So Done

by Paula Chase

  I don’t want to tell, she texted Tai.

  That was that.

  Her dad came in just as Tai’s message buzzed back. To Mila the vibration sounded angry. She tucked the phone under her leg, without looking at the message, and forced herself to be normal.

  Her dad ducked his head and sat on her bottom bunk. He looked around the room like he was seeing it for the first time. The springs of her mattress squeaked under his weight. He bounced on it lightly, patting it.

  “If you go to Aunt Jacqs I might let Jeremy have your mattress. He needs a new one.” He poked gently at her side. “That’s my not-so-sneaky way of asking have you made a decision?”

  He hadn’t been the only one waiting on it. Her friends had been begging her to stay. Chrissy had worked on her the most, killing her with, “You’re the realest friend I have here. Please stay.”

  For one millisecond Mila had been tempted. She really liked Chrissy and didn’t want to leave her hanging. But she couldn’t stay. Still, she tried putting off.

  “I still have a few more days to decide,” she said, with forced cheer.

  Her dad’s eyebrow shot up. “I didn’t think it would be that hard a decision.” He couldn’t hide his smile. “So you don’t want to move to the Woods?”

  His eagerness broke Mila’s heart. She wished she wanted to stay for the same reasons he wanted her to stay. Love of their neighborhood. Excitement for TAG. “I want to but I . . .” She wracked her brain for a good lie and came up totally empty. “I mean, I don’t want to . . . but I’m scared not to.”

  Her dad went rigid beside her. “What’s going on, Jamila?” He cupped her knee in his hand, squeezing firmly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

  She buried her face in his chest.

  “What is it, baby girl? Did somebody threaten you? What?”

  His heartbeat was loud in her ears. His voice louder. She kept herself glued to him, afraid to meet his eyes.

  “Mr. Bryant . . . touched me.”

  She said it so low she wasn’t sure he’d heard her at first. But the sudden gallop of his heart made her lift her head in alarm.

  The look on his face frightened her more. His eyes were big and wild. His mouth opened and closed. No words came out for what seemed like minutes until he finally asked, “Touched you where? When was this?”

  “He—he . . .” She talked down to her lap. “He touched my breast.” Fearing the worst in his silence, she looked up and added quickly, “Just once.”

  He shot up, nearly whacking his head on the top bunk.

  “It doesn’t matter if it was just once, Jamila.” He paced the small room, covering the distance from the bed to the door in only two long strides. “Tell me everything.”

  He pulled her desk chair up to the bed. She relayed the story, apologizing over and over, scared of the anger she felt popping off him like electricity.

  His hand squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, baby girl.” His words were gentle, but seemed to barely slip out between his clenched teeth. “I need to handle this,” he said at the door in what seemed like a single step.

  “I want to go to Aunt Jacqi’s because I don’t want you to fight Mr. Bryant, Daddy,” she blubbered. “Just let it go. If I leave, then he can’t ever do it again.” She ran up and hugged him from behind. “Can’t we just let it go? I won’t go to Tai’s anymore.” She fell over herself to promise anything to keep her dad from going across the street. “Or you can send me to Aunt Jacqs’ this school year. I . . . I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  He loosened her grip enough so he could turn around.

  Mila immediately hugged him tighter as if it would root him there forever. “Don’t go over there, Daddy. Please,” she cried. “Please.”

  Chapter

  23

  BoomBoomBoomBoomBoom.

  Tai heard the pounding on the door the same time Bean’s text came through: my dad knows!

  The spit in her mouth dried up. This was going to be bad. Like, no-way-everybody-in-the-hood-won’t-know-what’s-happening bad. She jumped off her bed and stood, unsure whether to go downstairs or hide.

  “Who in the world is knocking on the door like that?” Nona yelled. Her shoes clicked across the hallway’s hardwood and tip-tapped down the stairs as she raced to the door, ready to confront whoever had the nerve to knock on her door that hard.

  BOOM . . . BOOM.

  The door sounded like it was ready to bust open.

