out her paper. She cleared her throat and began.

"Discrimination," she said.

"Please speak up, Cornelia," Carl said and then smiled a big goofy smile.

"Discrimination," she said, louder. "My name is Cornelia Drake and I did a horrible thing," she began and then looked around the circle again. She tried not to let the penetrating stares scare her.

"At the beginning of the school year," she continued reading, "I was on top of the world. I had made the cheerleading squad. I had a really cool boyfriend, and I was starting my first year in high school. I finally felt like an adult. I thought I was going to skate through the next four years on my looks and my father's money. I was an idiot.

"I didn't care about anyone except myself and my boyfriend, Chad. I was mad at my mom for divorcing my dad and I missed my grandma who I lost last summer, but other than that I was flying high. I had everything a 14-year-old could want, a great boyfriend, girlfriends I could depend on, and cool stuff to do. But all that changed when we received our progress reports.

"Mrs. Hakim had given me a 'D' in English. English was my native tongue, not hers and I resented her for the grade," she said. The entire group was listening and staring unblinkingly at Cornelia. It was the first time she had ever spoken about her crime to anyone except when she apologized to Mrs. Hakim.

"I was convinced that I didn't deserve that 'D.' I thought Mrs. Hakim had it out for me because she was jealous. She has to wear a hijab to cover herself at all times and I can wear anything I want. She speaks with an accent and I speak perfect English. I have blonde hair and she's stuck with black hair. I thought I had everything she wanted and that's why she gave me a bad grade. I was so conceited that I thought a teacher was jealous of a child. And that's what I was, a child, no matter how grown up I thought I was.

"I went home that day with my progress report in hand, but I didn't show it to my mother. I thought I would wait until the last possible moment. I wasn't ashamed; I was angry. I was absolutely convinced that I didn't deserve that grade and I was determined to make Mrs. Hakim pay for what she did." Cornelia's eyes were welling up. The students were riveted and Carl's smile began to fade.

"I thought about it all weekend. What I could do to get back to her. I knew it had to be big and it had to be public. Nothing else would do. I thought about it and thought about it. I even went out on a date with my boyfriend on Saturday and couldn't stop thinking about it.

"So when he dropped me off that night I asked him if he could drive me to school on Sunday for cheerleading practice. That was the first of many lies I would tell that day. Since he loves me and he trusted me, he agreed. I knew he would. I told my mom the same thing, that I had cheerleading practice. Neither one of them questioned me about having practice on a Sunday." The circle was perfectly still, with every eye still on Cornelia.

"So the next afternoon, I went to the garage and picked up some spray paint my dad left there. I put the cans in my gym bag and later on Chad dropped me off at the school. I told him to pick me up at the end of the long driveway in half an hour. Cheerleading practice is never just a half-hour long but he didn't question me even then. He's so sweet. He trusted me. I failed him. I failed everyone.

"After he left, I walked up to the front wall of the school, the side without windows, and I spray painted the nastiest thing I could possibly think of to write. It was something I had heard in a movie once. I have never said it, myself, until now," Cornelia said. "Please forgive me for using these words, but this is what I wrote: Mrs. Hakim is a Sand Nigger."

A few people gasped at the sound of those words. Everyone looked surprised that Cornelia had actually said them out loud. Most of them had heard about what she did but few people were willing to speak the words themselves. Valerie and Carl were the only ones who looked surprised as if they hadn't heard the story before. Amanda lowered her head as if she was ashamed to be Cornelia's friend.

"Uh, Cornelia," Carl interrupted. He was sweating and looked nervous.

"Please let me finish," Cornelia pleaded.

"Yeah, let her finish, Carl," Admeta chimed in.

"Is it o.k. with the group if Cornelia continues?" Carl asked and everyone nodded their head.

"Well, o.k., the group has spoken. Just let me say that the reading of anyone's paper in no way reflects my opinion or the opinions of Storm River High School. Now please continue, Cornelia."

Cornelia apologized again, "I'm sorry, those words are as hard to say as they are to hear. I can't imagine how hard they were to read and I hope that Mrs. Hakim didn't actually see them. I still can't believe I really wrote it. It was a horrible thing to do and nothing I do or say can ever make up for it. I wasn't thinking about anything except how much I hated Mrs. Hakim. All I could think about was writing the most hateful thing I could think of, and that's what I did.

"I wrote the most disgusting, sickening, putrid words I could come up with," Cornelia said, wiping a tear away from her left eye. "And I'm ashamed of myself. I'm glad I got caught," she said and everyone except Admeta looked at her in confusion. She found herself becoming stronger, less nervous. She was glad to finally put the truth out there.

"I was sentenced to community service when I should have been put in juvenile hall. What I did was a hate crime and I deserved punishment. The judge let me off easy because Mrs. Hakim of all people stood up for me. She asked the judge for leniency. How could she do that?" Cornelia asked.

"How could she ask him to give me a light sentence after finding out what I wrote about her?" Cornelia asked and looked around the circle with tears still welling in her eyes.

"I'll tell you how. Because Mrs. Hakim is a forgiving person. I didn't understand it at the time and I certainly didn't appreciate it because I was still only thinking of myself. I was appalled by my sentence. I couldn't even appreciate the judge's leniency. But I do now.

"Because of Mrs. Hakim's generous nature I was given a second chance. A chance to see where I went wrong. A chance to make some good out of what I did. I know it sounds dumb, but some good has come out of all of this.

"My community service has taught me a lot about compassion and humility. Mrs. Hakim inviting me to join Writers on the Storm, even after what I did, taught me about forgiveness. And Mrs. Hakim has taught me a lot more that I can't really talk about," Cornelia said and Admeta gave her a knowing look.

"I am ashamed of what I did and I would like to ask forgiveness not only from Mrs. Hakim but the entire school and especially all of you. You accepted me into this group even though most of you knew what I did and didn't like me very much because of it. Through your stories you taught me a lot about myself. I could see myself in your story, Ralph," Cornelia said and looked at Ralph. His eyes were big but he said nothing. Cornelia's tears dried up as her sadness turned to determination.

"I was just as bad as that man you met in the store that day. But I'm willing to bet that man is still the same. I'm not the same person who wrote those ugly words that day and I would never do anything like that again. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but Mrs. Hakim has taught me that I can at least ask for it. She believes that everyone deserves a second chance. That's part of what makes her an amazing person.

"My name is Cornelia Drake, I did a horrible thing, and I'm asking for your forgiveness," Cornelia concluded.

Everyone sat quietly for a moment then Admeta began to clap and the others followed. When the clapping died down, Carl said, "Yes, that was a nice paper, Cornelia," but the look on his face was a very uneasy one.

"They're not clapping for my paper, Carl," Cornelia said.

"No?" he asked.

"No. They're clapping for Mrs. Hakim," Cornelia said and then smiled. Carl looked confused for a moment but then he smiled back.

"O.k. Writers, does anyone have any free writing they would like to share? Preferably on a lighthearted topic?" he asked, nervously.

The group continued as about half the group shared their writing. Some were funny stories, some were poetry and some were just random thoughts. Andy Turner wrote, "Life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer you get to the end, the faster it goes." Everyone laughed. Andy said he read it in a comic strip somewhere. That was all he wrote and Cornelia laughed at the absurdity of it.

They had a good time reading and listening and Carl let them go after an hour and a half. He instructed them to write about their favorite thing for the next meeting. As the students filed out they were chattering about what their favorite things were and they wondered which one to pick to write about. Admeta and Amanda walked out with Cornelia. Steve had jetted out ahead of everyone and left without a word.

"I really liked your paper, CC," Amanda said before heading toward the front door.

"Me too," Admeta said.

"Thanks," Cornelia said, and then she and Admeta said good-bye to Amanda.

"Do you want to go to Mrs. H's house?" Admeta asked after Amanda had walked away.

"Do you think it would be o.k. at this hour? They might be having dinner or something?" Cornelia asked.

"Maybe you're right. I guess she would like a call first. What about tomorrow after school?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Cornelia said. "I don't have cheerleading practice anymore. I'm not doing basketball season."

"Cool," Admeta replied.

"Do you want a ride home?" Cornelia asked.

"Sure," Admeta said and the two girls walked to the office so Cornelia could call her mother to pick them up.

While they were waiting outside, Admeta said, "Did you see Carl's face when you said the n-word? I thought he was going to have a heart attack or something. He turned bright red."

"I was trying not to make eye contact with him. I was nervous."

"Me too. I thought you were going to tell everyone about my brothers."

"I promised I wouldn't," Cornelia protested.

"Yeah, I know. I was just nervous anyways," Admeta said.

"Don't you mean, 'anyway,' Admeta?" Cornelia said, mocking Admeta's earlier comment to Carl.

"Oh, why yes I do! Thank you for correcting me, Cornelia!" Admeta said and then put on a big fake smile like Carl. The girls cracked up laughing.

"Seriously, though, Cornelia. It took a lot of guts to write what you did."

"It was long overdue. I think that's the first time I ever really took responsibility for what I did. I was an idiot."

"Speaking of being an idiot," Admeta began. "I have a confession to make."

"Ut Oh," Cornelia said. "What's that?"

"Since we're being honest and all, I should tell you that I'm not just the person who cleaned up your graffiti," Admeta said and then looked at her friend sympathetically. "I'm sort of the one who called the police."

Cornelia was silent this time. Her ears were burning with anger. Admeta looked worried as she wrung her hands and then let them fall to her sides. She was teetering on her tip toes awaiting Cornelia's response. There was an awkward silence. Cornelia didn't know what to say. She was upset that Admeta would call the police on a friend, but then she remembered that they weren't friends. Cornelia didn't even know Admeta's name before she was sentenced to community service even though Admeta had been in her English class. Cornelia's features softened as she realized that now she probably would have done the same thing in Admeta's place.

"CC, I'll admit that putting the sign on your locker was juvenile and stupid, but I can't apologize for calling the police. I think it was the right thing to do." Cornelia was again silent, but her facial expression hadn't changed.

"Would you just say something? Yell at me if you want to. I saw you spray painting the wall and I used the emergency phone next to the business wing to call the police. Then I waited until they came. The next morning I got up really early and painted over what you wrote. That's it. That's everything. So let me have it," she said, waving her hands.

"I'm not going to let you have it," Cornelia said, finally. "You did the right thing. What I was doing was illegal and like I said in my paper, I deserved to be punished. Actually I probably deserved a lot more. I got off easy, thanks to Mrs. Hakim."

"Yeah," Admeta said and both girls became solemn thinking about their teacher.

Veronica soon arrived and then dropped Admeta off at home. The girls said their good-byes and Cornelia let Veronica know where she was going after school the next day. Veronica said she had better not find out that Cornelia is using Mrs. Hakim as a front so she could sneak off and see Chad.

"Mother!" Cornelia protested.

"I'm serious, CC, you'd better not be."

"I'm not, mom. You can ask Admeta."

"Oh, and Admeta wouldn't lie for you?"

"As a matter of fact, she wouldn't," Cornelia said, proudly. "She's about the most honest person I know." Cornelia had just realized that another good had come out of horrible deed. She made a new friend. One that will never let her get one over on her. Someone who will keep her stay honest. The girl she once hated was now her best friend. That brought another tear to Cornelia's eye.

"What's wrong, CC?" Veronica asked as they got out of the car.

"Nothing mom, you wouldn't understand," Cornelia said.

That night Cornelia could have snuck in a quick phone call to Chad before going to bed but instead she found herself calling Admeta. She was sad when she heard a recording, "We're sorry, the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service." Admeta's phone was still shut off. Cornelia went to bed that night wishing she could help the Vasquez family but she didn't know how.
Chapter 22

Learning Curve

The next day, Cornelia woke up late and had to get ready in a hurry. She barely got her half a bagel, banana, and glass of chocolate milk down before running out the door. Veronica dropped her off in the usual place, but it was so close to the bell that Chad must have already gone to homeroom. Cornelia quickly loaded up her book bag and ran to her own homeroom right before the final bell rang.

"Thank you for joining us, Ms. Drake," Mr. Brockheimer said as Cornelia put her book bag on the floor next to her and sat down. She could hear Rebekka snicker behind her but for the first time, Sarah's echo didn't follow. Cornelia sat in her desk and looked straight ahead as Mr. Brockheimer took attendance. As soon as the bell rang, Cornelia was out the door just as fast as she had come in. She was hoping to intercept Chad on her way to History class. Sure enough, their paths crossed at the top of the stairs in front of the main office.

"Hey, CC," Chad said over the noise in the hallway. The two moved over by the lockers and let the crowd pass them by.

"Sorry I didn't get to see you this morning," she said. "I was running late as usual."

"I figured," he said. "Hey do you know what you're doing for Thanksgiving yet?"

"No, why?"

"I was wondering if your mom might let you out of grounding for one day so you two could spend the day with us. We have a big meal for lunch and then we go to the soup kitchen to serve Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless."

"My mom and your parents in the same room?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because my mom is into Prada and your parents are into PETA?" Cornelia asked and they both laughed.

"Well, think about it. If she is in an unusually friendly mood, ask her."

"O.k. but don't get your hopes up," Cornelia warned. "Can you picture my mom in a soup kitchen?" Cornelia had the urge to laugh but then she thought that people probably would have said the same thing about her before she began her community service.

Chad and Cornelia looked around and then snuck a quick kiss before heading in opposite directions. As Cornelia walked to History class she couldn't believe how lucky she was to have a boyfriend like Chad. She was grateful that he hadn't dumped her after the stunt she pulled. She was grateful for a lot of things these days.

The clock ticked by very slowly. First History then Geometry, Environmental Science, Home Economics and finally Biology. And that was only before lunch. The new lunch gang got a surprise when they sat down to eat. Sarah came over and asked if she could join them. Amanda and Admeta looked skeptical. Chad had a forgiving look on his face as was his way. Cornelia didn't know what to think.

"I'm really sorry for the way I acted," Sarah said with her head hanging low. "I did whatever Rebekka wanted and I went along with everything she did even though I knew it was wrong. But what happened with Steve went way too far."

"Why did you do it if you knew it was wrong?" Admeta asked.

"You haven't known me very long." Sarah was right about that. Cornelia had gone to private school with Rebekka, but Sarah had always gone to public school. She lived down the block from Rebekka, so they had been friends from grade school; the same was true for Cornelia and Amanda.

"I know it sounds stupid, but I didn't have any friends until I met Rebekka. I was really happy when she said she was going to transfer to public school. She introduced me to Cornelia and Amanda. She made me go out for the cheerleading squad. She's probably the only reason I made it on. I felt like I owed it to her to be loyal but she's just gone too far. Lately she's done nothing but hateful things. I just can't go along with her anymore."

"You shouldn't have gone along with her in the first place," Admeta said.

"I know. Everyone knows I was trying to be popular like Rebekka. That's the reason I did everything I did. It was stupid," Sarah said and then she started to turn to leave.

"Well you're not the only one who's done stupid things," Cornelia said and reached out her hand to touch Sarah's arm. "Have a seat."

"Yeah, that's the truth," Admeta said remembering the sign she stuck to Cornelia's locker.

"Yeah," Chad echoed, recalling his fight with David.

The four of them looked at Amanda.

"What?" Amanda asked. "Speak for yourselves, I'm perfect." The group let out a round of laughter all around and Sarah sat down next to Admeta. They filled lunch period with casual conversation and avoided the subject of Rebekka and David. When lunch was over the group started going their separate ways, but Sarah pulled Admeta to the side.

"I really am sorry for everything," she said. "I shouldn't have gone along with Rebekka. I should have had the guts to tell her off. I felt really bad about what she said about you and Mrs. Hakim."

"Yeah, well, you can't control your friends," Admeta said. She wasn't sure if she was ready to accept Sarah's apology but she couldn't just leave her standing there with her mouth open. She also couldn't be a hypocrite. She had forgiven Cornelia, so why should Sarah be any different?

"Yeah, but I bet you would have stood up to her," Sarah said.

"You're not me and I'm not you," Admeta said, not quite sure where she was going. She felt awkward and just wanted to move on.

"See you around," Sarah said, contritely.

"Yeah, see ya," Admeta said and was glad when they went in opposite directions. Admeta wasn't good with apologies. Getting them or giving them. It didn't matter. They made her uncomfortable. She tried to remember that Sarah never said much herself. She was just always standing behind Rebekka when she was being hateful. Admeta tried to understand how hard it would have been for Sarah to tell her best friend to shut up. Admeta never really had a best friend, so she couldn't relate. But she could relate to wanting to be popular. Everyone secretly wanted to be popular, didn't they?

In study hall, Cornelia tried to write about her "favorite thing," but she couldn't decide on what that was. Carl said it couldn't be a person, so Chad was out of the running. She thought about her iPod, her stuffed animals, and the locket her father had given her, but they all seemed shallow. She also thought about the diamond barrette her grandmother had given her, but that was too personal to share. That memory was just for her. Besides, she wouldn't have been able to read her paper without crying. By the end of the bell she hadn't come up with anything else.

In English class, Carl passed out Macbeth and the students took turns reading out loud. Mrs. Hakim would never have wasted class time by having people read out loud. Cornelia was reading the part of Lady Macbeth. At one point she was supposed to day, "Out, damned spot! Out I say!" but she was afraid to curse in front of a teacher, so she said, "Out, darned spot!" and everyone laughed. Cornelia was embarrassed, but she had learned in recent months to let things like that just roll off her back. She laughed along with everyone else.

