by Tanya Savory
“Here you go, Angel. You gotta get this. It’ll look so good on you,” Sharice said, pointing to a slinky, one-shouldered, iridescent teal top. “LaDonna’s cousin can sell it to you at half price.”
Even with the discount, Angel didn’t have enough money. She tried to explain, but Sharice wouldn’t listen.
“Just get it. You can pay me back later,” she insisted, giving Angel a twenty-dollar bill. Angel could barely hide her embarrassment, particularly with LaDonna listening to every word.
“I don’t think my mom would even let me wear this,” Angel said quietly, wishing she had never come to the mall.
“You do everything your momma says?” LaDonna asked.
“Just do what I always do, Angel,” Sharice said, ignoring LaDonna’s question. “Put it on after you leave your house, and your mom will never even know. It’s easy!”
Angel sighed. Sharice had the same stubborn glimmer in her eyes that she had in school when she set her up with Trey. Angel was about to turn and walk out, but before she could, Sharice grabbed the top and turned to LaDonna’s cousin.
“She’ll take it,” she announced.
“Sharice!”
“Trust me, okay. We’ll go right home. I’ma put a full outfit together for you. You’re gonna look so good! After you see what I’m gonna do, you’ll be glad you got it. And if not, you can return it. Okay?”
“But, I don’t even—”
“Trust me,” Sharice repeated with a determined grin. “I got this, girl.”
Angel bit her tongue. She liked the idea of spending the rest of the afternoon with her old friend, away from LaDonna and her angry eyes and mean comments.
Reluctantly, she agreed. An hour later, they were back at Angel’s apartment.
“Wait till you see what this looks like,” Sharice said holding the skimpy top while Angel unlocked the door. “Girl, you are gonna look fly.”
Inside, Angel spotted Dionne sitting alone on the couch in front of the TV. The volume was turned high, and Angel noticed she had arranged all her stuffed animals next to her on the couch, as if she wanted company.
“Where’s Mom?” Angel asked, grabbing the remote and turning the volume down.
“Taking a nap,” Dionne answered. Her hand was in a bowl of dried cereal on her lap. It was something she sometimes ate for a snack, but Angel immediately wondered if she’d had any lunch.
“Did you eat?”
“Not since breakfast. Mom said I can have cereal,” she added.
Angel sighed. “C’mon, let’s make you lunch.” Angel looked down the hall toward Mom’s room. The door was closed.
“Your Mom okay?” Sharice asked.
“Yeah, she’s just been a little sick this week. Flu or something,” Angel explained. “She’s getting better now. Just tired.”
Dionne watched Angel, but she didn’t say anything. Angel could tell her sister knew she was hiding the truth. “You mind if I make Dionne a sandwich? It’ll just be a minute.”
“That’s fine,” Sharice said, picking up the bag with the top and fishing it out. “You still got your magazines? The one from April has something I think we can do for the party.”
“Yeah, they’re in my room on my chair,” Angel said as she pulled out some bread and cheese. Sharice disappeared down the hallway.
“You think maybe we can do something fun tomorrow?” Dionne asked as Angel heated up a frying pan on the stove to make grilled cheese.
“Like what?”
“Maybe go to East Park like we used to. We can go on the swings. I can do the monkey bars by myself now. I’m faster than all the boys in my class, except Jordan,” she confessed, clutching her toy elephant. “We haven’t had fun in, like, forever.”
“You’re right,” Angel said, recalling how they used to visit the park with Dad. It had been about a year since they had gone there. “Let’s do it. You can race me. I might be faster than Jordan, though.”
“Yay!” Dionne cheered. Her gap-toothed smile helped Angel almost forget LaDonna and the stupid shopping trip.
Angel grilled the sandwich until the bread was crispy and the cheese gooey, Dionne’s favorite. Then she put it on a plate, cut it into triangles, and handed it to Dionne, who grabbed it eagerly.
That’s when she remembered Sharice. Where was she?