  Tai put her face in her hands, breathed in, held it until her lungs burned, then let the hot air go into her hands. She prayed to herself to get her heart out of her throat and back where it belonged, then tiptoed to the top of the stairs. She sat in the dim stairwell, hugging her knees. There was no need to creep down any farther; she could hear fine. The whole neighborhood could, probably.

  “Jamal, what is wrong with you? Knocking on my door like that,” Nona said, voice raised for combat.

  “Is Bryant home, Sophia?” Mr. Jamal asked.

  Tai hugged herself tighter. Her father was in his usual spot on the sofa, willing to let Nona handle whatever the commotion was.

  “What’s the problem?” Nona asked.

  She’d already calmed down. Mr. Jamal wasn’t the first person to come to their door for something her father did. Owing people money, warrants for failure to appear in court on stupid things like speeding tickets and suspended driver’s license.

  And no surprise, she hadn’t heard a peep out of her father. He let Nona fight his battles all the time. Tai’s jaw clenched. She closed her eyes tight and focused on the loud voices.

  “Look, I don’t mean no disrespect to you or your house, Sophia. But I need talk to Bryant. Not through you, either.”

  “Well, you coming about it wrong, knocking on my door like you the police or something,” Nona said as if talking to a child. “Come in. The whole world don’t need to know our business.” The door squeaked closed. Nona’s steps clacked then fell silent as she crossed into the living room. “Bryant, get up. I know you hear Jamal asking for you. What in the world is going on?”

  Unbelievably her father’s voice was sleepy. He’d for real slept through Mr. Jamal’s pounding. Tai couldn’t hear what he mumbled, only Nona’s testy “Boy, I don’t know what he wants. But he near knocked the door down. Get up.”

  Mr. Jamal must have been standing by the door because Tai hadn’t heard his footsteps.

  Her body was tense. Nona was probably between them now, standing by the couch. What if Mr. Jamal came at her father? He was usually the peacemaker. She couldn’t see him fighting anybody, but if he ever would, this would be the time.

  Tai slipped down on her butt, one step at a time until she was as close as she could get before her shins appeared in the space between the top and bottom of the staircase, then dared one last step so she could see through the space into the living room.

  “What’s up, man?” her father asked, his voice thick with sleep. He wiped at his eyes.

  Mr. Jamal’s voice was scary calm. “I’mma need you to get yourself together, Bryant. I’m not gon’ sit here and try talk to you while you half out of it.” He straightened up to his full height, arms folded. It made him look like a security guard. It also made him look like he was blocking the door in case her father decided to run. “I can wait.”

  “Jamal, what is going on?” Nona asked. There was real worry in her voice now.

  Tai’s father blew out breath, then stood up. He swiped his hands across his eyes, then folded his own arms. “What’s up, Jamal? Me and you ain’t never had no beef.”

  “This ain’t about no beef, Bryant. We not sixteen.” Mr. Jamal took one step forward, then seemed to stop himself. His arms stayed folded, tight. Tai could see the muscle in his arm bulge. “Jamila just told me something that . . .” His lips pursed. He seemed to breathe through his nose before opening them again. “You know what, man? You always been a screw-up. But . . .”

  “Jamal,” Nona snapped
. “Don’t sit here in my house coming at my son like that. He a man just like you. Say what you came to say.”

  The look on Mr. Jamal’s face made Tai want to run down and pull Nona out of the way. But whatever thoughts he had, he kept them in check. “Jamila said you touched her breast.” He spat the last word, like he couldn’t wait to get it out of his mouth.

  Nona gasped.

  Tai’s heart pounded into her knees. She hadn’t realized she was curled into a ball. She exhaled quietly as possible between her knees.

  “Jamal that kind of accusation—” Nona said, then stopped. She peered at Tai’s father. Then back at Jamal. “Bryant . . .” She grabbed the back of the sofa like she needed it to balance. “I . . . Bean wouldn’t make up something like this, but—”

  “There is no but, Sophia,” Mr. Jamal said. “I know my children better than anybody. They don’t lie. So no sense in us questioning if Jamila telling the truth. I don’t have time for that.”

  Nona nodded softly.

  “Man, look, I don’t know what games Bean and Tai playing, but I ain’t never touch nobody,” her father said with a defiant snort.

