Singled Out (2 page)

“Mr. Dresden, good to meet you,” Dr. Richards said as he shook my dad’s hand. “And this must be Taylor,” he added, turning and extending a hand to me as well. “The students around here all call me Dr. Rich.”

Dr. Rich was well over six feet tall and had really broad shoulders. I was a bit intimidated by him, but he seemed friendly enough. Inviting us into a huge living room, he continued, “Curfew is 8:30 on school nights and 10 on weekends.”

“You don’t waste any time getting to the nitty gritty, huh?” Dad said.

“Student safety is vital to us at Hazelton, and learning begins at home. This will be Taylor’s home for the next school year. As assistant headmaster, I believe a child cannot learn if he or she doesn’t feel safe.”

I don’t know why they used words like “headmaster.” To me, it seemed like everyone was being snooty for the sake of
being snooty.

Mrs. Richards showed me to my room and gave me a tour of the house while my dad talked with Dr. Rich in the den. Mrs. Richards seemed really sweet. She held her son, Matthew, who she told me had just turned two. He was giggling to himself as she showed me the house.

The place was a mansion, and it was filled with spacious hallways and vaulted ceilings. The third floor was reserved for just the Richards family, and the second floor was for students.

“We have, on occasion, had some of the boys stay here when the dorms were overcrowded, or when there were problems, but this is the first time we’ve ever had girls. I apologize if the room décor is a bit masculine,” Mrs. Richards said as we climbed the wide staircase. “Since you are the first girl to arrive, you get first choice.”

I followed Mrs. Richards as she walked down the long second-floor hallway. I had never seen a hallway with a window at the end of it, and through it, you could see the entire huge, beautiful campus. And although this giant place was daunting, I felt smarter just staring out the window. “Taylor?” Mrs. Richards said as she stood by a nearby door.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, following her toward the room.

“Here’s your first choice.” She opened the fourth door on the right. “What do you think?”

All dark wood with blue curtains, the room contained old wooden furniture and, in a far corner alcove under a small window, was tucked an overstuffed leather chair. The walls were adorned with paintings of different sports. Over the bed was a picture of a crew team rowing under a bridge. There was a big paddle over the desk that said “Hazelton 1953.” And there were baseball caps with H’s, obviously for Hazelton,
tacked over the closet. On the desk in the opposite corner sat a new laptop.

“See what I mean about it being rather boyish?”

I wasn’t sure why, but I immediately fell in love with the room. It was just the kind of room I thought only smart, over-privileged kids going to Princeton would get to sleep in, and I was thrilled at the thought of it being mine, at least for a while.

“Come on, I’ll show you the other rooms.”

I didn’t move. “No, I think I’ll take this one.”

She was shocked. “You sure?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I like this one. Is that computer mine?”

“Yes, the headmaster had it sent over this morning.” Matthew started to fuss and attempted to wiggle out of her arms. “All right, Mattie, just a minute,” she said to him. “Well, Taylor, since you like the room, I’ll have Dr. Richards bring up your things.” She left me alone to settle in.

I walked around the room for a minute. I ran my hand along the wooden desk and walked over and peeked out the window. If school sucked, at least I could hide out here all marking period, or quarter, or whatever these fancy people called it.

I looked at the old Hazelton baseball hats. I wondered if it was acceptable to wear them, then decided I’d first have to feel these people out. After a few minutes, I went downstairs to see if the discussion between Dr. Richards and my dad was over.

When I entered the den, Dad was getting up off the couch.

“All right then, Mr. Dresden, if you have any questions, do not hesitate to call any time. This is Taylor’s home now, so no office hours apply if you need to reach us.”

“Good to know. She’s also got her cell phone if she needs me,” Dad said.

“Okay, well, I’ll give you two a few minutes to say your goodbyes.” He shook my dad’s hand again and headed back toward the foyer.

“Come on, walk me to my car,” Dad said, throwing an arm around my shoulder. We walked slowly out the front door.

At the car, Dad placed the papers Dr. Rich had given him onto the backseat, and then stood next to me. “You take care, kiddo, okay?”

