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.”
“Yeah.”
“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.”
The girls look at each other.
“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.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At lunch I leave the classroom building with nowhere to go. But the girls are waiting at the usual place, the footbridge over Blue Creek.
“We’re not fighting?” I ask, walking up.
Charity grins. “That was funny about her shoes.”
“Thanks,” I say. Icy.
“It’s dumb to fight,” Jacey says. “Let’s have lunch.”
“I am not going near Ag,” I say.
“Steve won’t be there,” Charity says. “He’s got detention.”
“I know he has detention. I’m still not going there.”
“You have to face it sometime, Angelyn.”
“Come on,” Jacey says. “We can watch the JV guys at lunch practice.”
I look at her. “You mean, watch JT. You don’t care if he sees you with me?”
“We have to hear your side, Angelyn. That’s fair.”
I tell her okay. But something still seems wrong.
We sit in the football bleachers, the school stretched before us. Across the athletic fields I see the outside corridor where Jeni and I stood this morning. The girls rummage for their food, Jacey next to me, Charity a row below.
“I shouldn’t have said that to Jeni.”
Charity squints at me. “Who?”
“You know who,” I say.
“The bathroom girl,” Jacey says. “I bet she’s heard worse than that.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But not from me.”
I stare out. From here, everything looks pretty.
We share what we have. Deli turkey and Kettle chips from Charity; celery sticks, string cheese, and cranberry bars from Jacey. Goldfish from me.
The JV boys trot out in practice clothes. JT notices me right off. He’s staring up while the rest start their laps.
“You’re in trouble,” I tell Jacey.
She waves him on. “You and Steve will get back.”
“No,” I say.
“You have to,” Charity says.
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you’re crazy,” she says.
“Never mind now,” Jacey says. “Tell us what happened.”
I sort the details.
“We were at the reservoir, you know, parked, and Steve wanted to do more than I did.”
Charity swirls her hands. “Go on, Angelyn!”
“We fought about it. And—he left me there.”
Charity nods, like, more, more. I can’t read Jacey.
“This dog was there,” I say. “It turned out he dumped her too!”
Their expressions don’t change.
“Steve came back, but he was a total ass about it. He said this stuff about you, Jacey.” I nod to Charity. “And you too.”
Charity touches her chest. “Me?”
Jacey is frowning. “You don’t do everything with Steve?”
I blink. “Sometimes I do. I didn’t want to then.”
“You’re playing him, Angelyn. JT wouldn’t put up with it.”
“But—we don’t have to, right? They can’t make us.”
“Did Steve try to make you?” Jacey asks. “Really?”
“Well, no. You think it’s okay he left me out there?”
“Steve told everyone he came right back,” Charity says.
“He told that?” I curl away from them. “God, what else did he say?”
“He’s a guy,” Jacey says. “You pissed him off. You’ll work it out.”
“Steve was wrong.” My voice is small. “I can be right.”
“Just don’t think you’re better,” Jacey says.
I look at her. “I didn’t say that. I never did.”
Charity grins.
“What’s with you?” I ask, wishing I hadn’t said a thing.
“Steve is coming.” She says it like she’s announcing Santa.
The lunch detention crew is sweeping across the field toward the track. A different teacher is with them today. Steve covers his territory like a wounded bear.
I ask the girls: “What do I do?”
Together they say: “Talk to him.”
JT is flagging Steve and pointing to me. The detention teacher peels off to talk to the coach. Facing away, they laugh together.
I stand. “I’m not staying for this.”
Steve shadows me along the track as I cross the length of the bleachers. I start down the steps, and he starts up them.
We meet somewhere in the middle.
Steve pushes his hair back with a muddy hand. “You hiding from me?”
I look at him until I can’t. “What are you saying about me?”
“Huh?”
“This morning,” I say, pushing past. “I heard all about it!”
“Angelyn!” He’s on my heels.
I run-stumble-jump down the steps, grabbing the rail as I slip on one.
