Mom pulls up to the drive-through window. “I heard you late.”
I’m yawning. “Homework.”
She hands me my chocolate and takes her coffee.
“Are you falling behind?”
I inhale the sweet steam. “More like moving ahead.”
Near the high school I remember about Steve.
“Mom! Drop me by the auditorium, okay?”
She swings a left. “Not Ag?”
“No.” A twinge in my stomach.
“Well, I won’t bother to ask why.”
I face the window. “You don’t want to know why.”
Mom pulls to the curb. “I don’t have time for stories.”
Cold and dark. I sigh getting out.
“Why do we have to come to school so stupid early?”
“Because I do,” she says. “Take the bus sometime if you don’t like it.”
“Okay, then.” We both know it’s not happening.
“You’re welcome,” Mom says as I stand by the door.
“Thanks,” I say, closing it short of a slam.
Ninety minutes to the bell.
I cross to the Humanities Building in a kind of hanging mist and clatter up metal stairs lit by reflectors.
“Hi,” someone says, and I grip the rail. It’s wet.
“Gross,” I say, then, “Hey.”
Jeni is sitting on the top step.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, climbing slower.
“Waiting for class,” she says. “Is this place off-limits too?”
“Off-limits? No.”
“Your friends aren’t coming?”
“They don’t know I’m here.”
Jeni eyes me as I step past into the outside corridor. I stop three doors down, at my English classroom.
“I’m waiting for school to start, just like you are. Here, just for today.”
Some tension leaves her shoulders.
“Your friend isn’t coming, is he? Nathan?”
“Nathan delivers papers before school,” Jeni says. “He dropped me off.”
I move to the rail. “Boy, I can’t see it. You and him.”
“I’m not with Nathan,” she says. “You’ve got that wrong.”
“No?” I say, stretching.
Jeni points between us. “Can I—?”
Curious, I nod.
She comes over. “We’re staying with them. My mom and me.”
“You’re staying with Nathan and his dad?”
Jeni kicks at the tar paper. “It’s complicated.”
I look out at the field. “Must be.”
“My mom and his dad are seeing each other. Dating, I guess.”
“Huh.”
“Does Nathan’s dad still look like Bigfoot?” I ask.
Jeni laughs. “My mom is picky like that.”
I grin. “Probably about as picky as mine.”
Jacey and Charity are talking close when I walk into the bathroom at break. They split apart like a cheating couple, Charity’s words left hanging—
… cut her off.
I cross to them. “Hi.”
Jacey looks away.
“Got a smoke?” I ask.
She fumbles in her purse and hands me one.
I wave the butt under Charity’s nose. “How about a light?”
She slaps it away. “Wait.”
And flips a matchbook at me like a tiny Frisbee.
It bounces off my chest, hits the tiles, and skids under a sink.
I crumple the cigarette. “What’s going on?”
“Steve is talking bad about you,” Charity says.
“Really bad,” says Jacey.
“Oh.” I wait. “And you guys are listening?”
“Angelyn, he is pissed.” Jacey is wide-eyed.
“That’s his problem,” I say.
“Where were you this morning?” She’s close to a whisper.
“Here. School. Just nowhere near Steve. I’m done with him.”
“Done with him? Why didn’t you call last night and tell me?”
“I don’t call! You know I don’t. Not with them listening.”
“What is Steve saying?” I ask.
“That you screwed him over,” Jacey says. “Got him detention.”
“I did? It was all Steve.”
“Slut, bitch, whore,” Charity recites. “He called you that.”
“All that?” They nod. “And you guys told him off—right?”
Charity makes a face. “Oh, right, Angelyn.”
“No one could have stopped him,” Jacey says.
For a second—a second—I feel like crying.
“You’re a pair of pussies,” I say.
Charity smiles. “Steve told us to take a break from you.”
I stare at her. “So you are?”
“JT and Steve are tight,” Jacey says. “I have to respect that.”
