I'm Not Who You Think I Am Read online

  Ginger hurried away from the woman, toward the bus.

  “Look in the mirror!” Joyce shouted after her. “You’ll see the proof!”

  Ginger and Karie boarded the bus a second before the door closed. “What did she say?” Karie asked as the bus pulled away.

  Ginger felt the way she had the day she accidentally swallowed a whole ice cube. There was a cold hard lump in the middle of her chest. But this lump didn’t melt, the way the ice cube had.

  When she thought about what the woman had said, the lump got bigger. And colder.

  Chapter

  Eleven

  JOYCE ENDERLY DIALED THE number from memory, even though it had been three years since she had spoken to her brother-in-law. Arnie’s brother would help her; she was sure of it. Jake, like Arnie, would do anything for money.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Jake. It’s me. Joyce.”

  “Forget it. Whatever it is you want, forget it.”

  “I can pay.”

  “How much?”

  “Three thousand.”

  “Yeah? What did you do, rob that mental hospital you were in?”

  “I left there a year ago and I’m not going back. I’m cured.”

  “That’ll be the day.”

  “Do you want the job or don’t you?”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Seattle, same as you.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Help me arrange a meeting with a thirteen-year-old girl.”

  “My brother’s in prison for doing that.”

  “Four thousand. Cash.”

  “You got a deal.”

  • • •

  Karie went home with Ginger. “Do you have family photo albums?” she asked.

  “We have some scrapbooks.”

  “Let’s look in them. Go back to the year you were born and see what we find.”

  “I’m not sure where they are.”

  “What about a birth certificate? You must have a birth certificate somewhere.”

  “Let’s look in Mom’s office.”

  The girls read the labels on every file folder in Mrs. Shaw’s file cabinet. The labels said things like ANDERSON WEDDING or MICROCHIP EMPLOYEE PICNIC. None of the files held personal information.

  Next they went into Mr. and Mrs. Shaw’s bedroom and looked on the closet shelf. They found only clothing and a stack of old magazines about player pianos.

  “The family room,” Ginger said. “Let’s try that cupboard above the one where we keep games.”

  The cupboard revealed a stack of scrapbooks. Ginger flipped through them until she came to the year she was born. She found a picture of her mom, looking very pregnant and reading a book to little Laura. And she found a birth announcement, giving the date and time Ginger was born. It said she weighed five pounds, twelve ounces.

  A brief clipping from a Texas newspaper titled “Births” listed Shaw, Duane and Margaret; girl, Ginger Marie; Sagebrush Hospital.

  There was a picture of Mrs. Shaw in a hospital bed, holding a newborn baby, and a picture of Grandma holding the baby while Laura mugged at the camera.

  “I never noticed before,” Ginger said, “but I do look a lot like Grandma did before her hair turned gray.”

  “You are definitely not adopted,” Karie said.

  “No.” Ginger smiled. “No, I’m not. I didn’t really believe I was, but Joyce was so insistent that I let my imagination get carried away.”

  “I’m glad that storm has blown over,” Karie said as they put the scrapbooks away.

  “I won’t talk to Joyce again,” Ginger said. “I probably should not have talked to her at all, but she took me by surprise this morning at the bus stop, and then I got curious and so I wanted to know more.”

  The phone rang. Nancy Randolph told Ginger, “I’m resigning as student council president. Effective immediately.”

  “Why?” Ginger said. “What’s wrong?” She motioned for Karie to pick up the kitchen phone and listen.

  Nancy said, “My dad is practicing a speech for tomorrow night; he’s going to tell the school board they should keep Mr. Wren as coach. If he gives that speech, he’ll lose his biggest client—and maybe his job. Dad is doing it to support me, and I can’t let him. I’m sorry. I’m going to quit and let someone else represent the council at the meeting. That way, I won’t have to go at all, and Dad won’t feel that he’s letting me down by not speaking in favor of Mr. Wren.”

  “You don’t have to resign,” Ginger said. “If you stay home from tomorrow’s meeting, everyone will understand.”