“Sharice?” Angel asked.
There was no reply. Angel walked down the hall into her room to find Sharice sitting on her bed, a stack of magazines resting against her leg, her mouth open as if she were gasping for air.
A notebook rested in her hands. The words “English Class” were on the front cover.
Chapter 5
“What are you doing?!” Angel yelled.
The journal was opened to the most recent entry. Angel could see the question she had written the other night. She could see Justice’s name, too.
“Oh my God, Angel,” Sharice said, her voice rising with alarm. “What is this?”
Angel felt her knees weaken and her hands tremble. For a moment, she couldn’t speak.
“You shouldn’t be readin’ that!” Angel’s voice cracked as she snatched the journal away. “That’s private! You’re not supposed to be snooping in my room.”
“I wasn’t snooping. I was getting your magazines when I saw what I thought was your English notebook.” Sharice pointed to the cover. “I thought I’d see if you’d started that poetry assignment.”
Angel felt as if the room were spinning. Her notebook disguise had backfired! If she hadn’t been distracted by Dionne, she would never have let Sharice in her room alone. Angel wanted to curse out loud.
“This can’t be for real,” Sharice said after a long, awkward silence. “I mean, this is just you tryin’ to be funny, right?”
Angel didn’t say anything. Sharice’s eyes widened.
“No! You don’t feel like that about girls, Angel. I’ve known you for years. You’re not like that.” Sharice spoke as if she were trying to convince herself. “Right?”
For a second, Angel thought she heard a note of concern in Sharice’s voice. Maybe Sharice would understand—or at least try to understand. After all, they were best friends. They had shared all sorts of secrets since sixth grade. Maybe what Sharice had said at the mall was just her trying to impress LaDonna.
“It’s really hard to explain,” Angel began slowly. She leaned on the edge of her desk and took a deep breath. Sharice stared at her with a strange expression that Angel couldn’t read. “It’s not like I dislike boys, and I do think some of them are cute. But I don’t feel about them like you do. When I think about girls—”
Sharice sprang up from the bed. “I’m not hearing this,” she said, shaking her head. She looked as if she had just taken a bite of something disgusting and wanted to spit it out. “The way you feel is weird. You ain’t right.”
The words hit Angel like punches. She tried to stand, but her legs felt weak, and her heart pounded like a hammer in her chest. “Sharice! Don’t say that.”
“You are messed up, Angel McAllister. I mean, that’s nasty. And I can’t believe you’ve felt like this all along and we’ve . . . we’ve been best friends!”
“We still are!” Angel pleaded.
“No we’re not,” Sharice huffed. “What will everyone think? They’re gonna think I’m just like you—”
“You can’t tell them!” Angel insisted. “It’s nobody’s business.”
“Just keep away from me.” Sharice recoiled from Angel as if she had a disease that could spread. “I’m not like you! I don’t want anyone thinkin’ I am. And I definitely don’t want to be your . . . your girlfriend.” Sharice spoke the last word with an exaggerated shudder of disgust.
“No, it’s not like that!” Angel exclaimed. “I never meant that about you. I don’t feel that way about you.”
“But you feel that way about Justice! Who’s next? Now I get why you’re always asking me to come over and spend time with you alone and . . . oh, it’s so gross!”
Angel felt as if her whole world were suddenly breaking apart. It seemed as if some massive wave had slammed everything and was now sweeping the pieces out to sea.
“Sharice, please! Don’t.”
Sharice turned and rushed down the hallway. Without another word, she yanked the front door open, stormed out, then slammed it shut. The thud thundered through the suddenly quiet apartment.
“What was that all about?” Mom yelled sleepily from her room.
“Nothing!” Angel shouted, slamming her own door shut and flopping on her bed, trying to comprehend what just happened. Tears in her eyes, Angel grabbed her journal and wrote what hurt most.
She’s gone. My best friend is gone. She hates me . . .
