The File on Angelyn Stark

by Catherine Atkins

  “Angelyn!” Steve’s voice.

  From the pool area. He’s running.

  Flutter of fear. I stand tall and still.

  Steve skids to a stop. “What the hell?”

  I lift my chin. “You tell me. What the hell?”

  “Friday night! I came back and you were gone.”

  “You egged my house. I knew it was you.”

  “I egged it—yeah. I was pissed! Angelyn, where did you go?”

  “What do you care? Why did you even come back? Just for that?”

  “No,” Steve says. “That was after. I waited for you. I waited an hour!”

  “What for?” I ask.

  “I thought—” He stops. “I thought maybe I shouldn’t have left that way.”

  “I told you to go.”

  “Yeah, but—” Steve checks me. “Something was going on before that.”

  I look away. “Don’t get complicated. You came back for another shot.”

  “No—hey, Angelyn, you called me. You said we were going to happen.”

  “I didn’t say that. You thought that.”

  Steve flips his hands. “Okay, so why’d you ask me over?”

  I swallow past a lump. “Because I was lonely.”

  “Oh man.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Maybe this is too much for me,” Steve says.

  “You think?”

  “What do you want, Angelyn? I’m asking serious.”

  I wilt. Steve looks pretty deflated too.

  “I have no clue.”

  “You are messed up,” he says. Like: You have brown eyes.

  Lips pressed, I nod. “Why do you keep coming back?”

  He looks me in the eye. Looks lower.

  “Oh, these.” I sweep hands over my breasts, my hips.

  “Yeah, those.” He’s pissed again. “And, I like you. Sometimes.”

  “I don’t like how you like me.”

  Steve sighs. “You mess me up.”

  “Leave, then, and leave me alone.”

  He looks off. “I saw you with your mom. You guys okay?”

  “Well, she stole my backpack, but …”

  “I know. I saw. I was there.”

  “Now she’s saying—just more crap.”

  Steve flexes like a wrestler. “That bitch. Let’s steal it back.”

  I laugh. His face softens.

  “Man, you keep me guessing.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  Steve tilts his head. “Come here and find out.”

  I bite my lip. “No.”

  He comes to me. Arms around, rocking.

  “Steve.” I don’t help him or stop him.

  “Why do we fight?” he asks. “I never want to fight.”

  “I have to go,” I say, my hands on his arms.

  “I’ll walk you,” Steve says.

  He slings an arm around, keeping it anchored.

  “Come to the street, Angelyn. Everyone wants to see you.”

  I glance at him. “I’m sure. Anyway, I don’t want to see them.” Steve points to the Humanities Building. “You’d rather be with her?”

  Jeni is above, watching from the second-floor corridor.

  “Creep,” I say.

  He lifts his arm, laughing. “See you.”

  I climb the stairs. Jeni waits for me at the top.

  “Hi,” she says like she’s taking my temperature.

  I shoulder past.

  She follows me to the rail. “Are you back with him?”

  “Am I here or with him?” I say.

  “You’re here. But I wondered.”

  “Stop wondering.”

  Jeni stands back. “Mrs. Daly was so happy you came.”

  I smile a little. “Good.”

  “She told Nathan you were there.”

  My fingers close on the rail. “Uh-huh.”

  “Angelyn—” Jeni stops.

  I look over. “Go ahead.”

  “All right. I saw you in the parking lot with that teacher.”

  “I know you did. So what?”

  “Kissing,” she says, widening her eyes.

  “It wasn’t kissing,” I say, dramatic like her. “Turned out to be—nothing.”

  “That’s where Nathan dropped you. His place. You spent the night with him.”

  I look out on the field. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Angelyn, it’s wrong.”

  “So everyone says.”

  “Yeah, but do you get it?”

  “You know, not a great day for a lecture.”

  “I don’t mean to lecture—but sleeping with some older guy, some teacher? That’s not you. It doesn’t have to be.”

  I let go of the rail. “You can stop there.”

  Jeni powers on. “Whatever happened at your house—”

  “My stepdad stuck his hands down my pants,” I say. “Nine million times.”

