Center of Gravity

by Shaunta Grimes

I think about shooting that right back at him but change my mind. He’s right, anyway; that was rude.

  “Sorry.”

  “So, you escaped early this morning. Me too.” Jay Jay tilts his head as he looks at me.

  “Well.” I don’t want these kids to think I’m a prisoner in Lila’s house or something. “My dad’s at his new school, so I just—”

  “My grandma’s doing the windows today.” Jay Jay looks at Oscar, then back at me. “Trust me, early is better on windows day.”

  Her house has more windows than I’ve seen on one house in my whole life. I don’t know how to respond, though, so it takes me a few seconds too long to say, “I bet.”

  Jay Jay leans forward, a little closer to me. “Are you okay?”

  Oscar is watching me with black eyes that are impossible to read. Marvel is basically a tiny version of his older brother, and they’re both staring at me, too.

  I take a little step back. If I were home in Denver, I’d be so out of here. I’d have places to go. Home, for one thing. Or Megan’s house. Or the park that’s halfway to our school. Or the Pizza Plaza that’s three streets away in the other direction. It has a Ms. Pac-Man machine that’s actually a table and the best chicken wings on the planet.

  But in California? There isn’t anywhere for me to go except back to a house that isn’t mine. My dad’s not even there. I’d have to stay with Lila. I don’t know anyone. I don’t even know how to get to First Street where the stupid donut shop is.

  Tears sting my eyes again and I hold the washcloth to them, wishing I could just disappear.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Oscar asks.

  “Don’t be a jerk, O,” Jay Jay says again, and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. He’s not good with people. Seriously, we should keep him locked in a cage.”

  “Shut up,” Oscar says. He still doesn’t sound mad, though.

  “Anyway. We’re going to hit up the community center today.” Jay Jay stands up. “You should come. They have foosball.”

  I feel a little knot release in the center of my chest. “You play foosball?”

  The little clubhouse goes quiet, and a look passes between the four boys. Petey finally speaks up. “Yeah.”

  “Me too,” I say. “I mean, I like to play. I used to a lot in Denver.”

  “Are you any good?” Jay Jay asks.

  I’m better than Megan. Sometimes I could even beat Denny.

  But it feels like bragging to say so. I shrug. “I guess.”

  “The community center costs ten bucks for the summer,” Oscar says, like he’s hoping that I won’t have ten dollars. And he’s right. I don’t. I reach into my pocket and pull out the five-dollar bill that Lila gave me.

  Jay Jay asks again, “But you know how to play for real?”

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat and try again. “I mean. Yeah. I do. But I don’t have enough money.”

  Jay Jay elbows Oscar, then pulls a red Velcro wallet out of his own back pocket and peels it open. The sound echoes in the little cave of a clubhouse. “I have two bucks.”

  When no one else says anything, he looks up and turns to Petey, who sighs and says, “I have a buck fifty, but it’s supposed to be for…”

  He looks at me and doesn’t say what his money is for.

  Jay Jay shoots Oscar another look.

  “Oh my God. Fine.” Oscar pulls a handful of change out of his left pocket and adds a pile of nickels and dimes and quarters to the pot. No one says anything, but I see Petey put his money back in his pocket.

  Jay Jay and Oscar have given their snack money to me, and that makes me feel strange. I want to give the money back and say, Never mind, I don’t want to go to the community center with you. But that would be a lie. Kind of. As much as I want to just walk away and get myself out of this awkward situation, I’m happy that Jay Jay wanted to keep me around today.

  Plus, I really am good at foosball.

  I want to show off. I want these boys to want me to be their friend. I wonder if they can feel how extremely desperate I am.

  I am a sad, sad loser is what I am. That’s the truth.

  I take the money when Jay Jay offers it to me and stuff it in my pocket. I hear the ocean and a million people outside the clubhouse as we all stand under the stairs looking at each other.

  “So, who has food?” Oscar finally asks.

  Jay Jay, Petey, and Marvel all reach for backpacks I didn’t notice before. Oscar has one, too. They rummage in their bags and a little pile of granola bars and fruit roll-ups builds on an upturned crate. Oscar adds a peanut butter sandwich wrapped in a plastic baggie.