Physical Education was Cornelia's least favorite class, mostly because she got all sweaty and her make-up would start to run a little. The gym teacher never gave them enough time to take a shower, so she had to just put on extra deodorant and perfume and hope she didn't stink once she changed back into her street clothes. She thought the clock in the gym was broken, but it finally approached 2:40 p.m. and Cornelia had just enough time to say good-bye to Chad before heading off with Admeta to Mrs. Hakim's.

"Did you get a ton of Geometry homework?" Cornelia asked Admeta.

"I'm not taking Geometry," Admeta replied as they walked down the street with their coat collars upturned. It was getting colder as winter drew nearer.

"You're not?" Cornelia asked.

"No, I'm in Trigonometry. I took Geometry last year."

"Wow."

"Wow, what?"

"Admeta Vasquez, math wiz! Who knew?"

"I'm not a math wiz. I just like it is all."

"That's good. I wish I liked it. I can't stand math."

"Trigonometry isn't math exactly. It's more like geometry. It deals with sides and angles of triangles and all of the formulas you use to calculate measurements."

"Well I hate geometry, so I know I would hate trigonometry."

"It's not that bad," Admeta said.

"In your humble opinion," Cornelia said.

"Yeah, I.M.H.O.," Admeta replied and the pair laughed as they came upon the little white picket fence. Ralph, the dog, was nowhere to be seen, so they opened the gate and walked up to the door. Admeta rang the bell. After a pause there was a faint voice from inside telling them to come in.

"Mr. H. must not be here," Admeta said as the pair opened the unlocked door and stepped inside. They put their book bags on the bench and hung their coats on the coat rack.

"Mrs. H.?" Admeta called out. The reply came from the sitting room.

When Admeta and Cornelia walked inside, they saw a tiny figure curled up on the couch covered with the familiar red quilt with the wedding couple on it. She was wearing a wig but no hijab. Mrs. Hakim always tried to look as normal as possible at home so her children wouldn't be scared, so she kept the wig on to hide her baldness.

"Hey, Mrs. H." Admeta said, brightly.

"Hello girls," Mrs. Hakim replied and then coughed as if the effort it took to speak was taking a toll on her.

"Hi," Cornelia said and then she sat down on the edge of the couch. Admeta sat between Cornelia and Mrs. Hakim. At first no one could think of what to say.

"So how did it go yesterday?" Mrs. Hakim asked after taking a sip from a tea cup that was sitting on the table.

"Yesterday?" Cornelia asked.

"It went o.k., Mrs. H. but that Carl is a tool," Admeta said.

"Oh," Cornelia said, suddenly realizing she meant Writers on the Storm.

"Admeta, What have I said about disrespecting teachers?"

"I know, Mrs. H. I'll try harder, but it isn't easy. This week he wants us to write about our favorite thing. What are we? In show and tell? We're not in kindergarten."

"Now, Admeta, I know Mr. Zeland is not what you are used to but you have to give him a chance? No?"

"If you say so," Admeta said curtly.

"He's not that bad," Cornelia protested. "He let me read my paper."

"You wrote a paper?" Mrs. Hakim asked with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

"Yeah. Well it's the paper you assigned before, well..." Cornelia trailed off.

"Before I fainted."

"Yes," Cornelia replied. "I finished it and Carl let me read it."

"I would love to read it too, Cornelia." Cornelia looked terrified for a moment. "Do you have it with you?"

"Well, yeah, it's in my bag, but..."

"Oh please do let me read it. I have so little to read these days that I have not already read. It will be nice to have something new to read." Cornelia couldn't deny her teacher anything in the state she was in. She looked paler than Cornelia had ever seen her and she had lost a lot of weight. Cornelia got up to retrieve the paper from her book bag. She could hear whispering coming from the sitting room but she couldn't understand what was being said. She quickly returned with the paper.

As she sat down and started to hand the paper to her teacher, she said, "Could you wait until we're gone to read it?"

"Of course, dear. It would be rude to read while I have visitors." Cornelia breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't imagine sitting in the room with Mrs. Hakim as she read her paper. She was glad she wrote it, but she was still embarrassed.

"I will return it the next time you visit."

"That's o.k., I have a copy on my computer. You can keep it," Cornelia said, hoping the subject of the paper would never come up again.

"Alright, dear," Mrs. Hakim said and she placed the paper on the coffee table. "So, what have you been up to? I hear we are regional champions, no?"

"That's a whole other story," Admeta said and the girls looked at each other knowingly.

"What do you mean, Admeta?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

"Oh, it's nothing, Mrs. H. The last thing you need is drama."

"Oh, I do not know, Admeta, sometimes other people's drama takes your mind off of your own troubles," Mrs. Hakim said. The girls felt pangs of regret in their guts. They didn't want to tell their teacher about the incident at the game, but how could they deny her? In the end they couldn't and both proceeded to tell the entire story of Friday night's events, each interjecting their own comments. Mrs. Hakim listened intently, inserting "ohs" and "ahs" when appropriate.

When all was said and done, she asked, "Is Steven alright?"

"Yeah, he's o.k.," Admeta answered. "He has a black eye, bruised ribs and some scrapes, but he'll be alright."

"And what is going to happen to Chadwick?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

"My dad is going to represent him. He's never done anything in his whole life, so maybe he will get off easy," Cornelia said, hopefully.

"One would hope that would be the case," Mrs. Hakim said. "Although I do not condone violence as an answer to anything."

"Neither does Chad," Cornelia said. "Usually, any way."

"That creep had it coming," Admeta added.

"Admeta, you know how I feel the subject," Mrs. Hakim said. Changing the subject, she added, "And how is school?" Both girls grimaced. "Now it cannot possibly be that bad, girls."

"It's o.k. I guess," Cornelia said.

"It will be better once you're back," Admeta said and Cornelia looked displeased. She didn't want Admeta to give Mrs. Hakim any false hope. Cornelia had seen her grandmother in a similar situation. She wasn't going to pretend everything was alright.

"And what are you young ladies doing for Thanksgiving? Spending it with extended family, no?"

"My dad works on Thanksgiving like it's any other day," Admeta said.

"It's just me and my mom," Cornelia added. "You're the second person to ask me that today."

"And who was the first?"

"Chad."

"I see."

"His mom and dad don't talk to the rest of their family because none of them have gone green." Mrs. Hakim looked perplexed. "You know, they're into recycling, vegetarianism, biking instead of driving, that sort of thing." Mrs. Hakim nodded. "So it's just him and his parents. They go to the soup kitchen after and serve dinner to the homeless. He asked me over, but since I'm grounded I doubt my mom will agree to go."

"Well," Mrs. Hakim said, "In that case you should both consider joining my family for Thanksgiving. Invite Chad's family as well. We'll move dinner up to 2 p.m. so you have time to get to the soup kitchen afterward. And I am sure we can find something vegetarian to offer them. Surely your mother will allow you to have dinner on Thanksgiving, no?"

"Thanks, Mrs. H., but I don't want to..."

"Impose?" Mrs. Hakim interjected.

"Yeah, that," Admeta said.

"You are not imposing if you are invited, my dear, and so are your families," Mrs. Hakim said and then smiled brightly. It was the first big smile the girls had seen on her face in a long time. Neither one of them wanted to tell her 'no.'

"I'll ask," Cornelia offered.

"Me too," Admeta added.

"Why do I get the impression that you are both giving me, how do you say? Lip service?" She asked and winked.

"Honest, Mrs. H."

"Don't you mean 'honestly' Admeta?" Cornelia asked and both girls giggled.

"There is a story there that I am not privy to, no?" Mrs. Hakim asked facetiously, and she too laughed even though she didn't know why.

"Well, do try to come. It is going to be quite the celebration. This year Thanksgiving falls on the first day of Eid ul-Fitr."

Seeing the confused look on the girls' faces, she continued, "Eid ul-Fitr, or Eid as most Muslims call it, means the Feast of the Breaking of the Fast. It happens at the end of Ramadan. Do you know what Ramadan is?"

"It's a Muslim holiday," Admeta said. Cornelia remained silent.

"You are correct, but it is more of an observance than a holiday. It is actually a month-long fast and the most blessed month of the year."

"No offence, Mrs. Hakim, but it hasn't been that blessed for you," Cornelia said honestly.

"Well, I have not been able to participate in the fast due to my health concerns, so in that way you are correct, Cornelia, but I feel blessed just the same. After all, I am still alive, am I not?" she asked, but the girls knew it was a rhetorical question.

"In fact today is Laylat al-Qadr, which is considered the most holy night of the year. It commemorates the time that the first verses of the Qur'an were revealed to the Muslim people. That is why Mr. Hakim is not here. He took the children to the Masque to celebrate."

"Your husband is Muslim too?" Cornelia questioned and Admeta elbowed her in the ribs. "Ouch! What?"

"It is alright, Admeta; that is a logical question. No, my husband is not Muslim, he is Christian, but he respects my religious views. We are teaching our children the ways of both of our religions as well as many other religions, so that they may make an informed decision about religion when they are old enough.

"Did you notice that Raja does not wear a hijab? Of course Zayn is far too young yet. I will not permit my daughters to wear a hijab until they are old enough to make the decision for themselves. I do not wish to force any religion upon them. But we do celebrate both religions' holidays, so they will be knowledgeable."

"They let him in the Masque even though he's not Muslim?" Cornelia asked. This time Admeta did not respond with a jab.

"Well of course, dear," Mrs. Hakim said with a laugh. "All are welcome at the Masque."

"Why aren't you wearing your hijab?" Admeta asked, following Cornelia's lead.

"I only have to dress modestly when I am in the presence of men who are not close family members. If you have seen me with it on at home it is just that I did not bother to remove it after having been somewhere else. I have been nowhere else today. Too weak, I am afraid." The girls looked worried.

"Now, don't you fret, young ladies. I am getting stronger every day. I stop chemotherapy very soon and I plan to cook a turkey for Eid."

"You can eat turkey?" Cornelia asked.

"Of course she can," Admeta replied with a laugh.

"Now, Admeta, that too, is a logical question. During Ramadan we fast during the day but we break the fast in the evening. As I said, I have not been able to participate this year due to my health. But when we do break the fast, we are permitted to eat just about everything except pork and alcohol. Turkey is perfectly acceptable and I look forward to making one. If you do not show up we will be eating leftovers for weeks. I do hope you will come."

"We'll try," Admeta said. "We should probably let you get your rest now."

"I enjoy your company, girls, but I am feeling rather tired at the moment."

"Are you sure it's o.k. to leave you alone?" Cornelia asked.

"I was alright before you arrived and I will be fine after you have gone, Cornelia," Mrs. Hakim assured her. Her breath was shallow. She wasn't fooling anyone, but the girls called Veronica and left just the same.

Cornelia's mom was waiting at the school by the time the girls got there. They were quiet on the way home. They couldn't tell Veronica what was really going on with Mrs. Hakim so they said nothing. When Veronica dropped off Admeta, the two girls waved to each other. They each seemed to know what the other was thinking. How could they invite their families over to Mrs. Hakim's without first warning them about her condition? It would be obvious to them that something more was wrong with Mrs. Hakim than what they were letting on. Still, the girls didn't want to disappoint her.
Chapter 23

Preparations

The next week flew by in a blur. Cornelia didn't have community service that Sunday due to the holiday week. She had plenty of homework to do, so she didn't mind. She was keeping busy. The Falcons had gone to Columbus without their cheerleaders because there wasn't enough money in the school budget. Cornelia was glad she didn't have to go. She couldn't stand the idea of screaming one more cheer for the likes of David Wharton.

As it turned out, she wouldn't have had to any way. David's broken nose kept him off the field for the championship game. The Falcons won once again without their star quarterback. The Monday before Thanksgiving the school unveiled a new banner that declared the Falcons State Champions. It stayed there until break when it was moved to the gym. Cornelia would have felt a little bit happy about it all if Chad hadn't been so miserable.

Chad felt terrible guilt over keeping David from playing the most important game of his high school career. The Falcons hadn't won a state championship in a decade and Chad was certain that David probably missed some scholarship opportunities by missing the game. Cornelia didn't have any sympathy for the pig. She thought it was exactly what he deserved. Chad tried to make her see how awful it all was, but she wouldn't have any of that. They agreed to disagree.

Chad had a preliminary hearing where he pleaded 'guilty' despite Cornelia's appeals for him to plead 'not guilty' or at least 'no contest.' Sentencing would take place the week after Thanksgiving. Cornelia was worried, but her father tried to reassure her that Chad's family name would give him favor with the judge just as Cornelia's name had helped her. She reminded her father that it hadn't been her name, but the pleas of Mrs. Hakim that granted her favor with the judge and no such plea would be made by David Wharton.

Admeta and Cornelia were busy trying to convince their families to allow them to go to Mrs. Hakim's on Thanksgiving. Admeta's dad was fine with it since he had to work anyway, but one of her brothers overheard the conversation and tried to invite himself along with their other brothers. Admeta didn't want Mrs. Hakim to know her brothers were in a gang and she was sure Mrs. Hakim would be able to tell right away. She was hoping her brothers would forget.

Veronica didn't want to spend her first Thanksgiving after the divorce without her daughter. Cornelia tried to convince her that Mrs. Hakim had only invited the girls, but Veronica wasn't buying it. She wanted to come and she wanted to bring Michelle too. Cornelia wasn't ashamed of her mother's new-found sexuality, but she didn't exactly want to flaunt it either. It had already been ammunition for David and Rebekka and she didn't want her mother hurt again.

Mrs. Hakim was going through her last week of chemo and asked the girls not to visit. The chemo was making her very sick and she didn't think it would be polite to throw up in front of company. Admeta called her every few days to check in. Cornelia didn't feel she had earned the right to call Mrs. Hakim to check on her, so she just kept up through updates from Admeta.

Writers on the Storm met for a short time the following Monday, but Cornelia and Admeta were having a hard time concentrating on their writing. For their favorite things, Admeta wrote about a bracelet her mother had given to her when she was very young before she went back to El Salvador. Cornelia was fascinated by Admeta's story because Admeta rarely spoke about her mother.

Cornelia had finally decided to write about Daruma for her paper. She wanted to write about the barrette her grandmother had given her, but it was just too painful. So she told the story of the little monk who cut off his eye lids and the Turner twins laughed hysterically. She also wrote about how Chad had given it to her so she could make a wish, but she didn't tell her classmates what she wished for, even though the twins tried to get her to.

"That's for me to know," she said. "Not you."

The next assignment was to write about what they are thankful for. Both girls wanted to get a head start so they didn't have to write over the vacation. When Cornelia asked Admeta about it on Tuesday she found out that they both had written about their families and friends. To each others' astonishment they both mentioned the other in their papers too. They laughed about that.

"When the school year started, would you have ever thought we would be writing papers about each other?" Cornelia asked. Admeta just laughed.

"Are you going to Mrs. H.'s for Thanksgiving?" Admeta asked.

"Yeah, with my mom and Michelle. Can you let her know?"

"Sure."

"What about you?"

"I'm going, but I might have to bring my brothers with me," Admeta replied with dread in her voice.

"Would that be so bad?" Cornelia asked.

"Are you serious? Mrs. H. would know right away that they are gang members. I'd be embarrassed if she found out."

"Oh," Cornelia said. She didn't know what else to say so she changed the subject.

"If your dad is a farmer, what does he do in the winter?"

"The farm he works for has a road-side stand that's open from Easter to Thanksgiving. He is lucky because most of the workers get laid off in the winter, but since he's been there longer, he sticks around to take care of the greenhouses during the cold months."

"That's lucky for him."

"Yeah, for all of us. I can't imagine if he didn't work all winter. That would be awful."

"I guess I'll see you at Mrs. Hakim's on Thursday," Cornelia said and the two girls went home.

School was closed on Wednesday. Cornelia's mother was at the Real Estate Center with Michelle studying for her tests. Apparently you have to pass some tests to get a Real Estate license. Cornelia didn't dare sneak out in case Veronica stopped at home, so instead she spent the day on the phone trying to convince Chad to go to Mrs. Hakim's for Thanksgiving.

"I'm trying CC, they said they'd let me know tonight."

"Why are they torturing us like this?" Cornelia asked.

Chad laughed, "They aren't trying to torture us, CC. They're just afraid of what Mrs. Hakim might make as a vegetarian meal. Not everyone knows how to cook for vegans, especially if they aren't one."

"Can't they just suck it up and eat turkey for one day?"

"No, CC, they can't and neither can I. We wouldn't be vegans if we ate meat. It kind of defeats the purpose, you know?"

"Are you making fun of me?" Cornelia asked with a faked angry voice.

"Come on, CC, you know when I'm kidding," Chad said with a smile in his voice. He continued, "I have to go do some chores and you'd better not get caught on the phone or your mom won't let you go tomorrow."

"I know. I know," Cornelia patronized Chad.

"I might see you tomorrow," Chad said.

"You'd BETTER see me tomorrow," Cornelia corrected and the two hung up their phones.

Cornelia spent the rest of the day doing her homework. She didn't want to wait until the last minute on Sunday. Besides, she didn't know what community service had in store for her yet, so she didn't know how late it would go. It was better to get it out of the way early. She struggled with Geometry as usual, but she finished her English and History homework pretty quickly. Cornelia wasn't sure what she wanted to do when she got older, but she was considering becoming a teacher. When she was little she always wanted to be a lawyer like her father, but his recent behavior had turned her off to that idea. Lawyers were bad people who left their wives and children behind and took up with women half their age. Cornelia would rather be more like Mrs. Hakim, making a difference in people's lives.

