“How old are you again?” I ask Rondell.
“Same as you, remember?” Rondell smiles, sweet.
“Oh, you just turned thirteen, too?”
“Yeah, thirteen.” Rondell starts creeping toward my thigh again, so I pretend to swat a fly, but I don’t say nothin’， cause if he lied bout how old he is, he gon’ lie some more.
“I just remembered I gotta go,” I say too loud, standing up too quick.
“Where you gotta go?” Rondell asks, then says, “Wait, ain’t you running away? You ain’t got nowhere to go.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me back down, hard. I wince and pull away. I want him to stop. I ain’t even pretending to be happy no more.
“I’m going home,” I say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in my voice. But I think he does, cause then he pulls me so close he can touch me like he wants. And he does. Touches me and touches me. I wanna scream, but I know it won’t matter cause I ran away from anybody that might care. Instead, I watch a half-smushed fly, dying on the edge of the dumpster. The fly raises his wing, waves it at the other flies. But they all just keep buzzing around the trash, unbothered.
9
Rain splatters on my face, drip-drop, til I gotta wipe it away. My arms hurt when I lift them to my face. My face hurts when I wipe away the raindrops.
I been laying here a while. I don’t count nothin’， just lay here, doin’ and feeling nothin’。 When I don’t count, time drags craters cross my mind that I try not to fill. Counting calms me down when things ain’t goin’ right. It gives me something else to focus on, besides my spinning thoughts. I started counting stuff the day after Daddy died and ain’t stopped. Til now.
Rondell left when it was still sunny. After seeing my panties a second time, then shoving his hands up in ’em til I thought I would rip right in half. I’m scared if I look now, I’m gon’ see blood.
I don’t know why he left when he did. He kept laughing and laughing and stabbing his fingers. I thought he wasn’t gon’ ever stop, but then he just got up and ran off, like he knew he was gon’ get caught. But nobody ever came.
I’m happy for the rain, cause people leave from the pool in loud, laughing groups. Car doors open and close; motors rumble to a start, then fade away in the distance. Eventually, when all the noise is gone, I push myself up to sittin’。
My body hurts all over, even though he only touched me in one place. I hold the dumpster as I stand, cause my legs are soggy noodles. Still holding on, I peek out from behind the dumpster to the deserted pool. Seems like years since I left Charlotte’s bike over there. Now it’s gon’ feel like years to walk all that way back to it.
I beg my legs to move, little steps that take me almost nowhere. But I gotta get to that bike, get home to Granddaddy’s house. I think back to this morning, when I packed my bag and decided I was gon’ leave. Cept I can’t even remember now why I thought it mattered.
With every step, I can feel his fingernails digging in me again. But instead of seeing me, I see Nia, Jesse’s hands in her panties. Touching and panting and pulling. Does Nia like the way that digging feels? The giggles and moans and pimple-faced boys? Or does she do it cause she ain’t got no choice?
Finally, I make it to the black iron gate. Raindrops fall in the water and make puddles. I wonder how many raindrops it would take to make the pool overflow. I imagine the blue water spilling out over the top of the walls, swallowing everything in its path. The lounge chairs. The cart filled with clean, folded towels. The half apple I dropped on the ground when I still thought Rondell was good.
I drop to my knees on the hard cement deck. The raindrops ain’t enough to overtake the pool. But more than enough to overtake me, with tears that topple, then overflow. I cry and cry, and I’m still crying as I pedal away on Charlotte’s bike, to find my way back home.
* * *
* * *
It’s black dark when I turn onto N. Rutherford. Ain’t no streetlights on the block, so the only light comes from the windows of houses where families eat and play together. Granddaddy’s house is nothin’ but dark. Ain’t even no fireflies to greet me.
I walk with Charlotte’s bike beside me and my backpack hanging from the seat. I only rode for a couple blocks, til I hit a rock that made me bounce up on the seat. The shock of pain was a reminder of an aching part of my body I was working hard to ignore. So I walked the rest of the way, even though it meant being twice as tired and taking twice as long.
I look cross the street at Charlotte’s house, bright with lights, and decide to wheel the bike to Granddaddy’s and return it tomorrow morning, like she said. I park it in front of the porch, behind the bushes, where I know it’s gon’ be safe. Then I climb the steps and open the front door.
The house is even darker once I step inside, maybe on account of the silence. I flip on a light switch in the living room, then another in the dining room and kitchen. I go to Granddaddy’s room and flip on the light there just long enough to put his money back in the shoebox where I found it, then I turn out that light and go back to the living room. I figured Nia wasn’t gon’ be here; what I ain’t figure on was how much it was gon’ matter to me, being alone.
I think back to the beginning of the summer, when I still thought I could fix everything. Me and Nia, Momma and Granddaddy. But now it’s the end of July and the only thing I managed to do was make things worse. Nia is further away from me than ever before. I barely talk to Momma, and when I do, she don’t even seem like Momma no more. Me and Granddaddy close, but I bet we might not be close no more if he knew bout what just happened, with Rondell.
My body goes weak, hot tears spilling down my face. I curl up on the couch with clothes and shoes still on, and my backpack at my feet. At night, I usually count into the hundreds before I can fall asleep. My mind swirls with so many thoughts that I gotta trick myself into turning ’em off. Tonight, my mind is empty. Everything that I could think bout, I already blocked from my mind for good.
I fall asleep before I can even count all the lights I left on.
* * *
When I wake up, it’s still dark outside. I think I had a nightmare, but when I try to remember it, I can only see me and Rondell and that dumpster. I close my eyes to try to fall back asleep. But then I hear a noise, coming from the front porch. I sit up and wait to see if I hear it again. I do, this time even closer. My heart is beating loud and fast. I look around the room for something to grab. I spot Granddaddy’s Bible and for some reason, it feels right. I grab it and hug it tight to my chest.
Then I hear a familiar giggle. Nia. Sure enough, the door opens a few moments later and in she walks with a smirk on her face. Pimple Boy’s outline fades into shadow as he heads back to his car. I realize that it’s only dark outside cause the sun is still rising, a sliver of light just beginning to peek through the trees. Nia stayed out all night with this boy, probably letting him do the same stuff Rondell did to me. I slam my eyes shut, quick, before Nia can tell I’m awake. I hear her footsteps get closer, then feel the weight of the blanket she lays cross my body before she tiptoes to the bedroom.
Once I hear the door shut, I get up and shuffle to the kitchen. I ain’t ate nothin’ since that awful apple. I find two old pieces of cheese pizza in the refrigerator and stack ’em on a plate that I put in the microwave for a minute and a half. Through the little window above the sink, the sun is heading up to the clouds, making the room brighter and brighter. The microwave dings and I sit at the table with my pizza, but it’s lost all its flavor. Guess it has been a week since my birthday.