“Respect it? They talk crap about you, Jace. Did you know?”
“Angelyn, don’t put me in the middle.”
“We should go,” Charity says. Adding, “Jacey.”
“Not me?” Like I’m shocked.
The girls march out.
I check myself.
My hair hangs right. My shirt fits better than either of theirs.
Way better.
The hurt on my face is easy to read. They must have read it.
It kills me that Steve was right.
Before class. Mr. Rossi reads the newspaper at his desk. The girls talk about a party for Jacey’s baby sister. Who’s coming. Who’s bringing what. I take my notebook out and draw connecting circles. I’m banned from both their houses, but usually they don’t throw it in my face.
Jeni looks over a couple of times from across the room.
The bell rings.
“Homework,” Mr. Rossi says.
I pull mine out, folded, from the text. A double assignment like I said.
“What is she doing?” Charity asks, like eww.
Mr. Rossi walks to our row. “Did you do the homework, Ms. Flint?”
“Sure,” Charity says. “I left it at home by accident.”
“Same here,” Jacey says. “Can we bring ours tomorrow?”
Front row, Eric is turned and grinning.
“Hey, if we have ours, do we get extra credit?”
“No one’s talking to you,” I say out of reflex.
He whips around.
“Ms. Stark, you have your work?” Mr. Rossi is casual.
I smooth the papers. “Yes.”
He nods. “Good girl.” And walks away.
I can’t believe he said it.
“That is so not cool,” Charity says.
But someplace inside I’m glad he did.
There’s a quiz. Same stuff that was in the homework.
Mr. Rossi calls time. “Exchange papers.”
“Jacey, give me yours,” Charity says. “Here’s mine.”
Usually, the three of us switch.
Mr. Rossi lifts his clipboard. “Everyone set?”
“Angelyn needs a partner!” Charity calls.
I look around. “Hey.”
Jeni has her hand up. “Can we correct our own?”
“You girls trade,” Mr. Rossi says.
We meet at the center of the room. Jeni smiles, handing me her quiz.
“Look at her shoes,” Charity says.
I check mine. I’m wearing boots. She doesn’t mean me.
Jeni’s got on shapeless tennies with gray laces. They’ve seen some miles.
“What a bitch, huh?” she whispers.
I study Jeni’s shoes. “Girl, you know how to accessorize.”
Charity cackles. Jacey laughs. Scattered others too, throughout the room.
Jeni puts one foot behind the other, hiding nothing.
“Sit down, you two.” Mr. Rossi, like he’s disappointed.
I don’t even know why I said it.
When we call scores, I’ve made an A. So has Jeni.
Jacey and Charity fail.
At the bell Jeni bolts. The girls leave ahead of me, talking at a clip. As I step into the hall, Mr. Rossi calls after me.
I look back, but we’re cut off by the crowd changing classes. I push through to a spot against the wall.
He stands in the doorway, hand up in the A-OK sign.
Thinking it’s about the quiz, I nod.
Kids stream between us. Next time there’s a gap, Mr. Rossi pats the air by his thigh.
“The dog,” he mouths.
Then I get it. Dolly is okay. Whatever Steve or anyone says, I did good.
Smiling, I lean against the wall. I hold the smile until Mr. Rossi can see it.
The crowd splits as I move down the stairs. At the landing I see why—
Nathan in the middle, searching faces. His eyes light up when he sees mine.
“Angelyn! Hey.”
Shaking my head, I point to the window.
Out of traffic, I tell him, “Nathan, you have got to stop.”
He leans in with a shaky smile. “I only want to—”
“Ask me out? No, like never. Go away.”
“Talk, Angelyn. I only want to talk.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“It’s about Grandma.” His voice catches.
“That girl Jeni said she was all right.” My voice is distant in my ears.
“Jeni doesn’t know her like she was before.”
“There’s nothing about—before—that I want to remember.”
“Angelyn, you have to come see her! You have to come now.”
I step back into the stream and let it carry me from him.