  The boys divvy the food up in some way that must make sense to them but doesn’t really to me. Marvel gets both of the apples and the sandwich. Oscar gets the granola bars. Jay Jay and Petey split what’s left evenly. Jay Jay looks at me, then grabs one of Oscar’s granola bars and tosses it my way.

  Oscar reaches to catch it in midair, but misses. “Hey!”

  I’m about to offer the snack back, because this boy already hates me. Jay Jay stops me with a fruit roll-up and a little bag of pretzels from his own stash.

  Oscar rolls his eyes and says, “Let’s get our bikes.”

  “Do you have a bike?” Jay Jay asks.

  I do. It’s currently wedged against a wall of applesauce in Lila’s garage that looks more like a strange grocery store than a place to park a car.

  I’ll have to ask Lila to take off the padlock before I go in there. I wonder if I can find a way to just sneak my bike out without her knowing. Maybe the key is in a kitchen drawer or something.

  It doesn’t really matter, though. Even if I could get past the lock, my front tire is flat.

  It surprises me that I really don’t want these boys to see Lila’s garage. Especially Oscar.

  “You could get your cards, too,” Marvel says. When Petey elbows him, he adds, “You know. If you wanted to.”

  Jay Jay told them.

  Oscar’s face lights up a little, and I wonder if showing him my collection will make him hate me less. It’s doubtful that it will make him like me.

  It’s warm, but I wrap my arms around my waist, remembering the first time I stood in front of the milk case at school when I couldn’t find a kid I didn’t already have. The panic that built in me like Mount St. Helens and filled me up until I felt like I might erupt.

  I pull the money back out of my pocket and reach it toward Jay Jay, including the five from Lila. “You guys go ahead. My dad wants me to unpack my bedroom anyway.”

  Jay Jay stares at my hand. He looks up at the others, and I feel sick to my stomach. I want to crawl under the sand, bury myself in it.

  To my surprise, it’s Oscar who talks. “This is so stupid. She can use Olivia’s bike.”

  The other three boys stare at Oscar like he’d suggested I fly to the community center on my fairy wings. Jay Jay finally says, “Are you sure?”

  “Who’s Olivia?” I ask.

  Oscar shoots me a look and leaves the clubhouse. Petey follows, with Marvel close behind him. Jay Jay waits, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what just happened.

  “Olivia is Oscar’s sister,” Jay Jay says. “She died last year.”

  I push the money back into my pocket. “Really?”

  “She had cancer. She was sick for a long time.” Jay Jay follows the others. “It’s a big deal that he’s offered you her bike.”

  * * *

  All of the boys have bikes at the Haunted Mansion. Jay Jay’s grandmother sounds a little scary to me, but at least she lets Oscar and Petey and Marvel keep their rides in her massive garage.

  “So how far away is your house?” I ask Oscar.

  “About three miles.”

  Well, that’s a long way to walk. I bite my bottom lip and look back toward Lila’s house. Maybe I should just go get my own bike. I’m sure Lila would let me into the garage. Maybe Jay Jay has a pump.

  But then I’d have to tell her where I
was going and why and with who, and that’s more words than I’ve ever said to her at once.

  “Want to ride on my handlebars?” Jay Jay asks me.

  “Um.” I’m not real tall, but I’m also not small, like a lot of the girls at my school. I’m definitely not “ride on my handlebars” small. “I’m not sure.”

  Jay Jay shrugs one shoulder. “I have pegs. I won’t let you fall.”

  I look down at his bike’s front tire. Silver pegs jut out from either side—a place to put my feet and keep myself balanced on the handlebars. All of the boys are looking at me now. Oscar has this smirk, and I’m sure he thinks I’m going to chicken out.

  The urge to keep him from seeing Lila’s weird garage rears up again.

  “Okay,” I say. “I guess so.”

  Jay Jay straddles his bike and holds it steady while I stand with my back to him, the front tire between my legs. I put my left foot on a peg and the edge of my rear end against the handlebar. Before I do a little bunny hop and get myself up there, I wonder if my butt is going to look weird, squished against a metal bar.

