by K L Going
I’d been about to ask how things were going with Khalil, but instead I cringed. Ms. Evette’s sister came down from Mississippi twice a year, all lipstick and high heels, and I dreaded every visit. When it came to Keisha’s aunt, I always felt like a cockroach: small, ugly, and uninvited.
I couldn’t tell Keisha that, though. She adored her aunt Loretta, and seeing as she’d just given me a pass when she could have pitched a fit, I wasn’t going to mess things up now.
“Great,” I said. “Just give me a minute to grab my stuff.”
“I can’t believe Ms. Marion didn’t say a word about you giving up the lead at June Fest,” Keisha said, leaning back in her beanbag chair. “I mean, really, not one word?”
I shrugged. “She didn’t seem angry. Just said I needed time to work through things.”
Keisha rolled her eyes. “That’s not very helpful.” She sighed, but then she straightened. “Oh, Ma said you should let her know when you got here, so we can head out.”
“Okay,” I said, trying not to frown. “Guess I’ll say hello to Loretta too.”
I headed downstairs, but stopped on the final step, listening to the hushed voices coming from the kitchen. The tone of them made my skin tingle.
“I just don’t see why you’re still taking care of her as if she’s your own kid. Does her mother even pay you?”
That was Loretta’s voice, clipped and annoyed.
A wave of fear washed over me as I heard Ms. Evette cluck her tongue.
“She’s Keisha’s best friend. I don’t ask for payment.”
“Oh right,” Loretta snorted. “Because you have all the money in the world to feed an extra mouth, what with your husband having been out of work for two years.”
“We’re doing fine,” Ms. Evette snapped. “Just because you feel the need to put on airs every time you visit, making my daughter think you’re some kind of fashion mogul . . .”
Loretta laughed. “Oh Ettie, she does not think that. Why can’t I buy Keisha something pretty? That’s not putting on airs. Besides, I buy things for little Ms. White Girl too. I’d think you’d be happy about that.”
“She has a name,” Ms. Evette said. “And this isn’t about color.”
“Oh come on,” Loretta said, snapping the words apart like each one was a separate sentence. “You’re really going to tell me that a black woman taking care of a poor little white child, practically raising her while her incompetent mama refuses to pull herself together and her worthless father rots in prison, isn’t about color?”
“Don’t you dare!” Ms. Evette said. “Tia is a great kid.”
“I’m not saying she isn’t,” Loretta said. “At least so far.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t thought it?” I could hear the click of Loretta’s heels. “Her father’s in prison for murder. You know when a child’s brain forms the most neural connections? During the first three years of life. What do you think a man like that taught his kid during those years? A person has to be wrong in the head to pull the trigger on a twelve-year-old girl.”
Ms. Evette was trying to talk over her sister. “Tia’s a child, for goodness’ sake. She’s not some evil spawn.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be kind to her,” Loretta answered, “I’m just saying that if I were you, I wouldn’t want to keep taking care of her once she’s a teenager. One way or another, that girl is going to be disturbed.”
I clapped my hand over my mouth. Was this what people thought of me?
That’s when Dwayne came around the corner. As he passed, I dashed up the stairs, hoping he hadn’t seen me hovering there. I heard the low, angry thrum of his voice, but couldn’t concentrate on the words. Not anymore. I darted into Keisha’s room, shutting the door tight behind me.
“What’s wrong?” Keisha asked. “Did you find Ma and Aunt Loretta?”
My mind raced. Should I tell Keisha what I’d heard? Make some excuse to go home? Go downstairs and stand up for myself? My heart was pounding, pounding, pounding.
A second later Dwayne opened Keisha’s door.
“Are you girls ready to go?”
“Don’t we look ready?” Keisha asked, twirling in front of the mirror.
Dwayne frowned. “You know we’re going for beignets, right? You’re going to get powdered sugar all over that nice shirt.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You all right?”
I nodded, trying to breathe normally, but Dwayne’s face fell, and he gave me a look so pained I wanted to shrivel up into a tiny ball. “Oh kiddo,” he said. “You didn’t hear that, did you?”
I looked away.
Finally, he laid one hand gently on my arm. “No matter what anyone says, you’re a part of this family and we love you. Hold your chin up high, understand?” He said it real stern, searching out my gaze, and I nodded, but nothing felt real anymore. Keisha turned around and gave Dwayne a strange look, but he just squeezed my arm tight. Then he walked out, pulling the door shut behind him.
“What was that all about?” Keisha asked.
“Guess he can tell I’ve been upset lately.”
Keisha nodded. “Forget about your stupid father,” she said. “It’s not your fault he did something terrible. No one blames you for it.”
But Keisha was completely and utterly wrong. For the first time, I understood why my mother had kept the truth from me for all these years.
And I hated her and loved her for it all at once.
CHAPTER 17
IF I COULD have gone back home, I would have, but I couldn’t hurt Keisha’s feelings. Not after ignoring her for a week. So instead, I went with her family, walking along the River Walk to the French Quarter. Street performers entertained the crowds, and saxophone players lifted up jazz melodies over the bend in the Mississippi River. Dwayne hovered nearby, letting me push Jerome in the stroller, and Ms. Evette asked if I was all right every five minutes.
