“Congratulations,” Zenovia said.
“I’ll be home on the holidays and stuff like that. But I’m excited. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”
Zenovia nodded, but she didn’t smile. She was trying too hard to keep from bursting into tears.
Seeming to sense Zenovia’s heartbreak Alyssa said, “But the summer is a long way off. We’ve got plenty of time to hang with Tristan.”
The wedding was simple, elegant, and beautiful. Audrey had floated effortlessly down the aisle looking as if she’d stepped right out of a bridal magazine in her one-hundred-dollar dress and cheap costume jewelry. She was radiant and as much as Phillip had annoyed Zenovia, he’d looked radiant too.
Now everyone was at the Batistes’ house for the reception. Charlotte had spent a great deal of time making gourmet appetizers and finger foods. The cake had been done by one of the sisters at the Northeast Devotion Center at no charge.
Zenovia sat in a corner smoothing the skirt of her affordable, handed-down two-piece satin gown. The hunter-green shade was Audrey’s favorite color, but it also suited Zenovia well. The smooth material hugged her petite and curvaceous shape in all the right places.
Zenovia had separated herself from the crowd when Bryce Goodman entered the festively decorated recreation room. She was concerned that seeing him and his wife together would trigger another vision. So she watched the action from her seat as she sipped on overly sweet sherbet-filled punch.
She noticed Tristan smile at her from across the room, but she turned away quickly. She still hadn’t recovered from hearing his “good news” and still hadn’t forgotten about his list of girlfriend qualifications.
But, against her wishes, Tristan crossed the room and sat down next to her. “You don’t look like you’re having fun.”
“I am.”
Tristan chuckled lightly. “How long are you going to keep this up?”
“Keep what up?” Zenovia’s tone displayed her irritation. She didn’t appreciate Tristan taking her feelings lightly.
“The two-word replies to everything. You hardly said anything at all to me last night.”
“Well, since you seemed to be engaged by Mia’s incessant chatter, I chose to give my vocal cords a rest.”
“Zee, did I do something wrong? I thought we were getting to be friends. I’m looking forward to you coming to Carver.”
Zenovia shook her head slowly. Did he really not know why she was upset? Perhaps his flirtations were all in her mind and all Tristan ever really wanted from her was friendship. Maybe her own strong attraction to him was causing her to think otherwise.
“Tristan, you’re fine. I’ve just got a lot going on, I guess. My mother has never been married, so it’s going to be an adjustment.”
“Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you. Even after I go to Boston, we can still write and call one another.”
Zenovia managed to give Tristan a smile. “All right. I’d like that.”
“It’s time to toast the happy couple!” Bryce Goodman’s booming voice snatched Zenovia into an unwanted vision.
Bryce sits in a room with two other men, both older than he is. All three of them hold notepads, in which they scribble furiously.
“How many times did this happen?” asks Bryce.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t count.” This voice belongs to Zenovia.
“If you were truly repentant, you would be more forthcoming with information.”
Zenovia rakes her hand through her hair. She looks tired and irritated. Her face is tear-streaked and red. “I’m sorry. I guess I just don’t know what you want to hear.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Bryce says as he closes his notebook.
Tristan touched Zenovia’s arm gently. “Zee, you’re shaking. Are you okay?”
Zenovia looked down at her hands. She was shaking, and she didn’t know for how long. Apparently the toast was finished because people were back to talking and laughing.
She willed her hands to stop trembling, but they did not obey. Up until now, her visions had always been about other people. She’d never had a vision that included her own life, and it was terrifying.
She could still feel the hurt and desperation that her future self was experiencing in the vision. But the vision had been so short and so out of context that she had no idea when or why it would occur. What would she need to be repentant about? And why would she have to prove that to anyone, especially Bryce Goodman?
“I’m going to get you some water, Zee. You look like you’re about to faint.”
She shook her head. “No, Tristan, don’t. I’m fine. Plus Mia is trying to get your attention.”
“She is?” Tristan asked, just a bit too happily for Zenovia’s liking.
Normally Zenovia would never knowingly send her crush into the arms of another girl, but she needed time to compose herself. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. Slowly her heart rate returned to normal.
She opened her eyes to Justin, standing in front of her with his arms crossed and grinning mischievously.
“What?” Zenovia asked.
“Are you coming to my going-away party?”
“Sure.”
“It’s going to be at the Roller Palace.”
Zenovia laughed. “You’re having a skating party?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“You don’t seem like a skater.”
Justin sat down. “And you don’t seem like the type to fall for Tristan, but clearly you have.”
“I’m not Tristan’s type.”
“Tristan doesn’t even know what he likes!” Justin replied with a hearty laugh.
“Are you playing matchmaker?”
“Nope. Just wanted to see where your head was at.”
Zenovia cringed. “There was a preposition at the end of your sentence, Justin.”
He took a flower from the bouquet Zenovia was still clutching and tucked it into her curls. She couldn’t contain her smile.
He stood from his seat and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Well, if you’re not Tristan’s type, he’s an idiot.”
Chapter Ten
This is your room, Zenovia. I hope you like it.”