  Nona frowned. “What does Tai have to do with this?”

  Tai crouched lower as Nona’s head swung in the direction of the stairs.

  “Bean said it happened in April,” Mr. Jamal said.

  “April?” Nona’s hand pressed her chest. “Is that why she went away this summer? Jamal I . . . I’m sorry.”

  “Momma, I ain’t touch nobody,” her father whined. “She saying this for attention or something.”

  “Don’t nobody keep a secret like that if they want attention, Bryant,” Nona said. Her voice sounded tired. “Jamal . . . are you sure? I mean is Bean sure that it wasn’t some kind of . . . mistake? Did she maybe misinterpret—”

  Mr. Jamal’s head shook firmly once to the left, once to the right. His arm muscle popped. It seemed like if he let go, all hell would break loose. Tai silently prayed he’d never unfold his arms.

  “The details were clear. She’s not making it up,” Mr. Jamal said.

  Nona’s head slowly nodded. Her eyes never left Mr. Jamal’s. She believed.

  Mr. Jamal exhaled hard. “Bean’s word is enough. I’m not here to compare stories.” He took another step forward.

  Tai calculated he could be at her father’s throat in only two more long steps. Her father must have done the same math, because he took a step back.

  “Stay away from my daughter, Bryant. I don’t think I should have to tell you that, but since your mother here to hear it, I’m saying it out loud.” Mr. Jamal’s eyes were locked into her father’s. “That way if you play dumb or forget that I said it and decide to go near Bean, there’s a witness to say I warned you.”

  Her father’s hands jammed into the pockets of his skinny jeans. Only the first few fingers fit. His arms winged out. It made him look like he was about to do the chicken dance. He challenged Mr. Jamal. “Then you tell your daughter don’t be over here hanging with Tai and a bunch of hardheads.”

  The glint of joy in his eyes, like he really had something over her and Bean, made Tai want to scream. Mr. Jamal didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t worry. As long as you live here, Bean won’t ever be over.”

  Tai’s heart broke immediately at the finality in Mr. Jamal’s word. Her back hitched silently as she unsuccessfully gulped the tears back.

  “Man, look. Believe what you want. I didn’t do nothing,” her father said with a shrug.

  “How do you know, Bryant?” Nona asked quietly. “If Jamal told me the exact date it happened. Where it happened. How it happened . . . could you give me the same amount of information to prove you didn’t do it?”

  Nona’s directness threw him off for a second, but he stayed the course, confident he was the victim. “Probably not. But I ain’t no child molester. So why would I touch her?”

  “Why would she lie?” Nona pressed.

  “Attention,” he said. “Why would I lie?”

  Nona and Mr. Jamal answered at the same time. “Because you a drug addict.”

  The words pushed her father back a step. He looked from one to the other, trying to get himself together. Nona beat him to words. “You barely know where you live when you get high. How you gonna sit here and tell me you know for sure you didn’t fondle that little girl?”

  “Fondle?” Her father’s mouth screwed up. “Momma, get outta here with that. You know I’m not like that.”

  Nona blew a breath toward the ceiling. She walked over to Mr. Jamal.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

  “Momma? Momma?” her father called out, his voice high-pitched. “You gon’ sit here and believe this? You know that ain’t me. I’m not like that.”

  Nona talked on. “I don’t even know what to say. If there’s anything I can do . . .” She covered her eyes. Her shoulders shook hard as she wept. Mr. Jamal went to put his arm around her and Nona pressed her hand on his chest, gently pushing him. “No. Bean is the one hurt. I’m just . . . I’m just tired. I’m sorry, Jamal. Whatever you need, you let me know.”

  For the first time Mr. Jamal’s eyes softened. “It’s not your fault, Sophia.”

  Nona’s chuckle was bitter. “It’s not, but it’s my burden.”

  Tai hated the sympathy she saw in Mr. Jamal’s eyes. It was confirmation that her family was really messed up. Like she needed any more proof, her father ranted on, muttering under his breath like somebody crazy, defending himself, peppering every other sentence with “Get outta here, man” and “That ain’t me. I ain’t the one.”