  “If I can’t do the job right,” Nancy said, “I want to let someone else do it. Will you come to a quick meeting during lunch tomorrow? Just long enough to elect a new president?”

  Ginger and Karie agreed to attend the meeting.

  After Nancy’s call, Ginger said, “Nancy shouldn’t have to quit as president because of Mrs. Vaughn.”

  “I can’t believe how many people took Mrs. Vaughn’s side,” Karie said. “Some of them have never even been to one of the games, but now they act as if Mr. Wren has ruined their kids’ future. I wish we could prove what a good coach Mr. Wren is.”

  I can, Ginger thought. That’s the problem.

  Mrs. Shaw called just after Karie left.

  “Everything is fine,” Ginger assured her mother. “Karie came over, and we looked at some of the old scrapbooks. We found my baby pictures.”

  “Weren’t you the cutest baby ever?” Mrs. Shaw said.

  “You know what I used to think, when I was little?” Ginger said. “I used to think I was adopted.”

  “Whatever made you think that?” her mother asked.

  “Because I was short and the rest of you are tall. And because of my reddish hair.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me?” Her mother sounded indignant, and even without seeing her, Ginger knew that Mrs. Shaw had one fist on her hip. “You know I would have told you the truth.”

  “I thought there was some deep, dark secret in my background.”

  Mrs. Shaw laughed. “It seems to me Laura went through that, too,” she said. “Maybe all kids imagine they’re adopted.”

  “Laura talked to Marcus’s mother this morning,” Ginger said. “She said Tipper and Marcus were getting along great.”

  “I called Tipper,” Mrs. Shaw said. “He burped for me.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “What happened at the school board meeting?” Mrs. Shaw asked.

  “A lot of people testified against Mr. Wren.”

  “I was afraid of that. Victoria Vaughn will pressure everyone she can. A mob mentality takes over in situations like this. People take sides and get too angry.”

  “The final hearing is tomorrow. Mr. Randolph is planning to speak in favor of keeping Mr. Wren, and Nancy’s afraid he’ll lose his job. It’s a mess.”

  “I know George Randolph,” Mrs. Shaw said, “and he’ll do what’s right, regardless of the consequences. For some people, honor is more important than money, and you know what? I admire that.”

  They talked a few minutes longer. “I’d better hang up,” Mrs. Shaw said, “before we own the telephone company.”

  “I’ll see you Sunday,” Ginger said.

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  After Ginger hung up the phone her mother’s words replayed in her mind: “For some people, honor is more important than money, and you know what? I admire that.”

  Do you, Mom? Ginger thought. Would you admire me if I turn my tapes in to the school board and prove that Mr. Wren knows how to coach? Would you admire me if I make Mrs. Vaughn so furious that she never hires you or Laura again?

  It’s easy to respect someone else for doing what he believes is right even though it risks his income, Ginger thought. But it isn’t so easy to risk my own family’s income.

  As she climbed into bed that night, Ginger looked at her new poster. LIVE WITH PURPOSE AND HONOR.

 
What is the honorable thing to do? she wondered. I feel loyal to Mr. Wren. But I am more loyal to Mom and Laura.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  FRIDAY MORNING GINGER AWOKE with a headache, still undecided whether or not to turn her tapes over to the school board.

  “I have a chemistry lab from four to six,” Laura told her, “so I won’t be home until almost seven.”

  “I’m going to the school board hearing tonight,” Ginger said. “It starts at six.”

  “Do you need a ride?”

  “Karie’s dad is going. He’ll pick me up.”

  “I wonder if Mrs. Vaughn’s behind-the-scenes lobbying will work.”

  “I hope not. Mr. Wren is a good coach, and we both know what sort of person the Queen is.”

  “Still, a lot of people will knuckle under and do what Mrs. Vaughn wants rather than lose her business.”

  Including me? Ginger wondered. Is that what I’m going to do?

  Ginger decided not to go home after school, since Laura would not be there. Even though she was convinced that Joyce Enderly had the wrong person, Ginger was uneasy about the possibility of being alone with Joyce again. The woman was so intense, and so positive that she was right. And her mood changes were too rapid and unpredictable.