  She’s stopped. Mouth open.

  “It’s different hearing it from me, huh?” I catch my breath. “Instead of Nathan.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jeni says.

  I warn her with a look. “Don’t be. And don’t think you know me.”

  “So—your stepfather messed you over. Now Mr. Rossi—”

  I dip for my backpack and remember it’s not there. “You’re wrong about him. Still wrong.”

  Jeni searches me. “Well, what’s right?”

  “I didn’t have sex with Mr. Rossi. Because he wouldn’t.”

  She stares like she’s not hearing right.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I asked, and Mr. Rossi said no.”

  “Oh,” Jeni says.

  “Or don’t you believe me?”

  “If you say so, I do.” She’s frowning.

  “It’s true.” I turn my head. “I am that freak.”

  “You’re not a freak.”

  “I’m going to wait somewhere else,” I say.

  Jeni walks into my sight line. “Don’t go.”

  I look at her carefully. “Are you blocking me?”

  “No. Angelyn, listen. I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “What?”

  Her face crumples.

  “What?” Scared now.

  “It’s hard,” Jeni says, head down.

  I wipe my hands on my jeans. “Say it.”

  Above us, the intercom crackles to life.

  “Angelyn Stark to the office, please. Angelyn Stark.”

  I stare at it and down to her. “Oh, you did not.”

  She looks up. Tears.

  “Jeni, you told? You told already?”

  She wipes her eyes. “No—”

  “Mr. Rossi will hate me.” I’m dizzy. “Oh my God, his son.”

  “His son?”

  “What about my mom? I’ll never get my backpack now.”

  “You’re not making sense,” Jeni says.

  “I’ll be blamed. I’ll get blamed again.”

  “Angelyn, stop!”

  I’m walking at her. “You stop. Messing in my life.”

  Jeni puts up her hands. “You can explain.”

  I stop.

  “You can tell them the truth,” she says.

  I look at her blankly.

  “I’m trying to be a friend, Angelyn. I’m trying to be your friend.”

  “We’re done,” I say. Cold, not hot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The vice principal’s office. Miss Bass is at her desk. Mr. Rossi stands against the wall. From a visitor’s chair, Mom is looking like she’s already judged me and hanged me.

  I turn out my hands. “What?”

  Mom leans in. “His house, Angelyn?”

  I lean away. “Nobody died.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.”

  “Why did you go there?” Miss Bass asks.

  I circle a toe on the blond carpet. “No reason.”

  Mom snorts. “Can’t leave town without a major crisis.”

  “You
left her alone, Sherry?” Miss Bass says.

  “A day,” Mom says. “Two. She’s not a baby.”

  “No. But Angelyn is in need of supervision.”

  “She’ll get that, Miss Bass. Don’t worry.”

  I look to Mr. Rossi. He turns to Miss Bass.

  “Do I really need to be here?”

  “Yes,” she says. “We all do.”

  “It was my idea.”

  Everyone looks at me.

  “My dumb idea,” I add. “Mr. Rossi didn’t know.”

  “What am I hearing?” Mom says. “You’re taking responsibility?”

  I sit straight. “Give me the punishment, Miss Bass.”

  “This happened off school grounds,” she says. “I don’t have a punishment for you, Angelyn. I’m still concerned.”

  “So am I.” Mom is staring at me. “All right. Tell us what you did.”

  What did Jeni say I did?

  “Whatever happened, it was all me.”

  “Now, just a minute,” Mr. Rossi says. “Angelyn showed up at my house uninvited, and that’s all there is to it.”

  Okay. No Mrs. Daly, no kiss, no—

  “She spent the night,” Mom says.

  Mr. Rossi says, “Yes.”

  “He didn’t do anything wrong!” I say. “He wants his son to be all right.”

  Mom says, “What?”

  Miss Bass says, “I don’t understand.”

  Mr. Rossi: “Angelyn, would you just be quiet.”

  I’ve got my mouth covered. Too late.

  “Some—personal issues came up while she was there,” Mr. Rossi says.

