by Renée Watson
• • • • • • •
My new room is the best room in the house. Grandpa painted it lavender and Grandma made white curtains for the windows. Grandpa put the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling that I got with the money I earned doing chores. When the light goes out, my room becomes the night sky. Grandpa also put the plaque of my momma’s favorite scripture on the wall beside my mirror. Everything in my room looks perfect. “Grandma, can Maria come spend the night?”
“Not on a school night, sweetheart. She can come this weekend.” Grandma is in the kitchen doing inventory of her spices. She is wearing her reading glasses because the print on the bottles is so small.
I run to the phone and call Maria. “My grandma said yes. You can spend the night this weekend.” We make plans on what movies we want to rent and I tell Maria to bring the nail polish that I like. She has the best colors. She also has the best makeup. She gave me eye shadow, eyeliner, and lip gloss, and every morning she meets me in the girls’ bathroom and helps me do my makeup. The first time Jay saw me, he couldn’t stop staring. I wash it off after school, before I meet Danny at the flagpole.
Wednesday and Thursday pass so quickly, I can’t even remember what happened. Today is Friday. Maria is coming over after school. Danny thinks it’s not fair that I get to have overnight company, so Grandma and Grandpa promised that Ricky can sleep over next weekend. Grandpa also said he’d get an outdoor basketball hoop for the driveway so Danny can have something new too. Danny is so excited. It’s all he talks about to Ricky. That and video games. Maria is trying her best to find a way to come over next weekend too, but I know Grandma is not having that.
When the bell rings, Maria meets me by the flagpole. “Where’s your stuff?” I ask her.
“My mom is dropping it off. It was too much to bring to school. Plus, she wants to talk to your grandma about something.” Maria gets distracted when she sees Ricky and Danny walking toward us. Her eyes change. She moves a strand of hair out of her face, smiles, and gives Ricky a hug. They hold on tight to each other. I think about Jay putting his arms around me like that. How would that feel?
“Grandpa’s here,” Danny says. He is lugging his backpack on one shoulder and it weighs his whole right side down. “Call me tonight,” he says to Ricky.
“All right.” Ricky leans in to kiss Maria, but she backs up.
“Not in front of Pastor James,” she says. She waves good-bye and we walk to the car.
Grandpa is listening to the radio. He turns it down to say hello and asks us how our day went. After we answer him, he turns it back up. We don’t say much on the way to my house, so as soon as we pull in the driveway and get inside Maria and I can’t stop talking.
“Your room is so nice!” She sits on my bed, bouncing up and down. “Are you happy not to be with Danny anymore?”
“Not really. I mean, it didn’t bother me that much,” I say. “But I do like being able to set things up the way I like it.”
Danny likes having his own room too. He doesn’t have to worry about me nagging him to clean it. Since I’ve moved out, he’s decorated the walls with magazine covers of his favorite NBA players. He has his video games stacked on a bookshelf in all sorts of ways. Some with the name facing out, some on their side, some upside down. His desk has papers and books scattered everywhere.
I sit next to Maria. Our feet dangle off the side of the bed. “Now that we’re not in the same room, I can’t keep up on what he’s doing.”
“What do you mean?”
I tell Maria everything Danny told me.
“Girl, you didn’t know about that?” Maria shakes her head. “Everyone knows that trick.” Maria doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s a bad thing.
“But what if they start selling—”
“You worry too much, girl,” Maria says.
Grandma stands at the foot of the steps, calling out to us. “Dinner is ready,” she says. Grandma has cooked baked chicken, cabbage, and red beans and rice. We sit at the dinner table and just as Grandpa starts to bless the food, the doorbell rings.
It’s Maria’s mother, Isabel. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says. “I got off work late.”
“Don’t apologize,” Grandma says. “Come on over here and eat with us.” Grandma makes Isabel a plate.
