The Winning Certificate

By Robert Miller

Sylvia Medina, a student at Central High joins a teenage gang after her adopted mother's death and is trapped in a life style of violence and hopelessness. Can the school's Literary Club and an image on the computer of her birth mother provide the hope necessary for Sylvia to survive?

Antonio Medina, after his wife's death from cancer tries everything to get Sylvia back on track. However, nothing helps until Rick Podowski and Leti Rios, advisors to the high school Literary Club, get Sylvia involved. Sylvia reluctantly shares some of her poems. Then, as Sylvia becomes more committed, she begins to change and becomes in touch with her feelings.

As Sylvia develops her ties to the Literary Club, she gets more intrigued by the picture of her birth mother and tries to find her. She learns that her mother lives in New York and when members of the Literary Club go to Columbia University to attend a conference and receive an award for their magazine, Sylvia goes along. Instead of going to the conference, she visits her mother.

She finds out that her mother married a very rich man, and she has two stepsons. The stepfather is dead, and the two sons along with her lawyer are trying to obtain her farm and include it as part of a land trust being used as a means to launder money for the mob. Murder, kidnapping, money laundering, and mob activities are included in this novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Miller
• Release date: Dec 15, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458189271

Robert Miller

R. H. Miller is a retired widower living in Nevada. Prior to retirement, he served in the United States Marine Corps and later as a middle manager in a large corporation. Life experiences provided much of the fictional material for the book. In addition, many events in the lives of family members and friends are fictionally depicted. The author’s intention in writing the book is to provide the reader with an interesting and, at times, humorous understanding of problems and dilemmas individuals encounter in unusual relationships.

Book preview

Part 1

August-January

Chapter 1

What happened to you? Antonio said as he turned from his computer and faced the front door of the two-bedroom house. Are you hurt? Who beat you up?

Ask how the other girl looks, Sylvia shot back. Her face was scratched and there were splotches of dried blood. I knocked the shit out of her.

Why, mija? Antonio responded. Can't you just go to school and stay out of trouble? This summer class is only three weeks long. It's two o'clock and you've been out of school for only an hour. Why didn't you just come home?

I didn't want to go to summer school, Sylvia protested. You made me, remember? Besides, I have to be loyal to my friends and when someone talks shit, we all join in.

Mija. Antonio looked into her eyes. The judge said you have to go to school. I love you, and it hurts me to see you getting mixed up with those gang bangers. Your mother and I raised you to know better. Plus, if you keep this up during the regular school year, they'll kick you out and then you'll have to go back to the ranch where you won't have any freedom.

I don't care, Sylvia told him. We're not a gang, we're a crew, and we have to protect our barrio.

She had heard it all before from Antonio. He had shared her business with the priest, the teachers, the counselor, and the principal. He tried to restrict Sylvia to her bedroom, but she just left. The probation officer had told her that she was basically a good person because most of his troublemakers were far worse than her. All she had done to get her six months at the girl's ranch, a juvenile facility, was to go joy riding in a stolen car.

You have to stay away from those girls, Antonio said. They're no good for you.

They're the only real friends I have, Sylvia said. They take care of me.

That's not true, Antonio responded. You have your family. We're the only people that really love you and take care of you the right way.

You don't love me or know me, Sylvia responded. You've no idea who I am.

What do you mean? Antonio responded. Sylvia could hear the anger in his voice. We stayed up all night when you were sick, and we attended all of the school conferences and functions for parents.

Yeah, yeah she mocked. I've heard it before. You bought way more Girl Scout cookies than we could eat, and you took me to Mexico and Hawaii. You've always said that I was the queen of Disneyland because I had visited so many times.

We did that to show our love for you, Antonio said. And we beat the odds. You were loving and polite and your friends were from good families. Why are you so disrespectful?

That was in the past, Sylvia replied. I'm a different person now. Get used to it.

Before your mother died, Antonio said. You had nice friends. Now your friends are gang bangers. Sorry, I mean crew members. I know that you're behaving this way because you miss your mother. Believe me, I miss her too.

