“Amen” came a voice from the front of the audience.
“It took our people three hundred years to achieve emancipation in this country. Make no mistake, Board of Education,” Reverend Jeremiah continued, turning to the seated bureaucrats with a raised index finger. “We do not intend to relinquish that freedom any more than we intend to relinquish the leadership of Millicent Grover. This is our school, and if the rich white folks of Cortland Hill send their children here, they need to understand that and play by our rules, not theirs.” Thunderous applause followed.
Karen was sympathetic to Reverend Jeremiah’s argument. She was also disheartened by the divisive rhetoric on display.
Next up was a Grover parent named Lashondra Green who expressed the fear that an influx of wealthy families from Cortland Hill would cause the school to eventually lose its federal Title I funding, which currently enabled it to offer a wide array of enrichment programs, including Mandarin language, playwriting, and African dance. Did poor minority schools actually stand to suffer from the influx of wealthy whites? Karen was thrown off balance by the woman’s remarks, which seemed to echo what Susan Bordwell had complained about. Then again, if Susan and Lashondra were both right, why was the blue wall paint in Millicent Grover’s auditorium peeling off in giant trapezoid-shaped flakes while Mather’s walls were smooth and pristine? Whatever the case, Karen felt she’d heard enough. She also felt uncomfortable. When the next speaker finished, she slipped out of the auditorium as quietly as she’d slipped in.
On Wednesday morning after school drop-off, Karen was waiting in line at Dunkin’ Donuts—Karen assumed there was less chance of running into anyone she knew there, plus the coffee turned out not to be bad—when to her amazement April Fishbach suddenly appeared. She had a copy of Karl Marx’s Capital in one hand and a raisin bagel in the other. “I didn’t realize this was where the ruling-class moms hung out” was the first thing out of her mouth.
“Hi, April,” said Karen, embarrassed but also strangely excited by the sight of her. With any luck, April might supply Karen with the information she so desperately wanted.
“How’s the new school? Enjoying hobnobbing with the elite?” April went on. “Also, thanks for all the fund-raising help. Not!”
“You’re right—I suck,” replied Karen, who realized she’d become a legitimate target for April’s fusillades. “How’s Ezra?”
“Very well! You know, busy living the multicultural dream while others retreat into their velvet cages.”
“Fair enough,” said Karen. “Hey, I actually have a question for you. Is it true that the Winners Circle charter school is moving into Betts in September?”
“I prefer the term hostile takeover,” she replied. “But yes, and my comrades and I on the front lines are already planning our first guerrilla attack.”
“Cool,” said Karen, wondering precisely who these comrades were. Had April Fishbach finally made mom-friends at school? “But I thought you were into the whole nonviolent-slash-civil-disobedience approach to warfare.”
April cleared her throat. “I was, but I changed my mind. Sometimes a nation or a group of people is called upon to defend itself.”
“I see. So where and when will this insurrection take place? For the record, I’m happy to do anything I can to help.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to go into any more details about the operation. But I will say it’s motivated a lot of people who were previously apathetic to get behind the school.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“We’ve even gained a secret financial backer. Last week, the PTA received an envelope stuffed with a large amount of cash, if you can believe it. Or, actually, we received two envelopes. Two in ten days.”
“Wow, really?” said Karen, her heart dancing in her chest. “How strange.”
“As you well know, I don’t believe in asking for money,” said April. “But when it appears in one’s lap to finance one’s campaigns, one can hardly be expected to refuse it.”
“Of course not,” said Karen, marveling at the thought that she’d finally won April’s approval, albeit without April knowing it, which somehow made it all the sweeter.
“So, that’s the update. Meanwhile, how are all the Mather moms in their fauxhemian Indian apparel and fair-trade frocks?”
“Well!” said Karen, smiling despite herself. It seemed she was not the only one who’d noticed the dress code at Ruby’s new school. And was it possible that, after all these years, she was starting to like April Fishbach? “Anyway, it was nice running into you. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I actually miss Betts.”
“So why’d you leave?”
Karen sighed. “It’s a long story. And I can’t say I’ve made peace with it. I’ll tell you some time if you’re really interested.”
“I have all the time in the world,” said April. “In case you didn’t know, I’m a middle-aged perpetual graduate student. We don’t have deadlines.”
“Fair enough.”
“Also, for the record, and although we never got along, I was sorry to see you go.”
“Well, that’s nice of you to say,” said Karen. “Maybe we can meet for coffee next month, and I can fill you in.”
“Sure.”
“In the meantime, can I ask you one more question before you go?”
“What’s the question?”
“I heard Jayyden left Betts. Is that true?”
April sighed. “He didn’t leave just the school—he left the city. Apparently, there was a fire in his aunt’s apartment, and Jayyden was blamed. Since he’d just turned ten, there was legal justification for shipping him off to some kind of juvenile detention facility a few hours north of here.”
“You’re kidding,” said Karen, shocked and horrified by the news. “But how do they know it wasn’t an accident? What if he was just trying to light the stove or something?”
“I told you all I know,” said April. “In any case, I’m probably alone among the parents in Miss Tammy’s class in saying that I was actually sorry to see him go too. Maybe I’d feel differently if he’d ever bothered Ezra, but I always had a soft spot for Jayyden. He’s had a shitty life, which appears to be getting even shittier. And for the record, I thought he was more or less justified in punching out that little bitch Maeve.”
“I secretly did too,” mumbled Karen. “But please don’t tell anyone.”
“My lips are sealed.”