Page 104 - The Mending Season

that more than one person had been hurt.At school, anyone found reading that mornings edition ofthe paper was told to put it away.“Don’t read that in school time, please,”Mrs Allison said toone girl.Beth was not back in class. Mrs Tanner was the first teacherthat day, but she was late again, having been in an impromptu staff meeting.“Good morning, girls,” she said solemnly, as she came in. “Good morning, Mrs Tanner,”we said in unison. “Girls,”she started as she put down her pile ofbooks. “I’mafraid everyones quite upset downstairs”- meaning the staff room. “Beths parents are very angry about this whole thing.” Her voice was low, whispering as if telling us a secret. Still, she refrained from telling us exactly what had been said at the meeting between Beths parents and the principal. She brushed back her dyed red hair with the tips of her fingers. She looked out the window, checking if anyone was there and then lowered her voice even more. “I think the principal may be coming to speak with you sometime during this class.”Afraid and shaky, I bit my lower lip and looked down at my desk, trying to focus my thoughts. It was like sitting in your house knowing that the police were coming for you, terrified but aware there was nowhere to run. I remembered the times during the 1980s’ uprisings when the police had questioned my family and I had felt the same way. When I was younger I used to just climb the lemon tree and disappear, but as I got older the police wanted to ask me questions too, so I had to sit on the couch and wait with the aunts. You had to sit still and remember exactly what you saw and heard because when they got there you could not stutter or change your mind about what you could or could not remember.I took deep breaths and, avoiding everyone’s eyes, recalled to myself the scene on the netball court step by step. When104