The File on Angelyn Stark

by Catherine Atkins

  “Trash!” she calls after me. “Welfare witch!”

  I swing around. Kids arc out of the way, clearing a path.

  Charity’s chest heaves. I look her over, head to toe.

  “All that money and nothing to spend it on.”

  “You never should have been our friend.” Her voice snaps like a loose wire.

  “Who’s your friend?” I ask. “Jacey’s busy and Steve don’t go for fugly.”

  Charity runs at me.

  I throw my backpack down. She rumbles around it, banging into my chest, pinning my arms as I stagger backward.

  A ring forms around us, kids yelling.

  I piston my shoulders but Charity holds me like iron. We circle in a crazy dance.

  “Stupid,” I say, and she growls something back.

  I lift a boot and bring it down on her sandal. She yowls and hops, and I work an arm free and smack her shoulder. Charity spins off.

  “Enough?” I ask, shaking out my hand.

  She runs at me again. I sidestep, grabbing a fistful of product-heavy hair. I yank it. Charity kicks at me, missing by inches as I work to stay behind.

  “Stop now?” I ask, close to her ear.

  She elbows my gut. I jerk back and my feet tangle with hers. We fall, landing hard, Charity on top. I stare at the circle above. Laughing faces—most of them. Yelling. Happy. Jacey, silent. Pale as milk.

  Charity shifts and straddles me, and I shut my eyes, taking her sissy slaps like I deserve them. She’s crying. I’m not. I hear her sobs and the roar above. It rises and falls, and rises and falls again.

  Charity’s weight lifts off. I breathe in, opening my eyes. Mr. Rossi is there. He sticks out a hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.

  “If it weren’t for bad luck,” he says, “would you have any luck at all?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Mr. Rossi walks Charity and me to the vice principal’s office.

  “There,” he says, pointing to a row of chairs outside Miss Bass’s door.

  Charity slumps into the closest one, sniffling.

  I take the one at the end.

  “Be ladies,” he says, a smirk as he knocks and enters.

  I shift to find a soft spot, my butt sore where I landed.

  “Hate you,” Charity slings over.

  “You want more?” I ask. “Here?”

  “No,” she grumps.

  Mr. Rossi walks out. “Miss Bass is calling your parents.”

  Both of us groan.

  “You girls take it light,” he says. It’s dumb, but I smile at him.

  Charity’s mom shows first. I hear her in the hall asking people which way.

  Charity sits up straight and sober.

  I almost say, Trade you. I wouldn’t. But I think it.

  Mrs. Flint walks in, dressed like she’s been to lunch somewhere.

  “Charity.” She stops. Hands on hips. “What happened?”

  Charity opens her mouth. She looks at me. Shuts it.

  “Never mind.” Mrs. Flint pushes into the office.

  “My daughter does not fight,” she says, voice soaring.

  “Better get in there,” I say. Charity drags herself up.

  “This is all about Angelyn Stark,” Mrs. Flint says.

  I lift my head, listening.

  “I have told my daughter and told her to stay away from that girl.”

  Like Charity never does anything wrong.

  Miss Bass tells Charity to shut the door.

  As it closes: “Angelyn is pure trash,” Mrs. Flint says. “Like her mother.”

  I stand. Gut aching. Bitch.

  Mrs. Flint was a room mother. Every year. And Mom was—Mom.

  The front-desk ladies are watching me.

  When Mrs. Flint and Charity come out, I point.

  “She jumped me. Truth.”

  Charity scoots like I’ve booted her. Mrs. Flint huffs after.

  Miss Bass curls a finger.

  The visitor’s chair inside Miss Bass’s office is a mile more comfortable.

  “Mr. Rossi’s story supports yours,” she says at her desk.

  Warmth spreads through me. “Really?”

  Miss Bass nods. “He said Charity had the best of you.”

  Not sure I like that. “We fought, but it wasn’t my idea.”

  “What did you fight about, Angelyn? It would help me to know.”

  “She’s been on me all day. I can tell you that.”

