18

“This is Our Lady of Angels!” my dad exclaims, pulling to the curb in front of Nelly’s school. “God works in mysterious ways. This is where we want to send Veronica.”

“Yeah? I heard it was top notch.” I slouch into my seat and fold my arms. “They do violin lessons here and everything.”

“Verdad,” my dad says, rolling to a stop, “we need to talk about that.”

“Yes.” I unbuckle. “Let’s talk about God’s mysterious ways—and yours too—at dinner.”

“Damn, the mouth on you.”

I visor my eyes. “There she is!” One of three black/brown kids out of dozens and dozens of white girls, standing by the door.

My pulse picks up as I step out of the car. Nelly would be well within her rights to give me a fat lip. I assess the scene to verify if she’s bringing any of her peeps with her. I hope I can talk things out with her, but I’m prepared for the worst. What I’m not prepared for is a cop pulling beside my dad.

Red and blue lights flash. The officer motions for my dad to roll down his window. “You have a student here, sir?”

“No, but—”

“Then you need to move along.”

“My daughter.” He motions with his head. “She has a friend here.”

I nod, turn on the video of my cell, and walk over. “Hi, officer. How do you know my dad doesn’t have a kid here?”

“Quiet, Verdad,” my dad commands, all patriarchal. “Officer, I can just circle the block till she’s done.”

“Yeah. That makes us nervous. Someone circling the block of a girl’s high school.”

Seriously? What’s he trying to say? I scan the double-parked streets. Dodge Caravans, check. Jeep Wranglers and BMWs, check. A 2013 Subaru with bullet holes in it—not so much. There was a drive-by near my dad’s work and he figured people would be less likely to try to steal his car if he just left it like that.

“Sup, Maquina.”

I whip around. “Nelly!”

The officer stares at Nelly. She pulls a lanyard out of her blouse and holds up her ID. What. The. Fuck. He finally rolls up his window. He lets the car idle, talking into his radio.

I button up the oversized jacket I’m borrowing from Simone. It’s cold. “Jesus,” I say, nodding toward the police car.

“Yeah,” Nelly says, leaning on her hip, “just imagine what it was like for my dad when he first tried to pick me up—and the second time. And the third. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

I nod. My dad takes a call. The officer finally finds something better to do like IDK, his job?

“You know what else sucks?” I stuff my hands in my pockets. “I do.” I look her straight in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what exactly?” She looks at my eyes like she’s picking a lock. “ ’Cause you had nothing to do with why I am here.”

“I don’t?” What the—?

“I’m here because a security guard decided to act like a police officer and treat a school like a jail. Treat a kid like a criminal. To be honest, I’ve been a thorn in the administration’s side for a while. They been looking for an excuse to get rid of me. Whatever you said or didn’t say in Ms. Perez’s office wasn’t gonna make a difference.”

Wow. This from Nelly, who I really thought was gonna knock me out. Why? Because I didn’t expect a black girl to be able to engage in civilized dispute. Why am I so messed up?

I look past the gates to the literal ivory tower behind it. “Well, I’m still sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t act differently in class. I’ve replayed those moments so many times. Seems that’s something I do a lot.”

Nelly pulls up her hood. “How do you see it playing out?”

“I shouldn’t have got up in your face, first off. And when everything was going down, I should have stood up. For you. I should’ve at least texted you to see if you were all right afterward. So that’s why I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology.” She tucks her lanyard back in her blouse. “The world still owes me one.”

“No question. What now, though? The school. Brooke and Annie are still there. That’s messed up.”

“Annie and me don’t have no bad blood anymore. She actually showed up for the rally.”

I blush in embarrassment.

“Anyway, my sisters gave me some advice about how to fight the powers that be. We’re suing the school district. Admin thinks they plucked me out, but I’m gonna make sure and leave a scar. And thanks to my girl Frida’s protest, I got a news interview lined up. I’m getting the chance to really do somethin. I’m not gonna blow it.”

“Words to power,” I say.

“So.” Nelly checks her cell. “We done?”

I nod. “Guess so. See you.” I head back to my dad’s car. Then turn around. “Nelly!”

“Yo.”

“One more thing. Those words you said to me—Dónde está tu abuela? Why’d you say that? I looked it up—there’s that song about people hiding blackness, sending their black grandmas to the kitchen when company comes, but . . .”

“You Puerto Rican. Which makes you Taino Indian like my aunty. Taino is Indian. Black. Act like it.”

“Nelly, how’d you get so—so—”

“Woke? I got two sisters in college.”

“Wow. They made it.”

“Yep. With scholarships.”

“Damn!” I notice that Nelly’s hoodie is from Notre Dame. I point at the emblem. “Is that where you going?”

“I don’t know. Whoever it is got to woo me.” She rubs her thumb and pointer together.

We laugh.

“What about you?”

What about me? That is the question. “Maybe everything needs to stop being about me for a while.”

She nods. “Well, good luck figuring it out. I do worry about you.”

I’m taken like far aback. “Why?”

“You book smart. But emotionally—challenged. I’ll pray for you, my child.” Nelly starts walking backwards. “And you’re welcome, but it’s not my job to change your world. It’s my job to change mine. Bye, Maquina.”

“Verdad. It’s Verdad.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”