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  “Clara.”

  “How'd you meet?”

  “She's an elementary school teacher. We met at a seminar.”

  “Was she nice?”

  “Yes, she was.” He looked at me. “Poe, is everything all right?”

  I looked out into the darkness, hearing the crickets, feeling the coolness of the night. “Why did you leave?”

  Moments passed. He didn't move, just sat staring out at the same thing I stared at. “Your mother and I found our selves following different paths, and…”

  “Please don't say that,” I said into the stillness.

  “What would you like to know, Poe?”

  “Why you left me.“

  “I didn't leave you…. I left….” He stopped then, and the most uncomfortable silence I've ever felt followed.

  “Did you just not love me?”

  “No. Yes. I loved you. I've always loved you.”

  “Then why?”

  He cleared his throat. Another car passed. “Poe, sometimes in this world, things just happen. Two people think they're in love, they make plans and have dreams, and then they realize mistakes have been made.”

  “Like having me?”

  He reached across the little table and put his hand on my knee. I brushed it off. Then wiped my eyes. He took a deep breath. “No. Not you. You were never a mistake.”

  “Then answer me. Why did you leave? Why did I meet you in person sixteen years after you left? Why, Dad?” I wiped another tear, trying to hide it. Trying to keep this man who was my father a stranger. An outsider to be kept at a distance.

  He looked straight ahead. “I've hurt you.”

  I sniffed. “I grew up wanting a dad so bad, you know? And Mom would never talk about it. Ever. Just the same old thing. You were gone. It didn't matter. We couldn't change the past. She never told me anything.”

  “I'm sorry Poe. I never realized…” Then he stopped. He set his coffee next to mine. “I left because I was young and foolish and frightened. We were both in school, your mother was headed toward being the surgeon that she is today, and I was heading toward writing the great American novel. And we got married. Our romance was full of passion and freedom and all the things that I wanted and that I'd ever been told were normal and perfect, and with that, you came. But I was scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of you, Poe.”

  I bent my head, staring at my lap. “Why?”

  “I was scared of being a father and all of the things that go along with it, and your mother despised me for it. It was weak, I was weak, and so I did what I thought best at that time. I left.”

  “Did she want you to?”

  “Yes.”

  “She still thinks that way about you. I can tell when I bring it up. Contempt. She treats me that way, too.”

  “Your mother is a strong woman. A woman with her opinions and her way of living. I didn't fit in with that, though I loved her and still do love her.”

  “So you left.”

  “Yes. I thought it would be better that I wasn't in your life.”

  “That's stupid.”

  “Yes, it is. And I've spent the last sixteen years being too ashamed of what I did to make it right. I've lived in this shell of a house trying to hide from myself, and then you came along, took that sledgehammer out, and pounded me on the head.”

  I closed my eyes. “I wish you never left.” It came out a whisper, with the tears dripping from the tip of my nose and onto my folded hands.

  There was nothing to say to that, so we sat, and he took my hand in his, and I let him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Physical education class took place two times a week at Benders High, and Friday rolled around with me heading toward the gym. Benders High had official physical education uniforms consisting of monogrammed sweats, shorts, and cheapo T-shirts. I looked terrific in my little outfit, and just being there made me want to become a pro volleyball player even though I was five foot one. I could barely touch the bottom of the net.

  Mrs. Policheck, otherwise known by the original and apt title Coach, was the girls’ instructor, and the gym was split in half, one side for the girls, the other side for the guys. I looked for Theo across the cavernous sports place but only saw Velveeta, dressed as I was in a dandy outfit.

  A hundred or so other red-colored dweebs wandered around hitting balls over nets before class officially started, and as the sounds of twice-weekly active young people echoed through the building, I sat on the bleachers and watched Velveeta.

  While most of the girls stood on the courts talking, most of the guys grouped on either side of the nets playing unorganized pickup games, spiking and bumping and setting. Velveeta stood on one of the courts as the balls sailed, shuffling toward balls that came close, then backing up when other guys swooped in to take them. Then I noticed something.