Veronica didn't come home for dinner, so Cornelia heated up a frozen pizza and curled up in front of the television. Her mom had the cable turned off, so she could only get a few channels and she kept the volume really low so she could hear her mother pull up and have time to turn off the TV before she saw her watching it. Cornelia felt like Veronica had to know that she was doing things she wasn't supposed to when Veronica wasn't home, but her mother never said anything. Cornelia was counting down the days until she was ungrounded. That wasn't until after Christmas.

Veronica didn't get home until after Cornelia had already gone to sleep. The house was dark and Cornelia had left no evidence that she had been doing anything that she wasn't supposed to be doing. She tossed and turned all night worrying about Mrs. Hakim's reaction to her mother and Michelle. She tried to convince herself that Mrs. Hakim was fine with Steve, so she probably wouldn't have a problem with Veronica's sexuality either, but CC always found something to worry about.

In the morning, Cornelia went down to the kitchen for her usual breakfast. Veronica wasn't up yet so she tip-toed over to the kitchen phone to call Chad to ask him if he was going to Mrs. Hakim's for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Yep," he answered. "When they found out Mrs. Hakim was Muslim they were really excited. They don't know any Muslims, so they're dying to meet her."

"That's weird."

"Why? They love diversity."

"I guess," Cornelia shrugged.

"I thought you would be excited that I we get to spend Thanksgiving together."

"Oh, I am. I just don't want them to be throwing all kinds of questions at Mrs. Hakim. She's still not feeling too good." Cornelia felt badly for keeping the truth from Chad.

"Don't worry, CC, my parents have manners."

"I know. I'm sorry. I am very excited we're having Thanksgiving together."

"Have you told your mom?"

"No. I thought I'd cross that bridge when I got to it," Cornelia replied and they both laughed.

"I don't know, CC. She may not be happy."

"I know. But she won't make a scene. I won't hear about it until we get home. No biggie."

"If you say so," he said. "I have to go. We're going to the recycling center. I'll see you tonight," Chad said and hung up before Cornelia could even reply.

"Humph," she said to herself. Then she thought she ought to call Admeta to tell her there would be three more for dinner. Luckily Admeta's phone had been turned back on. Cornelia looked around while the phone rang, making sure Veronica was still in bed.

"Hola," a male voice said. Cornelia hesitated for a moment.

"Um, is Admeta there?" She asked.

"Maybe," the voice replied.

"May I speak to her?" Cornelia asked, annoyed by what she assumed to be the same brother she had met the day Mr. Vasquez gave her a ride home.

"That depends," replied Jorge.

"Can I just please speak to Admeta?" Cornelia begged, trying not to blow up at Admeta's brother.

"What will you give me for it?" Jorge asked and then laughed like a hyena. Cornelia heard a scuffle on the phone and some shouting in Spanish. Admeta was wrestling the phone away from Jorge and saying something that Cornelia was certain wasn't very ladylike. She waited for the outcome. Thankfully she then heard a female voice on the line.

"Hello?" She said in an annoyed way.

"Admeta?" Cornelia asked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Jorge is a douchebag!" She yelled half in the phone and half at Jorge who was walking away, still laughing. Cornelia could hear him reply in Spanish but she had no idea what he was saying.

"Grow up!" Admeta yelled, and then turned her attention back to the phone, "sorry."

"It's o.k. I don't know what it's like to have brothers. I'm kind of glad I don't," Cornelia said with a laugh.

"Yeah, you're lucky," Admeta replied and laughed too.

"I just wanted to make sure you told Mrs. Hakim that I was bringing my mom and Michelle and Chad and his parents are coming too. Do you think that will be o.k. with her?"

"Oh yeah, I told her Chad's family might be coming. I made sure she knew they are vegetarians," Admeta replied.

"Oh cool."

"I wonder what she'll make."

"I didn't ask. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to slip out without my brothers tagging along."

"They didn't forget?" Cornelia asked.

"Nope. Jorge mentioned it this morning. I'll see what I can do."

Just then Cornelia heard Veronica's bedroom door open.

"Oh my God, my mom's up, I gotta go. See you tonight" Cornelia whispered and this time she hung up before Admeta could reply. She placed the receiver down as quietly as she could and tip-toed over to the refrigerator to get milk. Just then Veronica walked in wearing a white robe and slippers.

"Morning, CC," Veronica said with a yawn.

"Good morning. You were out late last night."

"Yeah, Michelle was helping me study."

"Is that what they're calling it now?" Cornelia asked.

"Oh, very funny, CC, you know we were actually studying."

"I'm just joking, mom."

"Well don't."

"Whatever," Cornelia replied, and then fixed her breakfast while Veronica searched the cupboard for something to eat. She finally decided on cereal and mother and daughter had breakfast cluttered with small talk about what they were going to do before dinner and what time they would leave.

Neither ate lunch because they knew they would be eating a lot for dinner, so Veronica spent her day studying and Cornelia finished up her writing assignment for Writers on the Storm. She also finished reading "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," her new favorite book. The Widow Douglas reminded Cornelia of Veronica. She was always trying to correct Huck and teach him manners, just like Veronica did to Cornelia. Huck's drunken father reminded her of what people said about Steve's parents. Cornelia could see similarities between the way Huck first treated Jim, the runaway slave, and the way she had treated Mrs. Hakim. She was ashamed, but she was glad that Huck had helped Jim and became his friend. She thought there was hope that she and Mrs. Hakim could reach a friendship of sorts. Tom Sawyer even reminded her of Admeta. Cornelia laughed at that thought. She liked the book so much she wanted to read the prequel, "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer."

When she closed the book she realized it was time to get ready for Thanksgiving dinner. She didn't even know what she was going to wear. She flew off her bed all a flutter and searched for her closet for just the right outfit. She decided on a plain black dress with black pumps. Then she meticulously applied her make-up and fixed her hair. She pulled the front part of her hair back into the diamond barrette her grandmother had given her. Veronica didn't know why Cornelia was getting so dolled up for dinner with her teacher. Little did she know that Chad and his parents were going to greet them at Mrs. Hakim's house.

Veronica got ready and Michelle soon arrived. Both were wearing black pants and sweaters with loafers. Cornelia fought the urge to laugh. Then she thought about Mrs. Hakim. She just couldn't tell them about her cancer. She felt it wasn't her place. If Mrs. Hakim wanted them to know, she would tell them herself. Cornelia was hoping that since Mrs. Hakim's chemo had ended perhaps no one would notice how sick she was. She kept her fingers crossed as the women headed out the door into the cool afternoon air.
Chapter 24

Thanksgiving

When the trio arrived at Mrs. Hakim's house, they rang the door bell, but instead of hearing a bell, they heard a noise saying "gobble, gobble, gobble." The women were laughing when the door opened. Daniel Hakim was standing in the doorway holding baby Zayn in his arms. She was dressed all in pink and looked thrilled to be with her daddy who was wearing a sweater vest over a white shirt and khaki pants. Cornelia thought he looked a bit like Carl.

"Well, hello, Cornelia, ladies, please come in," he greeted them.

As the women came in and put their coats on the coat rack, Cornelia made introductions.

"This is Mr. Hakim" Cornelia said to Veronica and Michelle. She wasn't sure what to call Michelle, so she allowed her mother to make the introductions. She called Michelle her "friend" and Cornelia thought Michelle made a face, but she couldn't be sure.

"Hakim is a very interesting last name," Michelle remarked.

"Oh yes," Daniel replied. "It's my wife's family name. When we got married I took her name so that our children could carry on her family's legacy. But please call me Daniel."

"Wow," Michelle replied. "So Veronica, if we get married, who will take whose name?"

Veronica looked at Michelle with what Cornelia thought was a look of terror. Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she regained her composure quickly and replied that they would have to cross that bridge when and if they came to it. Cornelia was sensing hostility and she didn't like it. She didn't want there to be a scene at Thanksgiving dinner.

After an odd pause, Daniel led the women to the living room where Raja and Nazeeh were introduced to Michelle and Veronica. This time the introductions were less eventful. The children were reading on the window seat with Ralph the poodle at their feet, so the grown-ups went over to the couch and chair. The dog didn't acknowledge the visitors. He was content to sleep on his pillow bed The children were wearing very flamboyant clothing. They were ornate pant suits made from bright colors. There were Thanksgiving decorations as well as other decorations that Cornelia didn't recognize. One streamer looked like it had mosques on it and it said something in Arabic. Mrs. Hakim's blanket was lying over the top of the couch. Michelle admired it and Daniel told her the story about how Samantha's mother had made it for them as a wedding gift.

"Where's Mrs. Hakim?" Cornelia interjected.

"Oh, she's in the kitchen with Admeta," Daniel replied. "You're welcome to join them. Take a left around the corner and keep walking straight. But I'm warning you right now, my wife is the queen of that kitchen." The grown-ups laughed while Cornelia got up to walk to the kitchen.

As she walked down the long hallway off of the living room, she admired family portraits on the wall. Some were recent and some were quite old. Some of the frames looked like antiques. Cornelia wondered if they had come from Iran. She had never been in any other room besides the living room, so she was taking everything in.

When she arrived at what must have been the kitchen door, she knocked. She thought it was a strange thing to do but she didn't want to interrupt.

"Daniel, it will be ready when it is ready and not a moment sooner," Mrs. Hakim said.

"It's Cornelia."

"Oh, come on in, dear," Mrs. Hakim said. They greeted each other but Admeta was nowhere to be found. Mrs. Hakim was also wearing a very ornate pant suit with a matching hijab. Cornelia could tell that she was wearing a wig underneath, but other than that, Mrs. Hakim looked better than Cornelia had seen her in weeks. She thought there was no way the guests were going to notice that she was sick.

"I like your suit, Mrs. Hakim," Cornelia said.

"Why, thank you, my dear. You look lovely as ever. But tonight I am not Mrs. Hakim, I am Samantha. We are all friends here tonight."

"O.k." Cornelia replied but she just couldn't push herself to add, "Samantha." It just felt strange. Just then the back door opened and Admeta walked in carrying some cooking utensils. She was wearing a blue skirt with a white top and black shoes. Cornelia thought she looked very nice.

"Hey Cornelia," Admeta said happily.

"Hey. Wow, you look really nice," Cornelia said to Admeta.

"You don't have to sound so shocked, Cornelia," Admeta retorted.

"No, I just meant..."

"Meant what?"

"I just meant that I've never seen you wear a skirt is all," Cornelia said.

"Oh, yeah, well I've never seen you on a special occasion."

"I guess that's true," Cornelia replied. The two girls laughed. Admeta was still quick to think the worst but at least she gave Cornelia a chance to finish now.

"When did you get here?" Cornelia asked Admeta while Mrs. Hakim took the utensils out of Admeta's hands.

"I had my dad drop me off early this morning, before my brothers woke up. I've been helping cook the turkey," Admeta said, much to Cornelia's relief. She was sure Admeta's brothers, at least the one that she had met, would have caused some kind of commotion.

"Thanks for the warning," Cornelia said, jokingly.

"Oh, very funny. If you keep it up I'm going to serve you the tofu turkey Samantha is making for your boyfriend's family," Admeta said with a laugh.

"Tofu turkey? I didn't know anything like that existed," Cornelia said, also laughing.

"Oh, they have tofu everything these days," Mrs. Hakim chimed in.

"Do you need any help?" Cornelia offered.

"Actually the utensils from the back porch grill were the last things I needed and Admeta has supplied those already. You girls should go off and do whatever it is girls your age do. Talk about boys, perhaps?" Mrs. Hakim asked and then winked at the girls.

"Very funny, Samantha," Admeta replied. Cornelia thought it was so odd to hear Admeta call Mrs. Hakim Samantha. Carl was the only teacher she knew who wanted to be called by his first name.

"Want to sit on the porch and wait for Chad?" Cornelia offered.

"Are you sure you don't need our help?" Admeta asked Mrs. Hakim.

"You have done more than enough, my dear, go and have fun now," Mrs. Hakim responded and the girls went to the foyer to get their coats.

As they walked past the living room door, Veronica asked where they were going.

"We're going to wait..." Admeta began, but was interrupted by Cornelia.

"We're going to the porch to talk about boys," Cornelia blurted out. Admeta almost laughed. She figured out that Cornelia hadn't told her that Chad was coming.

"Oh, this is Michelle. Michelle, this is my friend Admeta," Cornelia said quickly. Admeta and Michelle exchanged "hellos" before Cornelia rushed Admeta out the door.

When they got outside Admeta began laughing. "You still haven't told your mom that Chad is coming?"

"I know. I'm a coward," Cornelia said.

"Well she's going to find out soon enough, isn't she?" Admeta asked.

"I guess so," Cornelia responded and both girls laughed and steam rose out of their mouths into the chilly afternoon air.

"Hey, that was a good idea sneaking out of the house before your brothers woke up."

"Yeah, I was so worried they were going to follow me if I tried to leave later. They're so immature."

"Well we're the ones freezing our butts off just so we can talk about boys," Cornelia tried to make Admeta laugh.

"My brothers aren't boys, they're annoyances," Admeta said and the girls were laughing again. They walked over to the steps and sat down. They were quiet for a moment.

"How is Mrs. Hakim?" Cornelia asked somberly.

"I think she looks good, don't you?" Admeta said rather excitedly.

"Yeah, she does, but is it real?"

"I was wondering the same thing."

"It could just be a show for the guests. She probably doesn't want them to know she's sick."

"Yeah, it could be, but she's a good actress. She's been hyper all day."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"I don't know. I hope she isn't over doing it. She just finished chemo."

Cornelia was reminded of one of the many times her grandmother had finished chemo treatments. She was the same way. She was so glad to not have poison being injected into her body that she found bountiful energy. Of course when her test results came back and the cancer was still there, all the joy would go out of her. She knew she would have to start another round soon and that took all of the wind out of her sails.

"Cornelia?" Admeta asked.

"What? Oh sorry, I was thinking about something else."

"I can see. Was it your grandma?"

"How did you know?"

"You get that same look on your face when you talk about your grandma."

"I do?"

"Yep."

"I had no idea I had a 'look.' " Cornelia responded. And she felt for the barrette on her head to make sure it hadn't fallen off. One of her biggest fears was losing that barrette.

"We all have those looks," Admeta said.

"I guess so," Cornelia replied. Then a hybrid car pulled into the driveway behind Veronica's huge SUV. Cornelia could see Chad's parents looking at the SUV with a little bit of disgust. She looked around to see if she could catch a glimpse of Chad in the back seat. The girls stood up as the Barringtons exited their car. It took Chad a little longer because he had to climb over the driver's seat. The car only had two doors.

Cornelia thought Chad looked spectacular. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt that said, "Give Thanks to Mother Earth," and brown flip flops. Cornelia thought he was crazy for wearing flip flops when it was freezing outside, but she didn't care. She couldn't wait to see him. Chad's parents looked like typical ex-hippies. His mother was wearing a very flowing patterned skirt with a puffy blue shirt that looked like it came from a Renaissance Festival. She couldn't see her shoes because the skirt drug the ground. Chad's father was dressed a lot like Chad, with jeans and flip flops, but his shirt was plain navy blue. Both were wearing small black-rimmed glasses.

"Well hello there, Cornelia," Mr. Barrington said. "And who might you be?" he asked, looking at Admeta.

"I'm Admeta," she replied before Cornelia could make introductions.

"Well hello, Admeta, I'm Leaf and this is my life partner Sunshine," Mr. Barrington said as the trio walked up the stairs where the girls were standing. Cornelia had never heard the Barrington's first names before. She knew they were into the environment, but she didn't know they were named after it. She didn't understand the "life partner" bit either.

As the Barringtons reached the first step they both hugged Cornelia and then, much to the girls' surprise, they hugged Admeta too. Admeta giggled a little bit. She wasn't used to getting hugs from total strangers. Chad just smiled at them.

"Shall we go in?" Sunshine asked.

"Sure," Admeta replied.

"Lead the way, my fine young friend," Leaf said.

"Dad, Cornelia and I will be there in just a minute," Chad said and Cornelia was happy to hear it.

"Gotcha, my boy. Gotta spend time with the missus," Leaf replied. Chad chuckled as Leaf, Sunshine and Admeta went inside.

"I'm so glad you could come," Cornelia said before kissing and hugging Chad.

"I'm glad I could come too, CC," Chad said as he stroked her hair. They embraced for what seemed like several minutes and then released.

"I didn't know your mom and dad had such nature-friendly names," Cornelia laughed.

"Oh, you mean Sunshine and Leaf? Yeah, they came up with those themselves. Their real names are Jane and George." Both of them laughed.

"Then why are you named Chad?" Cornelia asked and Chad blushed.

"Actually, CC, that's not my real name," Chad admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that, just as my parents chose their names, I chose mine."

"Oh my God, are you telling me Chad isn't your real name?"

"Nope."

"Then what is it?!" Cornelia insisted.

"Promise not to laugh?"

"I would never laugh at you."

"Seriously, CC, promise not to laugh and promise never to tell anyone, o.k.?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die!" Cornelia said in exasperation.

"It's River."

"What's a river?" Cornelia asked, confused.

"That's my name – River."

"Oh my God," Cornelia said. She suppressed the urge to laugh and just looked at her boyfriend with affection.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me your real name. Have I been dating a stranger?"

"Oh, very funny, CC, I'm the same me I've always been no matter what my name is."

"I know, it's just that's a pretty big secret."

"Secret being the keyword. That's why I haven't said anything until now. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Of course not, River!" Cornelia said, loudly and Chad covered her mouth with his hand in a playful manner.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" He asked and started tickling Cornelia who was laughing hysterically.

"Ut oh," Chad said.

"What?"

"Don't look now, but your mother is looking at us through the bay window."