Those people weren't friends, Sylvia said, ignoring the comment about her mother. They were just stuck up. Leave me alone. I just want to be with my real friends. With that comment, Sylvia stormed out of the room.

As Sylvia cleaned herself up in the bathroom, she thought about the changes that had taken place since her mother had died two years before. Her father just didn't understand and almost every conversation turned into an argument.

Good as new, Sylvia said as she emerged from a half hour in the bathroom and acting like their previous conversation had never happened. The gold ring that pierced her eyebrow was in place and she had brushed her black hair, which contained streaks of red and purple. I know that you want me to make a decision about next year, but I'm not ready yet.

I know it's hard to decide because it will be your last year of high school, Antonio said.

Sylvia had lied. Of course, she wanted to remain here with her friends, but saying that would totally destroy her father and she really didn't feel like being involved in another argument.

But, as you know, they are closing the store, Antonio continued, and I have been offered a job in management to move to New York City. They told me today that my salary would double and I can't afford to pass this up. You have to let me know if you want to come with me or stay here with your grandmother.

I'll let you know soon, Sylvia replied, deciding to change the subject. You've been looking on AmericanSingles.com for a female friend in New York. Any luck?

Sylvia, in one of their few rational conversations had talked about her father dating other women. She realized that her adopted mother would have approved because she had always said that she wanted him to be happy. It was obvious that Antonio was very lonely. She looked over his shoulder and saw a flattering picture of Antonio, one that showed his light brown skin, his short black hair, and a warm smile.

Who's that? Sylvia said, looking at a woman next to Antonio's picture.

Just someone I met online, Antonio replied. She has two adopted sons, she loves reading, and she likes to grow roses. We have a lot in common.

Sylvia stared. Something within her said that she knew that woman. It was a strange feeling, one not unlike the sensation of coming home again after having been gone a long time.

All evening Sylvia tried to put the situation out of her mind. But she couldn't. The picture haunted her. All her life she had heard about miracles. Could this possibly be one?

Chapter 2

Hurry up, Podowski, Mike Therral said from two places behind Rick in the food line. I'm starving.

Calm down, Rick shot back over his shoulder. We could both live for a long time on our own fat.

He too was tired of waiting in line. It was the first day of the new academic year at Central High School and, after a morning of God-awful meetings, the staff was lined up for a barbecue being grilled by the school's administrative team. The principal was cooking the hamburgers. Usually, he was handing out bull, but today, he was cooking it!

The buildings at Central faced a grassy mound, on top of which, near the front of the school was a five- by-five cement pad that served as a base for a large wooden tower sporting a clock that hadn't worked in twenty years, beyond which the ground sloped to form a natural amphitheater where the staff were now lined up, paper plates in hand. It was a stately campus with its six red brick classroom buildings, each with a terra cotta Spanish tile roof. The campus was so beautiful with its manicured lawns, and flowering trees that it was difficult to believe that the high school was located in the middle of an impoverished area on the east side of San Jose.

When Rick finally reached the table, he helped himself to a large breast of chicken, a mound of potato salad, a heap of barbecued beans and a giant piece of garlic bread, before joining his friend Leti, a short, round-faced, second generation Mexican-American teacher, sitting on the grass.

I was talking to Cookie, Leti said, immediately getting down to business. She took care of the counseling in summer school and she wants us to do what we can to enlist a Sylvia Medina in the Literary Club. Apparently the girl writes poetry, but she's a gang member, and Cookie thinks that we're the only ones that can help her. All she did last year was to cut class and get suspended.

Rick was sick of dealing with them. When students are suspended from one high school, they are often transferred to another in the district where they invariably repeat the behavior that got them suspended in the first place. The disruption they brought with them guaranteed that the good kids would receive an inferior education.

I don't know, Rick said. The Literary Club is an extra assignment for me and it's a lot of work. I don't have time to deal with kids that have problems. Plus, I have those students in every one of my classes. Can't I just take care of this one extracurricular activity without a lot of hassles?

