Turn About
by Steve Dishon
Sarah Williams pulled her backpack tight against her chest as the car rolled to a stop in front of Meadow Park Middle School. The building looked enormous compared to her old school, and even more noticeable was the condition. There were no boards on the windows. The grass was manicured next to fences that were completely intact. There was no trash strewn on the ground. It was immaculate, something from a dream.
She swallowed. Her knuckles were white. She didn’t realize how tightly she squeezed her backpack.
“You will be fine,” her mother said, patting her gently on the hand. “Remember who you are. Lead with kindness. Remember, you are new. Give the others a chance. It’s new to them too.”
Sarah nodded begrudgingly. Ever since her father got a new job across town, everything had changed—new house, new neighborhood, new school. Meadow Ridge was known for academic excellence and a proud history. It was also known, and pointed out frequently since Ruby Bridges made her proud walk the year before, as white, very white.
Sarah stepped out of the car. She smoothed her navy-blue skirt and tugged lightly at the sleeves of her cardigan. The school uniform was a kind of armor, or camouflage. Sameness was something she yearned for this day. She may be dressed the same, but she clearly was not. Sarah was but one of a few dark faces in a sea of white.
The kids were busy chatting, playing around and chasing each other. As Sarah passed, many paused, looking with disapproval. Sarah held her head high and pushed on. No one said a word, but the stares spoke volumes.
Once inside, the hallways were a cacophony of chatter and the slamming of lockers. The noise was dizzying at first, but became a distraction that soon allowed her to scoot through without notice. She paused, checked her schedule that was crumpled from her pocket. Room 214. Looking up, she saw the arrow to her hall; she deftly navigated the hall quickly on the way to homeroom.
When she entered, conversations stopped abruptly. A few students glanced up, lingered for a moment, then looked back down to avoid eye contact. Others stared openly before whispering to one another. Sarah was frozen. This was going to be more than she could take.
Her teacher, Mrs. Harper rose and approached Sarah, who was seemingly cemented to the floor. “You must be Sarah. Welcome. You can sit in the first row, in front of my desk by the window.”
Sarah exhaled and slid into the seat trying to disappear. After she collected herself, she opened her notebook and got out a pencil. She began glancing around the classroom. She was mesmerized by the maps on the chalk board, the large book shelves overflowing with books and projector pointing toward a large clean white screen. In her old school, resources were limited and what they did have was second hand.
The morning passed uneventfully. Lots of rules and procedures. No one was openly rude, but no one tried to talk to her either. She followed instruction and did her work discreetly. At lunch, she sat at the end of a long table and picked at her food while the girls across from her talked about piano and dance classes, something she knew nothing about. Sarah’s parents were supportive, but couldn’t afford private lessons of any kind.
By the time lunch was over, her stomach felt tight and hollow at the same time. Sitting there alone was nerve racking, but heading back to class wouldn’t alleviate that feeling.
When the bell rang to head to science class, Sarah decided to use the restroom. She followed the hallway signs and pushed open the door. The restroom was empty. She quickly relieved herself and then walked to the sink and splashed cool water on her face. She grasped the edge of the sink and stared at the mirror. She took a moment to reset. Today had been a lot, but she had already made it halfway.
“You can do this,” she whispered to herself- she wasn’t sure she actually believed it.
She finished quickly, grabbed her notebooks, and headed toward the door. Pushing the door open, she pushed it right into two girls who were entering. Lisa and Emily, both girls from homeroom.
The two had long blonde hair and matching pink lip gloss. It was hard not to feel less-than when being in the same room with these two.
“Sorry, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Sarah spat out quickly.
Stepping back, Lisa said, “It’s ok. No harm, no foul.”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Emily concurred.
The two looked at each other briefly, as if speaking an unspoken language. “See ya later,” giggled Lisa.
Sarah walked out into the hallway, the door swinging shut behind her. She couldn’t shake a nagging feeling.
By the time she reached the classroom, a piercing shriek split the air.
The fire alarm.
Students froze for a fraction of a second before chaos erupted. Door banging open, teachers shouted directions, sneakers squeaked against tile as everyone rushed toward the exits.