Despite the warning, Cornelia turned around to see her mother. If she were any closer to the window her nose would be fogging up the glass. Cornelia turned back around and took a step back away from Chad.

"You didn't tell her I was coming, did you, CC?"

"Huh?"

"You heard the question."

"Well," Cornelia began. "Oh, alright, I just couldn't do it, o.k.? I was afraid if I told her then she wouldn't let me come and I couldn't take that chance. It's not fair that I'm not allowed to see you," Cornelia said, almost with a sob.

"It's not that bad, CC. We'll get through this and everything will be back to normal."

"What's normal?"

"I don't know," Chad replied, "but we'll get there." Chad grabbed Cornelia's hand and led her into the house. After they put their coats on the rack, the couple walked into the living room. If looks could kill, Cornelia would have been dead on the spot. Veronica was obviously not pleased by the surprise guests. The proper introductions were made and Chad and Cornelia sat on the bench next to the couch along with Admeta. The grown-ups were on the couch and in two chairs. The baby was asleep in a bassinette and the older children were still quietly reading on the window bench in front of the bay window.

The adults were talking about real estate. Cornelia was sure that Michelle had gotten that ball rolling. It's all Michelle ever seemed to talk about. Veronica was hanging on her every word when she wasn't shooting Cornelia dirty looks. The three high school students chit chatted about homework, school and other activities. Cornelia watched her mother out of the corner of her eye, catching every dirty look sent her way. She knew she was going to get in trouble when she got home.

After about a half hour, Mrs. Hakim came into the living room and told everyone that dinner was ready. Cornelia thought dinner was a funny word since it was barely lunch time. Mrs. Hakim had scheduled dinner early because her family had plans for later in the evening. Mrs. Hakim was introduced to Michelle and Chad's parents as people began shuffling out of the room into the hall. Much to Cornelia's surprise, Samantha said hello to Veronica as if they knew each other. Cornelia had no idea they had even met before. The children were the last to leave the room, as was their custom. Ralph stood up to follow them, but Mrs. Hakim shook her finger at him and the poodle laid back down on his bed. The dining room was the first door on the left before reaching the kitchen.

When Cornelia walked in, she thought she had been transported to some palace. The dining room was just as big as the living room. It had beautiful antique furniture, including a china cabinet that was filled with all sorts of knick-knacks, as well as some china that seemed to be missing a few pieces. The chairs and table looked to be hand carved with very detailed accents. The seats were red velvet and the table cloth was red, covered by a large hand knitted white lace overlay. Overhead was a huge chandelier with lots of shining rhinestones.

As Cornelia sat down in her assigned seat, she saw that the missing china pieces were set out on the table. The table had been set as if it were a very expensive French restaurant like the ones Cornelia's dad brought her to sometimes before he married Brandy. Mrs. Hakim had sat all of the children on one side of the table. Michelle and Veronica were directly across the table from Admeta and Cornelia, which made it easier for Veronica to give Cornelia dirty looks, but it also made it difficult for her to speak to Cornelia and that made her glad. Mr. Hakim rolled in the bassinette and put it and its still sound asleep contents next to the head of the table where Mrs. Hakim was going to sit. Mr. Hakim walked over to the opposite end. Chad's parents were next to Veronica. The children had already sat down when Cornelia noticed that the adults were still standing.

"Please sit," Mr. Hakim said and the adult guests took their seats, followed by Mrs. Hakim. Mr. Hakim did not sit down until everyone else was seated. The food was already out on the table and it all smelled delicious. Cornelia saw what must have been the tofu turkey sitting on Mrs. Hakim's side of the table. It was a white sculpture shaped it into the likeness of a turkey with costume feathers stuck in to form a fan tail. Everything looked wonderful. Cornelia hadn't seen a meal like this since before her parents had divorced.

"Shall we say grace?" Mrs. Hakim asked. Her family and Admeta nodded but everyone else just looked at her.

"For those of you who are new to our customs, I shall pray first and then Daniel will continue, o.k.?" No one objected.

"I would normally pray in Arabic, but in consideration of our guests I will speak mostly in English," Mrs. Hakim began as she stood up. Cornelia wasn't sure what to do. Should she stand up? Sit still? Bow her head? Hold hands? She looked around to see what everyone else was doing. They were all looking at Mrs. Hakim, so that's what Cornelia did too. As if she had read Cornelia's thoughts, Mrs. Hakim informed the guests that they did not have to participate in the prayer.

"Since today is Eid ul-Fitr, the Festival of Fast-Breaking, my prayer shall be in two rakat, Mrs. Hakim began. "My apologies, that would be units to our guests," Mrs. Hakim said and then smiled. Then she did the strangest thing. She started washing her face with water from a beautiful, large china bowl that was on the other side of her place setting. She washed her head, hands, arms, ankles and feet all while everyone else watched quietly. Then the children did the same as their mother looked on to be sure they were thorough.

When they were through, she asked, "Are you ready, children?"

"Yes, mother," Raja and Nazeeh said and Raja placed the bowl on an end table behind her chair.

"Very well," Mrs. Hakim said and then began.

"Allahu Akbar," she said and then lifted her hands to her ears. The children repeated the same phrase after her and lifted their hands after she did. Then all three put their hands back to their sides. This was repeated three times. Then Mrs. Hakim grabbed a book that had been sitting beside her place setting and the children put their hands on their chests, with their right arms over their left arms.

"Now I shall read the Surah Al Fatiha," she said while opening the book that Cornelia guessed was the Qur'an.

"In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful Master of the worlds and Sovereign of the Day of Judgment. You alone we worship, and from You alone we seek our aid.  
Guide us to the straight path. The path of those You have earned. Your favor Not of those who have earned Your anger Or those who have gone astray. Ameen."

Then Mrs. Hakim said, "Allahu Akbar," three times again and again her children repeated her and mimicked her movements. They were in perfect sync as if they had done this a million times before. Cornelia was fascinated. When they were through, Mrs. Hakim placed the Qur'an back on the table beside her and sat down, smiling across the table to her husband.

Daniel did not stand up when he said, "Now it's my turn. Feel free to hold hands if you like, but you do not have to participate if you don't want to."

Everyone looked around for a moment, but after seeing Raja and Nazeeh reach out their hands, everyone decided to take their neighbor's hand. The whole table formed a prayer circle that was only broken by Mrs. Hakim who had bowed her head and closed her eyes.

Mr. Hakim's Christian prayer was much shorter, "Bless us, O' Lord, for these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive through the bountiful hands of Christ our Lord. Amen."

Everyone said, "Amen," even Mrs. Hakim.

"Now we are ready for the eating, no?" she asked and everyone laughed.

Mr. Hakim carved the turkey at the request of the guests. Mrs. Hakim carved the tofu turkey for Chad and his parents. Everyone passed around bowls and plates filled with delicious food that you would find at any other Thanksgiving dinner or lunch as the case may be. There were also exotic dishes that Cornelia had never heard of before. Mrs. Hakim tried to explain all of them. There was biryani, which was a rice dish, swaiya which looked like some sort of noodles, and dates instead of sweet potatoes. Mrs. Hakim explained that dates are a traditional Islamic fruit.

Over dinner everyone was enjoying themselves. Even Veronica was getting into the spirit. Cornelia hoped her jovial mood would last when they got home. She wasn't looking forward to her "no Chad while you're grounded" lecture.

Chad's parents raved about the tofu turkey. They complimented Mrs. Hakim over and over again. They were also very interested in Mrs. Hakim's culture. They asked many questions about Iran, Islam and Ramadan which had just ended. Mrs. Hakim told them she did not participate in fasting during Ramadan, but she did not tell them it was because she was fighting cancer. Cornelia took that as a sign that she didn't want anyone else to know. She was relieved. She was not looking forward to telling anyone the terrible news. She remembered when her grandmother had told her that she had breast cancer.

Cornelia remained strong after her grandmother gave her the news, but when she got home she cried herself to sleep that night and several nights after. Her grandmother was the first person she had ever known to have cancer. Cornelia had no idea what to expect, but for some reason she feared the worst from the very beginning, just as she was doing with Mrs. Hakim.

Cornelia looked over at the end of the table. Mrs. Hakim was fussing over the baby. She must have thought the child wasn't warm enough because she added a blanket. Cornelia wondered how the baby could sleep through all of the commotion that was going on. Mrs. Hakim was looking better, Cornelia thought. She didn't have dark rings under her eyes and she seemed to have energy. But Cornelia knew that could be deceiving. Cancer was a big deceiver. Just when you think you have it licked, it comes back to bite you again. Cornelia was still thinking the worst.

After a very long meal and conversation over tea and dessert, Mr. Hakim announced that their family was going to the Over-the-River Soup Kitchen to serve Thanksgiving dinner to homeless people. They said if anyone wanted to join them, they were welcome to. Cornelia didn't know it, but Admeta had already agreed to go. Chad's parents jumped at the idea of helping the homeless. The only person who didn't seem pleased was Veronica.

Veronica's only experience with service to the community had been sitting on boards and committees of charities where she mostly helped plan fund raisers for rich people. She attended the events, but the people who benefitted from them were rarely there. And if one was there, they were a special guest. Veronica had never gotten her hands dirty while helping others. She was much better at getting people to open their check books than their hearts.

"Oh, I don't know. Don't we have plans tonight, Michelle?" Veronica asked. Michelle looked annoyed.

"Of course not. It's Thanksgiving. What better way to celebrate all that we have to be thankful for than by helping others less fortunate than ourselves?" Michelle asked with a smile.

Cornelia could tell that answer was not what Veronica was looking for but she held back the urge to laugh. She didn't know what was going on between the two of them but there was definitely tension. Veronica shot Michelle a look that could only be recognized by people who were close to her. It was the same look she was giving Cornelia when she was looking out the bay window earlier that afternoon. To Chad it looked like annoyance, but to Cornelia it looked like she was going to kill her.

"Of course," was all Veronica could say in reply.

Cornelia was happy at the prospect of helping people on Thanksgiving. She was just hoping that the turkeys had already been plucked and cooked. She didn't want to go through that again. She gave Admeta a look and it was as if Admeta could read her mind.

"The turkeys are already cooked, CC," Admeta said and both girls laughed. Everyone looked at them, but no one else was in on the joke.

Cornelia was surprised that no one was changing their clothes. She couldn't because she didn't bring spares, but she thought for sure the Hakims would change out of their beautiful pant suits. But all Mrs. Hakim did was lead everyone into foyer to get their coats and then into the kitchen to pick up grocery bags filled with food. Everything they had had for Thanksgiving was in the bags, except for turkey and tofu. Mrs. Hakim explained that it is customary to give to those less fortunate than you on Eid ul-Fitr. Cornelia was a little embarrassed that her family had not brought anything along. She had no idea this was going to happen, but she was excited about seeing the people at the soup kitchen again which surprised her.

When everyone's arms were full, Mrs. Hakim picked up the baby and everyone headed out to their cars with supplies. Admeta drove with Cornelia's family, Veronica would never allow Chad to ride with them, so Cornelia didn't dare ask. She had already pushed her luck too much that afternoon. Once all of the cars were loaded and the baby was in her car seat, the families headed off to Over-the-River for an evening of service.
Chapter 25  
The "Giving" in Thanksgiving

In the Barrington's car, the three free-wheeling spirits were churning out a lively rendition of "Over the River and Through the Woods." The Hakim's car was quiet, except for the occasional cooing from Zayn who was drinking a bottle.

Veronica's SUV was another story. Admeta and Cornelia were chatting in the backseat about how good Mrs. Hakim looked. They were surprised to see her in such good spirits. Both girls agreed that it was the best she had looked in a long time.

Meanwhile, in the front seats, Michelle and Veronica were whispering harshly. Cornelia could tell they were fighting, but she couldn't hear what about because Veronica had turned up the back speakers blasting Christmas music in Cornelia and Admeta's ears. The girls tried to ignore them. Occasionally Cornelia caught a phrase or two.

She could have sworn that Michelle asked, "Are you ashamed of me?"

Veronica answered, "No, of course not," but then her voice trailed off again.

Cornelia was curious about what was going on, but Admeta didn't seem to notice. She kept going on about how well Mrs. Hakim seemed. Both girls were hoping for a clean bill of health when Mrs. Hakim goes in for blood tests.

The streets of Over-the-River didn't contain much life. Everyone must have been spending Thanksgiving with their families, inside where it was warm. The girls barely saw anyone pass by as the drove along. The emptiness put Cornelia's mind at ease. She was still nervous about that part of town, especially after what happened last time.

When they arrived at the soup kitchen, it was already dark outside. The air was crisp and nipped at everyone's noses. It was the kind of chill that could kill you if you weren't prepared for it. Everyone helped unload the cars and then proceeded to the kitchen entrance where the girls had been before.

There was a line of people at the front door. Cornelia looked for familiar faces. She saw the man that couldn't speak English the last time they were there, but there were no signs of anyone else she remembered. She had been hoping to see Oceanna or Talibah. She wondered where they were and how they were doing. When the group arrived in the kitchen, they were greeted by Miss Thompson.

"Samantha, you have really outdone yourself this time!" Miss Thompson said as she hugged Mrs. Hakim who was holding Zayn.

"I thought we'd be running on a skeleton crew tonight. Thank you all for coming," Miss Thompson said to everyone.

As the group filled the counters with food, the proper introductions were made and Miss Thompson made sure to thank everyone for helping out. Cornelia was surprised to Monica from The Family Connection enter the kitchen from the dining room.

"Well, wonders never cease," she said, looking at Cornelia.

Then she turned her attention to Mrs. Hakim. They made small talk about how much Mrs. Hakim had been missed at the health fare and how Monica hoped everything was alright. Mrs. Hakim assured her that it was and she almost made Cornelia believe her too. But Cornelia and Admeta knew something that the rest of the people in the room did not, with the exception of the Hakim family.

As soon as everyone was empty handed, Monica started barking out orders. She put Mr. Barrington and Mr. Hakim in charge of carving the turkeys. Cornelia was thankful to see that they had not only already been plucked, but were already cooked as well.

Zayn had fallen asleep on Mrs. Hakim's shoulder, so Admeta fetched the car seat and she was placed in that, beside her mother who was overseeing the beverages. Everyone else was assigned a dish. Mrs. Barrington was next to her husband, then there was Chad, Cornelia, Admeta, Veronica and Michelle. The children were given coupons for the local drop-in center to pass out to everyone who came through the line. It was good for food or clothing or anything a person needed up to $20. Cornelia didn't think that was much money, but she supposed that every little bit helped.

There were several other volunteers as well but they were in the kitchen making preparations or out in the dining room setting up. Miss Thompson went around to make a final check to be sure that everyone was ready and everything was in place. Then she opened the door to allow people to come in for dinner. The gate made the same screeching sound it had made the last time the girls were there and Cornelia scrunched up her cheeks.

Miss Thompson gave the same speech she had given last time about proper manners. Cornelia saw some people roll their eyes. It was as if they had heard the same speech a thousand times. Soon the line was filling up with even more people.

The food line went much as it had before, but there were a lot more people there that night. It made Cornelia sad to think that so many people had nowhere to go on Thanksgiving. Part of her felt ashamed because she didn't think she deserved what she had.

The Hispanic man Cornelia had seen in line was one of the first people to come through. He remembered Admeta and Cornelia and he spoke to them in broken English. Admeta told him that his English was getting better and the man smiled widely. Miss Thompson wasn't having any small talk, however, and sent the man on his way down the line.

"We're not having any dilly-dallying today. We want everyone to get a chance in here."

The man seemed to understand and quickly moved on to Chad who was dishing out stuffing. Inside he welled up with pride. Cornelia didn't talk about her community service much and he was very proud of her for making a difference in people's lives. Veronica seemed to be impressed as well, but Cornelia hadn't noticed.

The Thanksgiving group enjoyed helping the homeless and disadvantaged. Everyone, even the people who had to stand outside in the freezing cold, seemed to be in high spirits. After about a half an hour, Cornelia saw Oceanna's mother come in the door, but she didn't see the little girl she had given her barrette to.

When the woman finally reached Cornelia, she said, "Hello. You're Oceanna's mother, aren't you? Is she here?" Admeta gave Cornelia a hard jab in the ribs.

It was so hard that Cornelia yelled, "Ow! What was that for?!" A few people looked over, but then went back to what they were doing.

"Cornelia, I'm sorry, but you are so clueless sometimes," Admeta said then turned to the woman and apologized for her friend.

"I don't understand," Cornelia said, rubbing her right side.

"It's o.k.," the woman said. "You were kind to Oceanna. I remember you. She still has your barrette," she said and then paused, "at least I think she does.

"When DCFS found out we were living in the shelter, they put Oceanna in foster care," the woman continued and then bowed her head in shame.

Cornelia could no longer feel the pain in her ribs because the pain in the pit of her stomach was much worse. Oceanna had been taken from her mother and Cornelia thought it was so unfair. After all, Oceanna had been well cared for even though she was living in a homeless shelter. Cornelia found herself wondering what sort of people Oceanna had been given to. She just couldn't imagine. Just then Monica walked up beside the woman and put her arm around her shoulder.

"Don't you fret, Sherry, you're coming to the Connection on Monday to work on your resume. We're gonna get you a job and then you'll get Miss Oceanna back, right?"

The woman looked up at Monica with tears in her eyes and nodded her head. Monica guided her through the rest of the line. Sherry looked like a lost puppy. Then Monica escorted Sherry to a table where there were people she knew. Cornelia and Admeta looked at each other. Neither knew what to say. They just knew they were sad and wondered what was going to happen to Oceanna.

"What is DCFS?" Cornelia asked.

