This was a rough bus ride home. It was always that way. Even though it was 2010, there were so many roads in White Haven that were still not paved.
But that wasn’t what made the ride so rough today. It was the words that kept jumping around in my head. Looking out the window, I saw nothing, not even the trees. The tears in my eyes blurred everything. The tears had been in my eyes from the moment Mr. Stanley had dismissed me.
I’d gone into his office just like I did every Wednesday. We never left for his house until all the school buses and all the teachers had left. But today, when I walked through the library and then into his office, I changed the routine a little bit. I spoke before he even looked up and smiled.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
He bounced from his seat, then went around me and closed the door to his office. Facing me, he crossed his arms. “Why do you think that?”
It was hard for me to say the next words to a guy, but I had to so that Mr. Stanley would believe me. “I missed my period. For two months now.” When he didn’t say anything else, I said it again to make sure that he understood. “So I think I’m pregnant. I don’t know for sure, but I looked it up on here.” I raised the cell phone that he had given me for my fifteenth birthday. “On the Internet, they said if I missed my period for two months, I was probably pregnant.”
He squinted, he frowned; he looked like he was gonna be sick. I got that—I’d been feeling sick, too. It took him a long time to speak, and when he did, what came out was, “It’s not mine.” That was it. Then he walked out of his office like he always did.
His words shocked me. What did he mean by that? It had to be his baby. I’d never had sex with anyone else. I lowered myself into the chair where I always sat and waited for Mr. Stanley . . . just like I did every Wednesday.
Today, he came back faster than normal. But he didn’t have the smile on his face that was always there. This time, he stood in front of me and crossed his arms. “I think we need to end . . .” He shook his head. “You don’t need to come to my office anymore. In fact, you should leave right now. So that you can catch the bus, or you’ll have to walk home. Our business is finished.”
There were so many words in those sentences that scared me, but all I did was focus on catching the bus. Because White Haven was more than twenty miles away from Clinton High; it would take me till tomorrow morning to get home if I had to walk.
Without saying another word to him, I dashed out of the library, then prayed the whole time that I would make the bus. I did; I was the last one on, and since there were only nine of us who were bused in from White Haven, I got my regular seat by the window.
I was glad I sat alone. No one would see my tears. What did Mr. Stanley mean when he said the baby wasn’t his? What did he mean that our business was finished?
I was still asking myself those same questions when the bus made it back to White Haven. The driver made only one stop when we hit town—on the curb in front of Walmart. All of us had to walk the rest of the way to our homes.
But when I stepped off that bus, I wasn’t thinking about going home. All I could do was stare at the big store in front of me.
I’d told Mr. Stanley I thought I was pregnant because I didn’t know for sure. I’d missed my period, yes, but on the Internet, it said that could be because I was pregnant, but it could be because of other things, too. That was why I’d told Mr. Stanley. Because I thought he was gonna help me figure it out like he helped me figure out my father.
But it seemed like I’d have to do this by myself. So the first thing I had to figure out—was I pregnant?
I slung my backpack over my shoulder, then traipsed from the street, through the parking lot. The whole time, my eyes were on the big store sign.
When I stepped inside, though, I just stood there. Where would I find pregnancy tests in this big ole place? I knew they had pregnancy tests; there were lots of commercials on TV about them. So I just began to wander through the store—I walked toward the sign that said Health and Beauty because those tests had nothing to do with beauty, but this sure ’nuff was about my health.
The store wasn’t all that crowded—I guessed people didn’t hang out in Walmart in the middle of the week right before dinner. I turned into the section and was a little surprised to see the pregnancy tests right there. There were a bunch of them, all in boxes that were so pretty you wouldn’t mind leaving them out on the shelf at home. But when I picked one up, my eyes almost busted out of my head.
This was almost ten dollars. I mean, it was only seven, but that might as well have been ten. Especially since all I had in my pocket was two dollars.
Dang. I wanted this test, but how was I gonna get five more dollars? Mama didn’t have it; Mama never did. And not only that, she’d ask me why I wanted the money.
I could knock on some doors and ask anyone if they wanted me to babysit or do some chores. But even before I finished thinking about that, I knew that wouldn’t work. None of the ladies where I lived ever let me babysit or do anything. I guessed they didn’t want me around their kids or their men. I guessed they thought I was just like my mama.
There was only one way I was gonna get this test. I looked up one end of the aisle and then turned the other way. Then holding my breath, I opened my backpack and just before I was about to stuff the box inside, someone grabbed my arm.
I didn’t look up—there was no need to; I was sure it was the police. And another reason why I didn’t need to look up—I was going to die from a heart attack anyway.
“Yo, what you doin’, girl?”
When I raised my eyes, the guy who was holding me didn’t look like a policeman. I mean, he didn’t have on any kind of uniform, but he didn’t even look like an undercover cop either. Maybe he just worked here—he looked like he was old, like twenty or something.
Still, I said, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I won’t do it again.”
