by Renée Watson
“Bye.” I close the door. I feel better. Much better.
Jay’s only been gone for five minutes when Grandpa’s car pulls in the driveway. I pray they didn’t see him walking from the house. I run to my room and get into bed. Grandma calls up to me, “Serenity, we’re home!” I hear her tell Danny to come check on me.
Danny knocks on my door. I tell him to come in. “You feelin’ better?”
“Yeah.”
Danny stands there looking at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Danny is still standing there, looking at me.
“What do you want?”
“Serenity, I’m sorry.” Danny looks like he wants to say more. Like he wants to apologize for every single thing he’s ever done to make me mad or frustrated.
I think about the things I’ve done too. How I didn’t have to yell, or be bossy. “I’m sorry, too, Danny,” I say.
We don’t say anything for a while. Danny walks over and sits on my bed. He asks, “Are you really sick?”
“No,” I tell him.
“I didn’t think so.”
“Don’t tell.”
“I won’t,” he promises. Then Danny, the expert on getting in and out of trouble, says, “Just remember that if you were too sick to go church, you can’t eat dinner tonight. You should just ask for soup or something.”
“Good point.”
“I’ll put some real food aside for you and bring it upstairs, okay?”
“All right,” I say and even though I am not really sick, I feel like lying down. I feel tired and I don’t have energy to do anything. I stay under the covers and look up at my ceiling, wondering if Ricky has seen my momma yet. If either of them knows how much we miss them.
I’ve been asleep for an hour when Grandma comes in my room carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a pack of saltine crackers for me. “Serenity, baby, you need to eat something.”
I sit up, groggy, and take the tray. I take a few bites while she is standing there, but when she leaves, I put it to the side. I don’t want to get full. I’m saving room for the real food that Danny’s bringing. It feels like me and Danny are becoming brother and sister again, like before. Like we’re on the same team.
OUR DEBTORS
• • • • • • • • • • •
Serenity Evans
Mrs. Ross, 1st Period
Poetry Workshop
Write about how you spent your spring break.
Spring cleaning.
Rummaging through boxes in the basement.
Giving away clothes, dishes, old things
not used anymore.
Grandma says it’s good to go through
your stuff every now and then.
Reminds you how good God’s been.
All the blessings He’s given you.
So many, you got enough to give away.
There’s a box in the corner of the basement.
It has been closed since I moved here.
Always.
I open it today.
Spring cleaning day.
And I see my momma’s heels.
And I am sad because all she left me
was a pair of shoes.
It’s March and Mrs. Ross keeps saying that she can’t believe how time is flying. “You graduate in just a few months. It’s time to start thinking about where you want to go next year.” I am excited about high school. Maria and I have already decided—we are going to Rosa Parks High.
I hope Jay is going too. I haven’t seen him lately so I haven’t been able to ask. I don’t talk a whole lot about me and Jay to Maria. I know she is happy for me but I know seeing me with Jay makes her miss Ricky even more, so I try not to tell her much. Like I didn’t tell her about the journal he gave me on Valentine’s Day. Instead, we talk about going to high school and we make plans for what electives we’re going to register for. Maria, of course, wants to sing in the choir. I thought about taking art, but Mrs. Ross thinks I should take the after-school creative writing class.
Mrs. Ross says she is proud of us and excited. “You all will have to come back and visit me when you go to high school. Don’t forget about us.” Mrs. Ross tells us all the time how much she is going to miss us. Some of my other teachers say it too. But I think Mr. Harvey is ready for us to go and hopes to never, ever see us again.
When we get to Mr. Harvey’s class he is already in a bad mood because of something that happened with the class before us. So when he catches me and Maria passing notes, he explodes. “Maria, I want you to come sit over here!” Mr. Harvey yells and pulls out the chair beside Bobby.
“Mr. Harvey, I will sit anywhere else but there. Please,” Maria says.
“You need to learn how to follow instructions. This is not up for discussion.” The class is silent, waiting to see what Maria is going to do.
“But, Mr. Harvey, please. Can’t I sit somewhere else?”