  “What personal issues?” Mom’s face is red.

  I sink in the chair. “Mr. Rossi means his stuff. Not mine.”

  “Uh-huh. And who slept where?”

  “Mom!”

  “Angelyn slept outside,” Mr. Rossi says.

  “On the porch,” I add.

  “What the—hell—is this?” Mom asks.

  Miss Bass clears her throat. “Folks, let’s take a moment.”

  I can hear Mom breathing.

  “Angelyn, how did you find Mr. Rossi’s house?” Miss Bass says.

  All I can see is Dolly there, that first time.

  Mr. Rossi’s face reads: scared.

  “I looked it up in Mom’s school directory,” I say.

  “You went in my personal things?” Mom says. “You are such a sneak.”

  I swallow. “Okay.”

  “And a liar. She never mentioned this.”

  Mr. Rossi stands from the wall. “I’d say Angelyn is confused.”

  Confused?

  Miss Bass checks him. “How do you mean, Mr. Rossi?”

  Mom says, “Yeah. I want to hear this.”

  “She’s got me down as some kind of father figure,” Mr. Rossi says.

  “I do not!”

  He looks at me a second. “Or—as something more than that.”

  “What more?” Mom asks.

  “We’re friends,” I say tightly. “Nothing but friends.”

  “I don’t think Angelyn knows the difference,” Mr. Rossi says.

  “What difference?” Mom asks.

  “Friend. Father. Lover. She’s got the lines blurred.”

  “He can’t say that.” Mom looks at Miss Bass. “He can’t say those things!”

  I’m staring at my lap.

  “Student is all Angelyn should be to you, Mr. Rossi,” Miss Bass says.

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Wait a minute!” Mom is loud. “Angelyn isn’t ‘confused.’ She’s done this before.”

  I look at her. “I’ve never gone to a teacher’s house before.”

  Mom’s face is set. “When Angelyn was twelve years old—”

  I stop breathing.

  She blinks. “No, thirteen. When Angelyn was thirteen, she and a friend left a party and snuck into a neighbor’s yard with two older boys to use the hot tub.”

  I can’t believe her. “Mom! That was a long time ago.”

  “You haven’t changed! Not with this stunt.”

  “I’m not sure how this is relevant,” Miss Bass says.

  “There’s more,” Mom says. “The neighbors spotted the kids. They almost called the police. That would have been perfect. Angelyn was drunk out of her mind. They all were. The boys were seventeen—eighteen. All naked.”

  “Don’t tell them that.” My voice cracks.

  Mom glances at me. “This is Angelyn. Not confused. This is how she is.”

  Struck speechless, I can’t raise my eyes. The silence goes on.

  “Mr. Rossi,” Miss Bass says, “how do you feel about Angelyn remaining in your class?”

  I peek at Mr. Rossi. He’s staring at Mom.

  “It’s my best class.” I force the words.

  “Where would she go instead?” Mom says, shifting.

  “We want a solution that fits everyone,” Miss Bass says.

  “Dumping her out of class is no solution,” Mom says. “How would she make up the credit?”

  “We’re into second quarter,” Mr. Rossi says. “It would be tough. I guess she’d have to retake at some point.”

  “Mr. Rossi, please.” I try to think. “I won’t go to your house again. I promise.”

  “Angelyn has to know there are lines you do not cross.” He’s saying it to me.

  “I do know that!” I say. “Really. I do.”

  “I’ll keep my foot on her,” Mom says. “Count on it. And you, Mr. Rossi—you keep your distance.”

  Miss Bass looks at him. “Well?”

  Mr. Rossi waits. “I’m okay with Angelyn in class.”

  Miss Bass nods. She thanks us. Bruised, I stand with Mom.

  Miss Bass tells Mr. Rossi to stay.

  Outside, Mom throws me questions and directions. I don’t listen.

  My first two classes don’t register. All I can think about is seeing him.

  Mr. Rossi is behind his newspaper when I come in.

  I walk to his desk. “Are you okay?”

  He lowers the paper an inch. “Angelyn, take your seat.”

