Shine (Short Story) (2 page)

“Everyone line up behind Ruth,” Ms. Thomas repeated, and Ruth stood a little taller.

On the bus that night, headed back home, Mama wanted to know everything: What were the names of the friends she made? What did she learn in school? What was her teacher like?

Ruth told her about the clapping game and Marcus picking his nose and how she got to be the recess leader.

“And what about the other girls?” Mama asked.

“There's Maia,” Ruth replied. “She's from Texas and she used to ride horses every day. We played Princess during recess.”

Mama smiled so wide Ruth could see the pink of her gums. “Isn't that fine,” she said.

It was the first time, Ruth realized, that she had ever lied to her mama.

But then, was it so bad to lie if you told someone what you knew they needed to hear?

The amount of freedom at Ruth's new school was staggering. As long as you weren't making trouble, you could just get up and go to the bathroom, without raising your hand first. There were breaks and free periods and recess and times when students were working on individual projects. Even in third grade, the Dalton administration believed, children could and should choose their own paths.

Ruth's path was unobtrusive. She stuck close to Christina, if Christina let her—which was usually when no one else was around. Maybe out of guilt and maybe out of kindness, when Maia and the others
did
show up, Christina made sure that Ruth was still included, even if it meant just tagging along with the rest of them and laughing when the others laughed, although she hadn't heard the joke. Maia was the sun and they were all in orbit; Ruth happened to be on the outskirts of the universe.

Maia's birthday was the second Friday of school, and her mother brought in cupcakes. Each one had a maple leaf poking out of the icing. The leaf was translucent, made of sugar, and was painted with some kind of edible paint so that it looked real. Ruth had never seen anything like it, and she wanted to show her mother and Rachel, so she carefully wrapped hers in a paper towel and tucked it into the pocket of her sweatshirt.

Because it was Maia's birthday, she was the leader of the recess line that day. Everyone fell into place behind her, snaking down the hallway. From her vantage point farther back in the line, Ruth could see that Maia was wearing her sparkling rhinestone headband. But now, Ruth realized, there were three other girls in the class who had matching ones. They looked like halos.

Ruth turned away and focused her attention instead on the bulletin board that was on the wall. Ms. Thomas had hung up the family portraits they'd drawn on the first day of school, which felt like a thousand years ago. It was easy for Ruth to find hers, because it was the only picture with brown faces.

Well, actually that wasn't true. Ruth let her eyes hopscotch over the other drawings until she found Christina's. There was Christina, front and center, with Ms. Mina and Mr. Sam. There was her little brother, Louis. And in the far right corner, much smaller than the other bodies, was a brown woman wearing an apron and holding a plate of cookies. Ruth knew it was supposed to be Mama. Her mama floated there like an untethered astronaut.

Ruth imagined her swimming off the edge of Christina's page, across the bulletin board, and settling into Ruth's drawing, where she belonged.

Ruth felt a shove in her back and realized that while she had been busy daydreaming the line had started moving. Ruth muttered an apology to Lola, who stood behind her, and hurried to catch up to the others.

To be honest, Ruth had never really thought about the fact that her mama had to cook dinner for Christina's family and then come to Harlem and cook all over again for her own. Maybe it was Christina's drawing that got her thinking about this, but that night at home, she found herself watching Mama cook chicken in the pan. As usual, Granny was dozing in front of the TV; she helped out where she could but that was less and less as she got older. “Mama?” she asked. “Don't you get sick of doing everything twice?”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“You have to take care of Christina's house and our house too,” Ruth said.

Her mama smiled. “Well, now,” she replied. “One I do for work. The other I do for love.”

Just then Rachel walked into the kitchen and snorted. “It's still double the dishes,” she said.

Mama gave her a sharp glance. “Then maybe you should start doing your share of chores?”

It was at that moment Ruth remembered the maple leaf candy. “I have something to show you,” she announced. “They were on top of Maia's birthday cupcakes.”

She dug her hand into her sweatshirt pocket and unwrapped the paper toweling. The leaf, however, had broken into pieces, some so fine they'd turned themselves back into granulated sugar.

