much trouble."
Mr. Martin smiled. "When I was on the college basketball team and I gave my coach excuses like that, he would start to raise and lower his legs as if he were walking through a swamp," Mr. Martin said. "You know what I mean?"
I felt my throat close up and just shifted my eyes down.
"All right, Raven. I won't keep you any longer. You think over the things we discussed, and just know I'm here for you if you need to talk," he said.
I got up quickly, practically fleeing from his eyes and his probing questions. After I left his office, I stopped in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red from the strain of holding back the tears. Mr. Martin was right: it was harder to look at myself, especially after he had held up a mirror of reality and truth.
Thinking back to that, I realized how much harder, if not impossible, it was for Jennifer to look at herself in a mirror. Everyone in my uncle's home suffered from the same self-imposed blindness, especially Aunt Clara, who not only turned away and kept her eyes down but also pretended she didn't know anything was wrong.
I left Mr. Martin's office feeling even more sorry for myself and a little guilty. Many of the students who behaved poorly or performed poorly left Mr. Martin's office angry at him for making them look into that mirror. I should have expected the same sort of behavior from Jennifer. After all, I had threatened to expose her to Uncle Reuben.
The rest of the weekend went as usual. I kept to myself, did my chores and my homework. Aunt Clara was always inviting me to join them in the living room to watch television, but the few times I had, I felt Uncle Reuben's eyes burning into me. When I glanced at him, he immediately looked disgusted or angry. He made me feel like a pebble in everyone's shoes. I felt as if I had to thank him for letting me breathe the very air in his house, and I knew that he would never give me anything -willingly or with a full heart, not that I wanted anything from him. It hurt more that I had to depend on him for anything. This was truly what he called the burden of family relations, only it wasn't he who carried the weight of all that distress; it was me.
If I needed any reminders of the awkwardness between us, Jennifer was more than happy to provide them. She had ignored me most of the remainder of the weekend, but on Monday, as usual, she joined her friends at the bus stop, pretending I wasn't coming out of the same house with her. Our short-lived friendship to make it possible for her to attend the party was over. Ironically, because she had gotten herself sickly drunk and fooled around with Brad at Missy Taylor's, she was even more of a heroine to her friends. They were all waiting anxiously to hear the nitty-gritty details, as if throwing up your guts was a major accomplishment.
I sat in front with Clarence, but it was hard to ignore the raucous laughter coming from Jennifer and her clan in the rear. It wasn't until I was halfway through my morning that I began to understand why there were so many other students smiling at me, hiding their giggles, and wagging their heads. Just before lunch, some of them called out to me as they walked past Terri and me in the hallway.
"Heard you had a helluva weekend, Raven." "Surprised you can walk."
"Who's next on your list?"
"Is it true what they say about girls with Latin blood?"
No one waited for a response. They just kept walking, their bursts of laughter trailing after them. The questions were tossed at me like cups of red paint meant to stain and ruin.
"What are they talking about?" Terri asked.
"I have no idea," I said. Afterward, when we sat in the cafeteria, I told her what had happened at Missy Taylor's party.
"So you rejected Mr. Wonderful," Terri said. "He's not going to let anyone know that."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
I saw Jimmy and Brad had joined Jennifer and her friends at a table, and they were all talking quickly and laughing. Once in a while, they
Mr. Martin smiled. "When I was on the college basketball team and I gave my coach excuses like that, he would start to raise and lower his legs as if he were walking through a swamp," Mr. Martin said. "You know what I mean?"
I felt my throat close up and just shifted my eyes down.
"All right, Raven. I won't keep you any longer. You think over the things we discussed, and just know I'm here for you if you need to talk," he said.
I got up quickly, practically fleeing from his eyes and his probing questions. After I left his office, I stopped in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red from the strain of holding back the tears. Mr. Martin was right: it was harder to look at myself, especially after he had held up a mirror of reality and truth.
Thinking back to that, I realized how much harder, if not impossible, it was for Jennifer to look at herself in a mirror. Everyone in my uncle's home suffered from the same self-imposed blindness, especially Aunt Clara, who not only turned away and kept her eyes down but also pretended she didn't know anything was wrong.
I left Mr. Martin's office feeling even more sorry for myself and a little guilty. Many of the students who behaved poorly or performed poorly left Mr. Martin's office angry at him for making them look into that mirror. I should have expected the same sort of behavior from Jennifer. After all, I had threatened to expose her to Uncle Reuben.
The rest of the weekend went as usual. I kept to myself, did my chores and my homework. Aunt Clara was always inviting me to join them in the living room to watch television, but the few times I had, I felt Uncle Reuben's eyes burning into me. When I glanced at him, he immediately looked disgusted or angry. He made me feel like a pebble in everyone's shoes. I felt as if I had to thank him for letting me breathe the very air in his house, and I knew that he would never give me anything -willingly or with a full heart, not that I wanted anything from him. It hurt more that I had to depend on him for anything. This was truly what he called the burden of family relations, only it wasn't he who carried the weight of all that distress; it was me.
If I needed any reminders of the awkwardness between us, Jennifer was more than happy to provide them. She had ignored me most of the remainder of the weekend, but on Monday, as usual, she joined her friends at the bus stop, pretending I wasn't coming out of the same house with her. Our short-lived friendship to make it possible for her to attend the party was over. Ironically, because she had gotten herself sickly drunk and fooled around with Brad at Missy Taylor's, she was even more of a heroine to her friends. They were all waiting anxiously to hear the nitty-gritty details, as if throwing up your guts was a major accomplishment.
I sat in front with Clarence, but it was hard to ignore the raucous laughter coming from Jennifer and her clan in the rear. It wasn't until I was halfway through my morning that I began to understand why there were so many other students smiling at me, hiding their giggles, and wagging their heads. Just before lunch, some of them called out to me as they walked past Terri and me in the hallway.
"Heard you had a helluva weekend, Raven." "Surprised you can walk."
"Who's next on your list?"
"Is it true what they say about girls with Latin blood?"
No one waited for a response. They just kept walking, their bursts of laughter trailing after them. The questions were tossed at me like cups of red paint meant to stain and ruin.
"What are they talking about?" Terri asked.
"I have no idea," I said. Afterward, when we sat in the cafeteria, I told her what had happened at Missy Taylor's party.
"So you rejected Mr. Wonderful," Terri said. "He's not going to let anyone know that."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
I saw Jimmy and Brad had joined Jennifer and her friends at a table, and they were all talking quickly and laughing. Once in a while, they
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