By the time we got to Café Du Monde for our beignets I would’ve given everything I owned to disappear. What if Loretta was right? I’d already lost my music and lied to my mother. Maybe without my singing, I would become disturbed.
“Hello? Earth to Tia.” Keisha pulled at my sleeve, handing me a tray for my beignets.
“Huh?”
I followed her and Dwayne to the outdoor table where Ms. Evette and Loretta sat laughing. A trumpet player set up his station outside and began to play. While everyone else ate, I closed my eyes and pictured the notes, dancing through the night sky.
“Hey, Tia.” Keisha nudged me with her elbow and I had to fight my way up for air. She pointed across the street to Jackson Square. “Look. It’s Kenny.” We hadn’t seen him since before June Fest. “Want to go talk to him?”
Loretta and Ms. Evette glanced from me to Keisha.
“Is that your boyfriend?” Loretta asked. I could just imagine what she was thinking.
Twelve years old and already she’s wild.
“He’s not her boyfriend . . . yet,” Keisha corrected. “Can we go say hi? Please?”
Ms. Evette frowned. “I’ll walk over with you,” she said, but Loretta gave her the eye.
“They’re old enough to cross the street on their own, Ettie,” she scolded. “They don’t want you hanging around while they talk to a boy. Right, girls?”
Keisha grinned. “Isn’t my aunt the best?”
I didn’t answer. Ms. Evette looked over at Dwayne, but he just shook his head. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “If I had my way, these girls wouldn’t talk to a boy until they turned thirty.”
Keisha rolled her eyes, then dragged me out of my chair. “Let’s go.”
We ran across the street, dodging the flower-covered horse-and-carriages lined up to carry tourists around the quarter. Then we wound our way through the displays of art for sale. When we’d
nearly caught up to Kenny, Keisha hollered, waving like mad.
“Kenny! Hey Kenny!” She laughed at my mortified stare. “Sometimes you gotta do things quick,” she whispered, “like pulling off a Band-Aid.”
Kenny’s family stopped a few paces ahead of us, and his mother glared, but Kenny jogged forward.
“Hi,” he said, “w-what are you guys doing here?”
He was asking both of us, but looking right at me. Keisha nudged my shoulder so I’d answer.
“Getting beignets,” I said, wondering how a factual statement could come out sounding so dumb.
“Oh,” Kenny said. “I’m g-glad to see you.”
I shuffled awkwardly. “Me too.”
There was a moment of silence while Keisha pretended to study something in the distance.
“So . . . how come you weren’t at June Fest?” I asked at last. “You’re not quitting choir, are you?” That sounded desperate, and I wished I’d said something else.
Anything else.
Kenny smiled. “No,” he said. “I was on v-v-v—” He got stuck on the sound and struggled to force it out.
“Vacation?” Keisha supplied.
“Yeah,” Kenny said.
“So you’ll be back?”
Kenny nodded. “On Thursday.” He paused. “Why? Did you m-miss me?”
I had missed him. It felt so good to see him again, I wanted to burst.
“You mean at June Fest?” I blurted. “Yeah. The tenors were flat.”
Keisha groaned like I was about as hopeless as they came, but Kenny didn’t seem to notice.
“We’re always f-flat,” he said, chuckling. “Lorenzo Reyes c-can’t sing on k-key to save his life.”
Keisha snorted. “At least you haven’t got Mary-Kate and Amber Allen trying to out-sing the whole choir. I mean, hello? It’s called a choir because our voices are supposed to blend.”
Showboating was one of Ms. Marion’s pet peeves: No one shines unless we all shine.
“The choir sounds a lot better when you’re there,” I said to Kenny, feeling heat spread from my neck to my cheeks. But it was true. Kenny had an amazing voice—clear and steady—and when he sang he never stuttered.
“You think s-so?” Kenny asked, grinning. “M-maybe sometime w-we could—”
This time I really did wish Kenny could talk faster, because he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Loretta, Ms. Evette, Dwayne, and Jerome came up behind us. And if that wasn’t bad enough, at the same time, Kenny’s family came over.
Kenny’s mother glared at me, as if I was already a bad influence on her son. I wondered if she knew about my father. All the adults said hello and made small talk, and the whole time I was crushed like a vise between Loretta and Kenny’s mom.
I guessed Kenny had been about to ask if we could sing together, and I wanted that so bad, but right then, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever sing again. What would Kenny think if he knew what my dad had done?
When I finally risked a glance in Kenny’s direction, he was watching me with his head cocked to one side, studying me with warm, kind eyes.
They were the eyes of someone who knew what it felt like to be judged.
If all the adults hadn’t been around, I would have reached out to hold his hand. I imagined myself squeezing lightly, the way he’d done the night of the shooting, offering up the silent truth that maybe we could do this together.
Since Loretta bunked with Keisha whenever she visited, Ma had swapped shifts that night, so I could sleep at home. I was relieved to be in my own bed, but I still tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Loretta had said to Ms. Evette.
One way or another, that girl is going to be disturbed.