Zenovia bit her lip and shifted a box of her belongings from one arm to the other. The walls were painted powder blue and there were rainbow borders near the ceiling and floor. It was a child’s room.
“Thank you, Phillip.”
Phillip beamed. “It took me an entire weekend to decorate this room. Audrey said that you liked blue.”
Audrey called from the living room. “Where are you guys?”
“We’re in here.”
Audrey pushed the door to the room open wide. She laughed out loud. “Phillip, baby, this room is for a five-year-old!”
Phillip looked hurt, so Zenovia tried to intervene, “It’s okay, Mom. Before long, I’ll be going to college anyway.”
Audrey kissed her forehead. “You’re right. I guess it doesn’t matter too much then.”
Phillip frowned deeply. “College? I thought we had talked about this, Audrey.”
Zenovia ignored Phillip’s comment and continued. “Yep. Howard University. I’m going to be a computer programmer.”
Phillip was not pleased. “Audrey, you know how the Brethren feel about a college education.”
“And I know how hard my daughter has worked for this. No one is taking this away from her.”
“We’ll discuss this further. Just the two of us,” Phillip replied with anger rising in his voice.
“Ain’t nothing to discuss.”
Audrey turned sharply and walked out of the room. Phillip’s expression was indecisive, but Zenovia knew that this was not a time to pursue an argument with her mother. She’d seen Audrey teetering near the edge of reason before, and this was clearly one of those times.
“Don’t go after her,” Zenovia stated. It was as much a command as it was a suggestion.
Phillip laughed. “You think I don’t know how to handle a woman?”
“I think you don’t know how to handle this woman. Trust me, Phillip. She’s only half-medicated.”
“I’m not afraid of your mother.”
Zenovia responded with a seriousness that no seventeen-year-old should possess. “Let it go. It’s not an argument worth having.”
“This time I’ll let it go, but you need to know that I’m the man of this house.”
“Okay…”
“And now that we’ve exchanged vows, your mother belongs to me.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that you don’t have a say anymore. You’re a child and I’ll have you removed from my house if you ever defy me again.”
Zenovia blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend this thinly veiled threat. This was the man of Audrey’s vision? For the first time Zenovia wondered if the visions came from a source other than God.
Zenovia pulled on the tan rental skates and tied up the worn brown laces. She was at Justin’s going-away party, but didn’t feel much like partying. Her mood was still somber from witnessing the apparent decline of her mother’s mental health. And it was all because Phillip was looking to God for a healing.
Zenovia wasn’t the greatest skater in the world and she hadn’t been on wheels since she was in middle school. She wobbled to her feet and was struggling to maintain her balance when a thin teenage boy whipped past her and caused her to fall into the lockers. She narrowed her eyes angrily in the boy’s direction. He turned on his skates, mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” and flashed Zenovia one of the prettiest smiles she’d ever seen.
Her rage went up in smoke.
Alyssa rushed to help Zenovia to her feet. Echoing Zenovia’s thoughts she said, “He’s a cutie.”
“Yes, he is. Do you know him?” Zenovia asked.
“Are you trying to play my brother, Zee?”
Zenovia laughed out loud. “In order to play him, wouldn’t he have to be my boyfriend?”
“I guess so. But you don’t want to talk to Emil.”
“That’s the cutie’s name? Emil?” Satisfied that she had regained her balance, Zenovia skated in a little circle.
“Yes, but he’s bad news.”
“How so?”
“His mom is one of the Brethren, but he refuses to get baptized.”
This intrigued Zenovia, since she’d had her own doubts. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“Well, whatever they are, they can’t be good ones.”
Tristan and Mia stumbled toward them. They were holding hands and trying not to crash into the lockers. Zenovia involuntarily rolled her eyes. Even though she couldn’t control her hopeless attraction to Tristan, he still got on her last nerves.
He asked, “Are you two going to skate or just hold up the wall?”
Alyssa replied for the both of them. “We’re skating. We’re just trying to build up our nerve.”
At that moment, Mia completely lost her balance and fell right into Tristan’s arms. She giggled flirtatiously and took her time steadying herself again. Tristan also didn’t seem to be in a hurry.
Zenovia blinked back tears and skated away as quickly as possible. She could hear Mia still giggling as she asked, “What’s wrong with her?”
Zenovia made a mad dash onto the skate floor and not-so-deftly avoided collisions with several skaters. Justin zoomed past her and grinned. She gave him a weak smile as she safely made her way to the center of the rink. That was where the newbies tried to learn and the “real skaters” perfected their moves.
A worn-out, carpeted bench called to Zenovia and not a moment too soon. Her knees and ankles felt wobbly and she didn’t want to have another wipeout. She fell onto the bench and sighed. She had the perfect seat for people watching because the lights were dimmed on the skate floor and she could see the entire rink.
Justin plopped down next to Zenovia on his next trip around the rink. “Are you having fun?”
“I am,” Zenovia replied without any indication in her voice that it was true.
He laughed out loud. “You are so convincing.”
“I try so hard, Justin,” Zenovia joked with her characteristic sarcasm. “But you just see right through me.”
“Are you just gonna let Mia take your man like that?” Justin asked.