  Mr. Jamal patted Nona’s shoulder. He looked over at Tai’s father and opened his mouth to say something, then didn’t. The second he walked out the door, her father began pleading his case, begging Nona to “think about it,” asking her why would he do something like that.

  It fell on deaf ears. Nona walked out of his face. As her footsteps tapped heavily, slowly toward the stairway, Tai scampered up the stairs and dove onto her bed. She knew Nona probably heard her skittering feet and hands smacking the wood as she raced. She couldn’t pretend she was asleep or hadn’t heard. So she sat cross-legged on the bed and waited.

  When Nona’s face appeared in the doorway, they just looked at each other. She didn’t ask, but Tai felt the question in the air. Saw it in the tears leaking down her grandmother’s face. She nodded once in answer.

  Nona covered her mouth, choking back sound. She shook her head and nearly ran down the hall to her room.

  Tai stared at the empty doorway. Lost.

  Epilogue—

  Mila’s November

  Mila stood on her front stoop, waiting patiently for Tai so they could walk to the bus stop. A chill ran down her back as wind swirled around her bare legs. Fall had elbowed summer out of the way quickly. She stubbornly held on by wearing a dress that should have been put away three weeks earlier.

  The wind nudged again. She sank deeper into her new jacket. It was black nylon with a dancer in full leap embroidered across the back over the words La Maison de Danse. The jacket and dress didn’t match. But she wouldn’t be alone. She couldn’t think of one person in TAG that didn’t wear something to rep their discipline. They were almost worse than the football players and cheerleaders who always stayed geared up.

  Her head craned up the street, then down, waiting for Chrissy, Mo, and Sheeda to appear on the horizon. Somehow she avoided staring directly across at Tai’s house.

  Mr. Bryant didn’t stay there anymore. She didn’t know where he lived now. She didn’t want to know. Still, she was always afraid his face would be grinning back at her the very day she decided to let her gaze rest on the front door.

  She’d gotten better, every day, at acting like Tai’s house was invisible. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even walked on that side of the street. Thankfully, Tai seemed to understand that was the price of Mila staying in the Cove because she never asked Mila about coming over. Not once, since it had
all gone down.

  The night her dad had confronted Mr. Bryant was bad. But it wasn’t the worst.

  No amount of begging had stopped her dad from filing charges. Within days, everyone knew. Not just everyone in the Cove, but the world. At least it felt like the world to Mila.

  JJ had been ready to fight Mr. Bryant. Their dad had squashed that real quick with a stern look and a firm “We don’t handle things that way in this house, Jamal Jr.”

  Mila had heard their whispered voices again, later. JJ sounded like he was crying. Whatever their dad had said calmed it. And for a while JJ was nicer to Mila.

  She had been glad when their usual bickering started back up. As annoying as arguing was, having JJ be super-nice wracked her nerves more.

  Then there were her friends.

  The crew had barely been able to look her or Tai in the eye once it was out. It was like they didn’t know what to say. Mila didn’t, either. Then one day Tai challenged the silence with, “Look if y’all want to know what happened, ask one of us because half the stuff being said in the streets is dead-ass wrong.” After that things went back to normal. It was like once they didn’t have to avoid it, nobody talked about it. And if anybody ever asked for details, they must have asked Tai.

  Mila was fine with that. All she knew was that Mr. Bryant could get up to a year in jail and would have to put his name on a list of offenders. Whether or not he went to jail, he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Mila and couldn’t go near center court, the playground, or the rec center where kids hung out. He couldn’t even move back home.

  Still, some days it was too much. Her dad’s constant checking, asking if she was “okay.” The bad dreams about Mr. Bryant’s hand coming toward her. Her heart feeling so heavy it felt like it was full of rocks. Ms. Sophia looking sad. Feeling like the whole neighborhood was talking about it. Those were the bad days.

  But there were fewer of them once school started. And she was going to a counselor.

  First, the thought of talking about it over and over, to a stranger, horrified her. But Mila liked the once-a-week sessions now. Rebecca never forced her to talk about anything she didn’t want. A few times they’d spent the entire hour talking about dance classes.