Save the Universe Inc. Chapter Three

“Mama, please don’t make me go!”

“Lucy, don’t argue with me.  You know you have to!”

Hurricane Katrina happened just a few weeks before I would enter eighth grade, the last year of middle school. I had made plans with my friends to hang out when school began.  We all looked forward to the special activities and privileges granted to eighth graders.  Now we would never see each other again.  I didn’t even know who lived and who died.  On top of that, Mama wanted to enroll me in a brand new school filled with strangers.   I begged her to let me stay home; promised to help more with the catering or do babysitting; anything to get out of facing new people.  She wouldn’t hear of it. 

“Girl, you need an education.  Besides, it’s illegal for a thirteen year-old to be out of school.  I’m too busy helping Aunt Tess and working a second job at night.”

Be reasonable! Right!  I was a card carrying adolescent girl. I had a license to be unreasonable!

“I know you want me to home school you, but I can’t do that. You’ll just have to go to the local middle school.  I beg you not to make things worse for yourself.  If you give it a chance, you’ll get used to it.  Please my darling; let’s make the best of our new life.  It’s all we’ve got.”   

I couldn’t win this argument, so I turned my thoughts to New Orleans before the storm.  I remembered something Mrs. Bouvier had said to me.  “Some people are born to magic and some are called to it when needed.”  For some reason, that thought comforted me just then.  Meanwhile, Mama chatted on about my education.  I nodded while tuning her out as she drove me to the new school.

In most areas, the school year begins in September.  Mama and I hadn’t arrived in Minneapolis until October.  We spent time after the hurricane settling our affairs in Louisiana and making travel arrangements. 

When we arrived in Minneapolis, we took time settling in. Mama never showed her grief to me, but I saw the two sisters hugging and crying many evenings when they didn’t know I was watching.  In spite of knowing how sad Mama felt, I was sorrier for myself.  I thought to myself, “She doesn’t have to go to some stupid new school.  What does she have to worry about?”

 Now in the middle of November, two and a half months after school had started, Mama took me to enroll.   I dreaded coming to a school full of strangers mid semester.  I glared angrily at Mama for making me go.  Finally the car stopped.  Mama eased into a parking space near a two-story complex of brick buildings, my new prison. I dragged my feet behind her as we entered.

I looked around.  Here at Morningstar Middle School I faced another challenge; going to school with white kids.  “Hey Nigger get back to your own part of town!”  I shivered as I remembered my first confrontation with Caucasians.  At my old school, we were all black.  As long as we stayed in our place, no one harassed us.  Now what?  How many more times would my world collapse before I found my personal spot?  At the sound of a passing bell, the halls filled with people rushing from one class room to another in all directions.  So many students swarmed about us.  The air felt tight.  I couldn’t breathe.  My heart raced.    “Let me out of here!”  Why couldn’t Mama see that this place didn’t suit me?   I knew that I hated it!  I vowed to myself that I’d have a miserable school year.  Maybe then Mama would realize saw how poorly I fit this place. 

      In the counselor’s office Mama pinched my arm.  “Lucy, please pay attention to Miss Crothers.   She’s asking you a question!”  I mumbled an apology and asked my new eighth grade councilor to repeat the question.  She asked me what kind of elective I would like.  I said something about not really caring which caused Mama to pinch me again.

      The councilor suggested I should try creative writing.  “Perhaps Lucinda would like the opportunity to write about her feelings and experiences” she said with a wink to Mama.  I suspected that the two of them had already discussed my needs over the phone.  

      Mama had done it again!  She had broadcast my private affairs to a complete stranger.   Why did she think it was okay?   When my anger subsided, I tuned out again and let the two women plot my life with occasional nods from me when I felt it appropriate. Mentally, I kept myself as far away as possible from the conversation going on.  At some point, Miss Crothers handed me a paper with my class schedule and a map which I grabbed without leaving my reverie.

       Miss Crothers smiled at Mama and said,   “You and Lucinda might like to tour the campus today before you leave.  We’ll expect her to begin next Monday.  She needs to report to the main office at eight o’clock sharp.”

