by Tanya Savory
“Nothin’,” LaDonna finally said. “I just, um, heard a joke in the hall or somethin’.”
Ms. Warner glanced up from her textbook. “Well, unless you want that joke to get you an afterschool deten tion, I suggest you keep it to yourself during class. And put that cell phone away. Understand? The rules haven’t changed just because the year’s almost over.”
LaDonna sucked her teeth and smirked before slipping the phone into her bag.
“Man, Warner got eyes in the back of her head!” someone whispered.
Angel held her breath. She could almost picture LaDonna’s text. It was bad enough that Sharice had betrayed her and LaDonna had told all her friends. Now Justice would find out that Angel had a crush on her. It almost made her sick to her stomach.
Just then, Angel noticed Justice glance at her and then roll her eyes toward LaDonna.
Maybe Justice won’t believe it, Angel hoped. Maybe everyone’ll think it’s another one of LaDonna’s mean jokes, and in a day or two they’ll forget it. She stole a quick look around the room, and no one was looking at her anymore. Ms. Warner was talking quickly and holding up a book that had pictures of Civil Rights marches in Alabama. LaDonna looked as bored as usual.
Maybe it’s all over, Angel thought. Maybe that’s it.
Angel rushed out of history class, hoping to avoid LaDonna and Justice. She hurried, head down, toward English class, but Win ran up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked. “What was going on in—”
“Dude, don’t waste your time. She don’t want you. Ain’t you heard?”
Angel looked up to see Trevor and Omar, two eighth-graders from the boys’ basketball team, blocking her path. Both were friends with LaDonna. Trevor, a muscular boy with a wolfish face, looked her up and down. He was smacking and chewing his gum just like LaDonna. Omar, a taller and skinnier boy with pointy elbows, nudged Win aside and put his arm around Angel.
“Nah, she just ain’t met the right man,” Omar said. “Spend time with me, and you’ll change like that.” He snapped his fingers right in front of Angel’s face, making her jump.
Angel tried backing away but bumped into the row of lockers behind her.
“Or just keep on with the girls and let me in on some of that,” Trevor added with a leer.
“Leave me alone!” Angel said, her heart pounding. She had never felt so scared in school. She tried ducking her head under Omar’s arm, but he moved, blocking her path.
“Why you gotta be like that?” he asked. “Let me change your mind, girl.”
“She said to leave her alone,” Win warned. “Take your hands off her!”
Trevor turned around in surprise. Win glared up at Omar, who towered over him by nearly a foot.
“Win, don’t!”
“You must be kiddin’, Fortune Cookie!” Omar said with a loud laugh. “You need to leave before you get hurt. You hear me?”
Omar stepped forward threateningly, but Win didn’t budge. Angel had never seen him so serious. Usually when kids picked on Win, he made a joke or just shrugged it off. This time he didn’t flinch.
“Leave her alone,” Win repeated. Angel saw his hands shaking. “And quit calling me Fortune Cookie. That’s not even Chinese.”
The two boys laughed, but Omar let go of Angel. She moved quickly to Win’s side.
“C’mon, Win. Let’s go. Forget this,” she urged.
Students began gathering in the hall. Angel knew some were eager to see a fight. It was always that way.
“Oh my God. Is that Win?” someone asked.
“Yeah, and he’s about to lose,” a girl joked.
“That boy’s fortune says he’s gonna get a beat-down,” another added.
Omar stepped closer to Win.
“You really wanna get hurt protecting your gay girlfriend?” he growled. “You ain’t gonna make her switch sides.”
Win opened his mouth to speak and then looked at Angel with a puzzled expression.
“What?”
Omar and Trevor stared at each other. Their eyes bulged as the news hit them.
“He don’t even know!” Trevor roared, his voice breaking into loud cackling laughter.
Omar doubled over as if he had never heard anything so funny.
“Don’t know what?” someone asked from the crowd rapidly filling the hallway.
Trevor fought to catch his breath and pointed at Angel. “This boy don’t know that he’s tryin’ to hook up with a lesbo!”
