The Color of Hope

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Thursday, September 23





Stephanie couldn’t wait to talk to Sam at lunch. She’d gotten a call to substitute for the new study hall teacher and saw an entirely new dynamic in first period. Sam was no longer alone on a far side of the room. There were girls at her table who didn’t simply happen to be at her table. They were engaged in conversation with Sam, and Sam with them. Stephanie was so excited she didn’t bother to shush them up.

Before lunch she had gone to the front office to ask a question of Mrs. Walters. In the cafeteria now, she looked for Sam at the usual spot, “usual” one month ago, anyway. Sam was indeed there, though Stephanie almost missed her for the four other girls at the round table.

She walked over, wondering if she should find another table and catch Sam later. The others might not think it was cool for a teacher to sit with them. But Sam waved her over.

“I saved you a seat,” she said.

Stephanie slid into the chair next to Sam, where conversation was flying about several subjects at once—music; movies; history class, where someone got put out for cussing the teacher; and Facebook and Twitter statuses, including their own, which they were updating at the table.

Sam didn’t have either a Facebook or a Twitter account, so Stephanie leaned over to her while the others talked social media.

“Things have changed a little at school, huh? Are these your new friends?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call them friends.” Sam spoke low. “Whenever I think that, I end up disappointed. But we sit together sometimes, yeah.”

“How did that happen?” Stephanie asked.

“You might not believe this, but I think it was the clothes you got me. Seemed like people started noticing me. But also, I wasn’t embarrassed about the way I looked anymore, so maybe I didn’t stay to myself as much.”

Stephanie touched her hand. “You never said you were embarrassed.”

Sam glanced downward. “I know.”

“Hey, Sam, come here a minute.”

Stephanie and Sam both turned. Ben Willoughby had taken a seat at the next table.

Sam pointed at herself. “Me?”

“Of course, you.” Ben laughed. “Come here. I want to talk to you.”

Stephanie was about to tell her to ignore him, but Sam was already up and walking over. Ben had never spoken to Sam before, as far as Stephanie knew. What was going on?

Ben pulled out his phone and typed something. They said a few more words, then he left and Sam returned.

The other girls at the table leaned in on her. “What did he want?”

Sam shrugged. “Nothing much.”

“Oh, come on!” one of them said. “It’s Ben Willoughby, senior, football star. He never talks to any of us. What did he say?”

Sam balled up her empty bag of chips. “He wanted my cell number. Said he’d like to get to know me.”

“What?” Another girl’s eyes widened. “He said that? He’s so cute. I’d die if he said that to me.”

The bell rang, and everyone scrambled to throw away trash and get to the next class.

Stephanie touched Sam’s arm. “Hold on a sec.” She waited until the other girls were gone. “Sam, stay far away from Ben Willoughby.”

“It was just one conversation,” Sam said.

“But you gave him your number, didn’t you?”

“Well. Yeah.”

“I wish you hadn’t. Don’t answer if he calls.”

“Why not?”

Stephanie got up and walked with her so she wouldn’t be late. “How much experience have you had with guys?”

Sam didn’t have to think about it. “None.”

“That’s what I thought,” Stephanie said. “We’ll have a long talk about guys later. Right now, I’m just saying stay away from him. He’s not your type.”

“I don’t even know what my type is,” Sam said.

“That’s okay. It’s enough to know what it’s not.”

They needed to part ways. “Soul Sisters tonight?” Stephanie asked.

“Yep. You coming to get me?”

Stephanie started down a different hall, saying, “I’ll be there at six fifty.”





Stephanie drove slowly up the lone street that led to Sam’s house. Her car jerked along on the gravel, and she wondered again why the town hadn’t bothered to lay fresh blacktop. Perhaps they felt no need, with only three old homes, one unoccupied, served by a road that led to a dead end. Whenever she came to get Sam, it seemed she’d stumbled onto a section of Hope Springs that hadn’t quite kept up with the rest.

She pulled up to the house, situated alone on an unkempt plot of land. A couple of minutes early, she put the car in park and waited, since Sam always said she’d meet her outside. An Oldsmobile was parked in the yard, the car Sam’s mom drove. Stephanie had never met her, though she wanted to. If her mom was home when Stephanie came, Sam would say it wasn’t a good time.