  Dotted throughout the courts of red sweats and T-shirts were guys out of uniform from the top up. They wore their football jerseys. Apparently the regular Benders High T-shirts weren't good enough for them. I looked again at the girls. A few of them also had what looked like jerseys on from the volleyball and softball teams. As I watched, the boys’ coach came in and blew his whistle. Heads turned, including Velveeta's, as balls fell to the floor. All except one.

  On the opposite side of the net where Velveeta stood watching the coach, a guy in a jersey held a ball. Colby Morris. He tossed it up, then jumped, spiking it like a bullet over the net. It hit Velveeta square on the back, and down he went, arms and legs tangled in a heap. It had to hurt, and the smack echoed from all the way across the room. Laughter ratcheted through the building as Velveeta writhed on the court, arching his back in pain.

  The coach blew his whistle, shook his head, then glanced at Velveeta. “Lines!” he bellowed, and guys scurried together as the coach walked toward the center of the courts. Another guy, this one in a red shirt, held out a hand to Velveeta to help him, and just as Velveeta was halfway up, the guy jerked his hand away, sending Velveeta sprawling on the hardwood floor again.

  More laughter, and the coach turned, shaking his head at the interruption. He pointed to the kid who did it, then jabbed his finger to the bleachers. The kid shrugged, then walked and sat. A few seconds later, Coach Policheck came in and told us to line up, too. I walked up to her, that sinking feeling in my gut that said I shouldn't do what I was about to do. “May I use the bathroom?”

  She smiled. “You must be Poe Holly. I'm Coach Policheck.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Yes. Go ahead.”

  I went into the locker room, opened my locker, ditched my Benders High T-shirt, and put my own T-shirt back on. A black Sex Pistols tee with a red anarchy sign slashed across it. When I walked into the gym, Coach Policheck frowned. “You need to wear your uniform, Poe.”

  “No, I don't.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don't have to wear your PE uniform.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  I pointed to the other side of the gym, to the football players, then swept my finger to the girls in their shiny jerseys. “They aren't.”

  She looked, then turned back to me. “Those are uniforms.”

  I looked down, smiling proudly like a complete idiot. “This is my uniform.”

  She set her jaw. The line of girls stood silent. “Young lady, I will have you change back into your uniform right now. Benders High School has a uniform policy for physical education.”

  “I am in my uniform.”

  She pointed to the football guys. “Those are Benders High School uniforms, and they are acceptable attire for this class. Now go change.”

  I smiled. “I want one, then.”

  She tapped her foot. “Go change.”

  “No.”

  “If you don't change right this instant, you'll be sent to Vice Principal Avery's office.”

  I smiled, glancing at Velveeta across the gym. At this point, the guys had noticed what I was doing, and you
could hear a pin drop as our voices vibrated through the building like a surround sound system. “Then maybe you should send me to the office.”

  Giggles broke out, and Coach Policheck pointed to the door. “Out. Mr. Avery will be notified of your arrival.”

  I walked into the locker room, slipped out of my sweats, got dressed, and left. The administration building sat across the courtyard, and as I walked, I thought about what I'd done. Four days into school and I'd already screwed it up. Figured. Poe Holly did one thing well, and this was it. They could go stuff themselves.

  I entered the office thinking about Velveeta squirming around on the floor and the coach ignoring him. He was the school entertainment, just like Theo said, and as I faced the office assistant sitting behind the counter, I didn't feel one ounce of regret for what I'd done. A sign on the counter read Ms. Appleway. My eyes went from it to her. In her sixties, she looked like everybody's grandmother. “I'm here for an appointment with Mr. Avery.”

  She smiled, looking down. “Yes. Coach Policheck called to let us know you'd be coming. Apparently a problem with our uniforms?”

  I smiled. “Not as far as I'm concerned.”

  She smiled wider, leaning closer and winking. “Good for you, kiddo.”