The word hit like a bomb blast. The hallway erupted in chatter as the news spread through the crowd like fire.
Angel felt as if she was about to throw up. Everyone in the hall turned to stare at her. Nausea churned her stomach. Faces became twisted and distorted, as though she was watching everything from underwater. Voices became muted and jumbled. Angel reeled backward a few steps, grasping for Win’s arm to keep her from falling.
Suddenly a familiar voice thundered in the hall, cutting through the chaos.
“What exactly is going on here?” boomed Mr. Collins. “Everyone, get to your classes!”
Students scattered. Trevor and Omar were gone in seconds. Soon only Win remained with Angel. Overhead, the bell for the next class rang. Angel felt the heat and confusion begin to lift, and she took a deep breath.
“What just happened?” Mr. Collins asked.
“Nothing,” Win answered, hoisting his backpack up and avoiding the teacher’s stern stare.
“It looked and sounded like a fight, Mr. Liu,” Mr. Collins said. He turned to Angel and looked at her carefully. “Are you okay, Angel? Did someone hurt you?”
Angel shook her head, unsure of what to say or where to begin. She glanced at Win, but he avoided her eyes.
“I’ve gotta get to class,” Win mumbled, turning his back on both of them. “Everything’s okay, Mr. C. No problems.” He hurried around the corner of the hall.
Mr. Collins sighed and yanked at his tie until it came almost completely undone. He looked at Angel again and raised a bushy eyebrow.
“You look as though you’ve just seen a ghost. But if you’re sure everything’s okay, perhaps we should head to English class? I believe we’re both—”
The bell blared overhead. Mr. Collins paused until it silenced. “Late,” he added with a smile.
Angel caught her breath, taking in what he just said.
English class! In all of the confusion, she had not considered how awful it would be to face Sharice for the first time since she had read her journal. And then there was Trey! Surely he knew everything by now, too.
What if they’re talking to everyone in our class right now? Angel wondered. What if everyone is laughing? What if—
“Angel?” Mr. Collins’s voice was heavy with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? What’s going on?”
Angel suddenly felt cornered. She needed to escape somehow—away from Mr. Collins’s probing questions and the countless cruel whispers she knew awaited her in class.
“I think . . .” Angel began in a shaky voice. “I think I’d better go home. I’m not feeling well. I’ll just go to the nurse’s office and have them call my mom.”
“Are you sure? I can walk you there if you need help,” Mr. Collins offered, glancing at his watch.
Angel shook her head forcefully. “No. I’m okay. It’s only down the hall.”
Just let me go, Angel thought to herself, feeling her need grow more urgent. Please. I gotta get outta here. Now.
Mr. Collins studied Angel’s face. He tugged at his beard thoughtfully. “Okay,” he said finally, handing her a hall pass. “Feel better, Angel. Hope we’ll see you tomorrow.”
Angel nodded and tried to smile, but her heart was already racing. She was about to do something she had never considered.
As Mr. Collins disappeared into his classroom, Angel walked right past the nurse’s office. Now that classes had started, the halls were mostly deserted. Keeping an eye out for other teachers or stud
ents, Angel headed down the quietest corridor in the school.
Finally, she reached the cafeteria entrance. She peered in the tiny wired windows of the steel doors. As she expected, the cafeteria was empty. Lunch wouldn’t begin for another half hour. Angel knew if she tried to slip out the front doors of the school, someone would see her. But she remembered from a dance last year that the doors in the back of the cafeteria opened to the school parking lot. If she could reach them, she could sneak outside.
The thought pulled her like a magnet.
Without a sound, Angel slipped inside the cafeteria. She could hear the clanging of pans and the chatter of workers coming from the kitchen. Her heart pounded as she dashed to the rear doors. Somewhere nearby a radio was blaring, muffling any sound she made. Angel breathed in the aroma of soap and bleach and warming cafeteria food. Her fingers tingling, she grabbed the handle of the heavy steel door that led to the loading area.