I bit my bottom lip as I felt a fresh wave of fear wash over me.

He leaned in and gave me a big bear hug. “You’ll be fine.”

I pulled back and nodded, trying to be strong.

“I’m just an hour away,” he said, opening the car door and settling in behind the wheel. He had tears in his eyes, too. He put the car in drive. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

“Don’t let those rich boys give you any crap,” he said, resting his elbow on the car window.

“Language,” I said, dragging out the word the same way he always did.

As the car lurched forward and disappeared, I took a deep breath and headed back inside. This would not be easy.

I
spent the next hour unpacking some of my stuff. I still didn’t feel comfortable putting everything into the dresser, so I left one suitcase packed and put it on the floor of the closet.

All of a sudden, there were voices in the hall. My door was ajar, and I heard Mrs. Richards coming up the staircase, talking to another girl. I figured it had to be Gabby. Mrs. Richards had told me the girl genius wouldn’t be living on campus. She was only a sophomore, and her parents didn’t want her away from home at such a young age.

“And this is your floor,” I heard Mrs. Richards say. “Let me introduce you to Taylor.”

She knocked on the door. “Taylor?”

“Yeah, come on in,” I said.

Standing in the doorway was Gabby Foster. She was black, easily six foot two, and probably weighed all of 120 pounds. Her hair was long and straight, and both her ears were double-pierced. She was dressed in a pair of boy’s gym shorts and a tank top that would have showed the slightest bit of belly, except that hers was flat and rock-hard. “Taylor Dresden, Gabby Foster,” said Mrs. Richards.

Gabby reached out for my hand. “Hey, Taylor, nice to meet you,” she said confidently.

“Yeah, you too.”

“You’re the pitcher, right?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, I read about you in the paper a couple times.”

She had? Maybe she was just saying that to be nice. Of course, I had done a lot of interviews before school had ended in June. “Uh, thanks,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I had never heard of her, so I just stood there and let an awkward silence happen.
Damn, I wish I were better at this social crap.

Gabby turned to Mrs. Richards. “So, me and Taylor sharing, or what?”

“Oh, no, let me show you what we have to choose from.”

“Cool. Taylor, peace,” she said, pointing in my direction as she left the room.

Gabby seemed like the type of girl who had lots of friends, and so she probably thought I was an anti-social weirdo, which I suppose I kind of was. I’d have to brush up on basketball. At least then, I would have something to talk about with her.

Later that morning, our school uniforms were delivered to our rooms. I heard Gabby, who had ended up next-door, groan through the walls. “I don’t even think a supermodel could look good in this stuff!” she said.

There was a selection of white shirts: two short-sleeve polos, two long-sleeve button-downs. There was also a pullover v-neck sweater and a cardigan, all with a navy blue “H” emblem trimmed in gold. There were a few pairs of pants in navy blue and two skirts. I was no slave to fashion, but even I thought I’d look like a guy in these outfits. During recent school years, I’d been a jeans-and-fitted-t-shirt kind of girl. In the summer, I wore tank tops and board shorts.

Before long, Gabby reappeared in the doorway. “Hey,
Taylor, you think this is acceptable?” She wore the new school skirt with her tank top, the cardigan tied around her waist like a belt. She actually looked decent.

“I think that works,” I said, laughing. “I’m sure the boys would approve.”

She looked at herself in the mirror hanging on the back of my closet door. “Oh please, I have a boyfriend,” she said. “Not that I’m married, but I don’t think these guys would know what to do with a black girl.”

I wasn’t exactly sure if what she said was supposed to be funny. I gave it a half-laugh. I was afraid of the uncomfortable silence coming again.
Ask her about something, anything
, I thought.
Her boyfriend.
“How long you guys been together?”

She shut the door. “Oh, let’s see, I think it’s been about eight months.”

“That’s pretty serious.”

“I guess. He promised to pick me up every Friday after school, which should keep him honest.”

It sounded as if I’d be the only girl here alone on the weekends. “So how come you decided to come to Hazelton?” I asked her.

“Two words: college scholarship. You?”

“Pretty much the same.”