“What's that?” Rachel asked.

“A leaf made of candy,” Ruth answered.

“Okay.” Rachel laughed. “If you say so.”

After dinner, Mama told Rachel to take Ruth with her to play outside so she could sit down with Granny in the living room and put her feet up for a hot second. Ruth sat on the curb while Rachel and two of her friends giggled over the older boys shooting hoops in the lot across the street. “You see Joziah?” Denyce said. “He all that.”

Nia popped a bubble with her gum. “I heard he's strapped.”

“What?” Rachel said. “That's wack.”

Sometimes it seemed to Ruth that Rachel and her friends spoke a different language.

“He ain't got no gun,” Denyce said. “He just like to tell people he do.”

A gun? Ruth didn't realize she'd spoken out loud until the girls all stared at her. “Oh, look,” Nia said. “We shocked your baby sister.”

If Mama knew Rachel was anywhere close to the boys in this neighborhood who got into trouble, she would whup her and keep her locked inside.

“Leave me alone, Nia,” Ruth said. “I'm not bothering you.”

Nia smirked. “So what you sayin'?”

“Hey, Ruth,” Denyce asked. “How's your fancy school?” She got up from the stoop and sat down next to Ruth. Nia followed suit, sandwiching her on the other side.

“Look at that,” Nia said, grabbing Ruth's wrist. “I think your skin's getting lighter.”

“You practically a ghost,” Denyce said, and both girls broke up laughing.

“Aight, you fools,” Rachel interrupted. “Leave her be. It ain't her fault she smarter than both your brains put together.”

“I'm going inside,” Ruth announced, but she was pretty sure no one cared.

Her mama and Granny were on the couch, watching
Wheel of Fortune
. “What's the matter, baby?” Mama asked.

“Nothing,” Ruth said. “I just wanted to take a bath.”

She went into the bathroom the four of them shared. The tub had a crack in it that was the shape of a lightning bolt, and Ruth used to think that the water would run right through Mrs. Nattuck's ceiling, but since she'd never complained and they bathed every night, that probably wasn't the case. She ran the water and put on a shower cap to cover her hair and sank down to her shoulders. Then she lathered up soap on her washcloth. Her palms were pink, as pink as Christina's. She flipped her hand over, to the light brown of her wrist and forearm. Her skin had always been lighter than Rachel's; her sister had been dark as a berry her whole life. Was that why Ruth was the one who was going to Dalton?

Ruth picked up the washcloth and scrubbed at her left shoulder. She scrubbed so hard she could see the pink bloom of irritation under the brown of her skin.

It hurt.

It was beautiful.

On Monday, Ruth woke up before her alarm. She had brushed her teeth and dressed and packed up her schoolwork before her mama even came out of her bedroom. “Isn't someone in a hurry!” Mama said, but she smiled.

Ruth couldn't wait to get back to Dalton. Today they would be playing a math game and the winning team would get Halloween candy. She had practiced her times tables all weekend. She would win, and then she would share the candy with Maia and the other girls, and this time they would not just tolerate her, they'd welcome her.

When they reached Ms. Mina's brownstone and went in the service entrance, Ruth raced up the stairs. She sat on a kitchen stool, kicking her legs, and printed out multiplication equations on a napkin. Ms. Mina came into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. “It's just finished brewing,” Mama said. “I would have brought it up to you.”

“Oh, I know that, Lou,” she answered. “I was up all night with the baby and my body simply couldn't wait another second.” She glanced at Ruth, who was now solving her equations. “Well, look at
you
!” Ms. Mina said. “And I can barely get Christina out of bed!”

But this wasn't true because at that moment Christina came into the kitchen, wearing a rhinestone headband, to pick up her school lunch from Mama.

There were two teams. Ms. Thomas randomly divided the students in half, and set up a buzzer on a desk in the middle of the classroom. One member of each team would face off as she recited a multiplication equation. The first person to hit the buzzer and say the correct answer would get to shoot a ball made of masking tape into one of three baskets. The farthest one was worth the most points. At the end of the game, the team with the most points would win.