  “Charity says you’ve been on her.”

  “She would.”

  “I’m inclined to believe you,” Miss Bass says.

  “You are?”

  “I’ve heard good things, lately.”

  “Wow,” I say softly to myself.

  “That must be your mother,” Miss Bass says.

  Mom is outlined in the frosted glass, hand up to knock.

  “Good things?” I say. “She won’t believe them.”

  “You work for us, Sherry,” Miss Bass says. “We appreciate that.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mom says. “What exactly did Angelyn do?”

  “Ask me,” I say.

  Mom says, “Quiet.”

  Miss Bass clears her throat.

  “Angelyn had a physical fight with another girl. Charity Flint. A teacher intervened. It appeared to him that Angelyn was not the aggressor.”

  “Angelyn knows she’s not supposed to fight at all.”

  “Yes,” Miss Bass says. “But this is a change. This girl is one of her friends.”

  “It was probably over some boy,” Mom says.

  “Charity can’t get close to any guy,” I say.

  “You’d be better off if you couldn’t.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Dressed like that.” She flips her hand to me. “Skin-tight everything.”

  We’re dressed alike. T-shirts and jeans.

  “On me it looks good,” I say. Just above my breath.

  Mom leans to Miss Bass. “She’s got a history with boys. Scratch any problem with Angelyn and that’s what you’ll find.”

  “This fight was not about boys! Mostly not,” I add.

  “You see what I deal with?” Mom says.

  Miss Bass taps a pen. “Mr. Rossi says Angelyn’s work has improved.”

  “I thought I was here because of the fight,” Mom says.

  “Mr. Rossi is the teacher who brought the girls in.”

  Mom looks stumped. “Why would he say that?”

  “Because it’s true!” I almost shout it. “You’ve seen me do the work.”

  “Angelyn did bad,” she says past me. “She needs to learn how to get along in this world.”

  “Well, yes,” Miss Bass says, “but—”

  “Can I hear Angelyn’s punishment?”

  “Two days’ suspension,” she says quietly.

  Mom sits back. “Thank you. I’ll bring her to work with me.”

  “There’s no one to watch her at home, Sherry?”

  “No.”

  “Can I go to the bathroom?” I ask, already standing.

  Miss Bass nods. “Be sure you come back, Angelyn.”

  Mom says, “She damn well better.”

  I race-walk down the hallway, wanting—needing—OUT.

  “Angelyn!” someone calls as I pass Attendance.

  I duck back. Jeni and Nathan are mixed in with the line of kids for late passes. They cross to me, Nathan first.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “We weren’t sure where to go,” Jeni says.

  I stare at them. “Where to go for what?”

  “We saw the fight,” Nathan says.

  “You saw the fight. So?”

  “That other girl started it,” he says.

  “We want to tell—whoever—what we saw,” Jeni says.

  “That’d be Miss Bass,” I say. “The vice principal. But why—”

  “You shouldn’t get in trouble, Angelyn,” Nathan says.

  “Stop it,” I say.

&n
bsp; The attendance clerk cranes around. “You three! Get in line or get out.”

  Nathan and Jeni follow me into the hall.

  “So, you don’t want us to say anything?” Jeni asks.

  I look toward the exit. “I don’t know. You can. Whatever!”

  Then it hits me.

  “My mom’s in with Miss Bass. Nathan, did she see you?”

  He looks back blankly. “Your mom? I didn’t see her.”

  I take a pinch of his moldy army jacket. “Let’s go.”

  Leaving the building is like coming up for air. I stop, and stumble when Nathan bumps me. I pull him across the courtyard to a windowless wall.

  Nathan is grinning at me. Grinning. I drop his sleeve.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I say.

  “You’ve got dirt on your face.” He touches his cheek. “Here.”

  I rub the spot with the heel of my hand. “Stop noticing, all right?”

  “Jeni and me were coming down the hill when we saw you.”

  “Whose idea was it to go to the office?” I ask.

  “Mine.” Nathan sounds proud.