"Department of Child and Family Services. They're like social workers who check on kids to make sure they're being taken care of," Admeta told her. Both looked sullen.

Although their spirits were dashed, they carried on with their duties. After another few minutes, Monica approached Mrs. Hakim. The two started having a conversation, but Cornelia was too far away to hear what they were saying. Their brows were furrowed and they kept looking toward the front of the line.

When Cornelia turned to see what they were looking at, she saw Talibah. She was wearing the same tattered clothing and hijab that she had been in when the girls first met her. Cornelia wondered if they were the only clothes she owned. The girl looked frailer than before and her skin was paler. Cornelia wondered where Talibah was going to sleep. The last time she told the girls that she skipped supper in order to get a cot at the shelter. Those who came too late were turned away.

When Talibah arrived in front of Cornelia she recognized her immediately. The girls all exchanged greetings. Admeta asked the girl how she was. She was fine. Cornelia asked her where she was going to sleep tonight. Before Admeta had a chance to elbow her in the ribs again, Cornelia stepped to the side and Admeta's elbow only caught air.

"Miss Monica said she was going to try to work something out, so I decided to eat dinner. Now that Ramadan is over I do not have to feel guilty for eating," Talibah said with her thick brogue.

"I tried really hard to stick to my fasting, but sometimes it was just not possible."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Cornelia replied. "I know someone who was sick during Ramadan who couldn't fast either. It's o.k."

Admeta looked at Cornelia with a furrowed brow. She didn't want Cornelia to tell Mrs. Hakim's secret. She listened to her every word, waiting to jab her elbow into Cornelia's side if she said too much.

"You know someone else who is Muslim?" Talibah asked.

"Sure," Cornelia said and then she thought about the irony of the situation.

Before Mrs. Hakim, Cornelia had never known anyone who was Islamic. She knew nothing about the faith except that some Muslims had murdered a bunch of people in 2001. She had not known that those people were a very small minority of misguided fundamentalists. She hadn't known that Islam was a peaceful religion. She hadn't realized that it wasn't that much different than Christianity or Judaism or any other religion for that matter.

Cornelia looked at the end of the line and wondered if Monica was discussing her plan with Mrs. Hakim. That must have been why they were so intense. Miss Thompson cleared her throat and Talibah knew that was her queue to move along. The girls told her it was good to see her as she walked up to Chad's station. Talibah smiled and moved on.

When Talibah reached the end of the line, Cornelia looked over to see Monica taking Mrs. Hakim's place at the drinks. Zayn was still sleeping in her car seat on the floor. Mrs. Hakim told her children to stay put while she walked away with Talibah. As they walked off into the packed dining room, Cornelia lost sight of them.

The girls were shocked at the number of people they had fed. By the time the line thinned out it was standing room only in the dining room. Miss Thompson was trying to get some people to hurry up so others could have a chance to sit down and eat. The girls chuckled at her demeanor. No one in the dining room seemed to mind her pushiness. Everyone was just happy to be full.

When the last person finally went through the line there were still left-overs. Miss Thompson was tickled pink because she could save it for lunch on Friday so they wouldn't have to do so much cooking. As the crowd began to thin out, Cornelia could see Mrs. Hakim sitting at a table with Talibah talking. After Miss Thompson pulled the gate down, Mr. Hakim picked up Zayn's car seat gently so as not to wake her and joined them. Raja and Nazeeh helped the rest of the adults clean up and pack away the left-overs. When all was said and done, Monica told everyone they could go home.

"What about the Hakims?" Cornelia asked.

"Did you come here with the Hakims?" Monica asked.

"Well, yeah. I mean no, not in the same car..."

"Well then you don't need to worry about them, now do you, Miss Cornelia?" Monica said very matter-of-factly.

Cornelia saw a twinge on Veronica's face and she thought she might say something to Monica about her brash attitude. Admeta saw it too, so she jumped in to diffuse the situation.

"Can you give me a lift home Mrs. Drake?" she asked Veronica.

"Mrs. Drake," Michelle repeated mockingly with emphasis on the "Mrs."

"Michelle!" Veronica shouted. Everyone turned to look.

"I am sick and tired of this. I am not ashamed of you. If changing back to my maiden name will make you feel better then I'll do it. If you want me to stand on the table, dance a jig and shout to the whole world that I'm a lesbian and I'm in love with you, then I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want, but you have to stop with this already!"

Everyone in the room froze except for the senior Hakims and Talibah who were too far away to hear the ruckus. Cornelia's face was burning with embarrassment. Everyone else just looked confused. Monica put her hands on Raja and Nazeeh's shoulders and led them to the table where their parents were sitting before they could hear anything else.

Michelle and Veronica stood looking at each other for a moment before Michelle leaned in for a kiss. Cornelia was mortified, not because two women were kissing but because one of the women was her mother. She would have been just as embarrassed if her mother had been kissing a man.

Miss Thompson laughed and said something under her breath, then she shook her head and walked into the kitchen. The Barringtons followed and so did Admeta and Cornelia. No one quite knew what else to do. It was an awkward situation all around.

The Barringtons said their good-byes and started to walk out to their car. Cornelia and Chad quickly stole a kiss and then he followed his parents. Miss Thompson walked out to put some garbage in the dumpster. Admeta and Cornelia stood quietly for a moment.

"So what do you think they're saying to Talibah?" Admeta asked in an attempt to take Cornelia's mind off of her mother's outburst.

"I have no idea, but she said something about Monica helping her find a place to sleep."

"Do you think the Hakims might be bringing her home to live with them?"

"Can they do that?" Cornelia asked.

"Sure. I guess. There's probably some paperwork or something to fill out, but I don't see why not."

"That would be really cool," Cornelia said and the girls smiled.

They heard the door open behind them and Michelle and Veronica walked in, hand in hand.

"Mother!" Cornelia said loudly.

"What, CC?" Veronica asked innocently.

"Look, I don't care who you date or what you do behind closed doors, but do you have to make a public scene?"

"Are you homophobic all of the sudden?" Veronica snapped.

"No, I already told you, mom, I don't care if you date men, women or circus animals just as long as I don't have to see you doing stuff! It's gross! You're my mom!"

Everyone stood still for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. Cornelia was the only person not amused.

"What?" she asked.

"Circus animals, CC?"

"Well!" Cornelia screamed but then she broke down and laughed too.

That made everyone laugh even harder. Before they could stop, the noise of their laughter was interrupted by a scream coming from the side door. The women looked stunned for a moment, but then Michelle led them all outside. Cornelia's heart started beating quickly but Michelle seemed calm. Cornelia thought she was fearless. She liked that about Michelle.

When they arrived outside, there was no sign of the Barringtons but Miss Thompson was up against a wall in the alley beside the soup kitchen. There was a man standing in front of her and several other teenage boys were standing in a semi-circle around him. Miss Thompson's hair was tussled but she still looked as fierce as a bulldog.

"You go on home, ya hear?!" she yelled at the man in front of her.

"What the hell is going on out here?!" Michelle screamed and all of the boys turned around to face her.

Cornelia recognized one of the boys. It was Admeta's brother, Jorge. Admeta must have seen him too because she ran over to the boys and started screaming at them in Spanish. Veronica and Michelle started to run after her, but Cornelia stopped them.

"That's her brother," she said to them. Both women looked shocked. Cornelia was more worried than she let on.

Instead of running up to Jorge, Admeta headed straight for the man who was standing in front of Miss Thompson. Cornelia didn't understand why. The two began shouting at each other, but they were still speaking Spanish and Cornelia had no idea what they were saying.

"What are they saying?" Veronica asked.

"I'm not sure. They're talking too fast," Michelle said. "He keeps calling her little sister, that's all I can catch."

"That's not her brother," Cornelia interrupted, "the guy in the red coat is Jorge."

"Well he's definitely calling her little sister," Michelle said. "Could she have more than one brother?"

"Yeah, I think she said she has four."

"Well that guy must be one of them," Michelle replied.

The three women watched the scene play out. They were ready to pounce if necessary, but for the time being they were waiting to see what would happen. Admeta was putting her finger in the man's face and Cornelia was worried he might hurt her, but all he did was laugh. The rest of the boys were laughing too.

The leader said something to the boys and all of them walked away laughing except for three boys. Cornelia figured they were all Admeta's brothers. Jorge looked over at Cornelia and blew her a kiss. Cornelia scrunched up her face in disgust and shook her head. She relaxed a little knowing that the boys were Admeta's brothers. She hoped Admeta could talk them into leaving Miss Thompson alone.

Then the leader spoke in English, "Why didn't you tell me Miss Thompson was a friend of yours, little sister?" the leader said and then laughed. His accent was much thicker than Admeta's. Cornelia remembered that Admeta's oldest brother, Raoul, wasn't born in America. She figured that must be him because he was the leader of the gang.

Then Raoul turned to Miss Thompson and jerked his head to the side as if he was telling her to leave. Miss Thompson didn't hesitate. She ran right past the three women back into the soup kitchen. Before she closed the door, she yelled back at the group of boys.

"You know I'm gonna get the police down here!" she screamed and then slammed the door shut behind her. The boys laughed, but Admeta was on fire.

"You just leave her alone! Leave and don't ever come back here. These people are trying to help people! They're good people, Raoul!" Admeta shouted.

The boys were still laughing and they grabbed Admeta playfully and tossed from one to the other in a circle.

"Hey!" Cornelia yelled.

"CC, this isn't a good time," Veronica cautioned.

"Oh, look, pretty little white girl wants to save you from your own brothers, Addy. What are you two? Lesbos or something now?" Jorge asked and then all of the boys were laughing again. Cornelia heard Michelle grimace. She could see frowns on Michelle and Veronica's faces out of the corner of her eye and she was sad for them. She wanted to speak out, but she thought anything she said would just egg the boys on.

"Get off of me!" Admeta screamed.

"Come on now, little sister, is that how you're going to treat your brothers on Thanksgiving? You already ate without us," one of the other boys said.

"Shut up, Vuello!" Admeta yelled at the boy. Cornelia guessed that the other boy in the green coat was Manuel. Raoul suddenly got a very serious tone.

"Yes, why did you get up early this morning and leave without us, pequeña hermana?"

"Why?! You have the nerve to ask me why?!" Admeta screamed and then broke free of the grip he had on her arm.

"This is why! Just look at you! What were you going to do to Miss Thompson if I hadn't come out here?" she asked. Cornelia wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer to that question. Raoul looked over at the three women who were still looking on with anger and fear in their eyes.

"This is a family matter, pequeña hermana. We'll talk about it at home. We have to go. That Thompson woman called the cops."

"Go then! No one is stopping you," Admeta yelled and then took a few steps back. The women could hear sirens in the distance. Raoul heard them too. He signaled to his brothers the same way he had signaled to Miss Thompson, and the boys started walking away. Raoul stood staring at his little sister for a moment and then he joined his brothers and their pace quickened. They soon disappeared around the corner and all of the women breathed a little sigh of relief.

Admeta walked back over to the women and they asked her if she was o.k. She said that she was, but they kept asking if she was sure.

"Look, I'm fine, o.k.? My brothers would never hurt me," she said with an odd sense of pride and indignation.

"Admeta, do you want to spend the night at our house tonight?" Veronica asked.

"Thanks, Mrs. Drake, but I'll be fine. Besides when my brothers are running the streets they don't come home to sleep. It will be just me and my dad. By the way, I'm sorry for what my brother said, you know..."

"It's o.k.," Veronica interrupted, "you aren't responsible for what your brothers say or do."

"Are you sure you don't want to spend the night?" Cornelia offered.

"Yes, I'm sure, CC," Admeta said.

With that the women got into Veronica's SUV and headed to Admeta's house. They weren't going to wait around for the police. They spent the ride in silence, everyone quietly reflecting on the evening's events. The sound of Christmas music filled the car and a few snowflakes began to fall. The ground was still too warm for the snow to stick, but it was beautiful coming down and both girls looked out their windows to watch and wonder.
Chapter 26

Chad's Turn

The rest of the holiday weekend was uneventful. Cornelia phoned Admeta on Friday to make sure she was alright. Admeta insisted that everyone was overreacting but Cornelia could tell by the sound of her voice that she didn't really believe it. Cornelia thought she heard a sound in the hallway and had to quickly hang up.

Normally Cornelia would have been out shopping on Black Friday, but she was still grounded. She searched the bookshelves for a copy of "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer," and sure enough there was an old tattered copy that her father must have left behind when he moved out.

Cornelia remembered that day all too well. Her father had already had his stuff in the moving van and was picking up his briefcase in the living room. Cornelia remembered begging her father not to leave. She grabbed his arm in an effort to keep him there. Harrison yelled at her for making the situation more difficult than it should have been.

"Are you moving in with HER?!" Cornelia screamed at him.

"CC, we're not having this conversation," Harrison snapped and pulled his arm out of her grip. Then he just walked out the door while Cornelia cried. He never looked back.

Veronica was sitting in the dining room the entire time with a full bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. She didn't say anything or make any kind of effort to stop Harrison from leaving and Cornelia resented her for it.

"Why are you just sitting there?!" she screamed as loud as she could between sobs.

"How can you let this happen to our family?!" Cornelia yelled. Veronica stared at her blankly as if she didn't realize Cornelia was speaking to her. Cornelia wasn't even sure she heard what she was saying.

Then Cornelia yelled, "I hate you!" and ran up to her room. She cried all day. Even when she thought she couldn't possibly have another tear left in her, she still sobbed. She had just lost her grandmother to breast cancer and was now losing her dad too. She felt like her world was crumbling.

That's why she began her freshman year with a chip on her shoulder. It wasn't because Veronica had transferred her to public school. It wasn't because she was angry with Veronica for allowing her father to move out. It wasn't even because Harrison married someone half his age the second the divorce was final. Cornelia was full of angst because her grandmother had been taken from the world and she would never see her again.

Cornelia was sure that was why she was so angry with Mrs. Hakim for giving her a bad grade on her progress report. All she knew was that she wasn't thinking rationally when she wrote those hateful words on the school wall. It was no excuse for her behavior; Cornelia knew that now. But she was beginning to understand that it wasn't even Mrs. Hakim she was angry with. She was angry with herself. Even more, she was angry at the universe for taking her grandmother.

"CC," Veronica startled Cornelia back to reality.

"Jeez, mom, you scared me," Cornelia said.

"Sorry," Veronica said, "what are you doing in here?"

"I was getting a book to read."

"What book?"

"The Adventures of Tom Sawyer."

"Oh, that's one of my favorite books," Veronica said. "I love Mark Twain."

"Really?"

"Of course. He's one of the greats. When you finish that you should read the 'Adventures of Huckleberry Finn;' that's my favorite book."

"You're kidding," Cornelia said, stunned that she and her mother would have the same favorite book.

"Why would I lie about something like that?" Veronica laughed.

"I don't know..." Cornelia began.

"CC, I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. You were right. You shouldn't be subjected to public displays of affection. I'll try to keep my libido in check in the future," Veronica said and then smiled.

"Libido? Gross, mom!" Cornelia said and then rolled her eyes.

"I get it, CC. It won't happen again. Michelle and I are going shopping, do you want to come?"

Normally Cornelia would have jumped at the chance to get out of the house while she was grounded, especially if it meant shopping, but she turned her mother down. She thought she would be a third wheel. Plus she wasn't sure if Michelle and Veronica were still fighting and she didn't want to be in the middle.

"You go ahead," Cornelia said.

"O.k., but you're missing out," Veronica said.

"I think I'll survive," Cornelia said with a laugh.

Veronica and Michelle stayed out pretty late. Every store in the city was having a sale and keeping their doors open late for the biggest shopping day of the year.

Meanwhile, Cornelia was reading about Tom and Huck and all of the mischief they caused in St. Petersburg, Missouri. She laughed when Tom convinced his friends to paint the fence he was supposed to be painting. She laughed again when Tom's "fiancé," Becky Thatcher, found out that Tom had been engaged before. She cringed at some of the terminology used to describe Injun Joe. In Mark Twain's time people saw nothing wrong with calling people "half-breeds," but times had changed. It made Cornelia feel a little guilty just for reading the words.

Cornelia reflected on how far she had come in only a few months. She felt like a different person. She was different from last year. Different from last summer when she was mourning her grandmother. And different than the girl who spray painted the school wall. Cornelia felt more mature and that made her happy.

She looked up at Daruma and could have sworn that his smirk turned into a smile. The creepy little doll was growing on Cornelia. She thought about the second wish she had made. Her do-over wish. She wondered if it was going to come true. She could have sworn Daruma was nodding his head. That's when she figured she should take a break and eat something.

As soon as she had eaten, she went back to the book. It took the entire day and part of the night, but she finished it. Her favorite part was when the runaway boys observed their own funeral. She thought this book was a little darker than the sequel, but she loved it just the same. Cornelia looked up at the clock and couldn't believe how late it was. She put the book next to Daruma and went to sleep.

Sunday was a lazy day. There was no community service because so many volunteers were out of town for the holiday. The Family Connection was going to double up the following weekend, working Saturday and Sunday to help Houses for Humanity build homes. Cornelia had never really done anything like that before and she wasn't sure what use she would be, but she was up for the challenge. But first, Chad was facing sentencing and that was all she could think about.

The first part of the week seemed to drag on forever. That Monday was a relatively uneventful meeting of Writers on the Storm. Carl wasn't nearly the faculty advisor that Mrs. Hakim was and the students missed her. The writers didn't even get to read their "What I'm Thankful For" papers. Carl gave a lame writing assignment for the final class meeting, "What I want for Christmas." Cornelia thought it was an assignment for first graders who still believed in Santa Claus. All of the writers thought Carl was lacking in imagination.

