by Janet Walker
***
Outside in the brilliant September sunshine, Tracy cut across the yard of Beck and into the surrounding neighborhood of MacDonald Park. Her neighborhood. A wonderful warmth filled her throat and chest and spread to every part of her body, and she restrained the urge to break into a run and skip and shout—Beck girls did not behave that way. Most of them didn’t walk home, in the first place, much less run. So Tracy moved smoothly along the sidewalk and tried to act mature, the way she imagined a Grace Girl should act—because that’s what she was now, a Grace Girl. That’s what Dent and Toni said everybody at Beck called Miz Grace’s players. Grace Girls. Girls who belonged to Miz Grace. And she was one of them! Tracy couldn’t help it: She smiled. When she got home to Area Place this evening, she would call Scooby over and tell him the great news and see the look on his face when he found out. He would be so happy for her! And now, whenever she played ball with him and Pretty Boy and the others, she would be playing not just as their friend but as a player for Jazz Nelson’s wife! But then something dark dropped into her thoughts. She had forgotten. She wouldn’t be able to play ball at the Area Place playground with her boys anymore, because she could run into Jinya Daggett. Because of Aunt Madge, Area Place’s crazy bully would really beat Tracy the next time their paths crossed. Maybe even kill her. Tracy pondered this possibility, then concluded that even that wasn’t enough to ruin her good feeling today—she could stay inside her mother’s apartment and avoid Jinya that way—because now she belonged to something great and important and wonderful. Miz Grace! Tracy thought of the beautiful quiet teacher and coach, so serious and scary. And yet, something about the woman was not so scary up close. Something. Tracy smiled. Unbelievable.
She looked around as she advanced down the sunny street. Everything in MacDonald Park seemed especially pretty and vibrant this afternoon. The lawns were bright green and manicured, every yard accented by colorful bunches of pink and white and red flowers. Even the German Shepherd fenced behind the long tan brick house didn’t bark angrily when she walked by, as he had done for the past three weeks. He merely yelped once, almost playfully, and then just stared at Tracy as she walked past, as if even he knew that suddenly she did belong in his neighborhood. And then she looked ahead down the block and saw an orange-red convertible, turning from her aunt’s street and onto the street on which she was walking. The convertible’s top was down. As it came closer she could see that the car was a new Ford Mustang and that the boy driving it was… Was it? Yes! The fine boy with curly hair and green eyes!
Eric!
Weakness slipped into Tracy’s knees but she forced herself to keep walking. Exactly two weeks and two days ago, Eric had talked to her in the lunchroom. Since then, they hadn’t conversed, but he sneaked looks at her on Wednesdays and Fridays, when the boys and girls mingled in the cafeteria. He did so whenever Sheila, who seemed always at his side, was looking the other way. But now Tracy could see he was alone and heading in her direction. Would he stop? Should she speak to him if he did? He was a dog for trying to talk to her while going with Sheila—she knew this. So why did a part of her want him to stop?
Eric’s car slowed as it approached. Tracy kept walking and stared ahead at the stop sign at the far end of the street. Panic fluttered in her belly.
“Hey!”
His voice. Deep and handsome. She looked over at him. He was smiling. Checking her out. He rested a muscular arm on top of the car door. Tracy had to remind herself why she shouldn’t talk to him.
“Whassup, Miss L. Carlton Haines?” he greeted, his voice playful and teasing.
“Nothing,” Tracy mumbled and kept walking.
Eric braked to a halt. She left him behind.
“You make the team?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she threw back and couldn’t conceal a small smile. But she kept walking.
“Hey!” he called.
Tracy looked back at him.
“Congratulations!” he said sincerely.
Tracy smiled, faced forward again, continued walking.
“Tracy!”
She heard him call but she did not stop. He’s Sheila’s man Sheila’s man Sheila’s man. Besides, he was so beautiful he made her nervous. She heard the roar of his engine as he accelerated. At first she thought he was leaving, but then she glanced back and saw him making a U-turn and heading in her direction. Another rush of pleasure, almost as great as learning she had made the team. He was coming after her! Chasing her. In a minute the polished orange-red fender slid into view beside her and eased along slowly.
“Hey!” he called, a ripple of surprise in his voice. She looked at him. He was still smiling but now he also looked puzzled. “Why you walk off like that?”
She cut her eyes at him and looked ahead again. How dare he ask that. Sheila! That was why, and he knew it.
“Hey, stop for a minute, ah’ight?” he said. “I wanna talk to you.”
Tracy sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes and came to what she hoped looked like a reluctant stop. She stayed on the sidewalk and watched as Eric pulled his car to the curb. He left the engine running and without opening the door leapt out of the car—for her benefit, she knew, but she pretended to be unimpressed. As he walked toward her, her eyes inadvertently drifted to his groin, which bulged slightly in the beige chino shorts he wore. She jerked her gaze away quickly, her cheeks blazing. Why had she looked there? She hoped he hadn’t noticed. Flustered, she looked at his hairy man legs—he had on shiny penny loafers like hers, and no socks—and then she rested her gaze on one of the new tires on his car.
“What’s the problem?” he teased. “You acting like you hate me or something.”