I know it's a lot to ask of you, Leti told Rick. I'm co-advisor of the club and I have the same problems as you do. Oh look. There's Erin and Teresa. Over here.

Rick realized that she wasn't going to let him complain any more and was intent on changing the subject for today at least. But, he knew her well enough to be sure that he had not heard the last of Cookie's latest project.

Rick Podowski and The Hefty Trio are back in the saddle again, Erin McGinty said with a laugh. She was the most imposing of the two women who joined them. She had long straight red hair, pasty white skin, and a large frame that hid her extra weight.

That's us, Teresa Spinelli responded. She was a direct opposite of Erin, the Italian grandmother type, short, with broad hips and a big smile. Another year with that stupid name.

All four of them had been teaching in the English Department at Central for over twenty-five years. At the faculty scholarship fundraiser two years earlier, calling themselves Rick Podowski and the Hefty Trio, they had performed a parody of Dawn, a Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons song, a tune they had renamed Central, You're Too Thin For Me. The group's name had stuck.

As usual, when they came together after the summer break, they entertained one another with stories about what had happened to them over the vacation. Rick told about taking a class in grievance arbitration for the union during which in a mock arbitration he had won a judgment of $400,000. Teresa told about going to a dude ranch with her husband who had made a fool of himself trying to get on a horse. And Leti bragged about her granddaughter and her godchild who were, apparently, the most brilliant children in the universe, while Erin talked about good times in Irish pubs, apparently the only tourist attractions she visited during her trip abroad.

Although Rick laughed with everyone else, he knew that Cookie and Leti would gang up and force him to take Sylvia into the Literary Club. That could mean a year dealing with this student's hostility and rage, a thought that cast a dark cloud over an otherwise delicious barbecue lunch.

Chapter 3

I don't care what you say, Mrs. Rodriguez, Sylvia said. She was sitting with her arms crossed on one of two chairs on the other side of the desk in the very small office. I'm not joining no pansy assed organization like the Literary Club. No one's interested in what I've been through.

That's where you're wrong, Cookie Rodriguez said, knowing full well that it would be a big mistake to criticize the girl's choice of words. I've been a counselor for a good many years and I can tell that you've so much to offer. Putting your experiences in writing will help others understand.

I don't mean to be disrespectful, Sylvia said, leaning forward, her hair draping itself on either side of her oval face. But you're so full of shit. Sorry, I mean kaka. I tried with Mrs. Beardsley, my tenth grade teacher and all she did was correct the grammar. If I'd written a note saying that I was going to commit suicide, all she'd do is complain about the commas not being in the right place.

The Literary Club is different, Cookie assured the girl, forcing herself not to laugh even though she had Sue Beardsley down to a T. Mr. Podowski and Mrs. Rios are interested in what you have to say, rather than how you say it. Do you have something I can share with them?

My writing is private, Sylvia said, defiantly. I don't share it with any body, especially teachers.

I know that you write poetry, Cookie continued, sensing that this show of bravado was just an act. Can't you just share one poem?

Here, Sylvia replied, jumping to her feet and throwing a sheet of paper across the desk. As soon as she closed the door, Cookie began to read.

I Have To Go

I've tried to be your perfect mate,

But I've failed because you are so full of hate.

I tried to listen and I tried to support your life,

Because in the future I wanted to be the ideal wife

It won't work because your fists are so strong,

When I give my opinion, you say that I am wrong,

Then your fist lands on my cheek,

And for the next week, I look like a freak.

I have to make excuses and to everyone I say,

That I'm clumsy and the door got in the way.

You are so possessive and I can't be me,

You're angry when it's with my friends I want to be.

You pout and create a jealous fantasy in your mind,

Then you hit me, bring flowers, and think that's kind.

I'm out of love and so tired of your meaningless acts,

Finally my mind is clear, and I can see all the facts.

I'm sick of it all, you don't have respect,

And if I stay with you, my life will be a wreck.