“Maria, I’m not asking again.”
Mr. Harvey thinks Maria is just being her regular stubborn self, but Bobby is the cousin of that boy who killed Ricky. “I’ll switch,” I tell Mr. Harvey, but that is not good enough.
“Thank you, Serenity, but I asked Maria.” He walks up to Maria and looks in her eyes. “Since you can’t follow instructions, you can’t be in class.” Mr. Harvey writes a referral for Maria and sends her to the office. Maria starts cursing and yelling. She throws the referral back at him and walks out of the room. “Young lady! Young lady, where do you think you’re going?” Mr. Harvey is yelling down the hall. He slams the door and makes us read silently from our books for the rest of the period.
While we read, he picks up the phone and calls the main office. “Maria Mosley just walked out of class. I’ve written her a referral and I do not want her back in this class without a parent conference.”
I look over at Bobby. He looks sad. I’m sure he knows why she didn’t want to sit by him. When the bell rings, I run out of class. I try to find Maria. I go to both our lockers, to the choir room, and to the bathroom stalls. I can’t find her. Then I see Maria and Isabel walking out of the office. Isabel doesn’t even smile at me. She just grabs Maria’s hand and says, “When we get home I want you to pack your stuff. I’ve had enough.”
When school lets out I meet Danny in our usual spot. Jay is there, even though he wasn’t in school. He hugs me, but I let go quicker than either of us expect. “Danny, if Grandma asks, I’m at Maria’s. I have to go check on her,” I tell him.
“Hold up,” Danny says. “I’ll come with you.”
“It’s okay. Go with Jay. That’s fine. I’ll see you at the house.”
“But—,” Danny says.
“Really, Danny, it’s okay.”
Jay says, “Yeah man, I got somethin’ for us to do anyway.”
I start to walk away. I hear Danny telling Jay that he needs to get home and start his homework so he can’t go. I think whatever Ivan is saying to Danny is sinking in. And I feel weird, liking and hugging and kissing the boy that everyone is shooing away.
I know I shouldn’t like Jay. I mean—liking him as a friend is fine, but I know that sneaking around with him is wrong. Everyone always tells girls not to like boys like him but they never tell us how not to.
When I get to Maria’s, she is sitting on the porch crying. I sit next to her. “I hate her, Serenity. I really do.”
“Don’t say that.”
“She’s making me stay with him.” Maria wipes her tears away, but more come as soon as she talks again.
“Did you explain to your mom what happened? Did you tell her why you didn’t want to sit by Bobby?”
“She doesn’t care. She said it doesn’t matter. I should respect adults even if I disagree.” Maria sniffs long and hard. “She said I need to get over Ricky. That I can’t keep blaming my attitude on him.” Maria stops talking. She stares at the ground at the line of ants crawling out of a tiny hole. “She’s such a hypocrite. Talkin’ ’bout how I’ve changed. Ho
w I let my relationship with Ricky take over me. Like she’s not doing that. Talkin’ ’bout she needs a break. She just wants to spend time with that ugly boyfriend of hers.” Maria stops crying and wipes her wet hands on her jeans. “I should call my grandmother and have her send for me early. I want to go to Puerto Rico now. I don’t want to wait till summer.”
I whisper, “Maria, why don’t you just tell your mom why you don’t want to stay with your dad?”
“I can’t, Serenity. I can’t.”
“Well, do you want me to tell my grandma? I know she’ll help you,” I say.
“Serenity, no. You promised.”
Isabel comes to the door. She talks through the screen. “Your father will be here soon. Come get your bags.”
Maria gets up and walks in the house. I follow her to her bedroom and help her carry her bags. By the time we get outside, Maria’s father is here. His car is parked outside the house, windows down. I watch him look Maria up and down, like men on the corner do to sexy women who walk by. How could Isabel not know? “You been giving your mother trouble, huh?” he says.
Maria ignores him and takes her bags to the back of the car. He pops the trunk. “Good luck with her,” Isabel says. Then she digs in her pockets and pulls out money. I see her counting the bills—five ones, a five, and a twenty. “Maria, come here.”
