Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“Is it possible that the memories you have of your home life have been colored by your absence, because when I look at your record—”
“—my guardian’s never visited and I’ve spent every summer and every break except the winter one here at Boone. Is that what you were going to say?”
“Yes.” Ms. B pins me with a concerned stare. "I must be truthful with you, Elizabeth, in hopes that you can be honest with me. I view each one of the students here at the Boone School for Girls like my own child and I come to care for each of you, no matter if you spend four years here or one. I've watched you grow from a child to a woman in these past four years and it's brought me immeasurable pleasure. What I fear for you now is not that you will refuse to pursue a post-secondary education but that you will return to an environment that is not good for you emotionally. It hasn't escaped my notice, nor that of the others in the administration, that your guardian has not visited you once in the past four years. Are you certain that home is what you remember it to be?"
"Home is exactly how I remember it," I tell her. "But even if it wasn't, I'd still want to go."
Part of the reason I’m going home is to find out the truth. Did Leka leave me here because he was tired of having to take care of some street kid who he wasn’t even related to? Or did he stash me here out of concern for my safety?
But that’s a question only I deserve an answer to. Not anyone else.
“He is fairly young. It appears he is only fourteen years older than you. When was it that he became your guardian?"
I have no idea what it says in the file, so I've always hedged this part of the story. "Shortly before I came here for school."
“Is he the only family you have?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm.” She wants to ask more. They always do. “His job isn't listed here." She taps the folder. "Neither is his educational background. What exactly is it that he does?”
My preferred response here would be none of your business, but because I need Ms. B on my side, I smile sweetly and say, “It’s a family business. Food and beverage.”
“Ahh.” The information doesn’t thrill her. She adjusts her glasses. “The only reason I even bring this up is that children of families who do not have a history of college education often do not see the benefit of college as their parents or guardians appear to have succeeded without it.”
“Not just appear to succeed, Ms. B. Did succeed.” I can’t help correcting her. “I wouldn’t be able attend this private school ”—with all of its very rich kids—“if Leka wasn’t successful.”
No one gets to bad-mouth Leka. Except me.
And, then, because I need Ms. B on my side, I continue in a more conciliatory tone. "I plan to attend college when the time is right, but for now, like I said, I miss home and want to spend some time with my family"—meaning Leka—"before I go off for another four years of school."
Ms. B brings her fingers up to her lips. The corners of her mouth turn down and a furrow appears in her forehead. She taps her fingers against her closed lips for a couple of beats, appearing to be thinking hard about something.
I fight back the urge to wriggle in my seat like a small child.
Leka's connection to me has always been the source of speculation amongst the teachers and faculty. I've endured random but sly questions over the years from people who think that they need to know the truth. But I've known since forever—maybe since I was seven or so when that punk at elementary school accused Leka of being a child molester—that no one would understand. At least no one who wasn't abandoned as a child, left on the street to die or be taken.
Leka saved me and that's all that matters. Our relationship is not fodder for anyone's lunchroom or textbook, but I have to endure these questions because part of the evaluation is my mental fitness—whatever that is.
Ms. B still hesitates.
"Haven't I been a good student?" I ask, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. "I've gotten perfect grades. I have a clean record. I can't remember doing anything I wasn't supposed to do. I busted my as—butt to get four years of classes in three and a half. I even have nearly a full year's worth of college credit under my belt from all the AP courses I took. With all due respect, I'm an adult, Ms. B, and I'm done here. There's nothing more for me here in Boone." Not that there ever was. My home has always been with Leka. The question is whether there’s still room for me there.