      Mama indicated to me that I should follow her out as she thanked Miss Crothers and shook her hand.  Miss Crothers extended her hand to me and I noticed brown blotches and several cords of blue veins protruding from her pale skin.  She must have been pretty old to have hands like that.  She was a “miss” so I guessed she never married.  In my imagination I created a story about the years she spent pining for a lost love. I was interrupted from those thoughts when Miss Crothers reached for a tissue and abruptly excused herself while muttering something under her breath.                                                                                                                                                

      Mama and I walked through the humongous brick buildings.   We observed Asian, Latino and some black kids as roaming the halls within the crowds of white students.  So the school had some diversity.   This didn’t comfort me.  I felt like an alien from another planet walking among Earthlings.  Stupid Earthlings!  My mission was to check out the planet for signs of intelligent life.  My people wanted to know if it was possible to communicate with the creatures of this place.  I was about to send a message that they shouldn’t bother when Mama’s voice once again popped me back to reality.  “Honestly, Lucinda!  There you go again; off in another world.  It’s as if you’re in outer space half the time!”  I looked at her.  Was she reading my thoughts?   But she just went on. “I am beginning to worry about you.  I asked you if you would like to see the cafeteria.”  I shrugged my shoulders implying that I didn’t really care.  Mama took that as a yes, so we went there to eat lunch.  Imagine the embarrassment! The whole school would see me in the cafeteria lunchroom with my mother!

      Inside the noisy lunchroom students were laughing, shouting, flirting, flinging food and of course, eating.  The scene looked pretty much like the lunch area of my old school, only it was bigger, indoors and multi-racial and I was there with my mother!                                                                                                                       

      I walked along with my head down.  If I couldn’t see anyone staring at me, I didn’t need to care about them.

Suddenly, a shock wave went through my body as we passed one of the tables I looked up and saw a pretty girl sitting by herself with eyes as wide as mine must have been.  She was African American like me which I acknowledged with an interior smile.  For some reason, an image of Mrs. Bouvier’s face popped into my mind. I didn’t know what made us look at each other the way we did, but, I was aware of the same electrical humming I heard in the magic shop. She seemed familiar even though I knew we had never met.   Mama must have noticed too because she took advantage of the moment to totally embarrass me.  “Hello, this is my daughter, Lucinda.  She’ll be starting Morningstar on Monday.  May we sit down here and join you?”

Could anything be more humiliating (yes, being there with Mama in the first place)?  Even so, I felt a strong connection to this person though I didn’t know why.  I lamely mumbled,” Hi”, when Mama introduced me, and suddenly, we were joining her for lunch.  The girl’s name was Maria.  By the end of lunch, with Mama’s help, Maria and I knew a lot about each other.  She was also in eighth grade and like me, had recently changed schools.  It was a strangely perfect encounter.  Two girls, new to the school, both ethnic minorities, happened to meet and became connected.  Whatever had brought us together, we both shared comfort and familiarity with each other by the time the warning bell rang.  I even mentally thanked Mama for butting into my life this time (but I’d never let her know).  We said goodbye and agreed to meet for lunch on Monday when I started school.  I hopped we were going to be friends, and suddenly, the thought of going to this new school didn’t seem so horrible.  Mama looked very smug.  I silently gave her a few points for that one.

      On my first day of classes, I dragged myself to breakfast.  The idea of going to classes didn’t interest me at all, but I admit I looked forward to lunch with Maria.  I had thought about her a lot all weekend.  While I unenthusiastically nibbled on some French toast, the twins were making gagging noises and forcing milk through their nostrils.  What disgusting creatures they were!  Naturally, only I was privy to their obnoxious behavior.  On that morning, to my satisfaction, Auntie Tess sent them from the table to “think about their behavior” before they left for school.

