Episode 2: The Open House Revolution
Emma’s voice split the peaceful quiet: “I’m not going to the Open House!”
Our home is small enough that a shout from upstairs is plainly heard downstairs. Emma stomped her way into the living room, where I was waiting to hear her Revolutionary declarations.
“They are not going to make me wear a mask. I’m not going.”
At this point, you might expect some sort of social-media worthy speech about the dangers or benefits to health, liberty, or something else. Ye shan’t get it—not from me.
Emma, though, was ready to storm the barricades of injustice, so she didn’t have to wear a mask in Spanish class. Have you seen her face? I wouldn’t want to cover it up, either.
Emma’s last year of middle school was a Gollum’s riddle: social distancing, masks, numbers, arguments, counter arguments, sickness, quarantine, hand washing, hand wringing, distance learning, and the rest. Nothing made sense. Too many confident people. Self-righteous. Hopeless.
Going to school a couple times a week while having most of her schedule to herself resulted in the best grades she’s ever earned. Emma killed it. She’s a self-starter, and she got her stuff done.
But now she was putting her foot down—She’d had enough—No mask.
About the time Emma was well into her third chorus for why her face was not meant to carry the heavy burden of cloth or three-ply disposable polyester, Trinity walked in, probably to get a front-row seat to the show.
The week before, Trinity had moved into our home. She needed a place to stay, and she was working pretty hard to get to the first day of school, never mind finishing up her senior year or making the volleyball team or making good grades or meeting new friends or finding where her English class was located. She slept on a blow-up mattress, surrounded by garbage bags stretched to the limit with the clothes of a high school senior.
The Open House, for Trinity, was probably more important, too: she attended two other schools during her high school, and JFHS was going to be her third. She needed to understand the layout, meet the teachers, get to the lunchroom, all of it.
“Yeah, I hate those masks, too” she said. “Maskny. My skin can’t handle it.”
Emma smiled triumphantly.
“But we gotta wear one, right?”
Emma looked at Trinity, and then at me.
Trinity clenched her teeth and looked at Emma:
“I can’t find anything in my stuff yet. Can I borrow one of yours?”