“Shhh . . . girl, I’m not the po-lice. But if you trying to get this out of here, you sure gonna get caught. They got these things in them that will set off the alarm the moment you walk through the door.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what kind of thing he was talking about and I was too scared to ask.
He took the box, glanced at it, then brought his eyes back to me. “You pregnant?”
I snatched the box from him. “None of your business.”
He grinned. “I’m just asking ’cause I was gonna try to help you. You want this?”
Now I had what my English teacher called a dilemma—I didn’t want this dude in my business, but I needed this test. “You work here?”
“Nah, I wanna get a job here, but you can’t if you’re not sixteen.”
I frowned. “How old are you?” I’d thought he was so much older.
“Oh, so now you wanna get all in my business.” When he grinned, I sighed like I was in love. It was his gold grill. All the tough guys had started wearing those things . . . I just loved them.
“Umm . . .” Damn . . . I’d forgotten what he’d said and what I was supposed to say back.
He saved me when he said, “Look, I’mma get this for you. Just meet me outside, okay?”
I had a whole bunch of questions—like how was he going to do it and why did he want to help me? But I needed that test, and this guy with the wavy black hair and gold grill was gonna get me what I needed . . .
HE’D MET ME outside, gave me the bag with the box inside, and then he walked me home. I never knew if he had stolen it or bought it, but as we walked, I did find out that his name was Buck, he went to White Haven High, and he was fifteen, like me.
When we got to my house, Mama hadn’t left for work yet, so Buck had told me what to do with the test like he was an expert. And then he’d given me his phone number and told me to call him after I’d finished.
Just about two hours after that, Mama was gone and I did what Buck told me to do: took the test, called him, cried, and asked Buck what was I gonna do
.
“Don’t worry, boo, I got you.”
That was what he’d said then; that was what Buck said always. And he followed his words with action. That was why no matter how many times he made me want to punch his heart out, he’d always have mine.
There was another quick knock on my door, and I pushed myself off the bed. “I’m ready,” I shouted out to Gabrielle as I grabbed my purse and the white denim jacket I was going to wear with the black flounce miniskirt.
Before I stepped out of the room, I paused and looked at myself in the mirror inside the closet door. The boots really set this outfit off. I looked good, and now I had to be good. I had to take care of business.
It was time to go, time to put this whole plan to work.
26
Keisha
Bella jumped into my arms from her car seat, and I set her down on the ground.
“Bye, Mommy,” she shouted out the way she always did, then we skipped up the walkway to the front door of the Dalton School.
Since we’d been doing this for two weeks now, I didn’t flip out at all of the white kids jumping out of Bentleys and even limos. It was just this life—the kind of life my kid should have.
My kid.
Looking at Bella, I smiled, then crouched down so that we were eye to eye. “You have a good day today, okay?”
She nodded, then leaned over and gave me a hug.
“I love you,” I told her.
“I love you, too, Auntie.”
I held her, keeping her inside my arms for another moment. Then I said, “You can call me Mama.”
Bella leaned back. “Mama?”
I nodded. “Don’t you want to call me that?”
She frowned, then looked over her shoulder; I was sure she was searching for Gabrielle.
“That’s different from Mommy,” I told her.
“It is?”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you can call me Mama. But you know what?”
She shook her head and her eyes got wide like she thought I was going to tell her something special.
I said, “Let’s keep this between just you and me, okay?”
She nodded.
“Just call me Mama when we’re by ourselves, okay?”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly.
“Okay.” I kissed her cheek, then waited for her to say something, but she stepped away and took the hand of one of the kindergarten assistants who met us at the door every day. I watched her go inside and smiled. It might take a week, maybe two, but she’d call me Mama.
Turning back to the car, I wasn’t quite sure how I was gonna make Bella part of the plan, but that little girl was gonna be mine, too. Maybe it was just as simple as making Gabrielle lose everything and I would be there to take care of Bella. Or maybe it would take more.
I didn’t know yet, but I knew I’d know soon.
When I slid back into the car, Gabrielle smiled. “Thank you,” she said the way she did every morning.
I clicked my seat belt, and at the same time, her phone beeped. Gabrielle frowned as she read a message. “I have to call my bank.” She tapped in a number, then set the call on Bluetooth before she eased from the curb.
I pretended to be looking at my own phone as the automated voice answered and told her to press one for this or press two for that. She tapped a couple of buttons before a real woman came on and asked Gabrielle what kind of help she needed.
“I received a notification from the fraud department.”
The woman asked for some identification that I made note of: the last four digits of her Social Security number, and her phone code. After all of that, the woman told Gabrielle, “Yes, we noticed some activity that we suspect is fraudulent. There’s a charge here for eighteen hundred dollars.”
What shocked me most was Gabrielle didn’t freak out. If I had a credit card and someone told me there was that kind of a charge on it, I would’ve been screaming. Rich people problems, I guessed.
