Mute (9 page)

“Officer
Williams, please,” Mrs. Mint said as she tapped her on the arm.

Whipping
her braids over her shoulder, she turned around and eased up on her pace toward
the child. “Why are you letting her jaw at Mariella? Let the girl have her
space.”

“I’ve
watched these girls play together all year. They’re friends. Eva is frustrated
and confused that Mariella is acting differently. I know it’s hard to watch,
but it’s part of the healing process.”

“You
call that healing?” The officer stopped and got up in the teacher’s face. As
her brow tightened with anger, her skin suddenly appeared a lot darker to Mrs.
Mint. “Because I call that torturing a kid who’s already been through enough.”

She
stood a good five inches taller than Mrs. Mint. She didn’t have a hard,
muscle-toned body like the stereotypical female cop, but detective Williams
looked plenty pumped as she grew ultra protective of the girl. Even with her
uniform, she wasn’t as intimidating as that meddling Principal Callahan. Mrs.
Mint wouldn’t let him teach her class for her and she wouldn’t let this brash
policewoman do it either.

“We
have a saying in this school: progress isn’t painless,” Mrs. Mint said. “We
can’t swoop in and rescue children every time they’re in an uncomfortable
situation. First of all, there aren’t enough eyes and ears in the school to do
that. But most importantly, children must learn conflict resolution through experience.
If things get really heated, of course I’ll step in, but not for a pithy
argument.”

“You
didn’t see what this girl’s lived through. You didn’t see how her parents’
bodies were mutilated before her eyes. So please excuse her if she’s just a
little sensitive.”

Wiping
the beads of sweat out from under her stubby nose and plump chin, Mrs. Mint
swallowed a gulp of humility. Her first instincts as a teacher had blinded her
to Mariella’s plight. She couldn’t treat this girl like any other student, at least
not yet. If that required walking on eggshells with the entire class, then so
be it.

“Okay,
Officer Williams. I’ll handle this,” Mrs. Mint said. “Just please sit down
while I… Hey! Stop it boys!”

While
they were arguing over Mariella, the girl had been cornered against the fence
not by an offended former friend, but by kids who never were her friends. Kyle
Buckley blocked her off on one side and Cole Buckley grabbed the ball. Mariella
wouldn’t let it go, but she couldn’t stop him from dragging her away from the
fence and out into the open field, where the whole class could see her
ridicule.

“My
daddy pays his taxes,” Cole shouted at the Mexican girl. “This is my ball, not
yours!”

“If
you want our ball, you should ask us,” Kyle said. “Come on, speak some English.
Let me hear it. Can you say baaaaall? Or is it ballo? El ballo?”

Mrs.
Mint lumbered across the field on her aching feet as Officer Williams dashed
out ahead. They both were slowed by the kids running the same direction for a
front row seat at simmering confrontation. A chorus of boys started chanting
“fight”. It made the teacher absolutely sick. How could those young minds in
her class have been molded so cruelly? Cole stood nearly a full head taller
than Mariella and must have outweighed her by 25 pounds. Her slender hand could
barely fit into the boy’s palm.

Squeezing
the ball with both hands, Cole swung Mariella around so fast that she left her
feet. The determined girl wouldn’t release it. She didn’t look angry or even
afraid. Mariella seemed bewildered, as if she had awoke from a coma and found
someone stealing her blanket. As the boy dragged her into the sand box
surrounding the jungle gym, Mariella found her footing. Suddenly, Cole couldn’t
move her an inch.

“You
wanna get hurt?” the boy asked her. “If you don’t let go, you will get hurt
really bad.”

“Cole
Buckley! Don’t you dare!” Mrs. Mint shouted as she hurried over. She wouldn’t
make it in time, and neither would the officer.

“Make
her eat dirt!” Kyle commanded his brother.