“Thank you, thank you,” Isabel says. She speaks with an accent even though she has lived in the States for all of Maria’s life. I like the way she talks. Especially when she is mad. Once, when she gave me a ride home from school, she was fussing at Maria for getting in trouble in our science class. She was talking fast and speaking English and Spanish at the same time. “Maria Guadeloupe del Rosario Mosley, I am not playing with you. ¿Quieres que llame a tu padre?” That was the first time I heard Maria’s full name. The first time I saw fear in her eyes. Maria is scared of her father too.
When we are finished with dinner Grandma says, “You all go upstairs. We need to talk.”
Danny, Maria, and I go upstairs after we put our dishes in the dishwasher. “I wonder what my mom wants to talk to your grandparents about,” Maria says as we climb the steps.
I look at Danny. “Go ahead,” he says and opens his door.
We follow Danny into his room. I sit on the floor next to the vent and motion for Maria to join me. “What’s going on?” she asks.
“You can hear everything right here,” Danny tells her.
He leaves, trying to act like he’s not just as nosy as us. I open the vent, sit on the floor, and listen. Maria lies on her stomach, propping her chin up by her hands, and listens too.
“I just don’t know what to do with her,” Maria’s mother says. “She’s so sassy now. So fast. I found these in her room. I don’t know about that Ricky.”
Maria sits straight up and goes to cursing. Then she tells me, “I only have them just in case.”
Maria’s mom goes on and on about how she needs a break. Her new boyfriend, Miguel, and Maria keep arguing and she doesn’t know what to do. “I know girls need to be with their mothers, but I’m thinking about sending her with her dad,” Isabel continues.
I have never seen Maria cry. She gets up and goes into the bathroom, slamming the door. I close the vent. “Maria?” I stand at the door. She doesn’t answer. “Maria, open the door.” It takes a while. A long while. I must say her name a million times before she opens the door. When I step into the bathroom Maria is sitting on the toilet, arms crossed, heavy breathing, red eyes. I just stand there—shocked to see her looking this way. But then I remember how it feels to be crying in front of someone and how the last thing you want is to have them stare at you or ask you questions. I rip a few squares of tissue from the roll and hand it to her. “Here, it’s softer than the kind they use at school.”
She smiles and gives me the biggest hug she’s ever given me. Bigger than the hugs she gives Ricky. And she starts crying in my arms. I don’t know how long we stand like this, but it’s long enough for her to get rid of all the tears that are inside of her. When she lets go of me, she is breathing calmly. Then she looks at me, half smiling, half disgusted, half embarrassed. “Oh my God, I got snot on you!” And we both start laughing.
I leave Maria alone so she can wash her face. Later that night, while we are painting our nails, she blurts out, “Sometimes I hate her. I just hate her.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t even look up. I just keep painting my nails.
“I’ll run away before I let her send me to that man.” Maria waves her hands side to side so her nails can dry. “I refuse to let him touch me again,” she says. Maria gets quiet after she says this. Like she didn’t mean for these words to come out. But since they have, she just keeps talking. “My dad, he—”
She stops and starts over. “When I was little, my dad would play this game with me whenever I spent the night at his house. It’s been happening since I was nine—and—and—I don’t like it. I want it to stop. I hate going over there.”
I stop painting my nails. I look
at Maria. My mind goes to thinking that Maria and I aren’t all that different. Maria knows what it’s like to suffer too. And even though I don’t wish her pain, I’m glad I have a friend who knows what it’s like to hurt. I think that’s why she doesn’t try to get me to talk. She knows that there are some types of sadness that can’t be explained.
“You still hiding from Jay?” Maria changes the subject just like that. Like she has a remote control and got tired of what she was watching. She just switches the topic and she doesn’t seem upset anymore.
“I’m not hiding from him.”
“Yeah, right.”
I’m not. I actually try to find him. I purposely walk past his locker on my way to class, even when I don’t need to go down that hall. When he’s not in class I watch the door to see if he’ll come in late. And during recess, even though Maria thinks I’m listening to her, I’m really watching Jay run up and down the court playing basketball.