“My parents made me come here,” she said, stepping away from the mirror.

“Ditto.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, I got to go make my room livable. Can you believe all this old-fashioned stuff? It’s like a museum in here.”

“I kind of like it,” I said, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Oh, you’re out of your mind,” she said with a laugh.

I shrugged. “I just like things simple.”

She walked out into the hall. “Well, give me ’til tomorrow, and you can come check out my room. Bet you’ll change your mind.”

“Have fun,” I said.

Later that afternoon, we had to go to the class orientation meeting. We basically sat in a big auditorium and listened to different teachers and other important people give speeches about how important learning was and how great Hazleton was. Gabby and I sat together in the back so we wouldn’t get too many stares. We figured the boys could have their chance to ogle us tomorrow, on the first day of classes.

I was happy to be stuck in the boring lecture, though. It was so weird being here, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing. I hoped the next few days would be just as structured and busy, so I wouldn’t think about the fact that I was away from home and missing my dad and house, and even my goofy brother.

Following the lecture was a tour of the campus for new students. Most were freshmen, except for the three
amigas
: me, the basketball star, and Tara Kwan, the brain. Kwan was petite and quiet. When I said hello to her, all she did was sort of nod and look down at the ground.

Then we were quickly huddled together for a picture—the local paper was there to document the first female students ever to attend Hazelton. The three of us had to stand out on the steps together. I was amazed that the newspaper had nothing more interesting to write about. Maybe it was bigger news than I thought to have girls here.

After years of playing on an all-boys team, I was strangely used to nosy newspaper reporters. One asked us a few quick
questions, mostly about where we were from and if we liked the school so far. Another reporter asked Gabby what she thought of the Abernathy incident.

“Who’s Abernathy?” Gabby asked. “Is he a basketball player?”

After hearing the exchange, the headmaster told the reporters that the Q&A was over, then escorted us into the building. “Sorry about the annoying questions, ladies,” Dr. Colton said as he closed the door behind us. He seemed a bit flustered by the reporters and I wondered why, but I didn’t ask because I was looking forward to seeing the rest of the campus.

About sixty freshman boys in golf shirts followed the tour guides, while we three
amigas
pulled up the rear. The gym annex was our first stop, and Gabby’s eyes lit up when she saw the court. “I have died and gone to heaven,” she said, loudly enough to turn most of the heads of the freshmen.

“It is nice,” I said, which got the heads to turn again. The floor was so shiny with lacquer I could almost see myself in it. Instead of bench bleachers, there were real seats on both sides. The electronic scoreboard looked like something the Knicks would have, and the ceiling had to be twice as high as that of a normal gym. “One problem with this joint, though,” I said to Gabby.

“What?”

“No girls’ locker room,” I said, pointing to the “Men” sign.

“I’ll just get changed with them,” she joked. “No problem there.”

The rest of the campus was just as perfect. The Hazelton baseball stadium was gorgeous. It was like a miniature version of a big-league stadium—seats that wrapped around the entire field, an electronic scoreboard, and real dugouts below the
playing field. I couldn’t wait for spring.

After the tour, Gabby and I sat on one of the benches in the courtyard. “Hey, Gabby?” I said.

“Yeah?”

“What kind of grades you get back at your old high school?”

“Eh, not great. Mostly B’s, some C’s.”

“Sounds better than me.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just wondering,” I said. As we walked down all the clean, wide hallways, I began to wonder whether doubt that I belonged in such a beautiful place. I wasn’t smart enough, and there were plenty of girls out there who had busted their butts in school and deserved this opportunity far more. What was I good at? All I could do was throw a baseball.

“There are plenty of athletic girls out there who have good grades,” I said. “So why us?”

“I think we’re the only ones who have experience playing against boys.”

I nodded. “I guess. But why not just give academic scholarships? Why’d they want us on their sports teams?”

“Never thought about it,” Gabby said. “I heard it was to honor some woman who was a big shot at the school and died or something. Maybe it was her dying wish or something.”

I laughed. “I find it hard to believe any woman from around here cared about me throwing curve balls.”