Was that true? Did being the daughter of a murderer mean I’d grow up to do horrible things? It was as if my father had stolen my future. But really, Danielle was the one whose future had been stolen. How could I complain when at least I was still alive?
My window was open, and outside I could hear my neighbors gambling on their front porch. There was music in their voices.
Roll them bones.
Snake eyes, snake eyes.
C’mon, lady luck.
Whenever a breeze came by, the leftover Mardi Gras beads caught in the branches of the trees rattled like their dice. The sound of a calliope drifted on the wind from a riverboat far away on the Mississippi. Something about that bright, cheerful sound made me think about that other hot, humid day when I’d sung my heart out, feeling like a magician pulling scarves out of my sleeve. Then I thought about Kenny’s face lighting up when he thought we might sing together.
He didn’t think I was evil spawn.
But what if he was wrong?
I smacked the wall in frustration. Ma must not have been sleeping well, because in an instant, she was in my doorway, bleary-eyed with her hair sticking up in patches.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
I flopped back onto my bed. “Fine. You must have been dreaming.” I wondered how come I’d never noticed how much lying Ma and I did. It was like a song on the radio that I swore I’d never heard before, but once I recognized it, I realized the DJ played it every five minutes.
“What are you still doing up?” Ma asked. “It’s late.”
I took a deep breath. “Ma,” I said, willing myself to form the word.
Were you ever going to tell me why my father really went to prison? Did you think I’d never find out?
What I actually said surprised me. “Do you ever think about moving?”
Ma let out a little laugh and lay down onto the bed next to me. “Trust me,” she said, “I’ve daydreamed about moving more often than you could ever guess.”
I turned over, propping myself up on one elbow so we were facing each other.
“Then why don’t we? We could start over someplace different. Someplace where no one knows us, and we could be anyone we want.”
Ma looked at me strange. “Wouldn’t you miss Keisha too much?”
The thought of missing Keisha tore through me, but I shook my head. “We’d keep in touch. Please, Ma. Let’s do it.”
Ma stroked my hair. “Where would we go?”
I thought it over, excitement building at the possibility that she might say yes. “California,” I said. “We could live by the beach and I could audition for musicals.”
Ma wrinkled her nose. “California? Really? Too crowded for me. I’d choose someplace vast and open, like Nebraska or Wyoming.”
“Those would work too,” I said, even though I didn’t really want to live in the middle of nowhere.
Ma just sighed. “Sure would be nice if we could afford it. But you know we’re lucky to have this house. If my grandmother hadn’t left it to me in her will . . .” Ma closed her eyes. “Moving costs money we don’t have and, frankly, I don’t know where I’d be without Ms. Evette to help out with you. I know this isn’t the best area, but we have to make do with what we have. You understand that, don’t you, Tia?”
I stared up at the ceiling. Tears stung my eyes.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just . . . I wish . . .”
“What do you wish, honey?”
I wish I didn’t live in the same city as Danielle Morton’s family.
I shook my head. “Nothing. You should go back to bed. I know you have to work early tomorrow.”
“That’s true.” Ma got up slowly. She walked over to the doorway and stopped. “You know I love you, right? If there’s something bothering you, you’d tell me?”
Ma looked so concerned, standing there in her tattered nightshirt, that I didn’t have the heart to hurt her. “Nothing’s wrong,” I murmured, but the minute I said it, I understood something important.
Lying was exhausting.
So was hiding. I didn’t w
ant to be the person Keisha’s aunt Loretta thought I’d become. I wanted to be the girl who’d dreamed of changing the world with her voice. I wanted to be the girl who could sing duets with a really great guy if he asked her to.
But now I knew that wouldn’t happen unless I made it happen. If Ma wouldn’t be leaving this city any time soon, then there was something I needed to do.
Something that made my heart pound and my throat constrict.
Something that scared me straight down to my bones.
CHAPTER 18
THE NEXT NIGHT I was back at Keisha’s. We’d begged for this sleepover, since we’d missed the one on Monday night.
“Are you sure you need to do this?” Keisha asked. Her room was dark and we were hiding under the sheet, lighting the space with a tiny flashlight. “I just don’t see how going to Danielle Morton’s house will do anything other than make things worse.”
I shook my head. “I told you already. I need to go back to where things went wrong, and if I don’t apologize, no one ever will.”
Keisha groaned. “But it wasn’t your fault! You were four! How exactly were you supposed to stop your butt-brained father from using his stupid butt-brain to do something stupid?”
She was getting riled up, but I didn’t care.
“It’s not about whose fault it is. Now that I know what happened, I need to tell Danielle’s family that I’m sorry my father was such a stupid butt-brain!”
Despite ourselves, this made us both giggle, and moments later we heard Ms. Evette’s voice holler up the stairs.
“Girls, quiet! Go to sleep!”
Keisha and I exchanged glances, listening for footsteps in the hallway, but there weren’t any.
“Too bad Auntie Loretta went back to Mississippi,” Keisha said at last. “She would’ve driven you there. I’m sure of it.”
I started to agree, but then I stopped. This was as good a time as any to start telling the truth.
“Keisha,” I said. “Your aunt Loretta hates me.”