Maria slams the trunk and walks back up on the porch. “Here.” Isabel hands her the money. “It’s all I got.”
Maria snatches it and walks back to the car. I follow her and before she gets in, I give her the biggest hug I can. I whisper in her ear, “Call me tonight, so I know you’re okay.”
Maria gets in the car. Her father starts the engine and they drive away. I am standing on the sidewalk looking back at Maria’s house. Isabel is on the porch watching the car drive away and I am thinking, it’s not too late to stop them. But right when I think to say it, Isabel’s boyfriend walks out, with his big belly and slick hair, and says, “Is she gone yet?”
“Yeah. She just left.”
Miguel takes her hand. “Good, now we can have some peace and quiet around here.” They go inside the house and close the door.
I’m feeling real mad right now. Mad at every mother I know. I’m thinking about my momma leaving no kind of inheritance for me, except a pair of shoes, nightmares, and secrets. I’m thinking about Maria and how her momma sent her on her way, giving her thirty dollars, and how Jay’s momma never gave him anything. I’m thinking how not even Maya Angelou’s momma could give her safety. I’m thinking parents owe their children something more.
AND LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION
• • • • • • • • • • •
Serenity Evans
Mrs. Ross, 1st Period
Poetry Workshop
Haiku Formula: 3 lines of poetry, arranged in lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables.
Write a haiku about spring.
Springtime
Flowers are blooming.
Leaves have returned to their trees.
Winter left for good.
I’ve been able to get out of church for the past two Sundays. Jay comes over and we watch television and kiss and play cards and kiss and do homework and kiss. But I can’t keep pretending to be sick, so we decide to skip school today so we can go to the park.
“I’m not going to be in class after lunch,” I tell Maria on our way to my locker.
“Okay,” she says, not even asking why. Maria looks like all the life is out of her. Like she doesn’t care about anything or anyone. She’s been quiet, and when I asked her if she wanted to talk to my grandparents, she said, “About what?”
Why do women and girls keep such horrible secrets?
The bell rings at the end of lunch and I just leave. I walk out of school like I’m not doing anything wrong. When I get to the park Jay is waiting for me at the swings. He’s not swinging, just lightly swaying from side to side. His feet brush across the top of the dirt, making dust rise.
We sit for a while on the swings and then Jay tells me he has something to say. “So tell me,” I say. And he leans in close to me and kisses my lips. The wind blows and I can feel how cold the tip of his nose is. I can hear the cars driving past, but I know they cannot see us because of the tall trees.
Jay gets up from off the swing. We walk through the fallen cherry blossoms onto a pathway that winds through the park. “I have something for you,” Jay tells me.
“What?”
“It’s a surprise.” Jay walks me to the bus stop.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“I have to be back before school is out.”
“You will be.” Jay lets me on the bus first. We ride for five stops and get off at the mall.
“Here.” Jay hands me a stack of gift cards.
At first I think, I can’t take these. I think about how I told Danny this was so wrong. But I guess it doesn’t matter now. If there’s not a God who answers my prayers, there’s not a God who’ll punish me. He’s not paying attention to anything I do.
When we get in the mall, I get all nervous. I feel like everyone knows that I don’t belong here. That I have no money for clothes and shoes and jewelry. The first store we go into I only try on three things. The card has one hundred dollars on it and I am scared that it won’t work when I hand it to the cashier, but it does. And so does the next one. And the next one. I have jeans, dresses, shoes, bracelets, earrings.
“We should take this stuff to your house before we go back to school,” Jay says. He has it all figured out, like he planned this. He takes his cell phone out and calls someone. We wait outside, two bags in my hand, three in his. A big, long green car pulls up to the curb. It looks like a car my grandpa would work on. “Here’s Dwayne.” Jay lets me get in the car and he gets in after me. Some girl with high, stiff hair is sitting in the front.
“Thanks, man.” Jay and Dwayne shake. “This is Serenity.”