  “Come on,” Jay Jay says. “I won’t let you fall.”

  I put my weight on the left peg at the same time that I push off the ground with my right, and I’m up. I hold on to the handlebars tightly enough to hurt my fingers and lean back a little to keep my balance. Jay Jay leans forward, and I hear him laugh near my left shoulder before he kicks off and we’re moving.

  After a couple of awkward minutes, we’re going fast enough for the ride to smooth out. Jay Jay and Oscar call back and forth behind me, but I’m too focused on the wind blowing my side ponytail and the hope that I don’t fall over and kill myself to pay attention to what they’re saying.

  The farther we ride from the shore, the smaller and more closely packed the houses become. There are a lot of kids in Oscar’s neighborhood, playing behind metal fences in front yards with swing sets and kiddie pools, or riding skateboards up and down the blacktop beside the sidewalk. A couple of them have set up a dangerous-looking homemade jump in front of a driveway.

  Jay Jay veers toward the jump and says, “Want to try it?”

  I shake my head, the end of my ponytail flapping against my face. “Oh my God, don’t you dare!”

  He laughs and rides past it.

  Oscar’s house is a neat little square, painted blue with white shutters, and a perfectly green, equally square front lawn. There are two wooden half-barrels full of geraniums, one on either side of the stairs leading up to the small front porch. It reminds me of a dollhouse.

  Jay Jay slows, and I put my feet on the ground when he stops. He’s breathing heavily behind me, and I want to apologize, but I can’t get the words organized to come out.

  The scale between us is unbalanced, and I hope that I’ll have a chance to do something for him soon. For now, I just jump off the bike and say, “Thanks.”

  He lifts his chin like carrying me three miles on his handlebars was no big deal. Oscar sets his bike on its kickstand and goes to the top of his walkway. He looks at the front door for a moment, like he’s trying to build up his nerve. He pulls a key from where it’s hanging on a piece of string around his neck, under his T-shirt. Instead of taking the key off, he bends his knees and lowers himself so he can turn the lock and open the door.

  Jay Jay, Petey, and Marvel all stand on the sidewalk, so I do, too. There’s a quietness that surrounds Oscar’s house, like a bubble. It blocks out the noise of the rest of the neighborhood. It muffles whatever sound the boys might have made. Or maybe it just seems that way, because the wind was blowing in my ears on the way here.

  Marvel rocks back and forth, from heel to toe and back again. I think he’s going to say something, complain about Oscar taking too long, but Petey puts a hand on his head and he stays quiet.

  “Are Oscar’s parents home?” I ask.

  “It’s just his mom. She’s at my house.” I look up at Jay Jay and he lifts his eyebrows. “She’s my grandma’s housekeeper. Don’t you know? Only Mexicans know how to wash windows properly.”

  Jay Jay really doesn’t seem to like his grandmother very much. I think she must not be anything at all like Gran. I don’t even know how to respond to him, and luckily, I don’t have to. The garage door finally opens, and I see Oscar standing at the back of the well-kept space. It’s the exact opposite of Lila’s garage.

  He wheels out a bike. It’s a yellow Beach Cruiser with fat tires and wide handlebars. A purple lock is wound around the frame. I take a step back.

  What if I crash?

  What if someone steals Olivia’s bike while I’m borrowing it?

  Jay Jay takes the bike, and Oscar goes back in before I can say anything. The garage door starts to slide shut. Jay Jay hands it over, and I take it to keep it from falling onto the sidewalk. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “It’s okay,” Marvel says. “Olivia would want you to ride it. She was really nice.”

  Jay Jay stands closer to me, watching me with his strange eyes. “Let Oscar do this. He usually won’t even talk about her.”

  Maybe if I do this, it’ll balance things again between us. When Oscar is back, the boys leave, and I get on his dead sister’s bike and go with them.

  * * *

  The five-mile ride between Oscar’s house and the community center is nice. It takes long enough for me to start to think about how strange it is that I’ve made some maybe-maybe friends already.