  Ginger would stay at school, watch basketball practice, and then go straight to the hearing in the administration building, directly across the street from the school. She took an extra sandwich and some grapes in her backpack, to have for dinner.

  She also took the bag of tapes. Maybe she could turn them in anonymously. She could go to the hearing room early and leave the bag where the school board would see it. She could put a note on it: Attention! Watch these tapes before you fire Coach Wren.

  Yes, Ginger thought. If I do that, I can help Mr. Wren without hurting Mom and Laura. She was certain that Mrs. Vaughn would not recognize her voice on the tapes. The few times she had helped Laura at Mrs. Vaughn’s house, Laura had done the talking.

  The only problem would be getting into the hearing room without being seen.

  When it was time to leave for school, Ginger watched out the window for a few minutes, hoping to walk to the bus with her neighbor, Eric Konen. Eric did not appear.

  He must be sick, Ginger thought. He didn’t go to school yesterday, either.

  When she could wait no longer, she ran down the sidewalk and around the corner to where she caught the bus.

  Joyce Enderly was waiting for her. This time Joyce’s car was parked right across from the bus stop, and when Ginger rounded the corner, Joyce came to greet her.

  “You’re mistaken about who I am,” Ginger told her. “I’m not adopted. I found the notice of my birth in the Houston newspaper, and I saw pictures of my mom holding me in the hospital, the day I was born.”

  “Here is your real baby picture,” Joyce said. “It’s all I’ve had for thirteen years, until I found you.” She held out a faded snapshot, wrinkled from years of handling.

  Ginger looked at the picture but did not take it. “It’s a pretty baby,” she said, “but it isn’t me.” She saw the school bus approaching.

  “I need more time with you,” Joyce said. “We can’t keep talking in snatches, always distracted by the bus. Meet me after school today.”

  “I’m busy after school.”

  The bus chugged closer.

  “Tonight then. At the library.”

  “No,” Ginger said. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am not who you think I am, and I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

  The bus stopped beside them.

  Joyce put her hand on Ginger’s arm. She spoke decisively, emphasizing each word: “I am your mother.”

  Ginger pulled her arm away.

  “I’m asking for only a few hours alone with you. To take some pictures, to get to know you better and let you know me.”

  “You have the wrong person,” Ginger said. “I’m not your daughter, and I will not talk to you again. Period.”

  The door of the bus opened.

  Ginger boarded the bus and took her usual place beside Karie.

  As the doors moaned shut, Joyce muttered, “Jake will help me. Jake will make you go with me.”

  Ginger did not hear her.

  When Ginger looked out the window, Joyce stared back at her. Tears trickled down Joyce’s cheeks. The look on her face was a strange mixture of love and hate.

  Ginger shivered and turned away.

  The bus moved on.

  “She was at the bus stop when I got there,” Ginger told Karie. “She still claims she’s my mother. She showed me a picture of a newborn baby that she says is me.”

  “Weird,” said Karie. “Did you tell her to quit bugging you?”

  “Yes, and I think she finally got the message.”

  “Good.”

  “She makes me nervous but I feel sorry for her, too. I think she’s mentally unbalanced, or else she wants so much to believe she’s found her long-lost daughter that she refuses to accept the truth. Either way, I’ll be glad when Mom and Dad get home.”

  “Did you see the Channel Seven news this morning?” Karie asked.

  “No.”

  “They interviewed Mr. Wren, and then they interviewed Mrs. Vaughn. She claimed he has never taught his players anything about basketball.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “I’m only repeating what she said.” Karie popped a breath mint into her mouth.

  Ginger considered telling Karie her plan to leave the tapes and the note in the hearing room, but she decided it would be best not to tell anyone. Let the tapes be truly anonymous so that Mrs. Vaughn could never discover who to blame.

  The lunch hour student council meeting was short. The members refused to let Nancy resign and agreed that she did not have to attend the hearing.