“Hey, shorty. Where am I taking you?”
“This is Danny’s sister. We’re going to his house.”
Dwayne starts driving and I get to thinking, how does he know where we live? Dwayne gets to our house quick because he drives fast and takes only the back streets so we miss all the lights. His music is so loud, the bass vibrates inside my chest and shakes the windows.
“Here you go,” Dwayne says as he pulls up to my house. “I’ll wait out here.”
Jay gets out of the car and helps me bring my bags inside. I stuff everything in my closet for now and rush back downstairs so I can get back to school to meet Danny at the flagpole so Grandma can take us to our counseling appointment.
When we get back in the car, Dwayne and the stiff-haired girl are smoking. I am so scared the smell will get in my clothes, but I have to ride with him. If I take the bus, I’ll be late for sure. When we get a block away from Rose City Academy, Jay taps Dwayne on his shoulder. “You can drop us off here.”
“All right.” Dwayne pulls over. “Take care, shorty. Tell your brother to come through when he gets a minute.”
I say, “Thanks for the ride.” I get out of the car. Jay is right behind me. We make it to the flagpole ten minutes before the dismissal bell rings. I hug Jay good-bye and he leaves before Danny or Maria come out. By the time Danny gets to the flagpole, Grandma has pulled up. We walk to the car, get in, and go to see Ann and Gloria. Grandma doesn’t suspect a thing.
BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL
• • • • • • • • • • •
Serenity Evans
Mrs. Ross, 1st Period
Poetry Workshop
“My great hope is to laugh
as much as I cry.”
—Maya Angelou
I step into the counseling center and send Danny to Gloria. “I have to use the bathroom. Don’t wait for me,” I say. Danny gets on the elevator. Instead of going to the restroom, I walk around the center, then cross the sky bridge and enter the hospital. I refuse to see Ann to
day. All she is going to do is make me cry and think and talk. I just want to walk right now.
I look on the directory and find the floor that has the cafeteria. I go into my change purse and get coins for the vending machine. I have enough for two bags of chips and a candy bar. When I finish eating, I walk around more. There are all sorts of people here. Some look happy, others worried, a few relieved. I walk to the emergency waiting room. When you look at some of the patients that are waiting, you can tell immediately what’s wrong with them.
A man is sitting with his hand wrapped in a torn T-shirt. Blood is seeping through and he’s holding it, rocking back and forth. There’s a little kid bent over in a woman’s lap. He is holding his stomach and crying. But the woman across from them looks fine. She is sitting in the seat like nothing is wrong and I think maybe she is waiting for someone, but then a nurse calls her name and I realize she is a patient.
I look at the clock. Grandma will be here soon. I walk back across the sky bridge and meet Danny in the lobby and we get in the car. When we get home, I go straight upstairs. Everything I’ve done today is weighing on me and I’m starting to feel like that woman in the hospital. No one can tell by looking at me, but there’s something wrong on the inside.
Danny knocks on my door.
“Yes?”
“You got something in the mail. Grandpa told me to give it to you.”
“Come in.”
Danny hands me an envelope from the church. It’s my Rites of Passage confirmation letter. The letter is congratulating me. I have completed my community service hours and my statement of faith has been reviewed. I will be passed at the ceremony in May. At the bottom of the letter it tells me that I need to reply and tell Mrs. Mitchell what scripture I will be reciting. I look at the bags of clothes in my closet and I put the envelope in the drawer of my desk. I don’t even know if I want to go through with the ceremony anymore.
I’m not sure how Grandma makes it up the stairs without me hearing the floor creek, but here she is at my door. She doesn’t knock; she just barges in. “Serenity, I just got off the phone with Ann.” Grandma’s eyes are sharp knives. I look away. “Why didn’t you go to your session?” she asks. I’m thinking, maybe if I sit here long enough without saying anything, she will just punish me and we won’t even have to talk about it. “Do you hear me? I asked you a question.” Grandma closes my bedroom door, sits down on my bed, and asks me again. “Why didn’t you go to your session today?”