  I blinked, not believing she'd said it. I looked to a row of doors with seats by them. “Over there?”

  She nodded. “He'll be with you in a moment.”

  I took a seat in one of the padded chairs outside the door with the sign reading Vice Principal Avery, and a moment after Ms. Appleway buzzed his office, the door opened.

  Mr. Avery didn't have the usual suit and tie on that I was used to administrators strutting around in. He wore a pair of casual slacks and a polo shirt with Benders High stenciled on the left breast, and he weighed a good four hundred pounds. Ruddy cheeks blended into his neck, and his belly and hips flowed over his waistline like sacks of gelatin under his shirt. The indent of his belly button looked like a doughnut hole under the stretch of the fabric, and as he stood there, his volume left an inch or so of space to either side of the doorway. He hitched up his pants, sighed, looked at me, and smiled. “Ms. Holly? Please, come in.” I stood, and he held out his hand. “I was hoping to meet you under different circumstances.”

  I shook his hand, then followed him into the office. Two chairs sat in front of his desk, and my dad was in one of them. I rolled my eyes as Mr. Avery squeezed past a filing cabinet and sat. He cleared his throat. “Please, take a seat.”

  Dad crossed his ankle over his knee. “Hello, Poe.”

  I slumped in the seat next to him. “So I get the third degree from the start, huh?”

  Mr. Avery shook his head. “No, ma'am. Actually, your father and I were having a meeting when the call came. It was opportune that he stay.”

  “For who?”

  He glanced at my dad, then went on. “What seems to be the problem with your PE uniform?”

  I shook my head. “I think Coach Policheck might be confused about the uniform policy.”

  Mr. Avery didn't buy it. “You refused to wear your uniform?”

  “I was wearing my uniform.”

  “Coach Policheck notified me that you refused.”

  “Oh, you mean the crappy red thing? I put it on at first, but then when I realized you could wear cooler stuff, I changed.”

  He frowned, the pudge of his cheeks almost burying his eyes. “Cooler stuff?”

  “Yeah. You don't have to wear the uniform I was given.”

  “You do, though. It's school policy.”

  “No, it's not.”

  He took a deep breath, glancing at my dad again.

  “Why do you keep looking at my dad?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You keep looking at my dad like you don't know what to do.”

  Dad spoke up. “I think Mr. Avery is having trouble understanding what the problem is, Poe. I think I know, but why don't you explain?”

  I shrugged. “When I saw that you don't have to wear the PE uniform, I changed. Is there a problem with that?”

  Mr. Avery swallowed. “Who wasn't wearing their uniform?”

  “About ten or fifteen people. They were wearing different shirts.”

  A moment passed as he finally connected the dots. “Are you speaking of the sports uniforms?”

  “I'm speaking of not having to wear the PE shirts.”

  He nodded. “Sports participants are allowed to wear their jerseys during physical education class.”

  “So some people do and some people don't?”

  He shook his head. “Not exactly. They are Benders High uniforms, so we allow it.”

  “So it depends on who you are, then,” I said, slowly turning my head to my dad and smirking.

  Mr. Avery shook his head, wary. “Students may wear Benders High sports uniforms to PE.”

  “Cool. I want a football one to wear in PE. Theirs are nicer.”

  He looked at my dad. “I'm at a loss here, David. She's not on the football team.”

  Dad turned to me. “Poe, Mr. Avery is saying that if you have another uniform with the Benders High insignia, you are allowed to wear it to class because it is a Benders High uniform.”

  “I know. And I want a football one.”

  Mr. Avery cut in. “You can't, Poe. You don't play football.”

  “What do football jerseys have to do with PE? We're doing volleyball.”

  Mr. Avery lowered his voice. “You are welcome to try out for football, and if you make the team, you're welcome to wear the jersey to PE.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Are we done playing games yet? You know exactly what I'm saying. The extracurricular sports heroes get to wear fifty-dollar PE uniforms and the losers get the six-dollar ones.”