Admeta and Cornelia wanted to visit Mrs. Hakim, but Mr. Hakim told them that Thanksgiving had taken a lot of her energy and he wanted her to rest. She was also going in for tests to see if the chemo had been successful. Daniel asked them not to stop by that week. The girls were disappointed, but they understood.

Cornelia managed to avoid David and Rebekka most of the time, except for a snide comment here or there. But after seeing Sarah sitting by herself at lunch, Amanda asked her to join them. Cornelia and Admeta were not pleased. Sarah was on her best behavior and Cornelia began to soften after a few days. Sarah seemed genuinely contrite after all, so who was Cornelia to judge Sarah after what she had done? If Admeta was willing to forgive Cornelia, then Cornelia should certainly be able to find it in her heart to forgive Sarah.

Admeta didn't show up for school that day, so Cornelia walked to first bell with Sarah on Friday. That was the day of Chad's sentencing for hitting David. Cornelia was distraught the entire day. She was still grounded from her cell phone, so she couldn't find out what happened until after school. Even then she had to beg the school secretary to let her use the phone. Chad answered.

"Chad, oh my God, what happened?" Cornelia whispered, not wanting the eavesdropping secretary to hear.

"It's o.k., CC. Everything is fine."

"I'll be the judge of that. Tell me. Please!" Cornelia begged.

"I was sentenced to community service, thanks to Admeta," Chad said.

"Admeta?" Cornelia asked.

"Yeah. She showed the judge the video tape from the game and he saw that David had been beating Steve up before I stepped in. She saved me from doing time I think," Chad said.

"Oh my God. I was wondering why she wasn't in school today. I wonder why she didn't tell me," she paused. "Well any way community service is great!"

"I don't know," Chad replied.

"What do you mean, 'I don't know,'Chad?"

"Well, I guess I thought I'd get a worse punishment. I did break the guys' nose afterall."

"I can't believe you're saying this. This is great news. You're not going to..." Cornelia looked at the secretary and hesitated, "J.H.," she whispered.

"I don't know, CC, maybe I deserve to be in Juvenile Hall for what I did."

"Don't say that, Chad! Don't even think it!" Cornelia said a bit too loudly.

"Alright, CC. I get it. You're happy with the sentence."

"I'm happy you're not going to J.H.!"

"Well I might not be around during Christmas break."

"What do you mean?"

"The judge offered me a chance to go on a mission trip that will get all of my service hours done at once. I think I'm going to go."

"Go where?" Cornelia asked.

"El Salvador," Chad replied.

"El Salvador?!" Cornelia said, worried.

"Yeah, we're going to build homes for the poor with Houses for Humanity."

"But isn't Central America dangerous?"

"I guess so, but we're going to be with a big group. I'm sure it will be fine, CC."

"Can anyone go on this trip?" Cornelia asked.

"CC, what kind of scheme are you hatching now?"

"What do you mean 'scheme;' I'm not hatching any scheme. I just want to go with you."

"Well I want you to stay safe and sound at home," Chad replied.

"So you admit it's a dangerous trip, then!"

"I'm not saying that, CC. I'm just saying that I don't..." but Chad couldn't come up with anything. The truth was he would worry about her safety if she went along.

"Well it's a good thing you're not my mom because you have no say in whether I go or not, Mr. Barrington," Cornelia said with conviction.

"CC, please..." Chad began, but he was interrupted.

"So it's settled then. We're going on a holiday trip together. I love you, Chad, talk to you later," Cornelia said and then hung up before Chad could say anything else.

Cornelia's mind was racing. She was trying to figure out how she was going to talk Veronica into allowing her to go on a trip to El Salvador. She also had to convince Houses for Humanity to take her along. The thought that this trip could finish out her community service didn't even cross her mind.

She thought about asking Admeta to come. If Houses for Humanity found out that Admeta is fluent in Spanish, surely they would want to bring her along. Then Cornelia could probably get in too. Cornelia was trying to think about how she was going to approach Admeta about it and what she was going to say Houses for Humanity on Saturday. She wanted to call Admeta to thank her, but she had to run.

That night she went home and ate dinner with Veronica and Michelle. She kept looking over at her mother, wondering how to broach the subject. As it turned out, Veronica got the ball rolling.

"CC, why do you keep staring at me?"

"Huh?"

"You keep staring."

"Oh. I was... I have something to ask, but I'm afraid you'll say 'no,'" Cornelia said.

"Ut oh," Veronica said, "Should I brace myself?"

"It's nothing bad, mom," Cornelia said.

"Well, spit it out then."

"O.k. Well... Houses for Humanity is going on a mission trip to build homes for the poor and I want to go."

"Oh," Veronica said with surprise. "Well that's not a big deal. What's the catch?" Veronica was suspicious.

"No catch, mom. It's part of my community service."

"Come on, CC. I know you better than that. What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing, mom, God! It's a mission trip and I want to go. It will count toward my community service." Cornelia paused, but Veronica still looked skeptical.

"It's over Christmas break," Cornelia offered.

"Will you be gone on Christmas?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know the exact dates yet. But I'm going to ask tomorrow."

"Well I can't give you answer until you know the exact dates. I don't want you out of town on Christmas. Where are you going, anyway?" Veronica asked and Cornelia cringed. She hoped to gloss over that part.

"Uh... Somewhere near Mexico I think," Cornelia said. She felt like she wasn't lying, only exaggerating a little. After all, Central America was just south of Mexico. The truth was, Cornelia didn't know exactly where El Salvador was.

"Mexico?" Veronica asked.

"Yeah, close to Mexico I think."

"Do you think or do you know?"

"I know," Cornelia conceded. "I mean I don't know the exact city or anything. I can find out tomorrow."

"I don't know, CC, that's too far."

"Give the kid a break, Veronica. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. And look how much good she'll be doing," Michelle jumped in. Veronica looked surprised. It was the first time Michelle had ever offered her advice on Cornelia and Veronica wasn't sure if she liked it.

Michelle could sense that she overstepped and added, "Just my opinion, of course." Cornelia smiled at Michelle. She was sure that having Michelle on board could only be a good thing.

"Well, I want to know the dates and the exact city before I can give you my answer, CC," Veronica said and Cornelia knew that the subject was closed. She quickly finished up her dinner and went upstairs to her room. Daruma was there to greet her.

"Don't look at me like that, Dee-man. It wasn't a lie. I was just stretching the truth a little."

Cornelia didn't feel the least bit silly addressing an inanimate object. She and Daruma had come to a mutual understanding and she had even given him the nickname "Dee-man." He would give her the evil eye when he thought she was in the wrong and she would offer him righteous indignation. She felt it was a well balanced relationship.

She spent the rest of the night studying for some exams and drifted off to sleep with her History book in hand around 11. The next day was going to be tricky. Cornelia dreamt about how she was going to talk her way into the Houses for Humanity trip. But first, she had to get Admeta to go along.
Chapter 27

The Power of Persuasion

When her alarm went off at 5:30 a.m., Cornelia almost shut it off and went back to sleep. She was tired and the idea of building houses sounded extremely daunting, especially during the first week of December. Cornelia thought it was going to be freezing. She put a lot of thought into the layers of clothing she started to put on.

First she had winter tights, covered up by thermal underwear, then she put on a thick pair of jeans, three pairs of socks and three layers of shirts, including a hoodie. And that was before she added her coat, ear muffs, scarf, gloves and hat after breakfast. Veronica giggled a little at the sight of her daughter all bundled up.

"Thanks mom, that does wonders for my self esteem," Cornelia snapped.

"Oh, come on, CC. It's funny and you know it."

"Says you – the person who isn't going to be building houses in the freezing cold."

"CC, it's your own fault that you have community service. I have two showings today, so I'll be working. Besides, I thought you wanted to go on a mission trip with these people."

Cornelia clammed up. She felt like she had Veronica half-way to saying "yes" to the mission trip and she didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. Instead, she put on the aforementioned outer layer of clothing and piled into the car with Veronica.

On the way, Veronica reminded Cornelia that she needed more details about this mission trip before she would give her blessing. Cornelia agreed to find out everything. Veronica dropped Cornelia off at the Family Connection and then went home to get ready for her first showing.

Cornelia entered the front door and looked around for Admeta. She wasn't there yet, so Cornelia walked up to a group of girls that she had seen Admeta talking to many times. The girls greeted her affably. They all had hot chocolate as they waited for everyone to arrive. Monica and Natalie were talking in Natalie's office. When Monica and Natalie had finished their conversation, Natalie walked over to Cornelia.

"There's our girl!" she said, smiling brightly.

"Me?" Cornelia asked.

"Yes, you. We were just talking about you," Natalie said in a playful tone.

"Me?" Cornelia asked again.

Monica chimed in, "Watch yourself, now, Natalie, it's supposed to be a surprise." Natalie looked at Monica and made a motion like she was locking her lips.

Cornelia found the entire conversation quite odd. Just then she saw Admeta walk out of Natalie's office. She wondered what was going on. Why would Natalie, Monica and Admeta be talking about her? Natalie and Monica walked away and Cornelia greeted Admeta.

"I can't thank you enough for what you did for Chad," Cornelia said, as she placed her hand on her friend's shoulder.

"It was nothing. It was your dad who convinced the judge to see the recording. You should thank him."

"Really? Are you sure it was my dad?"

"What? Of course I'm sure. You're so weird, Cornelia," Admeta said with a laugh.

"Hey, were you guys just talking about me in there?" Cornelia asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not," Admeta replied, coyly.

"Natalie said you were," Cornelia said.

"Well I'm not allowed to say anything, so stop asking," Admeta retorted.

"Oh, come on. Now you have to tell me!"

"CC, I'm seriously not allowed. You'll find out soon enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Cornelia, I really can't say anything. Can you just drop it? Please?" Admeta requested.

"Fine," Cornelia said reluctantly, "I wanted to talk to you about something anyway."

Just then Monica asked for everyone's attention and started running down a list of rules and regulations for Houses for Humanity. She wanted everyone on their best behavior because they were partnering with another organization and she didn't want anyone giving the Family Connection a bad name.

When she was through, the rest of the girls and adults put on their coats and accessories and piled into the bus. Cornelia and Admeta sat together and Monica made a comment about wonders never ceasing. The girls laughed. When everyone settled in and the bus got underway, Cornelia started her sales pitch.

"Houses for Humanity has this mission trip to El Salvador in a few weeks that Chad is going on," Cornelia began, "would you be interested in going?"

"I already am," Admeta replied.

"You are? Why didn't you say something?" Cornelia asked, annoyed.

"You never asked," Admeta said, matter-of-factly.

"Well you would think you would have mentioned it at some point," Cornelia said.

"It just never came up. Monica helped a bunch of us get passports a few months ago. A lot of people are going from the Family Connection. Mrs. Hakim even got some of the Writers on the Storm signed up to go." Admeta replied.

"No way!" Cornelia said, excitedly.

"Uh, yeah way," Admeta replied, confused.

"That's great!" Cornelia said.

"Why is that a good thing for you?"

"Because I'm trying to convince my mom to let me go and she'll be more likely to if kids from school are going too."

"You want to go on a mission trip?"

"Don't sound so surprised!"

"But it's to build houses. You know that right?"

"Of course I know that."

"O.k., CC."

"What?"

"Nothing, I just think it's weird," Admeta said honestly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, CC. Building houses just doesn't seem like your thing I guess."

"I'm doing it today, aren't I?"

"Well to be fair, we haven't gotten there yet. You still have time to back out," Admeta said and then laughed, giving Cornelia a playful jab in the side.

"Shut up!" Cornelia said, pushing Admeta back.

The girls continued joking and talking until the bus arrived at the Houses for Humanity site. They were building two houses right next to each other. Even though they were there quite early, there were already people working on both houses.

After they piled off of the bus, everyone was given assignments. Some people were using nail guns, others were sanding and still others were painting. Admeta and Cornelia were instructed to saw some two-by-fours into different lengths.

It wasn't as cold as Cornelia expected because the crew had several fires burning in barrels to help keep the workers warm. One of the houses had walls, so it was warmer than the house that only had a frame. Cornelia and Admeta had to cut beside the house with only a frame, but they were close to two fires, so Cornelia eventually took off some of her outer layers of clothing.

Since Admeta had taken shop and Cornelia hadn't, Admeta was running the electric saw while Cornelia held the two-by-fours. The girls worked well together and eventually got into quite a rhythm. They were turning out boards quite fast before they broke for lunch.

The girls talked about everything from the mission trip to Karl's lame handling of Writers on the Storm. Neither girl liked the assignment he had given them. It was just as lame as the Thanksgiving assignment. Both girls lamented about wanting Mrs. Hakim back in Writers on the Storm and English class where Karl liked to watch movies instead of reading books.

A group of college students had brought lunch and half the girls ate, and then went back to work as the second group ate. Before returning to the saw, Cornelia asked the site supervisor about joining the mission trip. He didn't seem to have any problem with it as long as Cornelia had a passport and her mother signed the permission slip.

The passport wasn't a problem. She had that from the last time her grandmother had taken her to Europe. The permission was going to be trickier. Cornelia thought about tricking Veronica into signing it, but she was sure her mother would call the police if she left a note saying that she was off to El Salvador.

Cornelia's nose was bright red by the end of the day even though she didn't feel cold. Admeta told her she looked like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Cornelia did not appreciate the comparison. The two girls laughed anyway.

They were exhausted by the time they got back on the bus to return to the Family Connection. Their hands had blisters under their gloves, but they didn't care. They knew they were doing something to help a family in need and that's all that mattered. Cornelia was surprised that she was able to help build a house.

The next day there were fewer volunteers because some of the girls had to go to church. Cornelia was surprised that Admeta would miss church. Admeta explained that it was alright to miss church if you were doing it for a good cause. Cornelia seemed to understand.

They were assigned to painting on Sunday. They started in one of the bedrooms of the house that had walls. The girls reminisced about how it was through painting that they had originally gotten to know each other. Both girls commented on how far their friendship had come since that first day.

College students once again brought lunch for the girls and the other volunteers. They sat at a picnic table with a young woman who was also eating. As the girls began to speak to the woman they discovered that she was going to own one of the houses when the project was finished.

The woman explained to the girls how her parents had died and she was trying to take care of her siblings on her own. She had to drop out of college to find work to support them but it was never enough. If it wasn't for Houses for Humanity, she told them that she and her siblings would have been homeless.

Their conversation really put the project into perspective for the girls. When you look at the work site, you don't always think about who is going to be benefitting from the hard work. The girls had a rare opportunity to put a face with the work they were doing and they were grateful for that.

They were so moved by the young woman's story that they worked the rest of the afternoon in relative silence. Cornelia was secretly thanking her lucky stars for the life that she had. She thought about the woman trying to raise her siblings all alone and she was sad for her struggle. She was glad that her family had never had to struggle like that. She felt very blessed.

By the end of the day, Cornelia and Admeta were covered in paint splotches. Luckily they had taken their outer layers off so they didn't get anything on their coats, but otherwise the girls were a mess. The blisters on their hands were open wounds from the paint rollers and their feet were killing them, but they were satisfied because they knew they were making a difference in the lives of others.

The site leader gave Cornelia a handout on the mission trip. It was a two-week trip which was to begin the Wednesday after school ended for the semester. The group would be returning on Christmas Eve. Cornelia realized that not only would Chad's community service get fulfilled, but hers would as well. The trip was well over 300 hours long and she had already racked up many hours with the Family Connection.

It surprised Cornelia that she felt a small pang of regret at this. She was sure that she was going to continue to volunteer even after her sentence had been completed. She had found something that made a difference in the world and she wasn't going to give it up.

The girls went home exhausted. Veronica had sold her first house, so Cornelia thought she should take advantage of her good mood. She showed her mother the flyer at dinner. She told her that Admeta and bunch of other girls from school and The Family Connection were going on the same trip. That seemed to put Veronica's mind at ease. Veronica was also pleased that Cornelia would be returning before Christmas. After a long discussion about what Cornelia was and was not allowed to do, Veronica signed the permission slip.

Cornelia was too tired to be excited. She was happy that she was going to get to go on the trip with Chad and Admeta, but at the same time she was a little worried. After all, she didn't know anything about El Salvador and she had seen how Admeta's brothers had acted on Thanksgiving. She didn't know what to expect. All she knew was that she was being given the opportunity of a lifetime and she didn't want to mess it up like she had messed up so many other things up in the past.
Chapter 28

The News

The next week at school was excruciating. The closer Christmas break came, the antsier everyone got, even the teachers. None of them wanted to give homework over the holiday break, so they were filling up class time with busy work rather than teaching the students anything particularly valuable. Admeta and Cornelia were so frustrated with Writers on the Storm that they didn't bother to go to the final meeting of the semester. They went to visit Mrs. Hakim instead. Admeta had already cleared it with Daniel.

There was still snow on the ground as the girls set off after school. They were talking non-stop about their mission trip and what they were going to do. A block before they reached the Hakim house, Admeta stopped dead in her tracks.

"Can I tell you something, CC?"

"Yeah, sure," Cornelia replied a little hurt that Admeta even had to ask.

"No, I mean if I tell you this, you have to swear to not tell another living soul."

Cornelia got serious, "O.k." she said.

"I mean it, CC, you can't even tell Chad. Swear it."

"O.k. I swear," Cornelia replied with concern.

"O.k. but if you tell someone, I swear I'll..."

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone, Admeta. What's going on?"

"Well, you know my family is from El Salvador, right?"

"Yeah," Cornelia replied.

"Well, that's where my mom is and when we go on the mission trip I'm going to try to find her."