Angel knew she should stop. Turn around. Go back to class. But she kept hearing Omar’s laughter. Seeing La-Donna’s mean eyes. Sharice’s betrayal. All that and worse awaited her inside the school. She couldn’t face it. Not now. She had to run.
Gathering all of her courage, Angel pushed against the door. With a quick shove, it opened to the middle school parking lot. Fueled by a rush of fear and relief, Angel flew outside.
Chapter 7
“Hey girl, you need a ride?”
Angel kept her head down, trying to ignore the older boys in the car that trailed her. She was only two blocks from school when they started following her.
“Where ya goin’, girl?”
One boy leaned from the passenger-side window and beckoned Angel to come closer. Cigarette smoke drifted from the window and music pumped through the speakers in the car.
Normally, it would be easy to dismiss the boys. Sharice did it effortlessly with a joke or smile, often with Angel next to her. But those days were over. Angel felt vulnerable and alone on the street.
Just leave me alone, she thought bitterly as the car continued to shadow her. She wished she could just fly away where no one could see or bother her. Instead she walked faster.
“Why you in such a hurry?” the boy said. “We only wanna talk.”
Angel was grateful to reach a oneway street where the car couldn’t follow. She turned quickly. The boy hanging out the window yelled something rude, and the car moved on. Angel sighed and crossed another block before reaching a corner with a bus stop.
An old woman on a bench at the stop eyed her as she approached. The woman’s hands were filthy. She clutched tattered shopping bags stuffed with what looked like blankets. Angel could feel the woman examining her.
“Ain’t you supposed to be in school?” she said as Angel neared. “Your momma know you out here?”
It’s none of your business, Angel wanted to say.
“She’s got her own problems,” she mumbled instead. The sad truth of her words stung as she said them.
The woman grunted and then began coughing loudly.
I can’t talk to Mom, Angel thought as she walked past the strange woman. Her eyes suddenly burned, and her vision grew blurry. I can’t talk to anyone.
She thought of the English class she was missing and imagined students talking about what just happened in the hallway. The rumors were probably spreading like wildfire. Angel could picture Trey cringing at the news as Mr. Collins droned on about the caged bird.
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied . . .
The line from the poem echoed through her head as she meandered along another city block. Far off, church bells rang mournfully. It was 11:00.
What am I gonna do for four hours? Angel wondered. She couldn’t go home because Mom might be there and would find out she had cut school. She couldn’t call Dad without everything exploding in her house. She didn’t have money to go somewhere and get lunch. There were no friends to call, no places to hide. Strangers rushing by seemed to scan her as if they knew the secret Angel was hiding.
Then a thought hit her. There was one place she had escaped to in the past.
Could it help her now?
Angel felt her pace quicken. She weaved through familiar blocks almost unconsciously, her mind focusing on the destination like a sanctuary. Soon, Angel could hear telltale sounds in the distance. Children laughing. The metallic squeak of swing sets. Then she spotted the metal fence and the sign:
Welcome to East Park.
Angel rushed into the park, relieved to find something familiar and safe. Inside, preschoolers ran around as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Angel could barely remember how that felt.
“You’re lucky,” she whispered at them, a wave of jealousy sweeping over her.
Nearby stood the old man with his dented hot dog cart and blue coolers full of ice cream sandwiches and popsicles. The June day felt almost as warm as when she had visited the park with Dionne and Dad last summer. The old man had been there that day, too. He even seemed to recognize her, giving her a gentle wave.
“Hey there! All alone today?” he asked.
Angel nodded and waved weakly as a young woman with a stroller approached him and ordered something for her child.
“Yeah, all alone,” Angel mumbled, remembering how Dad had joked with the old man about the Oakland Raiders. She didn’t want to have to explain to him that Dad had abandoned them. That her parents had broken up. That she had just cut school.
Angel spotted where she and Dad sat during their visits to the park. With a lump in her throat, she collapsed on their bench and gazed at the noisy kids on the swings, the tired mothers checking their cell phones, the old man handing out napkins to a little girl.