  Jeni isn’t here yet. About ten kids in the room.

  “I want to change seats. Is that all right?”

  “Sit down.” Mr. Rossi’s voice is firm and final.

  Shakily, I sit.

  Jacey and Charity walk in. Jacey catches my eye and smiles.

  Nerves pinballing, I look away.

  One row over, people talk about Homecoming. I can’t tell if it’s already happened or hasn’t yet. Someone mentions a reality show, and everybody laughs. I jerk at the sound and hope no one has seen.

  In singles, pairs, and bunches, kids roll into class. None of them are Jeni.

  “Mr. Rossi! I don’t want to sit here anymore. Not by her.”

  His newspaper crackles. He flips a page.

  I point across to the first row, the second desk empty all year.

  “Can I sit there?”

  The paper stays in place, Mr. Rossi’s fingers pulling it taut.

  Jacey waves. “Angelyn!” She points to my old desk in front of Charity.

  “I don’t think so,” I say.

  Everyone is listening. Watching. Everyone but him.

  “Come back to us,” Jacey says. “We want you with us. Don’t we, Charity?”

  Charity thumps a boot against the book rack on my desk. “Yeah. We do.”

  She doesn’t mean it.

  I look at Jeni’s empty desk and the row across the room lined with kids I never talk to.

  “All right,” I say to Jacey. To Charity. I feel my mouth turn down.

  Charity leans up as I slide in. “You’re fighting with that girl?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Hate her.”

  “Awesome! Why?”

  “Because she’s a fucking snitch.” I say it clearly.

  Mr. Rossi lowers the newspaper. He stares at me.

  The bell rings.

  “Get out your homework,” he
says.

  “I couldn’t do it,” I say by his desk. “I didn’t have a book.”

  Mr. Rossi erases the board. “No homework, you take a zero.”

  The door shuts behind the last one out. We’re alone.

  “You saw how I was this weekend. My mom took all my school stuff.”

  Mr. Rossi walks to the door and props it open.

  “I gave you my answer,” he says.

  “I still don’t have my book. Will you loan me one so I can keep up?”

  He keeps a hand on the door. “Share with a friend.”

  “I don’t have friends in this class.” My voice is hard.

  “I can’t help you,” Mr. Rossi says.

  I point to the bookcase by the board. “I see some extras there.”

  “Stop it,” he says.

  “Mr. Rossi, you’re acting like you’re mad at me.”

  A shake of his head, he looks to the hallway.

  “Is it—” I swallow. “Is it because of what my mom said about me?”

  Mr. Rossi looks back to me. “No, Angelyn.”

  “Okay.” I breathe out. “I’m not pissed at you. I know you had to say those things about me in Miss B’s office.”

  “I meant them,” Mr. Rossi says.

  “You were covering up.”

  “I was not covering up.”

  “We covered for each other,” I say.

  He checks outside again. “We can’t talk like this. We can’t talk at all.”

  “I’m sorry I mentioned your son. I don’t think they noticed much.”

  Mr. Rossi shuts his eyes. “I have to treat you like any student. You have to be like any student.”

  “I am like any student.” I lean against his desk. “I want to be.”

  “If you don’t do your homework, you take a zero. You lose a book, you find it or pay for it. I don’t help you outside class. You’re the student, I’m the teacher, and that’s how we get along.”

  I blink through his speech. “Miss Bass told you to say all that.”

  “She warned me. She was right.”

  “Warned you. Like I’m—hazardous to your health or something.”

  “You are,” Mr. Rossi says. “You could be. You know that. You’re not dumb.”

  “Didn’t I look out for you in there? Didn’t I not say anything about Dolly? She’s a secret between us and I kept it!”

  “That’s enough.” He’s so quiet.

  “You were right about Jeni.” I force a laugh. “I told her off. I scared her out of class today.”

  “Did you mean anything you said in that office? About how things were your fault, and they wouldn’t happen again?”

  “My fault,” I say slowly. “I won’t go to your house again. But we can still talk. Can’t we? We’re still friends.”