"Oh my God," Cornelia replied.

"That's all you have to say? 'Oh my God?' What does that even mean?" Admeta replied with attitude.

"I don't know. It means you caught me by surprise. Do you even know where to look for your mom anyway?"

"Not exactly, but I have some ideas. I'll figure it out."

"You mean we'll figure it out."

"Oh, no, I'm not dragging you into this, CC."

"You just try and stop me," Cornelia said and then the two stood staring each other in the eyes.

"Look, CC, I appreciate the offer but this is something I have to do on my own."

"No you don't, Admeta. That's your problem. You always think every cross is yours to bear. Like when you knew about Mrs. Hakim's cancer and you didn't tell anyone. That's not good for you. You have friends who are willing to help you. You just have to trust them. Trust me," Cornelia said.

Admeta looked at Cornelia for a moment and replied, "I just don't want to get anyone into trouble."

"After the last few months we've had, how much more trouble could we get in?" Cornelia asked with a laugh.

"Hey, speak for yourself," Admeta said and smiled back.

"Let's just play it by ear. We'll figure out a plan when we get down there and go from there. O.k.?"

"O.k., CC, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Consider me warned."

"Why do you want to help me?" Admeta asked out of curiosity.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why would you want to risk getting in trouble to help me find my deadbeat mom?"

"Do you really have to ask? You're my best friend, Addy. That's what friends do." Cornelia put her arms around Admeta and Admeta even hugged her back for a few seconds.

"O.k., o.k. you don't have to get all gay on me," Admeta said. Cornelia furrowed her brow.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, CC. No offense to your mom or anything. I was just joking. It was a bad joke. I'll try to think of something better next time."

"It's o.k. Old habits are hard to break. I know that better than anyone. Let's just get inside. I'm freezing!"

The girls ran the last block and raced to the doorbell. Admeta won because Cornelia was wearing heels. The girls were both stunned when Talibah answered the door with a huge smile on her face. She was no longer tattered and messy. She was wearing a beautiful bright blue robe and matching hijab. Cornelia thought she looked like an Arabian princess.

"Come in, girls, come in!" Talibah said, excitedly and she put her arms around both girls and led them to the coat hanger. "Please hang up your things."

"Talibah, do you live here now?" Cornelia asked and ducked an elbow from Admeta who always thought she was being too nosy.

"Yes, yes, I will tell you all about it over tea. Come, come," she said pointing to the parlour where the girls had visited Mrs. Hakim many times.

The room was empty and Talibah asked the girls to sit down. They sat on the couch with the wedding quilt and Talibah excused herself and ran off to the kitchen.

"Wow, I can't believe Talibah is living here. That's awesome," Cornelia said, but Admeta was quiet. Cornelia wondered if Admeta was angry with Mrs. Hakim for not telling her about the new addition to her family. Or if she might be a little jealous of Talibah since, up until that moment, she had been the teenager closest to Mrs. Hakim.

Just then Mrs. Hakim walked in the room. She was looking radiant, so unlike the worn down woman they had visited all those weeks. Her skin was no longer pale, but a perfect shiny olive color. Her robe was a brilliant, blinding white with jewels and beads hand embroidery down the center and her hijab matched perfectly. She was smiling a smile Cornelia had never seen. It was a smile that Admeta missed so badly that she began to tear up.

"Oh my dear, what is wrong?" Mrs. Hakim said, rushing to sit beside Admeta and putting her arms around her.

"Nothing, Mrs. H.," Admeta said, brushing away her tears. "It's stupid. I'm sorry."

"Nothing can be stupid coming from you, Admeta, tell Mrs. Hakim what is wrong, will you?" Mrs. Hakim asked. Cornelia noticed that her accent was thicker than ever. She wondered if she had been too sick before to properly pronounce her words, but she was too worried about Admeta to speculate.

"It's nothing, really," Admeta objected.

"Admeta, I have known you many months and I have not known you to cry for no reason at all. You cannot fool me, my dear," Mrs. Hakim said and patted Admeta gently on the back.

"God, it's so stupid," Admeta protested but she saw that Mrs. Hakim wasn't going to let up until she spilled her guts.

"O.k.," she conceded. "It's just that I haven't seen you looking so..." she tried to find the words.

"Well?" Cornelia offered, blankly. Admeta could not continue, but she nodded her head in agreement.

"Oh, is that all, my dear?" Mrs. Hakim asked. "Then do not dare shed another tear over me, Admeta. There is no need," she said, smiling. Admeta pulled away from her embrace and looked shocked for a moment.

"Do you mean..." Admeta began to ask. Cornelia just looked on with confusion.

"Yes, my dear. My cancer is in remission," she said with a huge grin.

Admeta lurched at Mrs. Hakim, hugging her with all of her might, but Cornelia looked shell shocked. Admeta told Mrs. Hakim how happy she was for her. She asked a million questions. "Is it gone forever? Can it come back? What is remission?" Mrs. Hakim explained that her body was free of any cancer cells but that there was always a possibility it could return, but she was going to take care of herself and stay as healthy as she can and live in the present. She was going to get a check up every month for a while and eventually it would be every year, just to make sure the cancer was still gone. The two embraced again and then Admeta turned and looked at Cornelia.

"Isn't that great news, CC?!" she asked, happily. Cornelia looked at her as if she hadn't understood the question. Then she looked at Mrs. Hakim and her eyes grew narrow as if she was angry.

"CC?" Admeta asked, wondering what was wrong with her friend.

Cornelia looked at her teacher and shouted, "Liar!"

"CC!" Admeta exclaimed, now angry with her friend.

"Cornelia, dear, why not tell me what is troubling you?" Mrs. Hakim asked very calmly as if she expected that sort of reaction from Cornelia.

"You're lying. I know you are. You're just trying to protect us from the truth, but you can't. You can't. It's going to catch up with you. It's going to catch up with all of us. You can't stop it," Cornelia said and Admeta looked at her wide-eyed thinking her friend had finally gone over the edge.

"I am in remission, Cornelia. That is a fact," Mrs. Hakim tried to reassure her.

"It's a lie," Cornelia said, standing up. "Remission is a lie people with cancer tell you so you'll stop worrying and go on living your life like nothing is wrong. Then they go and die on you and leave you alone. You're just like her! You're a liar!" Cornelia yelled and Admeta and Mrs. Hakim both stood up. Admeta tried to grab Cornelia to shake some sense into her, but Mrs. Hakim interceded. She grabbed Cornelia gently by the arm and led her back to the couch to sit down. Admeta followed.

"Cornelia, my dear, I know that cancer took someone you love but that is not always the case. Some people live, Cornelia. Not everyone dies."

"It's all lies," Cornelia said, now softly as tears ran down her face. "Lies," she repeatedly quietly.

"Cornelia, I cannot tell you that I will never have cancer again. And I cannot tell you that if I do get it again I can beat it again. No one can know that. But I can assure that right now as I speak to you my body is cancer free. It does not mean I am cured, but it means I am no longer sick. Do you understand?" Mrs. Hakim asked.

"Are you sure?" Cornelia asked.

"Yes, I am quite certain," Mrs. Hakim replied and Cornelia began to cry harder. Mrs. Hakim cradled her like a child until she stopped weeping. Admeta was confused, but she put her hand on her friend's shoulder to comfort her. Then Talibah walked in the room with a beautiful silver tray filled with tea and crumpets.

"Oh my," Talibah said when she saw Cornelia. "Should I come back later?"

"No, no, Talibah, dear, come in and join us. We were just having, how do you say, girl talk?" Mrs. Hakim said and smiled at Talibah and Admeta.

"It is now time to dry your eyes, Cornelia, for you have nothing to fear. For now you may rest easy. We all can. I promise," Mrs. Hakim said and gave Cornelia a tissue. Cornelia wiped her face and nose and threw the tissue in the trash can next to the couch. She seemed satisfied with Mrs. Hakim's explanation and didn't want to make a scene in front of Talibah.

"Mrs. H. just told us the good news," Admeta said to Talibah who was confused by the whole situation.

"Oh, isn't it wonderful?" She asked, smiling again.

"It's unbelievable," Cornelia offered and Admeta looked at her quizzically.

"It's the best news ever," Admeta said with much more enthusiasm than her friend.

"I wanted to blurt it out the second I saw you but I knew Samantha would want to tell you herself," Talibah said and smiled at Mrs. Hakim. Then she poured everyone tea and told them to help themselves to crumpets. Everyone took their tea but only Mrs. Hakim took a crumpet.

"Thank you, Talibah," Mrs. Hakim said. "I think you young ladies will also be glad to know that Daniel and I are Talibah's foster parents."

"That's great!" Admeta said, still over the moon about Mrs. Hakim's remission. Talibah and Mrs. Hakim smiled but Cornelia was still in a state of shock.

The women made some idle chit chat for a few minutes, but Cornelia remained silent. Mrs. Hakim decided to let her come around in her own time and did not push the issue. She gave Admeta a few knowing looks when she thought Admeta might say something too. Talibah was so happy to be included that she didn't really notice Cornelia's odd mood.

After a short period of time Cornelia stood up out of the blue and announced that she had to go. She had forgotten that she had homework she had to do and Veronica would punish her if she didn't get it done. Then she darted to the foyer to get her coat. Admeta started to say that no one was assigning homework because it was the last week before break and everyone was taking it easy, but Mrs. Hakim smiled at her and Admeta took the hint that she should keep quiet.

Everyone said good-bye to Cornelia who couldn't get out of the house fast enough. When she got out on the porch she began to breathe rapidly. She ran down the walkway and turned onto the sidewalk, letting the gate flap behind her. She could hear her heart beating and her feet hitting the icy pavement. She could have fallen, but she didn't care. All she wanted to do was get away from that house as fast as she could.

When she arrived at the school to phone her mother she was hyperventilating. The annoyed secretary gave her a brown paper bag to breathe into. The secretary phoned Veronica and a few minutes later Cornelia was on her way home. It was all she could think about. She thought if she got home everything would be alright.

Veronica knew her daughter well enough not to ask her what was going on. She knew she would just end up in a fight because Cornelia was agitated. When they got home, Cornelia ran to her room without a word. Veronica hung up her coat and called Michelle for advice.

Michelle thought she should confront the issue head on instead of allowing Cornelia to have a fit. Veronica reluctantly agreed but she wanted to wait a little while. Michelle told her that now was as good a time as any. Veronica finally gave in and went up to Cornelia's room.

She knocked on the door but got no answer. "CC, it's me," she said in the hopes that Cornelia would answer the door. Nothing.

"CC, you're going to have to talk about whatever is going on eventually, so you might as well open the door now and save us both some time," Veronica pleaded. Nothing.

Veronica tried the door and to her surprise it was unlocked so she very slowly opened the door and walked inside. Cornelia was sitting on the bed holding Daruma in one hand and a black sharpie in the other. She was staring at the little doll with confusion. Veronica could see the pain behind her eyes.

"CC, why don't you tell me what's going on, maybe I can help?" Veronica asked as she approached the bed.

"She lived," Cornelia said in an odd, soft voice.

"What do you mean? Who lived?"

"Mrs. Hakim. She's alive."

"Well I should hope she's alive. What happened?" Veronica asked confused. Cornelia was still staring at Daruma, contemplating her next move. Her voice was shallow and monotone.

"Mrs. Hakim had breast cancer. We've been lying to everyone for months. She didn't want anyone to know," Cornelia said.

"Oh, CC," Veronica began.

"No, it's fine, she's alive," Cornelia replied blithely. "She says she's in remission."

"She says?" Veronica asked. "Don't you believe her?"

"Why should I?!" Cornelia screamed, turning toward her mother. "No one lives. How could she be in remission? Everyone dies, mom. Everyone." Veronica sat on the bed next to Cornelia and put her arm around her shoulder.

"You're right, honey, everyone dies, but not everyone dies from cancer," she said.

"How do you know?" Cornelia asked.

"What?" Veronica was confused. "CC, people survive cancer all the time. Just because your grandmother..." Veronica began but Cornelia cut her off abruptly.

"I don't want to talk about her!" Cornelia screamed with tears suddenly streaming down her face.

"Could that be what's really wrong, CC?"

"What do you mean?" Cornelia asked.

"Well, could it be that you're angry that your teacher lived and your grandmother didn't? Maybe you're angry..."

"Mom! How could you say something like that? I'm not mad at Mrs. Hakim for living!"

"That's not what I said, CC. You can be happy that Mrs. Hakim lived and still be angry that your grandmother died. It would even be o.k. if you were mad at God for taking your grandmother while He spared your teacher."

"There is no god!" Cornelia screamed, now sobbing.

"O.k., CC. It's o.k.," Veronica said, patting Cornelia on the back. They sat in silence for a while then Veronica said, "You know, CC, You're allowed to be happy that your teacher lived and still grieve for your grandmother. There's nothing wrong with that." She had hit the nail on the head.

"But it's not right," Cornelia said.

"Sure it is, CC. One has nothing to do with the other. Your grandmother had her battle and she lost and we're all sad. We all miss her. But your teacher fought the battle and won and we can be happy about that. We should be happy about that. It's wonderful news."

"I just feel like..."

"Like you're being disloyal to grandma?" Veronica asked and CC nodded. "Being happy for your teacher has nothing to do with your feelings for your grandmother, CC. They're two different people. Your grandmother would want you to be happy for Mrs. Hakim. She beat cancer. Not everyone can say that," she paused and grabbed Cornelia by the shoulders. "Look at me, CC, it's o.k. Be happy for your teacher. Your grandmother would have been happy for her too."

"Really?" Cornelia asked, trying to stop the flow of tears.

"Really," her mother replied. "I'm sorry, CC, I have to go to an open house. Are you going to be o.k. alone?"

"Yeah, mom, I'll be fine," Cornelia said and she tried to manage a smile.

"I'm happy about Mrs. Hakim."

"Please don't tell anyone I told you. She didn't want anyone to know."

"I won't tell anyone, CC."

"Not even Michelle," Cornelia demanded.

"Not even Michelle," Veronica answered and then walked out the door. A few minutes later Cornelia could hear the SUV pulling out of the driveway. She wanted to call Chad, but she had already broken Mrs. Hakim's confidence by telling her mother, so she called Amanda instead.

Amanda was beyond elated to hear that Mrs. Hakim was going to be alright. Cornelia told her what Veronica had said about being allowed to be happy for Mrs. Hakim and still grieve for her grandmother.

"For sure," Amanda replied. For such a smart girl, Cornelia thought Amanda had a terrible way with words sometimes.

"I'm still grounded from the phone so I should probably get off of here. I have a lot of homework," Cornelia said. And before Amanda could say that no one was assigning homework that week Cornelia had already hung up.

When she was finished talking to Amanda she was calm and feeling better. Veronica had assured her that she would not be insulting her grandmother's memory by being happy for Mrs. Hakim. Even though she still felt guilty, she knew what had to be done.

She took the sharpie that was in her right hand and she very carefully filled in the second eye belonging to Daruma, the ugly little monk who had been so judgmental of her all those months.

She had wished for Mrs. Hakim to get better and she did. She owed Daruma an eye. When she finished and held him in the last light of day peeking through the window she thought he looked different. Not just because he now had two eyes. There was something different about his demeanor. He seemed softer somehow. Cornelia liked this new look. When Cornelia went to sleep that night, she held Daruma in her arms and cried herself to sleep. They were tears of joy for Mrs. Hakim and tears of grief for her grandmother whom she missed dearly.
Chapter 29

Awards and Awareness

Admeta was ecstatic that her teacher was in remission. Cornelia remained skeptically optimistic, but she tried to share in her fiend's joy. Admeta decided not to broach the subject of Cornelia's breakdown at Mrs. Hakim's house. She thought some things were better left unsaid. Instead she told Cornelia what went on after she left. She told her about Talibah living with the Hakim's and how she was going to go to Storm River High next semester. Mrs. Hakim would also be returning in January.

Cornelia again tried to be upbeat. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for Talibah or Mrs. Hakim. She wanted Mrs. Hakim to be well, but she still thought about her grandmother every day. There was a period when they thought she was getting better too. And then she wasn't. Cornelia was still concerned.

Everyone at school was bored the rest of the week. Teachers were still assigning busy work. Even they seemed bored and eager for the vacation. On Friday, the last day before break, everyone had holiday parties instead of doing any school work. It was rather a wasted school day, but everyone had fun.

In homeroom, Mr. Brockheimer passed out non-alcoholic eggnog and brownies. Cornelia was quite sure that either his eggnog or his brownie had a little something special added because he was acting uncharacteristically happy. As it turned out, Cornelia discovered that he was going on a cruise over Christmas break, so that was probably the reason for his good mood.

The day seemed to fly by with one party after the other. There were no afternoon classes that day because the day before break was the day of the Winter Awards Ceremony where they gave out end of the semester awards for the kids who excelled at extra curricular activities, academics and other things. Cornelia was never one of those kids, so she prepared herself for a long, boring ceremony filled with mundane speeches and half-hearted applause for kids she didn't know.

She was happy there weren't assigned seats, so she got to sit with Chad and her new friends from Writers on the Storm. With Admeta and Amanda on her left and Chad on her right, Cornelia felt like everything was right in the world. That was until she spotted Natalie and Monica from The Family Connection sitting in the front of the auditorium that was reserved for special guests. Their presence made her uncomfortable. After all, they were part of her community service punishment, even though Cornelia no longer viewed her sentence as a punishment, but a learning experience. She asked Admeta why they were there but Admeta just shrugged her shoulders.