We get into bed. My feet at her head, her feet at mine.
It’s late. The house is quiet and the noise from the outside has stopped. No honking horns or singing sirens. The only sound I can hear is the tick-tock of my clock. The minute hand moves steady and never changes. I wish my life could move that way.
I turn over from my stomach to my back because my arm is getting numb. As soon as I move, Maria says my name. “Serenity?”
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No. I can’t sleep.”
“Me neither.”
Maria sits up in the bed and comes to the top, next to me. She leans against the headboard. I am on my back, still under my thick blanket. “Serenity, did your father ever hit you?” Maria asks.
“He pushed me once,” I tell her. “I tried to break up a fight between him and my momma. He sent me flying across the room.”
“But he never left bruises?” Maria asks.
“Not the kind people can see.”
Maria is quiet for a short moment; then she says, “She can’t make me live with him. She can’t.” She starts sniffing. She cries for a while and I take her hand and hold it tight. She takes a deep breath three times, calming herself down, and goes back to the bottom of the bed.
“Does your mom know? Have you told her?” I ask.
“What’s the point? She’s not going to believe me.”
“How do you know?”
“My mom doesn’t trust me. If I tell her now, she’ll think I’m just making it up because I don’t want to live with him,” Maria says.
“Maybe you can stay with us,” I say.
Maria sits straight up. “No, Serenity. No.”
“Why not?”
“You can’t tell your grandparents about my dad. You can’t. If we say that I don’t want to stay with him, they’re going to ask why. And I’m not telling them.”
“But why?” I ask. “They can help you.”
“They can’t help me. All that’s going to happen is that they’re going to talk to my mom about it and she’s going to think I’m a liar,” Maria says. “And my dad is going to deny everything. He’ll be pissed that I said something and it’ll just get worse.” Maria lays back down. “Promise me you won’t tell them.”
I am quiet.
“Serenity—”
“I promise. I promise I won’t tell them.”
Just as I close my eyes to go to sleep, Maria says, “Sometimes I just want to go there.”
“Where?” I ask.
“Heaven.” Maria is pointing to the glowing stars on my ceiling.
“What do you think it’s like up there?” I ask.
“Peaceful.”
“Do you think we’ll know each other? I mean, you know, will we still be friends once we get there?”
“Of course I’ll know you. I’ll be like, ‘Ooh, Serenity girl, your wings are tight!’ ”
We laugh and keep talking till we both are almost asleep.
“Maria?”
“Huh?”
“You think any of this stuff that happens down here is a surprise to God?”
“No,” she mumbles. “I think God knows everything. Heaven ain’t surprised about nothing.”
GIVE US
• • • • • • • • • • •
Serenity Evans
Mrs. Ross, 1st Period
Poetry Workshop
Sensory Detail: Language that evokes the five senses: seeing, smelling, hearing, tasting, touching
Use sensory detail to describe an emotion.
Betrayal
Betrayal is faded black.
It smells like a blown-out candle.
It sounds like a car that won’t start.
It tastes like burnt toast.
It feels like falling flat on your bottom because
someone moved the chair you thought was
there.
I am the first person to get invited to Maria’s birthday slumber party. She hands me the invitation before any other girls in the school get theirs. It’s a yellow envelope with my name written in silver writing. I can tell that Maria’s mother wrote it. The Y in Serenity has the same pretty curl that she writes when she signs her name, Isabel Mosley, on Maria’s permission slips. Inside the envelope is a thick square card with all the information for the party—when, where, what time, what to bring.
“You want to come with me while I give the rest of these out?” Maria asks me. She hands me a stack of five invitations and we walk down the hallway. The first two invitations we give out are to Karen and Sabrina. The next three are for Lisa, Sommer, and Denise. I am surprised that Lisa and her shadows are getting one. “My birthday’s in two weeks,” Maria says. She looks at me and I give them each their invitation.
