CHAPTER 26
1173 Words
CHAPTER 26
Kennedy texted Willow as soon as Sandy left. She doubted her roommate would be awake at nine on a Saturday morning, but she had to make sure her friend was safe. Willow replied right away, apologizing for the video leak.
I only shared it with Othello so he could see what was happening. I didn’t know he was going to pass it on.
Kennedy was just glad to know Willow was safe. According to her text, Willow had sensed the tensions rising and left before the real violence erupted. Othello had stuck around with his friends, and Willow hadn’t heard from him yet.
I’m sure he’s fine, Kennedy assured her. After all, the only reported injury was that little baby.
The Lindgrens spent the morning keeping Kennedy distracted. As soon as Kennedy got out of bed, Sandy put her to work making a hearty brunch. Saturday morning brunch had been a regular custom in Kennedy’s family for as long as she could remember, and she wondered if Sandy knew about their tradition. It took over an hour and a half to get everything baked and cooked. Then while Sandy set the table, Kennedy taught Carl how to use the timer on his camera properly so they could take their pictures for Woong more easily.
Breakfast at the Lindgrens’ involved more than just sitting around the table, sipping fresh coffee, and stuffing yourself into a gluttonous stupor. Carl started each day with morning devotions, which he read from a Charles Spurgeon book Kennedy had never heard of before meeting the Lindgrens. Then, Sandy pulled out her prayer box, a cutely painted recipe holder with index cards arranged by category. Kennedy still hadn’t figured the system out entirely, but there were certain people the Lindgrens prayed for every day, and others they prayed for on a weekly or monthly basis. After prayers, Carl passed Kennedy his old Bible so she could participate in the reading for the day. He and Sandy made their way through the Bible once a year, and Kennedy read a chapter from Joshua before passing it back to Carl to finish.
After Sandy refilled the coffee mugs and set another round of blueberry pancakes on the table, she took out a journal with a bright tulip pattern on the front.
“So last year at this time,” she said, slipping on her pair of reading glasses, “we were praying for Blessing to have favor in her job situation at the bank, and we were asking God for a better daycare situation for Tyson that would be closer to her work.” She took a pencil and drew two lines across the page. “God certainly took care of both of those worries, didn’t he?”
Carl nodded back with a smile.
Sandy read through the rest of that page, striking out the requests that had already been answered and stopping to pray for those that hadn’t yet come to pass. She flowed ceaselessly from her conversation with Carl and Kennedy into prayer and back again, so Kennedy half expected to see Jesus sitting in one of the empty chairs around the table. When she was finished, Sandy flipped ahead in her journal and wrote the day’s date in her flowing cursive handwriting. “So of course, we’re praying for Reuben’s release and that poor little baby who was hurt. What else?”
By the time they finished breakfast devotions, Carl excused himself to get some work done at the church office. “Do you want me to give you a ride back to your dorm?” he asked Kennedy.
“If you don’t mind.” As restful as her time at the Lindgrens’ had been, she knew she had to go back. If Reuben wasn’t released over the weekend, he would definitely be freed after his arraignment Monday morning. Until then, Kennedy had to work on their lab report on her own. She also needed to start some research for a Roald Dahl paper for her children’s literature class.
Sandy packed the brunch leftovers into various sized Tupperware and set them in a canvas bag for Kennedy to take back to campus. Sandy was clearing the table and Carl was hunting for his missing sermon notes when Kennedy’s phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number but wasn’t about to miss a chance to talk to Reuben. Did he even know about the video? Did he know he was going to be released? Had he heard about the riots and the price paid for justice?
“Hello?” Kennedy made her way into the Lindgrens’ guest bedroom for privacy.
“I’m looking for a Miss Kennedy Stern.”
Kennedy shut the door behind her. “This is she. What can I do for you?”
“So where is this interview you’re going to?” Carl asked as he drove Kennedy back to Harvard.
“Somewhere off the Orange Line.” Kennedy fidgeted with her seatbelt and glanced at the dashboard clock. If she got back to her dorm in fifteen minutes, she’d have a little less than half an hour to change her clothes and get ready before she had to catch the T to Tufts.
“And who is this woman who called you?”
“Her name’s Diane Fil-something. She’s got a show on Channel 2.”
Carl frowned. “Have you researched her background or anything?”
Kennedy wasn’t surprised that her dad and Carl had been such good friends in college. In many ways, they were exactly like each other.
“She just said she wanted to talk to me about the video, get my side of the story.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what she said,” Carl muttered as he exited off the freeway. “I just want you to be careful. These news anchors, they don’t care about you. In most cases, they don’t even care about victims or civil liberties. You know what they care about? Ratings. So the more they can shock the audience, the better.”
“This should be pretty straightforward.” Kennedy didn’t know why she should have to defend herself or her choices all of a sudden. “She said they’ll play the video clip, I’ll answer a few questions about when we got pulled over, and they’ll cut to a commercial or something. I don’t think it will be too hard.”
“That’s because you’re a decent kid with nothing to hide,” Carl explained. “But you better believe me, if you had a skeleton in your closet, it’s people like this Diane What’s-Her-Name who’d gamble away their grandmother’s soul to be the first to break the story.” He patted her knee. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so negative. I hope you have a really good interview. Just be careful, ok?”
“Thanks.”
They drove a while in silence. Carl tuned his car radio to some conservative talk show but punched it off as soon as the host mentioned the riot at the courthouse. So far, Kennedy had resisted the morbid urge to look up footage from the event. She didn’t know how much damage had been done, but the streets seemed relatively calm for the middle of a Saturday. Were people staying home? Did the police think the riots would get worse?
Carl pulled his Honda up to a curb near Harvard Square. “See you at church tomorrow?”
“If I get this lab report done by then,” Kennedy answered. She slung her new canvas bag laden with leftovers on her shoulder, waved goodbye, and shut the door. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to glance at the time as Carl pulled away. If she hurried, she might even have time to wash her hair before she went on TV.
- Writer