Every few minutes it seemed, Admeta was standing up to walk on stage to receive one academic award or another. She received the Excellence in Math Award and some science award that Cornelia couldn't even pronounce. Cornelia was beginning to think there was no subject that Admeta didn't excel in. She even won an award for English and that wasn't even Admeta's first language.

Admeta wasn't the only Writer on the Storm to receive awards. Brenda received an award for working on the school newspaper. Amanda received an award for her work in Student Council. And Sandy received several awards for sports. One was for lacrosse. Cornelia hadn't even known there was a lacrosse team at Storm River High School. She supposed that was because they didn't have cheerleaders either. Even Steve, who was now completely healed from his ordeal, won an award for a poem he had written.

The afternoon droned on with one award after another being given out. Students would come up on stage, one at a time, and shake the principal's hand, then take their certificate. Some shook the hands of coaches, teachers or others who were on hand to give out the award. Then came the more prestigious awards, and the students who received those had to give speeches. Cornelia yawned, covering her mouth so as not to be rude.

Admeta won one of the prestigious awards. It was called the Americanism and Government Award and it was given to her for a paper she wrote about female Supreme Court justices. Cornelia had no idea Admeta wrote this paper that was apparently so good that it was published in some local college literary magazine. During her short speech, Admeta thanked Mrs. Hakim and to Cornelia's surprise, she asked Mrs. Hakim to please stand up to be recognized.

Cornelia turned around to see Mrs. Hakim standing there wearing a crimson outfit complete with a beaded hijab to match. Cornelia clapped along with everyone else, but her clapping was louder and longer. So much so, that a few people were staring at her before she stopped. They were no doubt wondering why Cornelia would clap for a teacher that she once hated. Cornelia was so happy to see Mrs. Hakim up and around that she didn't care who was staring. Other than Thanksgiving, it was the first time she had seen Mrs. Hakim outside her home or the hospital in months. She thought the crimson outfit brought more color to Mrs. Hakim's once pale face or could it be that her face was no longer pale? Cornelia wasn't sure. For the first time in months Mrs. Hakim looked "normal" and Cornelia was pleased.

When Admeta sat back down, Cornelia was whispering to her question after question. "How did you know she would be here? Why didn't you tell me? Are you sure it's alright for her to be out of the house?" Admeta laughed off Cornelia's questions and told her to stop being rude. When Cornelia persisted, Admeta shushed her. Cornelia looked affronted, but she turned to face straight ahead to listen to the last of the speeches.

After the award for Student Council leadership had been given to Kenzie Phillips, the principal returned to the podium.

"And now," he said, "I have the honor of bestowing the final award of the afternoon."

"FINALLY!" Cornelia thought. The excruciatingly boring ceremony would be over and they could leave for break.

"This last award is the most prestigious award given at Storm River High School. The Distinguished Student award is given to a student who has made exceptional contributions to the community," Principal Beckardi said.

"Hey, what time is it?" Cornelia whispered to Chad.

Before he could answer, Admeta elbowed Cornelia in the side and shushed her once again.

"Ow!" Cornelia whispered.

"Stop being rude," Admeta hissed back. "Pay attention."

Cornelia was slightly angry with her friend for elbowing her, but she complied. The principal went on and on about how important service to the community was and how the student who was receiving the award had made great strides that semester. Cornelia was bored to tears.

"And now," Principal Backardi continued, "It is my pleasure to introduce two special guests who will giving out this afternoon's Distinguished Student Award. Please give a big round of applause for Ms. Natalie Robbins and Ms. Monica Stiller from The Family Connection."

Cornelia looked confused at first, but then it dawned on her that Admeta was going to receive the award. That's why she wanted Cornelia to be quiet. That's why she thought Cornelia was being rude. Cornelia smiled at Admeta and gave her a little wink to let her know that she knew what was going on. Admeta smiled back.

Natalie and Monica were beaming in Admeta's direction. They were going on about how "this person" performed selflessly and gave of themselves without hesitation. They said a lot of nice things and mentioned how far this person had come this semester and how they had grown as a person. Cornelia was happy for Admeta, but she was also thinking, "Come on already. Just give her the award."

Natalie continued, "And we are both very pleased to be giving this award to Ms. Cornelia Drake."

Cornelia sat there for a minute, confused. She thought she had heard her own name instead of Admeta's. She looked at Admeta who was not getting up.

"Go up there," Admeta said to her.

"Me?" Cornelia asked.

"Yes, your name is Cornelia Drake, isn't it?" Admeta said, laughing.

"Congratulations, CC," Chad said, putting his arm over Cornelia's shoulder.

"Huh?" Cornelia said, looking at him.

"What are you waiting for, CC? Everyone is staring," he said with a smile, and he sort of gave her a push up out of her chair.

Cornelia was frozen. All of the things the principal had said, all of the things Natalie and Monica said were about her. That didn't make any sense. Just a few months before, she had been standing next to Miss S. – oh, God, what was her name again? - receiving her sentence of community service. She remembered the anger and resentment she felt at the thought of serving the community. She didn't understand how she could have gotten an award for something she was forced to do. She remembered the judge calling her "a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan" and in retrospect she knew he was right about her. He was right about her then, but was she the same person Natalie and Monica were just talking about? How could that be?

After receiving a nudge from Admeta, Cornelia finally started to take a few steps. As she walked toward the stage, she could not hear any applause. She didn't hear Amanda yell, "Way to go, CC!" Her ears were ringing. Her heart was pounding. Her hands were sweating. Just before she reached the stairs, Veronica popped out of the front row and hugged her daughter. Cornelia was stunned. She hadn't even seen her mother sitting there, just as she had missed Mrs. Hakim.

"Mrs. Hakim," Cornelia thought. She suddenly felt like this award was a slap in the face to Mrs. Hakim. After all, her community service began as a punishment for the horrible thing she did to Mrs. Hakim. Cornelia was not worthy of this award and she knew it. But she couldn't refuse, could she? She had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach like she was going to either throw up or pass out. She didn't know what to do. She walked slowly toward Mr. Backardi and shook his hand like she had seen all of the other students do when they accepted their awards. Then she shook Monica and Natalie's hands without thinking. Monica nodded with approval while Natalie smiled that huge, wide-eyed smile she always had. Natalie handed her a plaque. "A plaque, oh my God," Cornelia thought. She had never felt so unworthy in her entire life. She was about to blow.

Natalie gave her a push toward the podium and Cornelia stood there looking out at the crowd. There was a box behind the podium and she could see Monica motioning for her to step on the box, so she did without even thinking about it. She was on autopilot and she desperately wanted to turn it off, make it all stop. She needed the world to stop turning at that moment. She wanted to go back to her seat and be clapping for Admeta who truly deserved the award.

As she stood up on the box, she could see all of her friends from Writers on the Storm. Chad, Admeta and Amanda were standing as they clapped. She saw Sarah sitting at the end of her row. Rebekka and David were there too, sneering. Veronica was wiping a tear away from her eye and snapping pictures like a lunatic. Cornelia saw her father and Brandi, who was looking quite bored herself, sitting on the other side of the auditorium. Everyone was there, even Kenzie Phillips who Cornelia could have sworn looked envious. Then, Cornelia saw Mrs. Hakim. She was standing too and Cornelia turned so red that she matched the color of Mrs. Hakim outfit.

"Please stop," Cornelia whispered and then cleared her throat. "Please," was all she could muster in a semi-normal tone of voice.

Cornelia's mind was racing and things seemed to be moving in slow motion. Everything began to fall into place. The award was why Admeta had been talking to Monica and Natalie in secret. It's what Natalie meant when she said "There's our girl." They had been planning this for awhile and everyone managed to keep it a secret from Cornelia. Even Veronica had known. Why else would she be there? And her father too.

Her father. Why would her father be there? Cornelia wondered to herself. He couldn't even be bothered to defend his own daughter in court and yet he was there to see her accept an award for the punishment she received. It didn't make sense. Then, as Cornelia looked around some more she was community leaders that she had seen her father meeting with over the years. He had always been involved in politics because he wanted to run for judge someday. Just then, Cornelia thought, maybe that was why she was getting the award in the first place. Maybe her father had planned it so he would look like a good parent of a good little girl, not "a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan." Yes, everything was falling into place.

Everyone quieted down and Cornelia's friends sat back in their seats. Veronica was still taking pictures, but Cornelia didn't notice the flashes anymore. She couldn't bear to look at her father who surely "bought" the award somehow. All she saw in that moment was Mrs. Hakim. All she felt was guilt and remorse. Her cheeks were on fire. She was embarrassed. She was getting an award she didn't deserve and she had a sneaking suspicion that her father had something to do with it. An award for her was a notch in her father's belt after the embarrassment of his daughter being arrested.

Cornelia paused, looking Mrs. Hakim directly in the eyes. Her teacher was smiling. She seemed proud of her student who had once said such horrible things about her. Cornelia thought about how forgiving Mrs. Hakim could be. A lot of the students at Storm River were suspicious of Muslims because it was a religion they did not understand. Cornelia did not know that at the beginning of the school year, but she knew it now and it made her more ashamed. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to crawl off the stage and run home. The crowd began to get twitchy.

"Umm," Cornelia began, looking at the three people beside her on stage. The microphone gave a loud little hiss of feedback but then settled. Cornelia continued, "Mr. Backardi, Natalie, Monica, I really appreciate that you want to give me this award. I really do," she said, not smiling. "But I can't accept it," she said with a tear in her eye. The smile washed off of Natalie's face. Monica did not change her expression. Mr. Backardi looked worried. He had been hesitant to give Cornelia this award, but when Monica and Natalie had been so insistent, he caved. He thought his worst fears were about to come true.

As a tear streamed down her right cheek, Cornelia explained to the audience that she had done a terrible thing. "Do you see Mrs. Hakim back there, in the red scarf?" Cornelia asked, pointing to her teacher. Mrs. Hakim smiled as everyone turned to look at her. "It's not really a scarf. It's actually called a 'hijab'," Cornelia continued. "Mrs. Hakim taught me that.

"Mrs. Hakim taught me lots of things this semester. She is Muslim," Cornelia said, "and she is the best teacher I have ever known."

Cornelia paused, trying to find the right words. She didn't want to embarrass Mrs. Hakim or herself, but she wanted to be honest.

"Earlier this year, Mrs. Hakim gave be a 'D' on my progress report. It was a grade I deserved, but at the time I didn't see it like that. All I saw was that 'D' and how much trouble I was going to be in for getting such a bad grade in English. But that's no excuse for what I did next."

Cornelia paused once again, struggling to think of the right thing to say. She looked over at her father who was now holding his head in his hand. Cornelia wondered if he was trying to hide his face. Brandi still looked bored, like she had not heard a thing Cornelia said. In the front row, Veronica had stopped taking pictures and was hanging on Cornelia's every word.

"Most of you know what happened next. For those of you who don't, it's not pretty. And it not something I'm proud of. I used Mrs. Hakim's religion against her for no reason whatsoever except that I was mad. I was mad that I had gotten..." she trailed off. "No, I was mad that I had earned," she reconsidered her wording, "a bad grade.

"Mrs. Hakim gave me the grade I deserved and because of her religion I did something terrible. It wasn't just childish, it was hurtful. I did the most vicious thing I could think of to do.

"And what I did was a hate crime." At that, Cornelia could hear a few quiet shrieks from the audience. She wondered if there were parents there who hadn't known what she had done. She heard Mr. Backardi groan a little beside her. I guess it wasn't the school's proudest moment she was rehashing.

"And after I committed that hate crime," Cornelia continued, with tears streaming down her face, "I was punished with community service at The Family Connection. The judge called me 'a stuck-up, spoiled rotten little hooligan' and he was right. I was."

Cornelia hesitated and looked around the room. She could see her father walking toward the back of the auditorium. "Wait, Dad!" she shouted and the microphone gave another little wail of feedback. "That's my dad," she said and pointed to her father who froze in his tracks. "What's the matter, Dad? Does the truth hurt? Not so proud of your little princess for that stunt, are you?" Cornelia began to sob a little, but she sucked it up and continued.

"Well I'm not either. But you know who I am proud of? Mrs. Hakim, who found it in her heart to forgive me, unlike you." Cornelia turned away from her father and toward Mrs. Hakim toward the back of the auditorium.

"Mrs. Hakim has been dealing with a lot this semester. More than you can imagine," Cornelia was careful not to violate any confidences. "I called her the worst name I could possibly think of and yet she found it in her heart to forgive me. That's because that's who she is.

"I used to want to be just like my father," Cornelia continued. "But now, I hope when I grow up I'm just like Samantha Hakim. She is a caring, compassionate person with one of the biggest hearts I know. There is only one person I know who has a heart as big as hers and that's Admeta Vasquez," Cornelia said and pointed to Admeta. Admeta looked like she wanted to melt into the fabric of the chair and disappear.

"Mr. Backardi, Natalie, Monica," Cornelia began again with tears still streaming down her cheeks, "I do not deserve this award at all, but there is someone in this room who does and that's Admeta. She volunteers at The Family Connection because she wants to, not because she was forced to. She has a huge heart and a great capacity to forgive. She learned that from Mrs. Hakim no doubt."

Cornelia looked directly into Admeta's eyes. "Admeta, I want you to come up here and accept this Distinguished Student Award because you deserve it. This award was made for people like you who perform community service from the bottom of their hearts, not someone like me who had to be sentenced to it." Admeta looked mortified as Cornelia stood on the box holding the plaque out.

"Come on up here, Girl," Monica shouted from the stage and a few people laughed and broke the tension. At first it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, but as Admeta got up and started to walk on stage people started clapping. Veronica was beaming, Mrs. Hakim was crying and Chad was smiling and clapping. Cornelia saw her father leave the room just before she handed the plaque to Admeta.

"I am so going to kill you when the ceremony is over," Admeta whispered to Cornelia as the plaque exchanged hands.

"No you won't," Cornelia said and then she smiled at Admeta and hugged her like she had never hugged anyone before in her life. Cornelia thought it may have been the very first hug she ever "meant."

Admeta was never one for the spotlight. She stepped up onto the box at Monica's insistence. Then she looked around the crowd and waved to a couple of people from Writers on the Storm. It was then that Cornelia had noticed that none of Admeta's family was there to see her get all of her awards and that made Cornelia sad. She wasn't sad when she saw her dad leave, but she was sad for Admeta because she knew how close she was with her father.

Admeta finally spoke in a thick Spanish brogue. Cornelia had noticed that Admeta always did that when she was angry or embarrassed. At this point she thought Admeta might have been a little of both. "Well, I sorta think Ms. Cornelia is a little loco to give up this award," she began and a few people laughed.

"But I really like volunteering at The Family Connection. Natalie and Monica are good people," she said and then smiled at the pair next to her on stage. Cornelia was standing on the other side of the podium, still streaming tears, but smiling at her friend.

"Mrs. Hakim is good people too and I'm glad she's coming back next semester," Admeta said and then hesitated. Mrs. Hakim had dried her eyes and was beaming at both of her students on stage.

"Well," Admeta said, "I guess that's all I have to say. Thanks and have a blessed Christmas break." Admeta shot off the box like it was on fire. She grabbed Cornelia by the elbow and led her backstage.

"Oh, Dios mío, Cornelia, no sé qué hacer con usted a veces!" Admeta said, but Cornelia had no clue what she was saying.

"You're welcome," Cornelia replied with a grin.

"You really are loco, CC," Admeta said with a half-smile. They could hear Principal Backardi wrapping up the ceremony at the microphone. He was saying something about staying safe and keeping warm but the girls were not paying attention.

"Why did you do that," Admeta asked.

"Because you deserved that award, Admeta, not me. I don't know what they were thinking giving it to me. I was sentenced to community service. I didn't volunteer for it."

"Are you going to volunteer for it when we get back from our mission trip?"

"Well, yeah, of course. I like volunteering at The Family Connection. Except for freezing to death sometimes."

"Did you ever think that's why they gave you the award, CC?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean yeah, you were sentenced to community service in the beginning, but then you grew to like it and now you're going to continue your service even when your hours are up. So maybe they gave you the award for having the most improved attitude or something. Did you ever think of that?" Admeta asked.

"No," Cornelia replied simply, wiping her tears.

"Oh, Dios mío, Cornelia, seriously, what are we going to do with you?" Admeta asked again in exasperation.

"I don't know. Take me to El Salvador?" Cornelia asked completely straight faced. After a few seconds both girls cracked up laughing.

"You know you gave this thing to me, there are no take backs. I'm going to have them cover up your name with mine," Admeta said and they both cracked up laughing again. Then they could hear the audience moving around in the auditorium and they figured they had better get out there.

"Hey, my mom is here, can we give you a ride home?" Cornelia asked.

"Sure," Admeta replied and the two friends walked down the stairs into the audience, arm in arm. You would never have been able to tell that the two had once been enemies.

They walked into the audience and greeted their friends, Cornelia's mom and Mrs. Hakim. They stood around talking for a long time and Mrs. Hakim told Admeta and Cornelia how proud she was of both of them. For the first time in a long time, Cornelia looked at her teacher and she didn't see a sick person. She saw a healthy person who once had breast cancer, but now she didn't. And for the first time Cornelia actually believed that.

The friends joked and laughed and each told their story about how surprised they were when Cornelia refused the award. Cornelia, Admeta and Mrs. Hakim were happy and optimistic and glowing. Everything was right with the world. Everything except that Admeta's mother wasn't there to share in the moment. Admeta knew it and Cornelia could feel it. They were about to embark on an adventure half-way around the world but in that place in time, the friends – best friends – were happy just to share in that moment together. Little did they know what was about to happen.

To be continued . . .