Lisa snatches the invitation from me. “Where’s your party, Chuck E. Cheese’s?” She tears the envelope open. I don’t think she notices Isabel’s fancy writing.
“No, it’s at my house. It’s a slumber party,” Maria answers.
Lisa slides the invitation out of the envelope. “Good, because Sommer’s birthday party was at Chuck E. Cheese’s and that was, like, a total disaster. I mean, like, we’re too old to be running around with little kids, eating fattening pizza and watching oversized puppets sing corny songs.” Lisa talks about Sommer’s party as if Sommer isn’t even standing there.
Sommer looks at me and explains. “It rained that day. Hard to plan something fun for a November birthday,” she says.
Lisa ignores her, “Yeah, well, that’s why I always say I was born in the best month. August. No school. No rain. My party is going to be at Bullwinkle’s.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
Lisa looks at me. “You’ve never been to Bullwinkle’s? Everyone has been there,” she says. “Bullwinkle’s has putt-putt golf, video games, laser tag, all kinds of stuff. It’s the best,” she explains.
“It has pizza too. Like Chuck E. Cheese’s,” Sommer quietly adds.
“My parents usually just do a cake,” Lisa says. Then she links arms with Denise and Sommer. “Maybe you’ll come in August, Serenity. If you make my Good Friend List by then.” They walk away. Maria and I are left standing there. The envelope is crumpled on the floor. Maria picks it up and throws it in the silver trash can that’s stuffed to the brim and about to overflow.
I don’t ask right away. Guess I need to make sure Lisa is far enough down the hall so she can’t hear me. “Why are you inviting them?” I ask. “You don’t like them.”
Maria laughs. “Girl, of course I don’t. Well, Sommer is sweet. Denise is okay too. But I can’t stand Lisa.”
“Then why is she coming to the slumber party?”
“Well, we have to have someone to play pranks on,” Maria says. “And Lisa gives good gifts.”
I laugh so hard my cheeks start to sting. We walk to the bathroom and do our after-school routine. I wash my face and put on lotion. Maria sprays herself with one of her fruity body splashes. She likes to smell good when she’s about to see Ricky. “You want to come over to my
house today?” Maria asks.
“I can’t. We have our counseling appointment.”
“Okay, well, maybe tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” We walk to the flagpole and wait for my grandpa with Danny and Ricky. Grandpa is late picking us up so we have to rush to our appointment and don’t stop for a snack like usual.
I can tell Ann has been waiting for me and that we’ve lost time, because she gets right into it when I get to her office. “How has your week been?” she asks.
“Good. Very good.” I tell Ann how I’m crying less and laughing more. How I have my own bedroom and how Maria got to spend the night. I tell her about being a woman now and how I got a bookmark from Miss Valerie because I remembered the Old Testament Books of the Bible. I leave out being worried about Danny and the secret I’m keeping about Maria because today I only want to talk about good things.
“That’s wonderful, Serenity. Wonderful.”
I keep telling Ann about the good stuff. I tell her about Maria’s slumber party, leaving out the part about us planning to be mean to Lisa and her shadows. “This is the happiest I’ve ever felt,” I say. “I never had happy times before.”
“Really? You’ve never been happy? Never?”
I get quiet.
“Did you ever have happy times with your mother?”
It takes me a while, but I shrug and say, “I guess so.”
“Can you tell me about one of them?”
I don’t say anything.
“What is one of your favorite memories with your mother?”
Memories begin to come to me. They flash fast and I can barely keep up. Some of them I forgot about till now—like the summer trip we took to Seaside Beach. Danny and I buried my daddy in the sand up to his neck. I remember eating crab legs for the first time at a restaurant that looked over the ocean. It took me forever to eat because I couldn’t pull the crab out of its shell easily. It was good, but I was still hungry afterward, so Momma took us to McDonald’s on our way back to the hotel.
I think about playing in makeup with my momma, and Danny and me hiding from her under the kitchen table. I think about my momma coming in the bathroom to wash my back when I couldn’t reach it.