Cole
grabbed Mariella around her shirt collar with one hand and kicked at her ankle
so she would fall into the sand. As she released the ball, Mariella avoided his
foot by stepping into him and delivering an explosive shove to the boy’s chest.
Cole flew backwards, flinging the ball into the air. He banged his head on the
bottom rung of a metal ladder with a jarring ping. When the shock wore off
after a few seconds, Cole started wailing. His sobs were so ear-splitting that
Mrs. Mint didn’t care whether he brought it upon himself or not. Cole didn’t
deserve such pain. Blood streamed out of his mouth from the hole left when his
baby tooth had been knocked out on the bar.

Mariella
turned her back on the boy as if he didn’t exist and calmly retrieved her ball
from the sand. Williams ignored the wounded kid as she finally reached the
girl. She scooped the unharmed Mariella up in her arms.

“I
got you now, baby. Don’t worry,” the detective told her foster child, who still
held the ball tightly. “I’m so proud of you. You defended yourself from that
bully. I promise, next time he won’t even touch you.”

Mrs.
Mint didn’t understand where the girl’s sudden outburst had come from. Mrs.
Mint had seen grief transform into aggression many times, but never such cold
aggression. Mariella didn’t seem mad when she pushed Cole. She must have tapped
some deep reservoir of adrenalin-filled rage to chuck him across the playground
with the force she did. She should suspend Mariella for that. Yet, given all
that the poor girl had been through in the past few days, Mrs. Mint decided
she’d call the DCF and let them figure out how long a leash they should put on
Mariella.

They can’t let Mariella in my class
unless she’s under control. It’s going to be a nightmare explaining to the
Buckley parents that I let a socially-disturbed girl attack their son. I better
not mention she’s Mexican or they’ll really flip.

Mrs.
Mint unfolded Cole from the fetal position and got a good look at the large red
bump growing on the side of his head like an apple budding on a branch in fast
motion. His eyes were glassy and could barely follow her fingers. He had a
concussion. He should consider himself lucky that he didn’t have something
worse. A fall like that could have fractured his skull.

With
his brother watching in pale-faced shock, Cole got scooped up by Mrs. Mint. She
trudged across the playground toward the nurse’s station. She didn’t tell him
anything about how he had misbehaved, even as he bled all over her white shirt.
Mariella had told him plenty.

Chapter 7

The
terrified girl wouldn’t release Moni’s free hand so she could answer her phone
as she drove Mariella home. She had a notion that the person on the line would
tell her something that would punch a hole in her gut. Moni wished she could
just whisk Mariella back to her house, barricade the door and bar the windows.

I’m not hiding in the closet like a
scared child anymore.

She
wiggled free of the girl’s hand and answered her phone. DCF agent Tanya Roberts
told her they better meet at the child psychologist’s office—now.

Mariella’s
pleading eyes begged her no, but Moni had little choice. If she didn’t take the
girl back for another mental probing, the DCF would surely revoke her temporary
custody. She could imagine the young one kicking the air as two burly officers
dragged her into an interrogation room, where Sneed would sit with drool
dripping from his bulldog choppers. The door swings shut. Bang! She’s gone.

“Just
act like you’re sorry—even though that brat deserved it,” Moni told the girl as
they waited in the elevator to Dr. McKinley’s office. Afraid he might have a
camera in there, she put in a little something extra for show. “But just
because he was mean, doesn’t mean you should hurt him.”

She
had trouble saying that convincingly. Moni had endured endless teasing in
elementary school. The white girls called her “dummy darky” and asked each
other whether somebody smelled a monkey when she came around. Some of the
darker-skinned black children labeled her “Oreo baby” and scorned her when they
saw her playing with white boys. She dressed herself in Martin Luther King
shirts, but they called her a “poser” and only half a King. The other half of
her had shot King dead, they told her.

Moni’s
parents hadn’t helped her much with the bullies because they were locked in a
feud with each other. If her father had given a damn about her, he would have
found her another school.