  After school, Ginger did her homework in the library. Then she went to the gym, to watch basketball practice.

  Mrs. Wren and Dana sat partway up the bleachers. Ginger climbed up and sat beside them.

  “Hi, Ginger,” Dana said. She busily colored a pony in a coloring book; so far, she’d done a red head and three blue legs. “We’re watching Daddy coach.”

  Mrs. Wren said, “I was restless at home.”

  “We might have to move,” Dana said.

  “Mr. Wren isn’t going to change schools, is he?” Ginger asked.

  “That depends on what happens at the hearing tonight,” Mrs. Wren said. “If the board fires him as coach, Bill will apply for a teaching job in a different district. Mountain View Middle School needs a social studies teacher.”

  “Nobody has questioned his teaching ability,” Ginger said. “He’s the best teacher we have.”

  “The school board, and the community, should support him in this situation. Bill can handle Mrs. Vaughn’s accusations; she has disliked him ever since she lost the city council election. Every coach—every teacher, for that matter—has to deal with an unreasonable parent once in a while. But when so many others spoke against him . . .” Tears filled Mrs. Wren’s eyes, and she had to pause to get control of her voice. “When others spoke against him, it hurt. Were you at the first hearing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know what I’m talking about.”

  “I don’t want to move,” Dana said.

  “We love our little house,” Mrs. Wren said, “and I want the same doctor who delivered Dana to deliver our new baby.”

  “Mommy!” Dana looked shocked. “You said that’s a secret. You said I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, not even Ginger.”

  “You already told Ginger, remember?”

  “Oh.” Dana began coloring a green tail on the pony.

  “Most of the players’ parents have never been to a practice,” Mrs. Wren said. “Many have never been to a game. How can they criticize the way Bill coaches?”

  “The other parents were pressured by Mrs. Vaughn,” Ginger said. “Just about everyone in town does business with V
aughn Enterprises; people were protecting their jobs when they agreed with her.”

  “I know. Several people told us about her tactics.”

  “Not all of the parents spoke at the hearing,” Ginger said.

  “If you don’t speak out against something that is wrong,” Mrs. Wren said, “you imply by your silence that it’s right. Even those who didn’t speak at all let him down.”

  Like me, Ginger thought. She remembered one evening a few weeks earlier when Tipper had come to the dinner table puffed up with pride.

  “A kid in my class told a nasty joke at lunch,” Tipper said. “Everyone laughed, except me.”

  Tipper smiled at his parents, clearly expecting them to praise him.

  Instead, Mr. Shaw had asked, “Did you speak up? Did you tell your friends that such jokes are not funny?”

  Tipper admitted he had said nothing.

  “Then you might as well have laughed,” Mr. Shaw said. “By keeping still, you implied it’s okay to tell nasty jokes.”

  “I didn’t want to make my friends mad at me,” Tipper said.

  “You missed a chance to stand up for what’s right,” Mrs. Shaw added. “People who are offended by the truth aren’t very good friends anyway.”

  Dana dropped a crayon, and Mrs. Wren grabbed it before it could roll through the opening in the bleachers.

  I’m missing a chance, too, Ginger thought, but there’s a lot more to lose than the friendship of some giggling first graders.

  “I’m hungry,” Dana said. “Let’s go to McDonald’s.”

  “Not tonight,” Mrs. Wren said.

  “I want french fries,” Dana said.

  Ginger opened her lunch sack and offered Dana a cluster of grapes.

  “Thanks,” Dana said. “You’re my pal.” She popped a grape in her mouth.

  “If Bill is let go in the middle of a season,” Mrs. Wren said, “he’ll never get another coaching job. Potential employers wouldn’t know about Mrs. Vaughn’s meddling; they would know only that Bill got fired.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue. Then she blew her nose, and sat up straight. “I didn’t mean to dump our problems on you,” she said. “Just ignore me; I get weepy when I’m pregnant.”

  “Daddy says he has lots of friends,” Dana said, “and maybe they’ll make it so we don’t have to move.”