Stephanie checked the clock on the dash. 6:54. Wasn’t like Sam to be late. She called her cell, and no one answered. Two minutes later she cut the engine and walked up to the house.

Seeing no doorbell, she knocked. A woman answered, somewhat petite like Sam but with long, dirty-blond hair and makeup adorning weathered eyes. She held a cigarette in her hand.

“Miss Johnston?”

She eyed Stephanie. “My last name is Schechter.”

“I’m sorry. Miss Schechter, my name is Stephanie London. I’m a substitute teacher at the high—”

“I know who you are.” She flicked ashes to the left of Stephanie on the front porch. “You’re the one’s been telling my daughter I’m not good enough.”

“Ma’am?”

“That’s what it amounts to,” she said. “She’s always asking why we don’t have ‘real meals,’ why we don’t eat at the table, why we don’t talk about this or that . . .”

“I certainly didn’t mean to cause any conflict,” Stephanie said. “You’ve raised a special girl, and I was just moved to spend time—”

“And what right did you have to buy her all those clothes? Maybe I didn’t want her looking fancy. Did you think of that?”

“Oh, wow . . .”

Lord, help. How do I respond?

“I truly do apologize,” Stephanie said. “I wasn’t trying to make her look fancy at all. She said her clothes had gotten too small, so I wanted to help.”

Sam’s mom took a drag and flicked more ashes. “Well, we don’t need your help.”

“I understand. It won’t happen again.”

“Teri, didn’t I ask you to get me a sandwich?”

Teri turned to a voice behind her in the living room. Stephanie couldn’t see a face.

“Tell whoever that is that you’ve got to go,” the guy said.

“Coming, baby.” She turned back to Stephanie. “Guess you heard. I’ve got to go.”

“Actually, I was coming to pick up Sam. Do you know . . . is she ready?”

“That Soul thing?” She took another drag and blew it out. “She ain’t going. That’s the other thing. I’m sick of her all of a sudden talking to me like I need to find religion. I got enough problems without you filling her head with that junk.” Flick. “Matter of fact, if you contact Sam again, I’m calling the school board. Probably against the law for you to be taking her to this stuff. Try me and see what happens.”

Stephanie felt like she’d been knocked backward.

“Teri! You want me to starve?”

Stephanie needed to get out of there before she went off on both of them.

She looked Sam’s mother in the eye. “Appreciate your time.”





Sam couldn’t stop crying. From the window, she watched Miss Stephanie walk back to her car. She’d heard every word, and she wanted so badly to run out there, defy her mother, and go to Soul Sisters anyway. But she’d only feel bad when she got back home. She hated when her mother was mad at her.

Miss Stephanie turned her car around and took off up the road. Sam watched until she was out of sight, then lay across her bed. That’s where she’d be all night, with Hank in the house. She hated that too, when they hung out here instead of at his home. Her mom paid her even less attention when he was here, which Sam had hoped would work to her advantage tonight.

But her mother got an attitude when Hank told Sam she looked cute when she walked in from school. It went downhill from there, and later, when Sam mentioned Soul Sisters, her mom unloaded. She’d always seemed threatened when Sam shared what she was learning about the Bible—and this time she was riled enough to shut the whole thing down.

Sam rolled over on her back, staring at the ceiling, tears falling to the side. Did her mother mean it? Would she never be able to spend time with Miss Stephanie again? Never visit her house and play with the little girls? Those times at her house were the best Sam could remember. And Soul Sisters had become a favorite part of her week as well. She didn’t say much, mostly listened. But then she’d look up the things they’d said in the Bible her Grammie gave her.

How could her mom do this? It wasn’t like she was going to spend time with Sam. Was she supposed to go back to being by herself?

Her tears subsiding, she rolled onto her side and reached for her journal on the floor—and heard a text come in. She hoped it was Miss Stephanie, though she wouldn’t know what to say.

She found the phone on the bed and stared at it. The text said, Hey Sam can you talk? But whose number was it?

As if reading her mind, another text came.

It’s Ben. Leavn football practice, thinking abt u. U there?

Her stomach dipped, and she sat up. Really? Ben Willoughby was thinking about her?

She heard Miss Stephanie’s voice in her head, telling her not to answer him. But how could she not respond? That would be rude. Plus . . . she was dying to know what he wanted to talk about.

Nervously she typed back, I’m here. Yes, I can talk.

Seconds later her phone was ringing.