“Wow…”
Zenovia tried hard to think of a response that would make any sense. Of course, she wanted to sock Mia in the jaw and lay claim to her “boyfriend,” but it wasn’t that simple. There was the ever-present pride factor and the little nagging truth that Tristan had made exactly zero verifiable romantic overtures.
Zenovia added, “If she can take him, then he’s not mine, right?”
“I am so glad to hear you say that. Now skate with me.”
“Thanks anyway, Justin,” Zenovia said. “I think I’ll just sit right here.”
“Suit yourself then. There are many a deserving lady out there looking to skate with me.”
Zenovia laughed. “Great! Then go make someone’s day.”
Justin stroked her face right before he skated away. Normally, Zenovia would’ve been thinking of the germs left behind by his sweaty hand. But every touch from Justin was full of electricity.
Zenovia refused to let herself think of pursuing Justin. For starters, he was leaving and she didn’t want a pen pal for a boyfriend. Second, he enjoyed the girls who fell all over themselves to hook up with him. Zenovia was not planning to become one of those girls.
Since she didn’t feel like skating or getting run over, Zenovia decided to watch the “real skaters.” She was fascinated by the jumps and twirls although she could never imagine herself doing any of it.
Of particular interest to Zenovia was the Brethren-rebel Emil. He twirled like a figure skater and then dropped to the ground, extended one leg, and continued to spin until he fell flat on his butt. A couple of other skaters clapped and congratulated him on his technique.
Zenovia hadn’t realized how hard she was staring at him until they locked eyes. Emil sat right in the middle of the floor and smiled at Zenovia. She quickly looked away, but it didn’t stop him from skating over.
Emil hit the toe-stopper on his skates about two inches away from Zenovia. She pretended not to see him, but she couldn’t help but return his smile. He was wearing a thick gold herringbone chain with an E dangling from the center.
She looked up at his still-grinning face and asked, “What’s the E stand for? Ernest? Earl? Edwin?”
“Earl? Do I look like an Earl?” Emil asked with a laugh.
“Nah. You look like a skinny skater dude. Possibly named Earl.”
“The E stands for Emil.”
“Good to meet you, Emil.”
He sat down on the bench. “So did you just come here to watch or are you skating at all?”
“I’m actually only here because it’s a going-away party for my friend,” explained Zenovia. “I can’t skate.”
Emil nodded. “Who’s your friend?”
“Justin Batiste.”
“Oh, one of them Heights boys.” Emil’s frown displayed a great amount of disdain.
“Heights boy? Oh, ’cause he lives in Cleveland Heights, right?”
“Yeah. That’s your friend?”
Zenovia nodded. “He’s pretty cool.”
“I didn’t take you for a Heights chick, though. You seem kinda down.”
Zenovia laughed. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“ ’Cause you looked like you wanted to beat me down when I crashed into you. Heights girls don’t fight. That’s all hood.”
“Wow! I’m definitely not a Heights girl, but I’m not a hood chick either, sir.”
Emil seemed thrilled, “Really? Where you stay at?”
“I used to stay in King Kennedy, but we just moved.”
“King Kennedy! Yikes, girl, you are more hood than me.”
Zenovia shook her head. “The projects do not d
efine me.”
“All right then.”
Emil stood up and got ready to skate away. Zenovia frowned. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?” Emil asked.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me my name?”
He smiled again. “It’s Zenovia, right? I already asked around, sweetie.”
“Sweetie? You’re a little presumptuous, aren’t you?”
“Not at all. I can see the future, and I see you and me together.”
Zenovia shook her head. “Wow. That was so corny.”
Emil winked at Zenovia with one of his big beautiful doe eyes that didn’t seem to match his thug persona. He skated off behind a line of boys who were doing a step. They crossed their legs simultaneously, then leaned back and swiveled their hips toward a crowd of screaming girls.
Zenovia’s eyes followed Emil around the rink until she caught the gaze of a disapproving Tristan. His eyes were narrowed into little slits and his arms were crossed angrily. Zenovia chuckled at his audacity. No, he did not have the gall to be glaring her down, not when he’d spent the whole evening yukking it up with Mia.
Zenovia took a deep breath and decided that she didn’t care about Tristan anymore. He was obviously more susceptible to hair-flinging than intellect. Plus Emil said that he could see the future.
Chapter Eleven
For the first time Zenovia stepped through the doors of Carver High School. It was just a new school, but to Zenovia it felt like another world. The huge center hallway reminded her of a preppy private school from the Disney teen movies with its litter-free floor and freshly painted lockers.
The students were a different breed, too. Everywhere Zenovia looked there were Tommy Hilfiger ensembles and Gap jackets. The black kids at Carver didn’t sound like kids from the hood—their dialects had been groomed for college educations that weren’t necessitated by an athletic scholarship.
Zenovia felt like a polar bear on a Caribbean isle.
She let out an involuntary sigh of relief when she saw Alyssa walking down the hallway in her direction. Zenovia exhaled again when she noted that Alyssa was alone and not flanked by her two least-favorite people—Mia and Tristan. The three of them seemed to be joined by some invisible preppy umbilical cord.
In the Midst of It All Page 7