Ruth faced off against Marcus first, and was given a cream puff of a question: 3 x 4. She rang the buzzer and tossed the tape ball into the trash can that was closest, because she didn't want to risk missing completely and they were better safe than sorry. They rotated through two more times, and each time, Ruth won her heat (6 x 6, and the very tricky 8 x 9). Maia was on the other team, along with Christina. Ruth knew it wasn't charitable, but when Maia screwed up and said 4 x 7 was 24, her stomach flipped with satisfaction.

Finally it was tied, and Ms. Thomas said they had to choose a designated shooter from each team to make a winning basket. It would be sudden death—the person who was picked would throw the tape ball and then the opposing team's pick would do the same, until one of them missed. Ruth leaned back against the wall, waiting for her team to rally around Edward or Lucas, who were the most athletic in the class. But instead, someone suggested her name.

At first, she flushed with pride—was she being chosen because her team recognized her as an MVP? But then she realized that wasn't what was going on here. “Yeah, Ruth,” Edward said, nodding. “You know how to play basketball, don't you?”

Ruth nodded. She did know
how
—she'd watched neighborhood kids for years. But she'd never actually played the game herself.

“Of
course
she does,” said Lucas. “Duh.”

Reluctantly, Ruth took the tape ball and sank a basket into the farthest trash bin. Her team shouted and Lucas even gave her a high five.

The designated shooter for the other team was a tall boy named Jack who stuck out his tongue when he was concentrating, which wasn't often. He narrowed his eyes and let the tape ball roll off his fingertips. He, too, made the farthest basket.

Ruth took the ball again. She was not an athlete. She could barely walk and sing simultaneously during the Christmas pageant at church. There was absolutely no way she could be lucky enough to succeed a second time around. Then she remembered how Mama said there was no such thing as luck, just prayers being answered. So even though Ruth was certain God had more important things on His mind, she called on Jesus under her breath, and made a second basket. A third. Her teammates went wild.
Water into wine? Ha,
Ruth thought. This newfound athletic skill was a true miracle.

Jack took the ball, bounced on the tips of his toes, and stuck out his tongue. He arched one arm up, but the tape got snagged on the cuff of his sweater and fell about six feet short of the closest trash can.

“We have a winner!” Ms. Thomas sang, above a chorus of
Do over!
and
Not fair!
Ruth's team was hollering, patting her on the back and the shoulder, shouting her name. The teacher took out a bag of candy—Reese's peanut butter cups and Nestlé Crunch bars and Gobstoppers—and everyone on Ruth's team was allowed to stick their hand in and take a fistful.

Ruth made sure she got extra Reese's, then walked to Christina's desk. Maia was sitting on the top of it, whispering to Christina. “Want some?” Ruth asked, and she held out her cupped hands, letting them choose first.

“Everyone knows why you won,” Maia said.

Ruth lifted her chin a notch. “Because I knew my times tables.”

“More like because of how you look.” Maia tossed her hair. “I don't want your dumb candy,” she said, and she walked away.

Ruth stared at her. Christina fished through the candy Ruth held, choosing a Reese's. She unwrapped it and took a bite of the candy, leaving little ridges in the wake of her teeth. “I knew my times tables,” Ruth murmured.

“It's not you, Ruth,” Christina said. She popped the rest of the candy into her mouth. “She just doesn't like Black people.”

Ruth watched her granny's hands twist Rachel's hair, pulling and crisscrossing to magically create the neat cornrows that weaved across her scalp in parallel zigzags. Rachel winced and whined, like always, but the end result was the same: tight, even braids that fell down to her shoulders. “Done,” Granny pronounced, holding up the big hand mirror so that Rachel could see the back. “Ruth?”

Every other Sunday night, Granny washed and styled her granddaughters' hair. Granny had run her own place for years before it got to be too much for her to stand on her feet all day. Ruth climbed onto the stool, her hair still damp under the towel.

Granny's hands rooted through Ruth's hair, her fingernails scraping the scalp in a massage. She took her comb and made the first part.