Teenie (21 page)

Ten more minutes and I feel like I’m going to smash my keyboard, but Garth is still here, holding my hand.

I’ve done the calculations four times, and I keep coming up with the same number.

I
n the morning, my mother sings “Three Little Birds,” her usual song. I will do my best not to “worry about a thing,” and try in my heart to believe that “every little thing is gonna be alright.” The lesson at church helped a little, but in all honesty, it’s kind of hard to be strong when I know there are people in school ready to bash my brains in.

Beresford almost breaks the bathroom door down because of how long a shower I take. He’s so angry when I come out that he can’t even form a proper sentence, although I do hear a few high-pitched noises and something about him cutting off the pipe. When I get out of the shower, I switch outfits about ten times, trying anything to prolong having to go to school. I thought about pretending to be sick—but after Sunday and
the look on Beresford’s face this morning, I don’t want to press my luck.

I try to take my mind off things by rereading my essay for Mr. Speight’s class during the train ride. The essay is really good and I’m satisfied that it’s A+ material, but I still can’t shake the unease. I’ve been singing “Lord Give Me Strength” to myself all morning but there’s a pit in my tummy the size of a basketball. I don’t even know why I’m reading this stupid paper anyway. It’s not like I can make any changes at this point. The math test is more pressing, because I’m not as confident that I can get the grade I need.

My mother is a firm believer in how negative thinking can lead to negative outcomes. It appears that she is right and that I’ve sealed my fate by thinking about how bad things are for me. When I get out of the train and start walking down the platform, I see Passion and her crew waiting by the turnstiles across the tracks. With the way she is scanning the faces in the crowd, I can tell that she is waiting for me, waiting to finish what she started on Friday.

She looks especially mean today with her cornrows and Timberlands, a hairstyle and shoe that I’ve seen many girls wear when they’re ready to brawl. Cherise told me that girls put a ton of Vaseline on their faces to keep from getting scratched. The reason for the Timberlands is obvious: they’re the best stomping shoes money can buy. I can see Passion’s face shining from all the way over here, and her boots are laced right up to the top. It’s a good thing that I know this train station like the back of my hand. There are at least five
other exits I can use to avoid crossing paths with her. I take a detour that leads me farthest away from her and end up coming out of the station two blocks out of my way.

When I get into school, I don’t feel any safer. If I only had to watch out for one person, I think I would be able to make it through the day. Having to stay away from two people will be damn near impossible, especially when one of them knows my class schedule. As soon as I turn the corner and see Greg leaning up against the wall of my class, I feel the air go out of my body. He hasn’t spotted me yet, so I turn around to walk in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, my stealth act is short-lived, as I bump right into Cherise and knock her iPod out of her hand. Things get even worse when I hear Greg say, “There you are.”

He puts his hands around my waist and jerks me around so I’m facing him. He pulls back on the side of my jacket and says, “Nice shirt.”

Cherise walks by and sees the fear in my eyes. She pauses for a second before walking through the doorway to class. I don’t care how mad I am at her. If I saw a guy roughing her up, I would help her.

Greg has a hard grip on my pelvis and a scary smile on his face. “So we’re still on for this afternoon, right?”

I look down and say, “Leave me alone.” He grabs my chin and forces my head up. His smile is gone. “Get off me!” I try to move my head away, but he holds it in place.

“We already talked about this!” He looks around to make sure that no one is paying attention to us, then guides me over
to the wall with a tight grip on my arm. There are a few students walking by. Greg has me pinned against the wall in a way that they can’t really tell what’s going on. “Sounds like somebody don’t want to go to Spain. You know I can take that away just like that,” he says, snapping his fingers. “I’m not going to tell you again. You owe me.”

Mr. Speight comes from the classroom and says, “Miss Lashley, inside please.” He eyes Greg suspiciously. Greg smiles and pretends to wipe something off my cheek.

“See you later.”