I'm going to leave and get my dignity back,

Because self esteem is what you lack.

And that will never come with the way you play,

It's so wrong, there is no way I'm gonna stay.

It was obvious, Cookie thought, that this very troubled girl had talent. Was this poem about her experiences? If that's true, then she really needed some help.

****

The Vino Bello was a local wine shop, the walls of which were covered with bins of the best wines produced in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Rick found Cookie sitting on a stool at the dark cherry wood wine bar, her short legs barely reaching the rung. It was instantly clear to him that she had rehearsed what she was going to say and that nothing he could say or do would stop her.

Rick, I'm so glad you could come, Cookie said as he joined her. I'm having a glass of Travieso Winery's Amaranta which is a Syrah.

Travieso, Rick said, his eyes lighting up. I know the owners. Mats Hagstrom is a medical doctor and Ray Sliter is a marine geophysicist. The labels are very colorful and some depict names from Latin American folklore.

Really, Cookie said. That's a good omen because I asked you here to talk about a student who is from Latin America. I mean Mexico.

This is a superb wine, Rick said as the woman behind the bar poured him a glass, intent on keeping Cookie off the subject of her latest juvenile delinquent as long as possible. They make a some great blends that I love.

Let's get their daily special, Cookie said. The appetizers here are always very unusual. Erin and Teresa and I have tried to duplicate them, but with not much success on most of them. But, we have made today's special dish. You'll see what I mean when you try it. Incidentally, I've already ordered for us. Hope you don't mind.

These hot Italian sausages and peppers are delicious, Rick said as he took the first bite from the small serving bowl. I went to school in Valencia, Spain for a summer and I was hoping to got to Italy, but my bags got put on the wrong train and I ended up going to Switzerland instead. I want to eat my way from the top of Italy to the bottom.

That's a great goal, Cookie said. Italian food is really special. This dish is only made of hot Italian sausages, onions, peppers and a little garlic. Of course this bread makes it perfect.

Benissimo, Rick said as he put some of the sausages on the bread and started to feel the effects of the wine.

I also want to thank you again for winning that grievance this summer to reduce the counselor/student ratio, Cookie went on. Now, I'll have more time to work with the students.

I didn't do that by myself, Rick told her. We filed the grievance at our school and the union carried it through to arbitration. The ruling went against the district and now we have one new counselor.

Don't be so humble, Cookie said. I heard that you wrote the opening statement, the arguments and the closing statement. You kicked the butts of the district's high priced attorneys.

I guess so, Rick said. Enough of the small talk. We're good friends and I know what you're trying to do. Each year you pick a couple of students that you want to save and then you attempt to sucker a faculty member into helping you. This year it's me.

Sylvia Medina is a kid with lots of potential and she needs someone to mentor her, Cookie told him purposely ignoring his comment. I've read the cum folder on this girl. Also I talked to her junior high counselor. She is a great person and had a very loving mother. Her father was a strict disciplinarian.

That's typical for Mexican-American families, Rick said. Most of my students come from families like that.

That's right, Cookie replied. But most of the families haven't lost the mother. When this happened, Sylvia had no one to turn to. She was leaving the junior high school, going through the process of becoming a woman and because of the boundary changes, her junior high school friends went to another school. She was very much alone.

Couldn't she have made friends? Rick said. I mean besides gang members.

They're not a gang, Cookie said. Gangs are involved in criminal activities like killing, and selling drugs. The group Sylvia's with doesn't do that type of thing. They call themselves a crew.

Gang, crew, Rick said. It's all the same. They disrupt the classroom teacher.

She didn't make friends with the good kids, Cookie replied. Maria's mother is an alcoholic and doesn't take care of her. So, in a sense both Sylvia and Maria didn't have mothers and I think that's why they became friends and Sylvia joined the crew.

I understand why you are helping her, but why me? Rick said. Wouldn't a female mentor be better?

I'm going to help her, too, Cookie said. "I need you because you understand her kind of thing. Sylvia was adopted at birth