  “I don’t need your help, or hers. I’ve got things under control.”

  “Your mom isn’t blaming you?”

  “Yeah, she is. She’d do it worse if you showed up.”

  “That’s not fair,” he says. “She’s not fair to both of us.”

  “Nathan, the best thing you can do for me is leave me be.”

  I whip away from him.

  “I was right to tell,” he says. Not loud but it goes through me.

  I walk back. “You were right to tell what?”

  Nathan blinks. “About your stepdad touching you.”

  I fall away. “Don’t say that here. That lie.”

  “It’s not a lie.”

  I want to scream at him. Scream. I look around. No one.

  “You wrecked us with it. My whole family. Done.”

  “Grandma said I was right to tell.”

  “You lied to her too. Yes, you did!”

  Nathan shifts his weight. “Naw.”

  With a look I pin him to the wall.

  “You see one thing—one thing—you don’t understand, and that’s it. Time to—tear down the walls. Break everything. Did it make you feel special?”

  From a distance Mom shouts my name. I catch my breath.

  “I’ve got to go.” I jab a finger at him. “Do not follow me!”

  “I didn’t see it once,” Nathan says.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your stepdad and you. I didn’t see it once. I saw it a bunch.”

  “Freak.” I whisper it.

  “I told once.”

  “You were wrong.” The words come out cracked.

  “I was right. I never lied, Angelyn. You did, about him.”

  “Shut up.”

  Nathan searches me. “I hear he’s still around. How can that be?”

  Mom calls again, closer.

  “Go,” I tell him.

  “She ought to know,” Nathan says.

  “Go.”

  “Did you ever tell her? I mean, you telling her?”

  I look toward the office. “Go, all right?”

  “You should tell her, Angelyn.”

  I grit it out: “Please.”

  “Tell her the truth.”

  “Then I’ll go.” I push myself forward.

  Mom comes around the building.

  Each of us stops short.

  “Well,” she says. Red-faced. Sharp-voiced.

  “Mom.” I’m heavy, waiting.

  “You know Miss Bass meant for you to use the bathroom in the building.”

  “Oh.” I nod after. “Sure.” I stare at Mom. Her eyes stay on me.

  “We’re not done in there, Angelyn. Now, come on.”

  Following, I look back. Nathan is gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Monday after the suspension, I start up the steps of the Humanities Building.

  Jeni looks up from her book. “Angelyn?”

  “Yep. I’m back.”

  “I didn’t figure you’d be back here,” she says.

  “I’ve got nowhere else to go,” I say. “For I don’t know how long.”

  I settle cross-legged against the wall outside my English classroom.

  “Did that girl get the same time off as you?” Jeni asks.

  “We both got two days. That’s what you get here when you fight unless it’s real serious.”

  “Oh.” Jeni rests her head on bent knee.

  “I know you talked to Miss Bass about me.”

  “I guess it didn’t help.”

  “My mom heard. One more person saying it wasn’t all me.”

  Jeni nods. “Nathan said she’s really rough on you.”

  “Hey! Don’t talk about Nathan. Don’t talk about my mother.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why’d she get to keep the friends?” Jeni asks after a while.

  “Charity? It’s complicated.”

  “The whole friend thing is,” she says.

  “Why did you talk to Miss Bass?” I ask.

  Jeni looks at me. Shrugs.

  “I know it was his idea,” I say.

  “Nathan says you’re always in trouble.”

  I rise. “What?”

  “Angelyn!” Jeni stands too. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Who’s fighting?” I ask, my back to the wall.

  “I think I shouldn’t wait here.”

  “Don’t leave. I just don’t get it. Why’d you speak for me?”

  “You mean, after what you said about me in class?”

  We both look at her shoes. They’re the same shoes.

  “I shouldn’t have said it. We don’t have much either.”

  “Okay, Angelyn,” Jeni says. “Okay.”

  “It isn’t. Unless you are way different than I am.”

  “Well …,” she says.

  I cross to the steps. “Sit down. We can sit.”

  Jeni does. I do. She keeps an eye on me.