Suddenly Angel missed Dad more than ever and wanted to sit beside him again. But then a train of thoughts crept into her mind.
What would Dad say if he found out about me?
What if he read my journal too?
Would he still love me?
Angel wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the bench, a wave of weariness overtaking her. She wished she could be magically transported back in time to when everything was easy and uncomplicated. Back when they lived in Virginia and had breakfast as a family on Sundays, and Mom and Dad would tease each other while Dionne giggled in her high chair. It was all so long ago . . .
“All right, GO!”
“Left, left, kick, turnaround, kick!”
Angel bolted upright and looked around. She was still on her bench in the park but the light was different. The sun had shifted in the sky, and shadows now stretched across where she was sitting. Not far away, the old man was packing up his hot dog cart. Most of the strollers were gone. Angel rubbed her neck, stiff from sleep, and was startled by the sounds of rhythmic clapping, stomping, and chanting coming from nearby.
“East Park Steppers mix it up like . . .”
Angel stretched and glanced toward the sound to see a tall girl she recognized from Lincoln High leading a group of dancers in the middle of the quad. They stomped and clapped their hands in time.
“East Park Steppers gonna fly like . . . Hey!”
Angel had seen step teams before, but never in the park. Some of the steppers slapped sticks together as they stomped. Together they projected power and skill. As Angel watched, a few more kids wandered up and joined the group. Some didn’t seem to know the steps, but they joined in, clapping and moving to the rhythm. The contagious beat pushed the drowsiness from Angel’s head. For a second, she found herself nodding along.
“Angel?!”
Someone touched her shoulder. Angel whirled around and nearly froze in shock. Justice Waters stood before her in her baggy East Park Steppers T-shirt and black gym shorts. Angel felt a storm of confusion and embarrassment whirl inside her, and she instinctively recoiled and backed away. Had Justice heard about what happened? Was she about to insult her or be disgusted?
“You like steppin’?” Justice asked.
Angel blinked. The question to
ok her by surprise. She could barely speak.
“Um . . . I . . . I don’t know,” she stammered.
“We practice Mondays at 3:15. I’m still learning, but this is a good group. We’re not part of any of the drama at school, you know? Plus, it’s free unless you want a T-shirt,” she said, pointing to hers. “Try it out and see if you like it. You’re not the only beginner.”
Angel studied Justice. Wasn’t she going to say anything about the text LaDonna sent in history class? Did she really think what Sharice told everyone was a joke? What was she thinking?
“No thanks.”
“Come on,” Justice said and grabbed Angel’s arm. “Try it!”
“I can’t. Plus, my backpack and stuff.” Angel pointed to her backpack and shook her head.
“That’s okay,” Justice shouted over the increasing noise of the steppers. “Everyone leaves their stuff in Robin’s car right over here. Robin’s like our coach. She’s a senior at Lincoln. It’s okay.” Justice pointed to the tall young woman who looked almost as if she could be Justice’s older sister. Robin was facing the group and calling instructions.
“But I can’t,” Angel protested. “I’ve never done it.”
“Neither has anybody until they try it the first time,” Justice said with a laugh. “It’s fun. You’ll see. Come on!”
Justice dragged Angel to Robin’s car to drop off her belongings and then led her back into the group of steppers. Angel was relieved that Justice chose to stay in the back where nobody could really see them.
“Listen to Robin,” Justice shouted. “She calls out what to do, while she’s doing it the first time. Then we do the same steps again with her, okay?”
Angel nodded and listened as Robin called out the steps.
“Left, left, right, kick, clap, slap, turn!”
The group shouted back while copying her moves.
At first, Angel felt clumsy and slow. She fought the urge to return to her bench. But with each movement, she realized no one seemed to notice or care if she missed a step. As she relaxed, the steps gradually became easier.
“Right, right, clap, clap, slap, left, kick!”
Each time Robin called out, Angel concentrated on her own feet and repeated the steps quietly to herself again and again. Soon she was totally into the rhythm. When she finally looked up, Justice was grinning and shaking her head.