My forehead doesn’t leave the desk for the entire period. If there were a way to just disappear, I would do it right now. I’d give one of my fingers for Harry Potter’s wand. I sneak a glance back at Cherise and catch her staring at me. She looks away and up at the board. Yeah, right, like she’s actually listening to what Mr. Speight is saying. Watching her walk by me while I was in trouble is what I’m having the hardest time dealing with. I realize now that I can’t depend on anyone or anything.

Well, maybe I’m not all by myself. I still have Garth, and he has got to be the world’s greatest tutor. Everything we talked about last night is on the math test. Even better, the first seven questions come straight from those old exams that Garth gave me! These problems used to seem like hieroglyphics to me, and I am breezing through them like nothing. I can still remember the answers, but we have to show all the work. My smile gets bigger and bigger when I finish each question
and come up with the right numbers. I glance up at the clock. There are fifteen minutes left in the class and I have three problems left. I can do this.

Question 8 stumps me a little bit. It’s different than what Garth and I went over. I try my best, and after erasing a few times, I come up with something that seems to make sense. When I get to question 9, I almost crack a smile. Even though it wasn’t one of the questions that Garth gave me, I can hear his voice walking me through it.
When you have a fraction in front of the variable, the easiest way to figure out the value of the variable is to multiply the entire equation by the inverse of the fraction
. That’s exactly what I do, and before I know it, I’m writing the answer down. One more question.

I tilt my head back and take a deep breath. I roll my head around a few times, trying to loosen my neck up, and catch sight of someone standing in the hallway near the door. It’s Greg. He smiles and winks at me, then walks away. I try to work on that last question, reading the problem over and over. It’s pointless.

“Pencils down.”

The dark side of school is showing up more and more. News spreads fast at Tech—like a wildfire, to be exact. By fifth period, it seems as if everyone in the school is talking about what happened between Greg and me on Friday. Whenever I walk by a group of people, they start sneezing and saying, “Bless you” before laughing hysterically.

A drawback of going to school with smart kids is that they take ridicule to new heights. One guy turned to his friend and
said, “May I pass?” and his friend responded, “Certainly, you have my blessing.”

It’s bad enough that I am so afraid of running into Greg or Passion. Now I have to deal with the school thinking I’m some kind of whore? I just want to turn and scream at them and tell them what really happened. I want to tell them that Greg is abusive and probably a rapist in the making, if he hasn’t done it by now. It’s pointless, though, because I know they won’t believe me. He is the captain of the basketball team, and I’d be just another girl throwing herself at his feet.

We’re inside again for gym today. Looks like soccer is on today. A few of the girls in the class are looking over at me and snickering. They’re talking just above a whisper, but I don’t pay any attention to them. I’m focused on Cherise.

I tell Mr. S., “I want to play offense.” My eyes never leave Cherise. She’s the goalie, and I’d love to get one good shot at her head.

“No, we need you at goalie. You’re good at catching balls.”

All the girls start laughing as the unintentional joke sails right over Mr. S.’s head.

The game isn’t much of a distraction. I’m hardly making an effort, because the girls on the other team are as non-athletic as they come. I have no problem swatting away their weak shot attempts.

A girl walks into the gym, and I watch her head straight for Mr. S. It’s that girl Azalia from the study abroad office. She hands a note to him and looks over at me as she walks out of the gym. She throws me a nasty glance on her way out of the
door. After Mr. S. finishes reading the note, he blows his whistle and pulls me to the side.

“Ms. Lashley, please come with me.” When we get out into the hallway, he says, “I just got a note from the principal’s office. I’m sorry to tell you this. Something has happened to your brother.”

“What? What happened?” I’m so close to crying right now.

“The note didn’t say. It just said that you should report to the principal’s office immediately.” He scratches his head and says, “This is kind of unusual. They don’t normally send letters.… I’m sorry.”