       When we arrived at school, Mama wanted to walk with me to the main office, but I asked her not to.  She did enough damage hanging out with me the previous Friday!  Once was enough.  Now I preferred to be on my own with my sweaty palms gripping the school map.  We said goodbye at the curb, and I turned my face so as to avoid her kiss in front of the school. I slowly stepped from the car, took three deep breaths and headed through the school’s main entrance.

      I found the office after asking a hall monitor for directions.  Kids were going in all directions some bumping into me.  No one said anything nasty about my being black.

      “Hi,” I whispered to the student at the counter.  “My name is Lucinda Washington.  I’m new.  I think you have some papers for me.”

      The girl spoke to an adult.  After a few minutes, she returned with a smile and some paperwork to give to my new teachers. Then she said, “Janet (or some other “J” name), will take you to my first class. Good luck, and have a great day!”

      The “J” person chatted all the way to my classroom, and honestly, I really didn’t listen to a word she said.  I mumbled my thanks as she showed me to the door of my first period class.  Clutching my school map and the papers for my teachers, I managed to find my way to all my classrooms.   As the newest student, I got to sit in the back of all my classes. That worked out perfectly.   I really hate kids staring at me.  No one could look at me without turning around and making the teachers angry.  Even so, I still felt like an alien from another planet.  When would the mother ship rescue me?

When the lunch bell rang, I hurried to the cafeteria and looked for Maria.  I heard, “Lucy, over here!” as I spotted Maria waving at me.  She had a big smile on her face.  “I got here early so I could save seats for us.”  I bumped into several kids and got some nasty looks as I made my way to the place where she sat.

Maria and I met for lunch every day from then on.  Eventually, I got to know other kids as well. Sometimes, they ate with Maria and me, and sometimes we ate alone, but I never felt as comfortable with them.  It seemed like Maria and I had been friends forever.  We spent our lunch sharing our life stories.  I learned that she never actually knew her real parents.  Her eyes became teary as she explained how she had stayed with many different foster folks for as long as she remembered.  Some of them beat her or treated her more like a maid than a family member and no one offered to adopt her.  How odd not to belong to a family!  She said she had lived with her current foster family for a few months.  She spoke very lovingly about these people, so I guessed they treated her well.

      I told her about Hurricane Katrina and how we came to live in Minneapolis with Aunt Tessa and Uncle Joe.  Maria liked to hear me reminisce about New Orleans.   She loved my stories about life back home (I still thought of New Orleans as my real home).  She laughed when I told her how Granny always threatened me with God’s Wrath whenever I misbehaved.   I helped her imagine the foods that Granny cooked.  Together, we breathed in the seductive aroma of waffles and coffee on Sunday mornings and chicken sizzling in the deep fat cooker.  “Oh Lucy,” she sighed, “how sad for you to lose that lovely life.”

      I have to admit that in spite of Maria’s tragic life, as our friendship grew, I sometimes felt very envious of her.  She was so pretty and could speak with ease to other people.  I always tensed around groups of kids never feeling “cool” enough.  The more uncomfortable I felt, the more likely I might utter something totally embarrassing.  If boys hung around us, I became thoroughly tongue-tied but not Maria.  She always knew what to say.  People seemed to hang on her words and laugh at her jokes.   I almost felt like a third wheel when other people joined us even though she made sure to include me.  “What do you think, Lucy?” she would ask if it seemed that the kids forgot about me.  Sometimes she’d interject questions like, “Don’t you just love the color of Lucy’s sweater?”  Maria tried so hard to protect my feelings.  She made me feel guilty that I secretly harbored some negative thoughts about her.

      One day, I decided to tell to Maria about my encounter with Ms. Bouvier.  When I described Ms. Bouvier and her little shop, Maria’s body came to attention.  She seemed eager to hear every bit of information and leaned in as if afraid to miss a word.  “Did she ever show you any real magic?” asked my friend while looking at me in a curious way.

      “Not really.  The hurricane started and then I never saw her again.”

      “Oh Lucy, that’s such a shame!”  I looked at Maria.  I asked why that seemed so important to her.  “Lucy”, she began, “I know magic is real.  Someday I will show you what I know, but not here at school.