  Mr. Avery shifted in his seat, staring at the desk. “It's not that way really. They're the same.”

  “Cool. If they're the same, I want a football jersey.” I smiled.

  Mr. Avery's tone hardened. “You have to wear your uniform, Poe.”

  “But I want a super-duper one, like all the cool kids.”

  “Poe …,” Dad cut in.

  I backed off. “Okay, Mr. Avery. Then just answer my question and I'll wear the uniform.”

  He sighed, folding his hands together on his desk and hunching. “And what would that question be?”

  “That some people get to choose and some people don't, depending on your status here.”

  He sat back, totally frustrated. “Yes, you can wear a sports jersey if you play a sport at Benders High.”

  “You didn't answer.”

  “Poe…”

  I shrugged. “Some people get to choose and some people don't, depending on your status here.”

  He threw his pen on the desk. “Okay, fine. Some students get to choose. Happy?”

  I stood, smiling. “Just wanted to get things straight. Are we done?”

  Mr. Avery nodded. “Will you wear your uniform, Poe?”

  “Sure.” I looked at my dad, then scratched my head. “What were we talking about the other night, Dad? Oh yeah. How schools don't create cliques.”

  Dad groaned. “Poe …”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, I've got to go get my loser uniform back on and play volleyball with the special students. Bye.” I walked out, leaving them sitting there. Two could play at this game, and I was just winding things up.

  Chapter Twelve

  After school, I hitched my bag over my shoulder and headed for the choir room, still gleefully simmering over my conversation with Mr. Avery Choir practice began Monday morning before school, and Mrs. Baird wanted to give me the music I'd have to learn before then. I walked in the class, and she was alone. “Hi.”

  She looked up from her desk. “Hello, Poe. Thanks for stopping by.” She shuffled through a file on her desk, then picked it up and handed it to me. Her eyes were tense, the lines around them drawn and tight. “I included an event calendar and all the paperwork you'll need to attend the various competitio
ns. The fees are paid for by the school, so you won't have to worry about that. And …” She stood, opened a cabinet, and took out a package. “Here is your choir gown. It should fit, but if it doesn't, let me know and I'll get you another one. They're quite expensive, so be careful with it.”

  I looked at the plastic-wrapped and folded gown, in the red and black Benders colors and with the school signature emblazoned on it, and stuffed it in my pack. “Thanks. Monday morning at seven-thirty?”

  “Yes. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I attended to your class schedule, too, if you don't mind, switching your elective to choir fourth period.”

  “Cool.”

  She nodded, and I was out the door, walking home and wondering what would greet me when I got there.

  Dad wasn't around when I arrived, but Theo was. I hesitated when I saw him sitting on the porch steps. He smiled as I neared, then lounged back on his elbows. “You're my hero.”

  I unslung my bag and let it drop, plopping it on the ground and sitting. “Give me the definition of a hero and maybe I'll agree.”

  “A hero, as defined by Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, is a person who relentlessly pursues idiotic administrators and goofballs, putting herself in harm's way to expose the evil that lives within the systems we create to control people.”

  I smirked. “Evildoers. The president might be proud, but I'm not sure Mr. Avery is on the same level as rogue third world countries that want to develop nuclear weapons.”

  He shrugged, lazy in the afternoon sun. “It's all place and time, Poe. One man's Middle East is another woman's vice principal.”

  “Yeah, but Benders High isn't sitting on one of the world's largest oil fields.”

  “Come on, give yourself some credit. Word is you stood up to the beast and lived. What happened in his office?”

  “Gossip gets around quick, huh?”

  “Yep, so spill it.”

  “Nothing. I agreed to wear my loser uniform.”

  He gasped dramatically. “Where's the rebellion? The fire in your belly? God, if you're going to be a revolutionary, you can't cave in. It's very un-revolutionary-like. You're not some Gumby to be bent and twisted, are you?”

  “I'm not interested in a revolution. The rule is stupid, so I said something.”