But as if the woman had just told her about the weather, Gabrielle said, “My husband and I share this card, so can you tell me what the charge is for?”
“The purchase was made from a retailer called Motor Sports in Boston.”
“Oh, no, that doesn’t belong to us.”
“That charge has already been paid, but you won’t be responsible for it. And since your card has been compromised, we have to cancel it.”
“All right.” Gabrielle sighed.
“We’ll send new ones; you’ll receive them in about seven business days.”
“Thank you so much.”
As she gave more information to the woman, I opened my Messages app and texted:
Credit card canceled. Stop NOW.
Then I closed the app and sat back. It seemed like this was the only charge they’d made that delivered a fraud alert, but knowing Buck and Que, they’d charged more than $1,800.
“That is really something,” Gabrielle said as she clicked off the phone at the same time as she turned into the parking garage on Wilshire Boulevard. “I can’t believe people do that.” She shook her head. “Just get a job.”
I chuckled; I’d pass on her advice to Buck.
She chatted all the way up to the office, and all I did was smile and nod. I wasn’t listening—my mind was on what I was setting in motion today . . . would it work?
Once we were in the office, I sat at Pamela’s desk—that was the way I thought of this space. Everybody called it mine since Pamela was now sharing an office with one of the other associates after she’d been promoted. But while they all saw me as an assistant, I saw myself sitting right in Gabrielle’s office.
I gave Gabrielle a couple of extra minutes beyond her normal fifteen before I knocked on her door. “You ready?”
She nodded, and I settled in front of her with my tablet. Gabrielle was right—once she came into the office, she went straight into business mode. But she always focused on the big picture rather than the details, and that was what I was hoping she’d do today.
She said, “For the next two days I’m going to need you to do quite a bit of research for me.”
I nodded.
“There are three new clients I want to pursue in the coming months, and I want you to get me everything you can find about them.”
I took notes and listened to Gabrielle with half of my brain. Because my thoughts were already on the next part of this meeting.
Then Gabrielle said, “Okay, let’s go over my calendar. Anything for today?”
I inhaled as I looked. “No, just your lunch with Regan tomorrow. That’s it.”
She frowned, looking down at her tablet, then up in the air like she was trying to remember something. “I thought . . . hmmm . . . didn’t I have something for tomorrow?”
As if I were checking my tablet again, I looked down. “Nope, you’re free.” And just because I wanted to take her focus off this, I jumped from my chair. “Okay, so I’m going to get started because I want to do a lot of cross-referencing with this research.”
“That’s great,” Gabrielle said. “I’ll be working on a more detailed marketing plan for Contour, so I’ll be right here for much of the day.”
I scooted from the room, and then once I stepped back to Pamela’s desk, I exhaled. When Pamela had told me that I’d be in charge of Gabrielle’s calendar because she remembered nothing, that hadn’t seemed like too big a deal. But today, it was.
“Everything okay?”
I looked up and across the massive space to the other side of the outer office. Mattie hardly ever said a word—Gabrielle’s best witch kept her assistant totally busy, so Mattie always had her head down, always working.
But now her nosy butt was in my business when I didn’t need her to be. I said, “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Okay, I was worried. There’s a flu going around, and you look a little pale.”
What did she mean by that? I was black; I couldn’t be pale. “I’m fine.” I opened the browser on the deskto
p and then typed in the name of the first company Gabrielle had given to me. But I knew I was going to have a hard time concentrating because my thoughts were totally on tomorrow.
After about an hour, I gave up, thinking a break would help me get focused.
“Hey, Mattie, I’m going . . . down to Starbucks.”
“Oh, would you mind getting me something?”
On my face, I had a smile, but in my head, I was rolling my eyes. Did everyone think I was their coffee girl? But I took her money—she was lucky she didn’t give me her credit card—and took her order for a chai tea latte.
Then I rushed away from the office, feeling excited about what was going down.
I WAS BEGINNING to spend more time in this bathroom than any other place in this house. But it was just that I couldn’t take the chance of being overheard. Especially not with this call.
I dialed the number and then did my best to put a smile in my voice, so he wouldn’t hear me trembling.
“Keisha?” Elijah answered the phone as if he couldn’t believe my number had popped up on his cell.
“Uh, yeah, Elijah. It’s me.”
“Hey, sweetheart, how are you?”
If there was anyone I didn’t want to hurt in all of this, it was Elijah. From the moment I’d called him and told him the results of the test, from the moment we’d gone to his house last Sunday, from the moment he’d hugged me that day and told me he was so glad I was now officially his daughter, he had started calling me sweetheart. He acted like he loved me already; he acted like he loved me always.
“It’s so good to hear from you. I was going to call and ask if you wanted to do something this weekend. Go out to dinner, maybe?”
“Uh . . . yeah, that would be cool.”
“Good. I’ll choose another great restaurant for you.” He paused. “So, is everything all right?”
“Uh . . . yeah. It is. But . . .”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
Envy Page 20