He stopped two or three feet away and watched her, a sly half-smile on his face. She looked at him. They were almost the same height—he, a little taller. And in the fullness of daylight, she thought he was even more gorgeous than he had been in the cafeteria. In quick glances, she checked out his features. His light-brown skin, radiant and reddened by the sun. His full pink lips, which looked like they would be nice to kiss. The gray-green eyes and silky eyebrows. Shiny, curly black hair. Muscular arms, thighs, chest. Suddenly Tracy felt embarrassed and looked away again, at the sidewalk.
“Come on,” Eric persisted. “You were nice to me at first. Now you dissin’ me. I done something to you?”
She wanted to tell him about himself, but another glance at his beauty left her hardly able to speak. She exhaled and looked at the sidewalk again. “No,” she answered.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that!” he exclaimed, then asked, “You live around here?”
She nodded yes but her attitude said: What do you think?
“I guess you do,” he laughed, reading her attitude. “I do, too, but not on this side. I just dropped somebody off.” He paused, then began anew. “I see you around campus sometimes.”
She just looked at him.
“Sorry I don’t always speak,” he said, “but—you know.”
She stiffened. How dare he bring that up! She would let him have it now! “That’s your girlfriend?” she accused.
He looked puzzled. “My girlfriend? Who?”
“The one you always with.”
“Who, Sheila? Nah, we just friends.”
She squinted her eyes and tilted her head to one side, a gesture Mama made when she didn’t believe a man. How could Eric lie like that? She knew Sheila was his girlfriend because the whole school said so.
“Everybody say y’all go together.”
“We went together,” Eric corrected.
“Yep—since ninth grade!” she charged. She had overheard that bit of info in the locker room.
“Yeah,” Eric admitted, “but we don’t go together no more.”
She studied his eyes—they were so beautiful and earnest, but was he telling the truth?
“Then how come I see y’all leaving school together in your car?”
“Because we’re friends,” he explained. “I still give her a ri
de sometimes.”
Tracy thought about this, then remembered something and charged, “I thought she had her own car.”
Eric hesitated. “What?” he stammered, then relaxed and explained, “Oh, that’s just ’cause her girl, Felicia, drives Sheila’s car sometimes. They’re tight like that.”
Tracy frowned. Something about the answer seemed false, but she wasn’t sure what it was. She sighed. “I gotta go. My aunt worry when I come home late.”
“Why don’t you catch the school bus?” Eric asked, concerned.
“I don’t like the bus,” she answered frankly. “I like to walk.”
Eric tilted his head slightly and studied her briefly, then slipped back into a playful mood and became suddenly bashful. He looked at the sidewalk, then up at her. Tracy saw his actions and waited to hear what he was about to say.
“Why don’t you give me that phone number, let me call you sometime.”
Tracy’s mouth fell open. Her heart pounded. She was used to boys in Area Place trying to talk to her, but a boy like Eric, asking for her phone number! She never thought something like this would happen! But—Tracy closed her mouth—Aunt Madge would not like it. She had made it clear she didn’t want Tracy getting involved with boys right now. Tracy looked away from Eric and stared at the ground and mumbled, “I can’t do that.”
Eric looked surprised. “Why?”
“’Cause my aunt don’t want me to give out her number.”
“Well, why don’t you let me give you my number so you can call me?” he suggested.
Tracy stared at him again. Call him? Her insides trembled. Her, calling a boy like Eric! But what would they talk about? She never knew what to say to people. And besides, what would she say if Aunt Madge caught her talking on the phone and wanted to know who was on the other end? And then there was Sheila. A minute ago Eric had almost sounded like he was telling the truth about his relationship with Sheila, but Tracy couldn’t be sure. Mama said men were the best liars when they were trying to get with you. But still, he had said what she wanted to hear—that he and Sheila were not going together—so why shouldn’t she just accept his words as truth? Accepting them would mean there was a chance he might ask her to go with him, and wouldn’t that be something! Her, Tracy Sullivan, a Grace Girl and the girlfriend of Eric Richardson, Langston’s cutest boy and star football player!
But then, everybody said they went together. In the locker room, in one of her classes today—everybody said Eric Richardson and Sheila Roundtree went together. And they always ate lunch together on Wednesdays and Fridays. So why should she believe what he was saying now?
“I told you I can’t do that,” she repeated tiresomely.
“You can’t call me?” Eric was still surprised by the rejection.
“No,” she said.
“Then let me call you,” he persisted.
Something about his begging made Eric appear suddenly younger to Tracy, so she momentarily lost her fear of him. Enough of her shyness fell away to allow her to speak to him in a direct manner.
“I told you my aunt don’t want me to give out her number. Plus, she don’t want no boys calling me at her house.”
“Why she say that?”
“’Cause it’s her house!”
“That ain’t no reason,” Eric complained lightly.
“It’s her reason,” Tracy said defensively. “And I gotta do what she say.”
Eric smiled knowingly. “Oh, so you one of them good girls, huh?”
She cut her eyes at him and again began walking down the sidewalk.
“Look,” he called after her.
She paused and looked back. A full view of his body. He was fine.
“I’m not gonna give up on you, Tracy Sullivan.”
Tracy faced forward again and began walking.
“Tracy!”
She looked back but did not stop walking this time.
Eric smiled shyly and said softly, “I like you.”
Tracy turned away, her cheeks burning. No he didn’t just say that! The dog! The fine, green-eyed, curly-haired, gorgeous dog. She heard the roar of his car engine and glanced back. He was making a U-turn in the street and heading the other way. When she faced forward again, her feet seemed to step on air—and this time the buoyancy had nothing to do with being a Grace Girl.
