I left his office and went to the men’s room. I went quickly into a stall and vomited. I then came out and washed my face. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt a sudden coldness wrap itself around my heart. The water dripped from the darkness of my skin, each drop clear and separate. The words I’m not leaving came clear and separate in my mind, as on a sign or a billboard. I squared my shoulders and walked out of the room. I told no one about Murdoch’s comments. I knew where I stood.

Some might call me foolish, being so determined to stay after being treated like that. But I felt that as long as I stayed in Boston, working with poor Negro boys who had little chance of making good, of rising beyond their station in life, that my chances of making any sort of real impact on the powerful of this land was minimal. Here, they would see me. They would have no choice but to give me my due. I had not thought of this story in years, but it returned to me after I caught my breath and half jogged/half walked back to the school.

As I passed the parking lot, I saw Jana walking toward her car. She smiled and raised her hand to wave, enthusiastic and sweet. “Looks like you’ve been running,” she said as I approached.

“I have. Actually, I had a bit of a race with young Mr. Bryson.”

She grinned, obviously a little startled. “Do tell. Who won?”

“I’m afraid youth triumphed,” I said.

“Once again,” she said.

“Once again.”

We stood in awkward silence for a moment. “You’ve been working privately with him quite a lot. Do you think it’s helping?”

“Well, his running is definitely improving. I should think he has a good shot at the school record sometime soon.”

“And the rest? What we talked about?”

“Well, he hasn’t broken down in tears and confessed all. But we’re talking. I’m telling him a bit of my experience in the hope that it inspires him. I believe I’m making headway.”

She paused, seeming to consider whether to say something more, then said, “I’m glad.” She looked away briefly. “I guess I’d better be going. I’ll see you tomorrow. I understand you’re one of my fellow chaperones at this shindig we’re having.”

“Ah yes, the fall dance. Couldn’t get out of it this year, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, suddenly flirtatious again. “It’ll be fun. Maybe they’ll even play some music we know.”

“Maybe.”

“I’d better go. I’ll see you.”