Steve blasts around me. Blocks me as I’m bent, breathless.
“What are you doing?” he asks. I look up.
“You’re wrecking me here!”
“You know we’re over,” I say.
“I don’t know that,” Steve says.
I straighten. “We’re so over.”
He waves an arm backward. “How do you think my folks took this?”
“Your detention? Mr. Rossi gave you that. I didn’t.”
“Rossi let you walk. I don’t have a cute butt to shake, so here I am.”
“Hey! We were late because of you, and that’s why—”
“I was pissed at that,” Steve says. “This morning, and you weren’t there.”
I wait. So does he.
“Is this you saying, Sorry?” I ask. “Because, some apology.”
“It’s the truth,” he says. “I can’t do better than that.”
“Well, I’m not saying, Oh, okay. And, It’s all good. No.”
Steve turns up his hands. “No?”
“No.” I say it softly. Direct. “Find another girl.”
He teeters on the step. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Steve is still as I pass him.
The detention crew watches in a knot on the track. The players too, heads turned, their drills in slow motion.
“You’re still wrapped up about that dog, aren’t you?” Steve calls.
Genius, I think.
“I’ll get her for you, Angelyn. She’s yours!”
He’s not serious. “Too late!” I shout.
“For what?” Steve is at my shoulder.
I break from him. “For us.”
The action on the field dies. The coach and teacher turn.
“Coslow!” the teacher calls. “Down, now.”
The coach points at me. “This is off-limits for student lunch.”
Hands at my elbows, Steve sets me to one side. “We’ll talk later.”
“We will not!” I call, watching as he trots down.
I follow at a distance. The detention crew is massed on th
e track. I step into them, and they part for me, barely. Someone smacks his lips. I flinch. The kid laughs, and the rest take it up. Kiss-kiss all around, from lips I’d never touch. I push through. From the field, a catcall—oww—and then another. The sound goes on, stretching like taffy, pulled from many mouths. The coach’s whistle doesn’t dent it.
Steve stands between the groups. Our eyes meet. He turns his back. Hands raised, he makes like he’s conducting.
I pass him and all of them, my arm raised, a finger to the sky.
Against the sunbaked gym, I am seeing, hearing, and feeling it again.
Lunch is still on. Kids eat at picnic tables under the awning. The breezeway swarms with people all the way up to the street.
The girls come charging around the corner.
“The coach made us leave too.” Charity’s voice is high and breathy.
Jacey asks if I’m all right.
I peel myself from the wall. “Now do you believe me?”
“Believe what?” she says.
“Steve really wants you back,” Charity says.
“Oh yeah.” My throat catches. “Did you see what just happened?”
“I saw you guys talking.”
“Talking. Yeah. Steve sold me out.”
“Don’t get dramatic,” Jacey says.
“Angelyn is all about the drama,” Charity says.
I point toward the field. “I did not make that up.”
They look at me like the problem is mine.
“And what is this crap about listening to my side? If we’re friends, there is no side. You’re with me.”
Jacey scratches her arm. Charity says, “You don’t deserve him.”
I look at her closely. “Oh my God. You think you have a chance.”
She flushes pink. “No, it’s just that Steve’s a friend, and you’re not being fair.”
“Steve’s a friend?” I say. “Then why’d he call you skank?”
“He did not!” Charity says.
I nod. “He did. Don’t know why.”
Her face shades to red. “Yeah, everyone knows you’re the skank.”
“Because I’ve actually done stuff with a guy.”
Charity’s mouth twists. “One guy? Try twenty. I hear anybody’ll do.”
I look at Jacey. “She can’t say that to me.”
“Charity, shut up,” Jacey says. “Angelyn, forget it.”
“I can’t forget everything!”
Things get quiet around us.
“Girl fight,” someone says.
“Walk away,” Jacey says.
I nod. “I’ve got no reason to stay.”
A hard look at Charity and I weave off through the watchers.
The File on Angelyn Stark Page 5
