“Ailey, oh God,” he whispered.
There was screaming, but it wasn’t him. It was Amber: she had found us, but he didn’t tell her I was his real girlfriend. He pulled away from me and tried to do up his zipper as he started after her, yelling her name.
I walked away.
When Mama brought me the phone that evening, she told me it was that boy again, asking for homework. Her voice was strained, lower than usual. She’d sounded like that ever since Lydia had run away from the rehab center. Mama had started walking the halls at night again.
I waited until she closed the door. “I’m busy, Chris. What do you want?”
“Um, it’s like this: Amber and me broke up. You want to be my girlfriend now?”
I put down the receiver and considered what my life had become. Only fifteen, but already, I was a pre-slut. I’d let a boy use me for sex—or something close to sex, at least—without getting anything in return. Two boys, if I counted Gandee, but he was a relative and dead.
“Hello? Hello? Ailey, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m just listening to how pathetic and, like, insane you are.” The storm came over me quickly. I was so tired of people lying to me, tired of being treated like a fool. “In fact, I hate you! I wish you were dead!”
“Damn, Ailey. For real? It’s like that?”
His voice was small, and my heart slowed some, as he begged me not to kick him to the curb. He was sorry. He wouldn’t do me wrong again. Just give him another chance.
“Fine. I’ll think about it until after Christmas break, and then I’ll let you know.”
“But that’s forever.”
“Christopher Allen Tate, don’t push your luck. I said I’d talk to you in January. In the meantime, I suggest that you reflect on your asshole behavior.” I used a terse, businesslike tone so that he would understand that he wouldn’t be getting to third base with me for a long time to come. “You made a fool out of me in front of that white girl. And I am not a woman to be trifled with.”
“Ailey—”
“But please remember to give Mrs. Tate my best. Please tell her I wish her happy holidays and a very prosperous New Year. Now goodbye.”
The next afternoon, I was washing my hands in the bathroom when Amber appeared with Sunshine and Lizbet. She was weeping, which made me angry. Why was she singing her betrayal like a Metropolitan Opera soprano? She should have more pride.
“How could you do this to me?” she asked.
Lizbet hugged Amber’s waist, and Sunshine stepped to me, pointing her finger close to my face.
“You’re a man-stealing hussy, Ailey Garfield. Don’t you have any female solidarity? Didn’t you know that Amber and Chris were in love?”
This wasn’t the best time to mention he had come after me, or that his mother had encouraged our courtship. One false word, and it would be a repeat of the Antoinette Jones debacle, but these white girls might kill me, or worse, yank out even more of my hair. I’d be permanently baldheaded, a victim of violent alopecia.
Sunshine twisted her mouth. “You walk around this school with your nose in the air like you’re better than us, and then you think it’s completely okay to kidnap somebody’s boyfriend. That’s you, Ailey. Miss Selfish Superior Bitch.”
She turned to the others, and they nodded.
I stepped closer, until Sunshine’s finger almost poked me in the eye.
“No, actually, I’m Miss Selfish Superior Black Bitch. And I transferred here from Toomer, so I’d be careful, if I were you. But if you’re feeling froggy, go ’head and try me. I’d love to whip your ass and get expelled. Because I don’t want to be at this fucking school, anyway.”
I counted in my head until Sunshine dropped her finger. Then I balled my fists and flexed at her. When she jumped away, Amber and Lizbet moved with her. I pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, dried my hands, and walked out, clutching the towel. I know I should have been careful about turning my back, but by that time, I felt safe.
*
I’d always known that Nana thought light-skinned and white people were superior, but I’d willfully overlooked that. Even when she’d remark that my sisters were prettier than me, it didn’t chafe—wasn’t I my grandmother’s favorite? When Nana boldly insulted Dante’s color, however, that struck close to blood. My mother was even darker than Lydia’s ex-husband, and now Mama’s hurt complaints throughout the years came back to me, with new meaning: That all Nana’s friends were fair enough to pass for white. That Nana insisted I wear a hat when sitting in the sun so I’d get no darker. That Nana never had approved of my mother as a daughter-in-law, but had adored Aunt Diane from first sight.