“Yes, hello,” said a sultry woman’s voice.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. May I speak with Ethel Gathers, please?”
Pause. “To whom?”
“Ethel Gathers,” Sophia repeated slowly, twirling the telephone cord around her finger.
“I’m sorry, but there is no one here by that name. You must have dialed the wrong number,” the woman said.
Sophia crossed off Aapo Gathers. There was no answer at Aaron Gathers’s home, and Abel Gathers’s line had been disconnected. Twenty cents saved. The young girl who answered for Abner Gathers informed Sophia that she had reached the wrong number, as did the women at Abraham and Ace Gathers’s homes.
On the call with Adam Gathers, she was pulled into such a lengthy conversation about the weather and holiday shopping that the operator prompted her to add five cents for an additional two minutes.
“Sir, does Ethel Gathers live there? I’m running out of time,” she interrupted.
“Oh, never heard of her. But if you ever want to talk, I live alone. I’m home most—”
Beep. Beep. Beep. The operator had disconnected the line.
Sophia returned the receiver to the telephone base just as the school bell chimed, signaling the start to afternoon classes. She tucked the remaining fifty cents in the small pouch inside her satchel and left the booth.
Before basketball practice, she wasted three more dimes on calls to Adrian, Afton, and Aiden. Frustrated, she headed to practice with only twenty cents left. When she arrived in the gym, most of the girls were already dressed and taking warm-up shots at the basket.
“Sophia.” Coach Fletcher tapped his clipboard. “Running late, are we, mate?”
“Sorry, Coach. I needed help with a math problem,” she lied.
“Very well. Make haste. I want to show you a new offensive play.”
Sophia shuffled into the girls’ locker room. It smelled like a mixture of ammonia and hair spray. There were two rows of wooden benches with tan lockers on three sides. The white tiled floor squeaked beneath her Mary Janes. As Sophia undressed, she noticed her teammates’ clothes, flats, and leather school bags with shorthandles tossed about with no regard to the locker spaces provided. As she sat down to tie her secondhand tennis shoes, a pink change purse carelessly left on an open satchel caught her eye. The kids at Forest tossed money around like paper confetti, and she could see by the shape of the bulge that the purse was full. A ticking started in her ear. It would take less than thirty seconds to rifle through the wallet and snatch a few bills that she could convert into coins later. She wasn’t a thief, though she desperately needed the cash. Her breath quickened as she glanced around. There was no one in the locker room but her. Who would know?
Sweat gathered at her temples. She stood, looked over her shoulder, and then tiptoed. Just as she reached down for the abandoned purse, she heard footsteps.
“I’m so over James. I’ve given him so many chances, and he still hasn’t gotten the hint.”
“Maybe you should start flirting with Eliott. Bet that would get his attention.”
A fit of giggles, and then the two girls rounded into the locker room.
“Hey, Sophia.” It was Margaret, captain of the team. “You’d better hustle. Coach sent me in here to get you. What’re you doing, anyway?”
“I was… um… tying my shoe. Ready.” Sophia stretched her arms over her head while stepping away from the bag.
“Love the hair, by the way.” Margaret grinned. “Ginger looks way more natural on you.”
“Thanks,” Sophia said, grabbing her ponytail.
What had she been thinking? If anything went missing in that locker room, she would have been the number one suspect.
Between studying for her midterm exams, basketball practice, and the poster board project on innovations that shaped the 1920s for her U.S. history class, three days passed before Sophia had a chance to make calls again. Even though her stomach growled andbegged her to eat, Sophia skipped lunch in favor of sneaking in her last two calls.
When she reached the telephone in the girls’ dorm, one girl was in the booth, and two other girls stood waiting their turn. The lunch period wasn’t long enough for her to be third in line. Then she remembered that there was another telephone booth in the dining hall, next to the bathrooms. She had avoided that booth because it wasn’t as private, but she took the steps two at a time and headed in that direction.
The smell of freshly baked bread made her empty stomach yearn as she passed the main dining hall. But she remained stoic. As she made a left toward the phone booth, the boys’ bathroom door opened, and Max strolled out, drying his hands on a paper towel.
“Hey,” she said, unable to keep the glee from her voice.
“Soph. What’re you up to?”