M
y heart is racing. Something has happened to my brother. What? Which one? Oh my God, I hope they’re not hurt. I hope they didn’t get shot or in a car accident. Please just let whoever it is have broken his arm or something. I shouldn’t have wished bad things on them. I push through the doors to the stairwell and run full speed toward the stairs. I never make it, because someone grabs my arm.

“Let go of me!”

Greg just smiles at me and pulls me to the other side of the stairwell, the side no one ever uses because it’s half a stairwell that doesn’t go anywhere.

I’m struggling against his grip, but he is too strong. “Please, Greg, get off me. Something’s wrong with—”

“Your brother. Yeah, I know.”

“What?”

“I thought I could squeeze you in right before the game, but that ain’t happening. I had to think of something to get you out of class.”

“What?”

He’s laughing now. “Yo, sometimes I amaze myself with my creativity. I thought it might have been a little over the top, but the look on your face is like one of those MasterCard commercials: priceless.”

He made it all up so he could get me out of the gym. How could he do something like that? I am so mad that I want to scream, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. “Greg, if you don’t get away from me, I am going to scream.”

“Excuse me?”

“I
said
if you don’t get the hell away from me, I’m going to—”

His hand moves like a blur, and I gag when he grabs my throat. Tears start streaming down my face when he starts taunting me.

“What you was saying now? Huh? I can’t hear you. What you was saying?”

I shake my head and mouth the word “nothing” because his grip on my throat is too strong for me to talk.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

I can feel myself starting to get light-headed.

“Now, when I let go of your neck, are you gonna stay quiet?”

I nod my head.

“You sure?”

I nod my head again and gasp for air when he lets go of my throat.

“Why you have to make things so difficult?” He’s smiling and rubbing the side of my face. My body is shaking. “I understand, though. You’re just playing hard to get.” I try to force a smile, anything that will keep him from hurting me.

“I know we were supposed to wait until after school, but when I saw you this morning, I knew I needed more time with you.”

Sweat is dripping from my underarms and running down the side of my body. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to explode.

“Damn, Martine. You got it going on.” He has his hands around my waist and he starts to pull me toward him. His face is inches from mine. I’m scared stiff, too afraid to pull back. I feel something vibrating in his pocket. He lets go of me with his right hand and reaches for his phone. After glancing at it, he slides it back into his pocket. “Now I just want you to relax and enjoy yourself.” He puts his hand back around my waist and leans in to kiss me. I close my eyes and start praying, asking God to protect me.

Greg is pressed really close to me, but I keep praying. I shudder when he kisses my neck. He pushes me down, forcing me to sit on the stairs, and starts to loosen his belt. His phone goes off again and he says, “Yo, why this broad keep calling me?” He stares at the phone for a few seconds and thankfully
decides to answer the call. “Yo, why you blowing up my phone like that, Shorty?”

The volume of the phone is loud enough for me to hear the other person say, “Where are you?”

Greg looks at me, smiling, and says, “I’m just taking care of something real quick.”

“I need to talk to you right now.”

“Not now. I’ll get up with you later.”

“Where are you? I wanna talk to you.”

He takes a few steps away from me and lowers the volume. He’s still between the exit and me. Since I am at the top of the stairwell, I’m trapped. “I just gotta take care of something real quick. I’ll talk to you in a little while.”

The door swings open and a girl says, “What’re you doing back here? Where is she?” She pushes past Greg and comes around the corner, looking up at me. It’s Azalia.

She faces Greg and says, “You said that you were going to stop this stuff. You told me I would be the only one.” She turns her attention back to me. “Look at her. She’s a little kid. What are you doing back here with her?”

“Yo, just chill. It ain’t even like that. We was just talking.”

She steps in his face and says, “So why is your belt unbuckled?”

He takes a deep breath and looks flustered, because he has no answer. “It’s not even like that. We were just talking.”

I’m trying my best to find room to squeeze by. Azalia looks like she wants to take a swing at me, but I don’t care. I’d rather take my chances with her. I try to push my way by Greg, but he stops me.

“Hold up one second, Martine.”