* * *
Sometime later, Angel heard a strange, muffled sound coming from down the hall. At first, she thought it was Mom talking on the phone to Aunt Gwen again. But then it sounded like two different voices—upset voices. Angel slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the hallway to listen.
“Oh, this is just horrible!” she could hear her mother saying in a disgusted voice. “I can’t believe this.”
What was Mom talking about? And was that Dionne crying?
The light was on in her mother’s room, but the door was closed. Angel crept closer. She could hear her mother speaking in a hushed voice. Then she could make out the sound of Dionne sniffling and asking “Why?” over and over again.
Angel tapped on the door. Both voices stopped.
“Mom? What’s wrong?”
A hushed silence answered. Angel opened the door and found her mother sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes unnaturally swollen and bloodshot from crying. She wrapped her arms protectively around Dionne, as if Angel were a threat to them both. Dionne reached out to Angel, but Mom slapped her hand down and shook her head.
“Don’t you touch her!” Mom scolded.
“What is it?” Angel whispered in confusion. “What’s going on?”
Mom pulled something out from under the covers of her bed—Angel’s journal! She held it up in the air and shook it so hard that dozens of pages fell out and fluttered to the floor.
“No!” Angel gasped. “Wait . . . let me explain. I wanted to tell you, but—”
“There’s nothing to explain!” Mom hissed. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. And don’t you dare come near your sister ever again. You hear me?!”
Again Dionne reached out to Angel, but Mom yanked her back.
“You made your choice. Because of your decision, you’re not welcome in this house anymore,” Mom’s voice seemed to change and become distorted as she spoke. “Get out. Get out right now!”
“But Mom . . .” Angel begged as her room began to spin. Everything was suddenly hazy and blurred. A roar like rushing water filled her ears.
“Out! Out! OUT!” Mom repeated, her voice even louder and more forceful.
Angel felt herself beginning to panic. She reached to her ears to block out the noise, but the sound grew louder.
“OUT! OUT! OUT!”
She screamed.
Angel sprang upright and found herself sitting on her bed, sunlight streaming through her window. Outside a car alarm blared over and over again. She could hear Dionne down the hall giggling about something. Next to her, the notebook slipped and fell to the floor.
Only a nightmare, Angel thought weakly, leaning back in relief.
Angel picked up her notebook and looked at the last few lines she had written:
What am I going to do? I can’t go to school. I don’t even want to get out of bed. My world is over. Done.
Angel hid in her room all day Sunday, pretending she was sick. When Dionne banged on her door for the third time to ask about going to the park, Angel snapped.
“Stop bothering me! I’ll tell you when I’m feeling better.”
“But you said we’d go to the park today—”
“I don’t care what I said. I don’t feel good. Leave me alone,” she grumbled.
“Nobody wants to do anything around here,” Dionne grumbled. “You’re just like Mom.”
A stab of guilt joined the misery already pooling in Angel’s chest. She knew why Dionne wanted to go to East Park. Part of her wanted to go there too. It was a place they had gone when things were easier and happier. Before Dad left and Mom became a broken spirit. Before her classmates went boy crazy. Before she wrote the words in her notebook that changed everything.
The last time they had gone to East Park was just before the school year. Dad bought them ice cream, and they sat on their bench. Dad called the spot his corner because from there he could see everything: the swings where the girls played, the picnic tables where families had cookouts or played chess, and the small quad where street performers sometimes gathered.
Angel could still remember what he said to her. “You’re almost in high school. You must be pretty excited.”
“Excited? More like scared!”
“Scared?” Dad had said, raising his eyebrows. “Why?”
“I guess I worry that I might not fit in. I mean, I don’t care about being really popular or anything, but I want to have friends,” she had explained.
“Of course you’re gonna have friends, Angel. What makes you think you won’t?”
She shrugged. The gnawing questions lurked in her mind then, though she didn’t dare mention them.
Dad had put his arm around her shoulder when she didn’t answer. “Tell me what you think the most fun thing to do in high school would be.”
“The most fun?”
