“Please, Roxy has practically raised her younger sister and baby brother. She’s one of the most responsible students we have. Ask any teacher in the school. If they could clone a hundred more Roxys, they would.”
I dropped my voice lower. “Are the parents . . . not that involved?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only met them once. They both work a lot. Night nurse at the medical center, an overworked building contractor. My impression is that they’re very busy juggling daily demands. Add to that three kids in three different schools . . .” She shrugged. “Roxy was doing her best to help out, though sometimes at a cost to herself. Last year we had an issue with her being tardy several times in a row. Turned out, she was having trouble getting her younger sister to the middle school on time. Once we figured that out, I followed up with her mother, but the truth is that Juanita isn’t home from her graveyard shift yet, and Charlie is already out on a job site. Meaning the morning churn is Roxy’s responsibility and she’s old enough to legally be in charge. In the end, I had a chat with Roxy’s teachers. Given that she’s never late with homework and pays attention once she’s in class, they agreed to let the tardy slips slide. It’s the best we can do to help a family that’s doing the best they can do.”
I didn’t know anything about these kinds of situations, but I nodded my head in sympathy. “Sounds like you’re very understanding.”
Another shrug. “That’s my job. To help kids navigate school and home and real life. There’s a lot of pressure on teenagers these days.”
“Roxy have a lot of friends?” I asked. “Sounds like she’s very nice.”
“You mean is she popular? No. She’s quiet. Mostly, you see her sitting at lunch with a book.”
BFF123, I thought, not surprised by Roxy’s deception. Especially not as I sat there and continued lying myself. “A big reader?”
“Definitely.”
“Great student?”
“Above average. Reading and writing are her passion. I know she’s been working on an essay series that Mrs. Chula, the writing teacher, can’t stop raving about. She wanted Roxy to enter the pieces in a statewide writing competition, but Roxy refused.”
“Really? What’s the essay about?”
“I’m not sure. Something about the perfect family. I know the first two installments made Mrs. Chula cry.”
“What does Roxy read?” I asked, mostly because I was curious.
“Oh, all those fantasy books, the ones where average kids turn out to have hidden warrior powers and are the only ones who can save the world. Typical hero’s journey stuff.”
This intrigued me. Would Roxy and I have liked each other if we’d gotten to spend more time together? She, a family protector; me, a self-appointed vigilante. I didn’t read books much. Maybe she would’ve held that against me. Plus, in the books, I’m pretty sure, the badass heroines are beautiful, versus my own ragged self with my hollowed-out cheekbones and torn fingernails. But still . . .
“I did have one concern,” the counselor was saying now.
“Yeah?”
“We have this group of Hispanic girls. I’ve heard whispers they’re a gang. They all have beauty marks on their cheeks and a penchant for ripped-up jeans. According to the rumor mill, Roxy’s sister, Lola, has already joined the middle school group. Now, Roxy’s under pressure from the high school girls. I’ve been keeping my eye on the situation; nothing crazy has happened yet. My impression is that Roxy’s playing it smart—she doesn’t directly tell anyone no, just keeps saying later, right now she’s gotta pick up her sister, grab her brother, walk the dogs, whatever. It’s been keeping them at bay.”
“For now,” I said.
“Yes.”
“And if she can’t keep stalling them . . . ?”
One of those shrugs again. “Girls, especially a clique of girls? They can make Roxy’s life miserable.”
“How so? Physical threats, actual beatdowns? I’ve heard girl gangs can be worse than boys.”
“Oh, trust me, it used to be that girls would exchange insults while boys would throw punches. Now, the girls go at it just as hard, often armed with box cutters, razors, you name it. Which is why not so much as a butter knife is allowed on school grounds.”
“But after school, not on school property . . . ?”
Tricia looked me in the eye. “I can’t control everything. And yes, anger the wrong group of kids and any high schooler’s life gets tough. I’ve heard stories of brawls involving chains, studded belts, baseball bats. When I tell parents their kids are under a lot of stress, I’m not lying.”
“Roxy was an outsider. A loner,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Meaning she had that stress.”
“Yes.”
“And no friends at all to help her?”
Tricia hesitated. “There’s a boy. Right now, that’s the only person I can picture her with. Another loner type, to tell you the truth. Sometimes, you’d see them sitting together in the commons area.”
“Is he her boyfriend?”
“I don’t know.”
“His name?”
“Mike. Mike Davis. He’s, um, a bit different. But he and Roxy seem to get along. Frankly, I was grateful to see them together. He is another student for whom school life can be pretty rough.”
“Do you have his address?”
“Yes. But I’m not going to give it to you.”
I stilled, looked at the guidance counselor.
“Flora Dane,” she said quietly. “It took me a bit. When you first appeared, I had that sense of déjà vu. It’s because I’ve seen you on TV. You helped rescue the college student last fall.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t live next to Roxy.”
“I care about the dogs,” I offered, because I had to say something.
“Why are you really here?”
“I know Roxy. She’s part of a . . . support group I belong to. We’re worried about her.”
“A support group?”
I didn’t offer any more details. After another moment, the guidance counselor nodded slightly. “What happened to Roxy’s family?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But you don’t think she did it?”
“I think she’s in trouble. Have you noticed any changes in the past few weeks? Is she late more often? Stressed, missing homework assignments, mentioned anything to anyone?”
“No. But it’s a very large school. I can go days without seeing a student. Unless something specific happens that’s brought to my attention . . .”
I nodded.
“I can’t give you a student’s information,” the counselor said at last. “But if you want to give me your cell, I can ask Roxy’s friend to call you.”
“Fair enough.”
“The dogs really have been found?”
“Yes. And they really do need someplace to stay.”
“All right. I can work on that, too.”
I rose to standing. “Thank you.”
At the last minute, as Tricia opened the door, she hesitated. “Remember what I was saying about this group of Hispanic girls trying to recruit Roxy?”
I nodded.
“I’m told Roxy’s younger sister, Lola, is more than just a little involved in the gang. I don’t know if you’ve ever met Lola, but she’s very pretty. Dangerously so, for a thirteen-year-old girl.”
I waited.
“She’s also, from what I’ve been told, very aware of her own looks.”
“Manipulative,” I filled in.
“I don’t think she joined the group just to hang out. From what I’ve heard and seen, Roxy is the responsible member of her family, while where her younger sister goes, trouble usually follows.”
“Are we talking drugs, violence?”
“I’m not sure. But a bunch of rabid teen girls? Anything’s possible.”
Chapter 12
Name: Roxanna Baez
Grade: 11
Teacher: Mrs. Chula
Category: Personal Narrative
What Is the Perfect Family? Part II
My little sister and I stand in the ratty living room. The pinch-faced lady is with us. She has a tight grip on my shoulder, as if she thinks I’ll bolt any minute. On the other side of me, Lola is wedged up so close I can feel her trembling.