Hyacinth Girls Read Online Free Page B

raised the rent, and when I brought down the monthly check, Mrs. Romero always gave me a gift. If she didn’t have a cake or casserole ready, she’d grab a box of cookies and hand it over as if this was what I was really paying for. But when she opened her door last night, I realized we wouldn’t be talking about school. “There’s a new one, Rebecca,” she said, and then she went to retrieve the letter. It was postmarked from York Correctional Institution, and had my name on the front. Mrs. Romero checked our mailbox daily so that Callie wouldn’t find one. Most of the letters were addressed to me, but a few had been sent for Callie. “You’re never tempted to read one?” Mrs. Romero asked, and I shook my head. I always burned them. After Callie fell asleep, I torched it in the sink. Now, if Callie’s principal was disturbed by a little paint, how would she feel if I brought up murder? If I pointed out that
real
tragedies happened all the time?
    “Do you know what Robyn said to Callie?” I asked instead. “She told Callie that her mother died so she wouldn’t have to look at her.”
    Mrs. Jameson looked down her nose at me as if I’d made this up on the spot. “Did Callie report this? Did she tell her teachers?”
    “I’m sure she did.” I feigned confidence. “Yes, of course.”
    “Well, I haven’t heard that before, and I’ll certainly look into it, but I do have an impartial witness who spoke to me about what happened yesterday. And according to her, Callie’s been bothering this student for a while.”
    “Who was the witness? Do you mean the alleged victim?”
    “I don’t give out student names, but there was a witness other than the student who was assaulted.”
    “You have
one
witness out of a whole classroom of students? I’m guessing this isn’t an adult. There wasn’t an adult in that classroom.” My hands were starting to tremble, so I shoved them under my thighs. “And what about our witness? Ella
saw
Robyn put the paint on herself.”
    I forced myself to look her in the eye. Mrs. Jameson tugged at the collar of her low-cut blouse as her jewelry swung drunkenly above her cleavage, and suddenly I realized what all the makeup and jewelry and cleavage were about. She wanted kids to like her, to think that she was cool.
That Mrs. Jameson, she’s okay!
And why would she want that? Because she’d once belonged to the same tribe as me: the awkward kids, the unpopular ones. Maybe she’d been bullied herself. That was why she trusted Robyn over Callie. That was why she would harbor a grudge against a kid who was naturally popular and pretty.
    “You’ve already decided Callie’s guilty without any kind of investigation,” I continued. “You’re assuming that because she’s popular and this other girl isn’t that she’s the one with the power and she’s the bully. But that’s an old-fashioned idea and it isn’t very helpful.”
    Mrs. Jameson looked stumped for a moment, but then she began the “I’m just like you” speech that I often used myself. She had a daughter, too, and it was tempting to overlook certain things. Girls often had a difficult time admitting they’d behaved poorly, but if we didn’t acknowledge their bad choices, we’d have trouble guiding them in the future.
    “Mrs. Jameson,” I said sharply. “Callie’s lost both her parents. Nowimagine that this girl was lying about you. Imagine that your reputation was getting dragged through the mud.”
    Before she could respond, there was a knock on the door. For just a millisecond I saw a look of relief cross Mrs. Jameson’s face. The school secretary stuck her head in. “Sorry. Can I just borrow you for a sec?” Mrs. Jameson stood up while I squeezed my fingers together—taking a deep, shaky breath once she was out of the room. I remembered what Callie had told me earlier, how Mrs. Jameson sometimes embarrassed herself in front of the whole school. Callie knew I wasn’t naturally confident, so she’d