***
Evan didn’t spend the afternoon with Clara as he had intended. His father needed him to help with administrative work at his office. His father was an orthodontist, and Clara hoped never to meet him. She was self-conscious about her one crooked tooth and didn’t want Evan’s father to ask why she never had braces. Evan explained that his father was hoping he would go into orthodontics and carry on the family business, but Evan had zero interest in teeth. He preferred engineering. He liked to build things, not straighten them.
Clara walked into her house that afternoon to find Ms. Debbie sitting in the living room with Beatrice.
“Hi, Ms. Debbie,” Clara said, placing her book bag and purse on the floor next to the front door.
“Clara, it’s getting cold, and fast,” Ms. Debbie said urgently.
“We’re doing fine, Ms. Debbie,” Clara responded. “And please stop sending over food. It’s very kind of you, but I have things here to make for dinner.”
“Canned tuna and instant potatoes?! Please!” Ms. Debbie said. “I want you to come stay with me.”
“We’ve already discussed this,” Clara replied patiently. She sunk down in the armchair across from Ms. Debbie.
“I like what we’re doing,” Beatrice offered. “It’s fun. And very green.”
“Green?” Ms. Debbie asked.
“Yeah, like the green movement,” Beatrice explained. “Conservation. That sort of thing.”
Ms. Debbie stared at Beatrice then said, “What the hell are they teaching you in those schools?”
“Ms. Debbie, I promise we’re fine,” Clara said.
“I don’t believe it,” Ms. Debbie replied. “It’s getting cold and I know your bedrooms are cold at night. We made an arrangement, and I don’t see any lights. You know what that tells me? It tells me that you still don’t have electricity. And it’s getting cold.”
“It’s not that cold yet, Ms. Debbie,” Clara said.
“I’m an adult and it’s my responsibility—”
“Ms. Debbie, please stop,” Clara interrupted. How could Clara begin to tell her the obvious? Ms. Debbie had little more than they had. She lived on her measly Social Security check that barely covered her own living expenses. Plus, she was probably giving money to her church when she had no business doing so. And I’m sure they have no problem taking it, Clara thought bitterly. She felt instantly ashamed of silently condemning a church that just recently collected food for her and Beatrice, and said a quick prayer for forgiveness. Still, she knew Ms. Debbie could afford only to keep herself. She had no idea where Ms. Debbie found the money for her birthday earrings. She didn’t want to know. But there was no way in hell Clara and Beatrice were going to live with her and run up her electric and water bills.
“Clara, I know what you’re thinking,” Ms. Debbie said. She glanced at Beatrice. “Please do not say it aloud. I am still your elder and deserve respect, and I do have pride.”
Clara averted her eyes. “We’re okay,” she said softly. “I promise. But the minute we’re not, I’ll tell you. I swear I will. You’re very good to us. And we’re very grateful.”
Ms. Debbie stood up. She took a deep, labored breath and waddled to the front door.
“I’m baking you a pie for dessert,” she said, her hand clutching the doorknob. “Beatrice, I expect you over in two hours to pick it up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Beatrice said. She couldn’t help but ask. “What kind, Ms. Debbie?”
“Cherry,” Ms. Debbie replied glancing at Clara, and left.
***
“Hi Clara,” Rebecca sneered.
Clara stood in front of the bathroom door about to leave. The door flew open, and Rebecca backed Clara against the far wall, two of her friends in tow.
“Why is it that shit always goes down in the bathrooms at school?” Rebecca asked laughing. She waited for Clara to reply, but Clara stayed silent. “You’ve been running your mouth about that incident at the restaurant, haven’t you?”
Clara shook her head.
“Bullshit. Why did Evan come up to me and tell me to stay away from you?” Rebecca asked.
“I didn’t tell him to do that,” Clara replied.
“Sure you didn’t,” Rebecca scoffed. “You just love being the good little victim, don’t you? Go cry to Evan and he’ll take care of it. You need to grow up and get a backbone.”
“I didn’t run to Evan about anything!” Clara yelled.
Rebecca ignored her. “I bet you two were having a great time laughing about my shirt.”
“No one gives a shit about your stupid shirt,” Clara snapped.
“And there’s your problem, Clara,” Rebecca said, arms folded over her chest. “You should care about my shirt. You should feel guilty for what happened. You should want to pay me back for ruining my expensive shirt. I mean, I know you don’t get it entirely because you’re poor and can’t afford nice, name brand things. But others of us can, and we get really fucking pissed off when a nice shirt gets ruined because of someone else’s little bitch sister.”
Clara felt the rush of rage. “You know I can’t pay you,” she said. “You said yourself I’m poor white trash.”
Rebecca smirked. “True. But you don’t necessarily need to give me cash. I can think of other ways to make you pay up.” She whipped her hand out fast enough to grab Clara’s purse before Clara could stop her.
“Give it back,” Clara demanded. She reached for Rebecca, but Rebecca’s friends rushed to stand between them. “Give it back!” Clara cried more urgently.
Rebecca rifled through the purse until she found Clara’s wallet. She opened it and frowned.
“Three dollars, Clara? Are you fucking kidding me?” and she took the cash, stuffing it in her pocket.
Clara tried to push past the girls, but they kept her pinned against the wall.
Rebecca pushed open a stall door and dangled the wallet over the toilet.
“Stop!” Clara cried as she watched Rebecca drop the wallet. It splashed into the dirty toilet bowl.