Kendra Read online

  After everyone is introduced and the house lights are back up, the cast members practically break their necks running out to the lobby, still in their costumes, just so all their friends and family can congratulate them. Me and the rest of the crew just stand there backstage, shaking our heads. We don’t say anything, but it’s kinda hard to believe how much attention they need. Like, it’s not enough to get people to spend seven dollars to look at you and clap for you, and even give you a standing ovation. No, after all that, they still need more hugs and butt kissing.

  Actors.

  It takes us about a half hour to put away all the props and clear everything off the set. We don’t really need to spend that much time, but we’re too busy acting stupid, wasting time. Probably everyone is like me, not really wanting it to end. I know I don’t wanna go home, if Renée is there or not. I’m not even sure if I want her to be there, not with the mood I’m in now.

  Before I leave, I sweep the set while Mara and Trevor put away all the extension cords and stuff. Then, when I bring the broom back to the janitor’s closet, Darnell’s there and asks me if I’m okay.

  “Yeah,” I say real fast. “Why?”

  “’Cause you look like somebody died or something. And you were kind of, you know, zoned out today.”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “You still coming on Friday, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “You?”

  “Yeah.”

  The crew is getting together after school on Friday to strike the set. Then we’re all going to the diner afterward. I already got the okay from Nana, but that’s only because she thinks the whole thing’s gonna be chaperoned by Mr. Melendez. But it’s just gonna be us by ourselves.

  “You sure you’re alright?” Darnell asks again.

  “Yeah.” This time I say it kinda quiet because I’m not really sure, now that I think about it. I mean, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to think about this. It’s getting harder always trying to act like I’m okay when I’m not.

  Darnell is looking at me now, like he’s worried about me. I give him a weak smile, and after a couple of seconds, he turns around to wash his hands in the big sink. For a second I just stand there watching him, wanting to say something or do something. It’s not that I want him to worry about me. I just want him to pay attention to me again.

  I stand the broom up in the corner and reach above Darnell to put the dustpan on the shelf over the sink. And I’m not sure why, but when I do, I put my hand on his shoulder to balance myself. My body rubs against his back a little, but he don’t even look up. He just keeps washing his hands.

  So I leave the janitor’s closet without even saying good-bye, and I walk real slow outta the theater. A few people are still hanging around in the lobby, some probably waiting for the actors to finish changing outta their costumes, some looking like they’re still there because of the baseball game that was going on in the field.

  The game probably just ended, too, because, as I’m walking past the gym, some of the players are coming outta the locker room. And I start walking even slower, trying to see if Nashawn’s around. Not that I necessarily wanna run into him or anything. Not really.

  A couple of guys come out carrying heavy-looking duffel bags, but no Nashawn. And anyway, I can’t walk all that slow without looking like a hard-up girl waiting around to say hi to some guy. What’s the point, anyway? It’s not like he even really talks to me, well, except when he wants computer help or free pizza. Or when he wants to know where Adonna is.

  So I just keep walking toward the front doors, but then, since I’m already miserable, I change my mind and decide to run upstairs to my locker to get my bio book, the one I didn’t even bother bringing home on Friday because I knew I wasn’t gonna get any work done this weekend.

  It’s kinda dark upstairs because the only lights that are on are the ones over the exits. I get to my locker and open it, and it looks like Adonna has put even more stuff in there than before. Not only does she have her books and folders and papers, but now she got a denim jacket and an umbrella in there, too. It’s crazy how she’s just hogging my locker like I’m not gonna mind.

  Before I can barely start looking for my bio book, Adonna’s hairbrush falls out. As I’m picking it up, I hear footsteps coming down the hall. I look up and see it’s Nashawn. He’s carrying his duffel bag, looking as fine as always, and he’s walking in my direction. I mean, I know he’s not coming for me or anything. He’s going to his locker. But he is looking right at me.

  And, of course, I look away. I can’t help it.

  I pick up the brush and shove it back in my locker and grab my textbook from inside. When Nashawn gets closer to me, he acts surprised, like he didn’t notice me there before. “I can’t see in the dark,” he says. “But you look like that famous set designer.”

  I smile. “Famous?”

  “I saw that set, man, and it’s good. You got talent.”

  “Thanks.”

  I close my locker and put the combination lock back on. And I try to act as natural as I can get and not think about the fact that he actually liked my set.

  “So, where’s your friend today?” he asks me.

  I have to admit it to myself: That hurts a little bit. I don’t know why, what’s going through my head, but I turn to him and ask, “What, do you like Adonna or something?”

  “Why you wanna know?”

  “Because you keep asking me about her.”

  He shrugs and digs into his locker for something. Probably looking for some book that’s buried so deep he never even used it before. “You and her are always together, that’s why.”

  “Do you think she’s pretty or what?” I ask, and, really, I’m not sure if I wanna know for Adonna’s sake or my own.

  “Of course.”

  I lean against the lockers. “What about me? Do you think I’m as pretty as her?” The words leave my mouth before I even think about what I’m saying. Or doing. But for some reason, being here in this hall with only a little light, I’m just feeling different. I wanna know what he thinks about me. If he thinks about me.

  He looks me in the eye with that smirk that just makes him even more adorable. “Let’s see.” He scans my body, and I’m glad I wore my nicest black jeans with a cute, little black V-neck T-shirt. “You dress real nice,” he says, nodding his head. “And your face and body, yeah, it’s all good.”

