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Chapter 1
Jude
I’mnotgoingtocry. I’m not going to make this situation any worse than it already is. The mortification of crying while being fired would surely kill me.
“You know I hate to do this to you, Jude,” the principal, Glenda, says with overly apologetic eyes, lips contorted into a pout. How she manages to keep her lipstick on and unsmudged from sun up to sundown, I’ll never know. “But my hands are tied.”
I try to smile and feel my lips quivering. It’s not her fault. Not really. “I know, Glenda.”
“I see what your program does for our students. Really.” She reaches across her desk and grabs my hand. “Really.” She releases it and then looks away. “But the district…”
“Listen, couldn’t there be something somewhere? Just a little shifting of the budget? I can do things on a shoestring; you know I can.” In fact, I already do. The art program I run at Quinn Elementary is practically built on art projects I can fund for free.
Glenda’s forehead tightens. “It’s not up to me, unfortunately.”
I resist an eye roll. “I know it’s not, but –”
“The district has decided that the art program is ‘a frivolity’ and –”
“What?!” my voice creeps up in volume. I immediately bite my tongue.
“Jude, youknowthat’s not whatIthink,” Glenda says, clasping her hand to her chest. “You have to know this isn’t my heart.”
I can know something with my head and not feel it inmyheart. Sure, Glenda might just be a conduit for the Savannah school district, but she’s a conduit, nonetheless. “Glenda, when I hung the self-portraits the kids did, what did you say?”
“That every single one was a masterpiece.”
“And the ‘who I am inside’ masks they made – tinfoil, papier mâché, and tempera paint –”
“The most important form of self-expression you could have possibly given them,” she says objectively.
“And the –”
“Jude, honey,” her Southern accent and endearment don’t lessen the blow. “No one can place a monetary value on the gifts you have given our students through art and expression. I assure you.”
The corners of my lips tighten. “Except the district.”
Glenda nods solemnly. “Yes, except the district.”
I resist cursing. A bad habit that I’m nearly always admonished for. “What about…”Come on, Jude, think. You need this job. You worked hard for this job. You’ve got to fight. “Donations? A bake sale? Something? Bring it to the community. The parents love what I do with their kids.”
“You know as well as I do that our community is not going to take kindly to being asked formorecharity, especially after we had to ask for emergency relief to fix that burst pipe in the kindergarten bathroom,” Glenda sighs.
I don’t envy her job, but, damn, do I envy the fact shehasa job right now. “So that’s it? I don’t even get a chance to fight?”
“That’s not how any of this works, dear. You know that.”
The tears are creeping back into the rims of my eyes.Dammit.Don’t cry… don’t cry…“I love this school, Glenda.”
“Oh, sweet pea, I know you do.”
“I went here.”
Glenda smiles brightly. “I know, I remember when you were just a little tike toddling around here.”
I’m not sure how old Glenda was when she started working at Quinn, but she doesn’t look a day over whatever age that was. “I love this place,” I say adamantly. “I'd give everything I can to make sure that the kids have anything near the experience I had with –”
“I assure you, Jude, you’ve lived up to Mr. Ulster’s legacy tenfold.”