“Single file! Stay calm!” Mrs. Harper yelled to no avail.
Sarah’s heart pounded as students rushed by her toward the exit. Mrs. Harper followed the last student. “C’mon Sarah, this isn’t a drill. We need to get outside.” She put her hand on her shoulder and ushered her toward the door.
Outside, the entire school gathered out front by the flag pole. Teachers checked attendance sheets and held up cards indicating whether or not all of the students were accounted for. The principals walked back and forth looking for the indication that all the students were safe.
“Do you think it’s real?” one student asked.
“Probably just a drill,” another replied.
But then Sarah saw the fire truck pull up, lights flashing red against the brick building. Firefighters jumped out, unrolling hoses and one by one, disappearing inside.
It wasn’t a drill.
A few minutes later, she noticed Lisa and Emily standing with a cluster of girls. They were whispering and gesticulating. Lisa’s eyes darted across the lot until they landed on Sarah.
Lisa raised her hand, waving the teacher over. She leaned in close, saying something to the teacher.
The teacher stood up straight, her expression changed immediately. She waived to the assistant principal, calling him over. They spoke briefly. The assistant principal marched off in the direction of the school’s principal.
Once the fire department cleaned up the mess and determined that the school was safe, the assistant principal walked toward Sarah.
“Sarah Williams?” he asked.
“Yes?” Her voice came out smaller than she intended.
“The principal would like to see you.”
A wave of heat washed over her. Her stomach was doing flips. Her expression changed, “Me?”
“Yes. Come with me.”
The walk back into the building was excruciating. Walking past stares was one thing, but being marched to the office was another. The building still smelled. The smoke had subsided, but whisps of smoke still hung in front of the restroom, now covered with yellow tape.
Secretary Betty Wilson looked at Sarah disapprovingly as she passed her desk. Sarah lowered her eyes. “Remember who you are,” her mother had said. A lot of good that will do me now.
Principal Donovan sat behind his large wooden desk, his hands folded. Lisa and Emily were already seated in chairs along the wall. Sarah’s throat raced to her stomach and back again.
“Sarah,” Principal Donovan began, his tone firm, “It has come to our attention that you were seen in the restroom shortly before the fire started.”
She blinked. “I—I was in there. But I didn’t—”
Lisa spoke up quickly. “She was the only one in there when we walked in. And then we smelled smoke right after she left.”
Emily nodded vigorously. “Yeah. It was like she ran out. She practically knocked us over with the door.”
“I didn’t run!” Sarah’s voice trembled. It was becoming clear that she was set up and no one would believe her.
Tears burned at the corners of Sarah’s eyes and rolled down her reddening cheeks.
“I did not start a fire,” she started. “Today has been hard. Kids don’t take to me. They look at me like I’m diseased. No one has really talked to me all day, but I would never harm anyone. I love the teachers, and the classes…..it’s amazing. I have never seen anything like it. My school had nothing. I want to stay. Please don’t kick me out.” Her voice had risen, increasing in speed, but she realized she was starting to ramble. She paused, put her hands in her lap and looked down.
A knock interrupted them. Mrs. Shelton, the secretary, poked her head in and said, “Sir, you are going to want to hear this.” A firefighter stepped inside, removing his helmet.
“We’ve identified the source,” he said. “It was contained to one stall. Looks like some notebook paper was set on fire in the trash can.”
The firefighter held up a clear evidence bag. Inside was a partially burned sheet of lined paper, blackened around the edges.
“Most of it’s gone,” he said, “but the top portion survived.”
He tossed the bag down on the desk and turned the bag so they could see.
At the very top, written in neat blue ink, were the words:
Lisa Andrews
English – Period 2
All eyes turned to Lisa, now shrinking into her chair.
Principal Donovan leaned forward slowly. “Lisa?”
“I—I don’t know how that got there,” she stammered.
The firefighter continued, “Looks like the paper was torn from a spiral notebook. Whoever did it crumpled several sheets and lit them with a lighter.”
“A lighter?” the principal asked.
“Yes, sir. We found one melted near the bottom of the can.”
All eyes turned back to Lisa and Emily.
Emily’s lips trembled. “Lisa…”
Lisa shot her a warning look.