“Yeah. Something totally different from middle school. Something new.”
Angel had almost been embarrassed to admit her answer.
“I always thought it would be fun to try out for cheerleading. You know, be part of a team.”
Dad nodded thoughtfully. “Then you need to go for it.”
“No way,” Angel had said. “Girls like me don’t get to be cheerleaders.”
“Girls like you?” Dad repeated. “What does that mean?”
“I’m different, Dad. Not pretty enough. Plus, I’m kinda clumsy,” Angel had admitted. She knew he wouldn’t understand what she really meant. She was glad.
“Now you listen,” Dad had said, leaning toward her intently. “You’ve got to live your life. You only get one shot at this, Angel. If that is what you want, you’ve gotta go for it. Otherwise you’re gonna sit back and regret that you didn’t, and you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”
Angel remembered Dad’s words after he and Mom split up a few months later. Had he been talking about himself that day? Angel wondered. That visit to East Park was the last time they had really talked.
“How could you?”
Mom’s wailing voice suddenly boomed through the apartment.
Angel peeked out of her bedroom door and saw her mother’s back as she stormed toward the kitchen, her phone pressed against her cheek. Dionne stepped into the hallway from her room.
“You and that girl could have lived anywhere in this city, Charles! And you gotta go and move a block away? How could you?!”
Angel heard a plate shatter, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Dionne ran to Angel, her eyes wide with fear.
“You betrayed me. You betrayed your children. And now you’re gonna rub it in our faces?! How can you do this? How can you sleep at night?” Mom screamed.
Angel covered Dionne’s ears as two more crashes rang from the kitchen followed by Mom cursing loudly. Then, like a storm blowing over, everything stopped, except for the sad, muffled sound of Mom sobbing.
Angel crept down the hall to the kitchen. Her mother stood hunched and alone, an island in a sea of shattered glass. Tears rolled silently down her face.
“Mom?” Dionne asked, holding Angel’s hand.
“Go back to your rooms, girls.”
“Are you okay?” Angel asked, reaching out to her.
“Please, just go back to your room.”
Chapter
6
Angel forced herself to school Monday morning, fighting dread with each step she took. When Sharice didn’t meet her on their corner, Angel tried to convince herself things would be okay.
Sharice wouldn’t tell anyone, Angel reassured herself. We’re best friends. She’s not like that.
But the second Angel walked into history class, two girls huddled at La-Donna’s desk looked up and snickered. One of them, who usually sat near Angel, had moved to a different seat. The other whispered something to LaDonna and shook her head as if she smelled something foul. Then a boy sitting near the back began making kissing noises, and all of them started laughing.
Win turned and raised his eyebrows. Angel sank in her seat.
“Hey Angel,” LaDonna asked in a syrupy sweet voice, “how’s your love life?”
Another burst of laughter erupted from the girls, but it died down the instant Ms. Warner walked in.
LaDonna knows, Angel thought, panic sweeping over her. Sharice told her.
“What’s going on?” Win whispered as Ms. Warner turned her back to write an assignment on the board. Angel could barely bring herself to look over at him. Surely he must’ve heard. But then she saw the concern in his eyes.
“She’s being a jerk, like always,” Angel mumbled, nodding toward LaDonna.
In that quick glance, Angel caught something out of the corner of her eye that made her grip her desk. With Ms. Warner’s back turned, LaDonna had pulled her phone out and was furiously tapping out a text. As soon as she finished, LaDonna waved at Justice and pointed to her phone. Justice sat with her arms folded and rolled her eyes, refusing to listen.
LaDonna leaned over and showed what she had written to one of her friends. Both girls began giggling.
“Anyone care to let me in on the joke?” Ms. Warner asked coolly as she opened her textbook.
Angel stared straight ahead, her forehead beginning to sweat. She could still hear LaDonna’s muffled snickering even after the other girl was quiet.
“LaDonna?” Ms. Warner said sharply. “Please tell the rest of us what’s so funny.”