As
she entered the psychologist’s waiting room with Mariella in hand, Moni
realized what the girl needed. She didn’t belong in school in such a fragile
state. Moni should care for her at home. She must protect the girl above all
else. The blood vessels in Moni’s head pulsed so hard that it felt like pistons
pounding inside her skull. Mariella quickly released her hand as Moni rubbed
her temples. That eased the pressure.

“Are
you okay, there?” Dr. Ike McKinley asked from the doorway of his office. “Can I
get you some Aspirin?”

“No,
I’m fine,” Moni said as she shook her head. The recesses of her brain rattled
into working order. As quickly as it had come, the headache vanished. “I
haven’t had one like that before. Must be a sign that I need more sleep.”

“Between
the investigation and the girl, I’m sure a lot’s on your mind. I hope it’s not
overwhelming,” the psychologist said as he ushered Moni and Mariella into his
office.

Obviously,
he implied that a first-time parent and novice at investigating homicides
couldn’t juggle so many responsibilities, Moni thought. So much for the shrink
bolstering her confidence.

Tanya
Roberts scooted her plump booty over so they had room on the couch. She
welcomed them with a warm smile that didn’t do squat to reassure Moni that she
didn’t have terrible news waiting for them on the tip of her tongue. With her
feet digging in as heavy as cement, the girl clung to Moni’s leg. Moni patted
her on the head. Mariella loosened up and found a spot beside her on the couch.

“Don’t
be afraid, little one,” Tanya said. Mariella hugged her knees against her
chest. “You’re not in trouble. What you did was wrong, but I think you know that.
We’re not here to punish you.”

The
DCF agent probably wouldn’t consider it a punishment if she took the girl from
the home she’s grown so comfortable in, Moni thought. Tanya had always made
sound judgments in their past child abuse cases together, but for some reason,
this time her intentions seemed more ominous.

“So
what are we here for?” Moni asked.

“You
are a successful career woman, Officer Williams, but parenting is quite a
different challenge,” McKinley said. “Even people who have experience raising
children can find themselves overwhelmed by a child who presents… certain
special challenges.” He extended his palms as if he were balancing eggs on
them.

“This
girl needs me.” Moni draped her arm around Mariella, who nestled her head on
her shoulder. “I’m the only person in the world she trusts right now.”

“That’s
great, but if a wounded dolphin that washed up on the beach falls in love with
me, does that give me the power to heal it?” the psychologist asked. “Should I
not call a dolphin expert?”

Moni
knew the answer, but she refused to let him hear it from her mouth.

“I’ve
taken courses about dealing with juveniles in traumatic situations,” Moni said.
“I can handle it.”

“You’ve
taken classes on how to comfort kids for a few hours and interrogate them,”
said McKinley, who couldn’t have known that unless Sneed had given him all the
dirt on her. “And from what I understand, you still haven’t gotten her to
communicate, so I don’t see how your training has been all that effective.”

All
her life, every white authority figure she had known doubted her ability. Even
when she aced English in middle school, her teacher passed her over for the
spelling B and the essay contest. It didn’t matter what she did, no one would
show an ounce of faith in her.

“Let’s
not make this about her training,” Tanya said. Finally, a sister came to her
rescue. “Moni, I can see you’re trying real hard. But you better understand
that we can’t have another disaster like this. You’re the only person the girl
will listen to right now. So you go tell her that she can’t go getting in any
more fights.”

Moni
felt like telling Tanya those junior Klansmen twins stirred the shit up, but it
wouldn’t make any difference. So she said what the agent wanted to hear.

“I’ll
have a long talk with her and make sure she understands how to walk away next
time,” Moni said with a nod to Mariella. “But, until it sinks in, I think
Mariella should stay home with me.”

“Home
with you?” McKinley half rose from his chair. “But don’t you have a mur…” He
eyed the girl and swallowed that last word. “I mean, a bad man to catch?”

“I’ll
do what I can with her in my office, but, anyway, she’s the most solid lead we
have in this case,” Moni said. “The best thing I can do is keep her safe and
gradually work with her on recounting the event.”