  “I can’t keep up with my friends,” I say. “On clothes. Most all of my stuff is discount. They know it.”

  “Do they get on you for that?” Jeni asks.

  “Charity will. I’ll tell you something. I got to be friends with them in fourth grade because we were always the ones getting called out by the teacher. It was always us on the punishment bench at lunch recess, you know? I never thought Jacey and Charity were any different from me. But the day before Christmas break, they came to school with big paper sacks. They gave them to me.”

  Jeni’s wincing. “Clothes inside?”

  “Yeah. Their clothes. Their moms were working on a Christmas clothing drive, and they got the idea. Like I would wear their stuff. Like I could. Charity’s fatter than me and Jacey’s thinner.”

  “So, what did you do?”

  “I got mad. I kicked the bags around. Everyone saw. Everybody knew.”

  “And those girls are still your friends?”

  “We got to be, again. I had to hang with someone.”

  “I got suspended a few times in junior high,” Jeni says. “Always because some friend talked me into doing something stupid. Half the time they’d get off.”

  I listen. “Never you?”

  “I’m a bad liar. A terrible liar. I’d say it all. About myself.”

  “I never tell,” I say, “but I still get in trouble. Once Jacey and me got into trouble together. Mom grounded me and I had to do extra chores and stuff. All that happened to Jacey was I couldn’t come to her house anymore. Charity’s mother got in on it and I couldn’t go there either. I used to be tight with Jacey, and Charity ran after us. It was never like that again.”

  “This is my seventh school,” Jeni says. “No, eighth. It’s my eighth. And, it’s always been—the smart kids don’t want me because I don’t look or dress like them. The poor kids don’t like me because I don’t talk like them. I used to try to fit i
n. Now I know I don’t need friends.”

  “I don’t need friends either,” I say.

  She looks at me. “I think ahead, Angelyn.”

  I shift. “Ahead to what?”

  “My life. When I’m living how I want. I can’t wait.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  “I’m going to be a nurse,” Jeni says. Like she’s sure of it. “How about you?”

  I reach for something. “The Coast Guard?”

  “You’re going to join the Coast Guard? That’s cool.”

  It does sound cool. All I have to do is find out what it means.

  Voices at the corner. Ms. Hinsley, my English teacher, comes around.

  “Angelyn Stark is off suspension,” she says.

  You can hear the ick in her voice.

  Mr. Rossi is next, cradling a steaming mug.

  “Don’t let her fool you,” he says. “Angelyn Stark is one smart girl.”

  “I am not opening the classroom this early, Angelyn,” Ms. Hinsley says.

  I slouch on the steps. “Didn’t ask you to.”

  “Yeah, we’ve got some donuts to walk off,” Mr. Rossi says.

  Ms. Hinsley clickety-clacks by.

  After her, Mr. Rossi winks.

  I’m laughing.

  “What do you think of him?” I ask.

  “He gave me detention first day,” Jeni says.

  I watch them go. “I think he’s pretty great.”

  Charity’s foot is parked on my desk when I walk into World Cultures.

  “Move it,” I say, staring down the aisle.

  She points to Jeni at the window. “Sit there. We don’t want you.”

  One row over, Jacey is zombielike. No help.

  I start to argue, then—why not?

  “Mr. Rossi?”

  He lowers his newspaper. “Yes, Angelyn?”

  “Can I change seats?”

  Mr. Rossi takes me in. Charity with her foot on my desk. Jeni by the window.

  “You bet,” he says.

  At lunch I climb with Jeni toward town.

  “You’re all right with us being partners?” she says.

  “I don’t mind, but I didn’t get everything he was saying.”

  Jeni talks about the project Mr. Rossi assigned:

  Choose a country; research an issue that affects it.

  “Those girls were pissed not to have you in their group,” she says.

  “They were not. We’d all three fail together.”

  Her words lift me.

  The sidewalk rises steeply. Jeni falls behind. I wait and walk slower. It’s strange to walk with someone new. Two instead of three.