Principal Donovan put an immediate end to the meeting and called the parents.
Within half an hour, Sarah sat in the conference room with her mother beside her. Lisa and Emily sat across the table with their own parents. At the head of the table sat Principal Donovan.
Sarah’s mother squeezed her hand gently. “Tell the truth,” she whispered.
Principal Donovan cleared his throat. “We are here to discuss the fire that occurred in the sixth-grade girls’ restroom today.”
He recounted the timeline carefully. Sarah entering and leaving. Lisa and Emily entering after. The alarm. The accusation. The evidence.
Lisa’s mother looked stunned. “Lisa, is this true? Was that your paper?”
Lisa began to accuse Sarah of taking her paper, rambling into an incomprehensible excuse. Or maybe she had been in the bathroom earlier, left it then. The longer she went, her composure began to crack and the stories became more confusing. Finally, she broke, “It was just a joke,” she muttered.
“It was just a joke?” her father implored. “The kids didn’t mean anything.”
“We didn’t think it would spread that fast!” Emily burst out, tears spilling down her cheeks. “We just wanted to scare someone!”
“Scare someone?” Sarah’s mother repeated sharply.
Lisa stared at the table. “We saw Sarah go in. And… we thought… if there was a fire, they might think…” Her voice trailed off.
“Think what?” Principal Donovan pressed.
Lisa didn’t answer, but the silence hung in the air, ugly and unmistakable.
Sarah felt something shift inside her—not fear this time, but something steadier. ‘Remember who you are.’
“You thought they’d blame me,” she said quietly.
Principal Donovan looked at Sarah and back to Lisa, “Starting a fire is a serious offense, but falsely accusing another student is equally serious.”
After a few seconds, Principal Donovan decided that Lisa and Emily were suspended pending expulsion, much to the chagrin of their parents.
As the meeting ended, Lisa’s mother approached Sarah and her mom.
“Don’t look so smug. Your daughter has been here for one day. My entire family has been at this school for generations. You people aren’t going to change anything. My daughter will be back. Your’s won’t be here long.” She shot daggers with her eyes, her jaw grinding her teeth. The rage seeped from her skin. Not because her daughter set the school on fire, but that Sarah dared to be black and attend the same school as her daughter.
Sarah’s mother was calm, “When I walked in, I was mad at your daughter. Now, I feel sorry for her.” It was spoken with the coolness one might use while talking about the weather. This made it worse. Lisa’s mother huffed, turned and marched out the door.
The walk to the car was much different than her arrival. The students had been dismissed early. Sarah leaned into her mother as they walked. Her mother wrapped her arm around her and pulled her tightly into her side.
“You okay?” her mom asked.
Sarah thought about the stares that morning. The loneliness at lunch. The fear in the principal’s office. The moment she saw Lisa’s name on that burned paper.
“I was scared,” she admitted. “I knew I didn’t do anything wrong, but I wasn’t sure it mattered. If they didn’t find that paper, I don’t think they would have believed me.”
Her mother smiled softly, tears welling up, “I can’t answer that. I don’t know what might have happened. All I know is that you did nothing wrong. Sometimes, that’s all we can do, the right thing. We can’t make others be nice or accept us. We just can’t give them a reason not to. Know what I mean?”
“Doing the right thing isn’t always fun, huh?” Sarah said, not really asking a question, but sharing a point she knew her mother understood.
The next day, when Sarah returned to school, things felt different.
Whispers still followed her, but they weren’t the same. Some students looked at her with curiosity now, but not anger. A girl from her homeroom approached her locker.
“Hey,” she said shyly. “I’m Nancy. Do you want to sit together at lunch?”
Sarah hesitated only a second before nodding. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
As she walked to class, she threw her shoulders back and walked proudly. Not because what happened was easy. It wasn’t. But because she had faced it—and stood firm.
Later that week, Principal Donovan addressed the entire sixth grade about honesty, responsibility, and the harm of assumptions. He didn’t name Sarah, but everyone knew.
And Sarah knew something too.
She belonged there just as much as anyone else. The fight was far from over, but Sarah would make it. She knew exactly who she was- a young American student with all the hopes and dreams of youth, just like all the others.
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