I went to Parks Middle School two days later. Mr. Spence, the teacher I had spoken with, had knocked on Aunt Sarah Gene’s door after our sidewalk meeting, saying many of the teachers at his school wanted to meet with me.

I had passed on offers for a ride, needing the walk to clear my head. Boss and I had the outline of a plan, if only we could find out where they took Sam. I knew I would have to serve as the distraction. Logos had pointed out that the only chance we had was to offer Persim what she wanted. Me. Meanwhile, Boss would lead a crew in through a back entrance and extract Sam. There were a multitude of unfinished tendrils in this plan that kept creeping into my thoughts, as well as doubts that I could do anything for this school community. I wore my only nice outfit again and borrowed a jacket from Aunt Sarah Gene. It had to of been thirty years old given that it was about 10 sizes too small for her now, but it looked well kept and had a hood. I kept the hood up for the entire walk, we were pretty sure Persim didn’t know where I was…yet.

What could I possibly accomplish for this school?

You have me, honey. Put me in a room with those students. I’ll have them loving life.

Pathos was excellent at quelling any nerve wracking thoughts I had along the way. The extra time the walk took was well served, by the time I turned onto the school’s street I had a renewed sense of confidence. I knew the students and staff needed someone to put their hope into.

The front of the school was not exactly the welcome wagon. “...Better rated schools, where morale is high,” played through my mind over and over again. The front door was locked, and a red,faded piece of construction paper read, “Ring bell for office,” in Sharpie. I rang the yellowed doorbell and waited in an awkward silence for a few minutes.

A stout looking woman turned the corner and waddled her way towards me. She opened the door and smiled, “Tell Mrs. Flick at the front desk who you are taking home.”

“Oh, no. I’m not a parent. I spoke with Mr. Spence. He said this was his planning period.”

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” the woman tutted. “He did mention that. Have a seat, and I’ll call his room.”

She opened the door wider and gestured to a row of well worn chairs. They were mismatched colors that I’m sure were very pretty 50 years ago. I chose a faded burnt orange chair, nestled between two green ones and set my hands on the wooden arms. The woman waddled back around the corner she came from. A few minutes later Mr. Spence appeared, walking briskly from the opposite side of the hall Ms. Waddle had left from.

He set a quick pace as we walked to his classroom. Small posters were haphazardly hung from the walls, telling students that they could come talk to the counselor at any time.

Mr. Spence’s classroom walls matched the white bricks of the hallways. The desks were mismatched colors like those of the chairs in the front, and the windows had metal grates covering them from the outside. Over the brick were corny math posters: Einstein with his tongue out, Math is cool, and Never Argue with a 90 degree angle, it’s always right. There were anchor charts describing exponents, functions, and linear equations in detail. There were nine teachers sitting around when I entered, and all eyes turned toward me.

I could feel Logos and Pathos’ abilities swelling up inside me. Looking into their desolate faces I knew more of Pathos was needed than Logos. I felt her warmth spread throughout my body, warming my fingertips and toes.

Then the phone rang.

“Oh, excuse me,” Mr. Spence said, rushing across the room to his desk.

He covered the receiver, “Ms. Carpenter, it’s for you.” He held to phone out to me.

I plastered a smile on my face and gave a short apology. It had to be Boss, or maybe Aunt Sarah Gene. Who else knew where I was? My heart quickened at the thought of possible news on Sam’s whereabouts.

“Hello?” I said into the phone.

There were some muffled noises on the other end. Followed by a gruff, “Speak.”

“Cora, I’m okay. I-,” the sound of Sam’s voice sent flutters throughout my body. Then there was a thud and a silence.

I looked back at the group of teachers. Their faces dull and worn with the tragedies they had been living through. I kept the smile on my face.

A deeper breathing came through the phone line, “Start over,” scratched the voice. Then the line went dead.

Gently I set the phone back on the receiver. My heart pounded in my ears. I was a mixed bag of emotions. Sam was alive and well enough to talk, but Persim somehow knew I was at the school. I could almost feel Pathos rubbing my shoulder comfortingly.

She’s trying to rattle you.

I know, Logos. The smile felt so fake I wanted to puke.

“Are you going to talk to our kids today, or what?” A teacher with jeans and a school spirit T-shirt snapped.

“Oh,” I paused. I didn’t know I was speaking today. But I already knew what Logos would coach before he said it.

Don’t act surprised. They need help. Give it today or tomorrow, it doesn’t matter.

“Yes, of course. What time were you thinking?” I asked.

The students filed into the gymnasium at a slow march. Another stupid pep rally was tattooed across their faces. The walls of the gym were barren. The coach had already packed away all of the awards from years long past in lieu of the school closing at the end of the year. The principal looked at me. His eyes were filled with desperation. I could hear his eyes saying, “This won’t work, but the school can’t not try.”

“Students and staff, we welcome a special guest today. She is here to support us. Please give a warm welcome to Ms. Cora Carpenter.” There was a half hearted applause from about 30% of the school. The rest just sat with their eyes glazed over and turned in my general direction.

When I stepped up to the podium, confidence filled me. It felt slightly fake, but Pathos had used her gift to hide my fear symptoms after the phone call. I knew I had Pathos and Logos to guide my words, “Students, I address you here today not to waste my or your time. My words will not fall on deaf ears. You sit here, a school struck by tragedy, but from tragedy comes the best stories of human strength. Mourn your lost classmates not with tears, but with action. Your community needs you. Too many of us live in situations that are deemed below standard for our country, and the only solutions presented make us feel like the problem. Human life has no standard. It has no norm. Humans survive in the worst of times, by doing something about it to achieve the best of times. Your school is not the problem, and you are not the problem. You are the answer. Raise your hand if you want to be proud of your community, your hometown.”

The hands raised, slowly at first, but soon every hand was in the air, including the staff.

“Let’s show the world that Parks Middle school is proud of their community. We may not shine like the sunlight off Persim Tower’s windows, but what we don’t reflect we make up for with an internal light.”

The gymnasium boomed with applause. Chatter among the teens began to burst out of them. I felt a glow as students raised their hands with ideas for healthy grieving, school improvement, and community involvement. A gold mist intertwined with a mossy green mist seemed to swirl around the room. I blinked and the colors were gone. The staff and I helped to split the teens into interest groups. We walked around to support them.

A group of students volunteered to voice their opinions at the school board meeting later that night. I promised them I would be there.

The turnout at the school board meeting was unprecedented. Practically the entire student body of not only the middle school, but the high school showed up. The cafeteria of the high school, where the board meetings were held, was packed. Students and their families held signs out into the school yard and adjacent park protesting the shut down of the school.

“We’re worth it.”

“Moving doesn’t solve problems.”

The signs filled me with pride. This was now the third protest in years in the entire country! News vans were arriving on scene.

When the school board granted the school another probational year, the cheer was deafening.

Cherry Reeds found me as I left the building and cornered me with lights. “Ms. Carpenter, do you think this small victory will gain you support in the coming debate?”

“The support of the united community is all I need.”

“Do you have a comment for what President Persim said earlier today?”

Here I was caught off guard. I hadn’t seen the news since last night when Robert had come over with his laptop. I had no phone, and Aunt Sarah Gene didn’t have cable.”

“I see,” said Cherry with a smile. “So you haven’t heard.”