  Probably because I don’t have to choose a milk carton in front of these boys. If I go to school with them in the fall, I’m pretty sure they’ll think I am a freak.

  I mean, Jay Jay saw my cards and he told the others about them. They still wanted to hang out with me, but that’s not the same as witnessing how I get them.

  Jay Jay rides beside me but talks mostly to Oscar and Petey. Marvel rides behind us. His bike is smaller, and his legs are shorter, but when I look over my shoulder at him, he seems like he’s holding his own.

  * * *

  The community center is a big, low building made of cinder block. It’s surrounded by basketball and tennis courts and has a grassy playground. No one is playing tennis except for four women with white hair, but there’s an intense game of basketball happening. High school boys play, half of them with their T-shirts in a pile on the ground. High school girls watch, sitting in bunches with their knees together, pretending like they’re paying attention to anything but the boys.

  I think they’re totally paying attention to the boys.

  Middle school kids probably never get to play basketball. Not that I care. I prefer soccer. But Jay Jay watches them as we ride by. We stop at a big metal rack and lock up our bikes in a row on one end.

  “Do you ever play?” I ask him.

  “Not this summer.” He heads toward the building before I can ask any more questions.

  There’s a desk inside the front door, and a girl smiles at us as we walk in. She has a dark-brown ponytail and a green T-shirt with a rainbow iron-on decal and the words It’s a Sunny Day at the Greater Los Angeles Community Center on the front. “Hey, guys.”

  “Hi, Jessica,” Jay Jay says.

  Jessica shifts her eyes to me, and her smile widens. She looks like it’s her mission in life to make sure every kid feels welcome at the Greater Los Angeles Community Center. “New friend?”

  “This is Tessa.” Jay Jay pushes me forward a little, and I dig into my pocket for the wad of bills and handful of change. “She wants to sign up.”

  “What a pretty name.” Jessica pulls a half sheet of pink paper from somewhere behind the desk. “Just need you to fill this out.”

  She plucks a pen with a huge yellow sunflower glued to the top from a red flowerpot on the counter and hands it to me. The paper just wants my name, my dad’s name, and our address and phone number.

  I print our names and the first two numbers of my address in Denver—and then my heart stutters and I pull the pen from the paper.

  I don’t l
ook up, because I know they’re all watching me. I don’t want to admit that I don’t know my address. It’s not mine anyway. It’s Lila’s. It’s Dad’s and the new baby’s. It’s not mine.

  I’m tempted to finish writing my old address in Denver, but some other kid lives in my old room now.

  I scratch out the numbers and write Second Street, because I know that much. And as soon as those words are down, I remember seeing the big number 585 on the mailbox the night before and thinking that at least Lila’s house had a satisfying number.

  I hand the paper back without a phone number. No one’s told me what it is in the new house.

  Jessica doesn’t seem to notice that I had a weird moment or that I left part of her form blank. She takes back her flowery pen and the pink paper and starts to count my money. She hands me back forty-five cents.

  “All right, kiddo,” she says. “You’re set for a summer of fun.”

  “Great.”

  “Foosball awaits!” She waves us off, then goes back to a big book she has open in front of her. Some kind of school book, even though it’s summer. She looks up again and says, “Snacks at ten thirty. We have chocolate chip cookies today, Marv.”

  Oscar, Petey, and Marvel have already started walking down a hallway. Marvel lets out a small whoop.

  The idea of cookies catches me up.

  Cookies mean milk.

  Having friends was fun while it lasted.

  * * *

  If the basketball courts belong to the high schoolers, the game room is ruled by middle school kids. There are two foosball tables, a pool table, and a Ping-Pong table that some girls have covered with a sheet and are using as a fort. I see their feet and knees under the edges of the makeshift walls.

  A guy about Denny’s age, wearing the same T-shirt as Jessica, stands on one side of a foosball table with a short girl with a blond braid and an armful of plastic bracelets. He spins his players so hard, I’m half afraid they’ll fly off their bar. The girl squeals, and the two boys on the other side of the table spin their own players and then throw their arms up and groan when the ball sinks.