  I can’t believe Nashawn’s actually checking me out like this. I mean, the way he’s looking at me, it’s kinda intense. But I try to relax and stay in the moment, not get nervous and say something stupid and childish. “You’re not answering my question,” I tell him.

  He laughs. “Okay, you got me. Alright. You wanna know if you’re as pretty as Adonna?”

  “Am I?”

  He looks me up and down again and, just like that, my body kinda heats up. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but he’s doing it. Big-time. Finally, he says, “I’m gonna have to say, yeah, you are. But in a different way.”

  I shake my head. “C’mon, tell the truth.”

  “That is the truth. You’re real hot.”

  “Then why don’t you ever look at me? Why you only check out Adonna?”

  “Adonna.” He looks like he’s thinking of how to say what’s on his mind. “Adonna is like a fantasy girl, you know, one of those girls that guys have to look at. But you, you got that nice, quiet kind of pretty.”

  I roll my eyes and walk away. And without even looking back, I know his eyes are on me. I can feel it. And it feels kinda good.

  I pass a few classrooms that are all dark with their doors closed. Then a little farther down the hall is the teachers’ lounge, but I can’t look inside because they got the little window on the door covered with black construction paper. The door is pulled in, but for the first time since I been coming to this school, it’s not closed all the way. And I’m curious what they got in there that they don’t ever let us kids see.

  I push on the do
or lightly in case someone’s inside. A little light is coming in from a half-open window shade on the other side of the room, but near the door, it’s hard to even see what’s in there.

  Down the hall I hear Nashawn’s locker close, and a few seconds later he’s standing behind me in the doorway. He don’t say anything. He just follows me inside and closes the door behind him. Before I know what’s happening, his hands are around my waist, nice and strong, and then a second later he has me up against a wall.

  And it’s on.

  FIFTEEN

  It’s weird because, even though I know what’s happening, can feel everything, it’s like I’m not really there. It’s like I’m watching somebody else. Not me.

  His hands are on my waist, holding me against the wall as he’s kissing me. This isn’t the first time I kissed a guy. I did it before, back in sixth and seventh grade when us girls used to play games with the boys from Bronxwood, but feeling how Nashawn is kissing me now, with his tongue all deep in my mouth, I know this is my first real kiss.

  And I’m kissing him back, too. It don’t matter that I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’m just going with it.

  When his hands start undoing the zipper on my jeans, I just let him. I even help him take them off me. Then, when he pulls my panties down, I step outta them, too. Fast. Without even thinking.

  It’s like whatever he wants to do, I’m gonna do it, no problem. No resistance, no matter where his hands go or what they do. Like it’s something I do every day.

  And this goes on for a while, with me and him up against the wall, ’til finally he’s leading me over to a big table in the middle of the room. My eyes have adjusted a little bit and I can see him move a couple of chairs outta the way. Then he lifts me up and puts me on the table, facing him.

  I wrap my legs around him to keep him as close to me as possible, and we kiss some more. Then I hear him unzip his jeans. And finally I shake my head, trying to wake myself up, and whisper, “I can’t. My grandmother, she’s gonna, um, have me checked.”

  I can barely make out his expression even though his face isn’t even an inch away from mine. “Checked?”

  “You know. By the doctor.” His hands are all over me, making it hard to concentrate on what I’m trying to say. “To see if I’m still a, um, virgin.”

  But that don’t stop him for a second. He’s breathing heavy in my ear and says, “I need a blow job.” And he picks me up off the table.

  And, just like that, I do it. I listen to him tell me what to do and how, and all I wanna do is keep him there with me. For as long as I can.

  And then he’s done. I stand up and wanna say something to make this last a little longer, but I can’t think of anything. A few seconds later, his pants are zipped back up and his hands aren’t on me anymore. “I left my duffel bag in the hall,” he says, talking fast. “I don’t want someone to steal it.”

  And then he’s gone. And me, I’m just standing there, in the middle of the teachers’ lounge, half dressed, still trying to catch my breath.

  I find my panties and jeans in the darkness and put my clothes on, taking my time, not sure that what just happened was real, not a dream. When I get back out in the hallway, it’s empty.

  I walk to the staircase, slow, listening to the sound of my own footsteps. And as I leave the building, I know for a fact that, for the first time in my life, I have no idea what I’m doing.

  SIXTEEN

  Back at Bronxwood, I get off the bus and walk with my head down toward my building. It’s getting dark out, but practically every kid in the projects is outside, running around or on bikes or scooters. Screaming and laughing like they lost their minds or something.

  It wasn’t all that long ago that me, Adonna, and some other girls used to be outside like that, jumping double dutch or roller-skating, or just sitting on a bench waiting for the ice cream truck to come around. And even back then, Adonna used to be snapping on people all the time. Nothing too mean. She would just try to get everyone to laugh, which we did. That’s the kinda fun I miss sometimes, because that was the easy kinda fun. Not like now.

  I walk fast from the bus stop, hoping to get upstairs without having to talk to anyone. When I pass by Kenny’s truck I wave to him, but I don’t stop or even slow down. He waves back and smiles, and good thing he has a couple of customers and don’t have time to ask me to come over and talk to him. Because I don’t think I could talk to him like nothing just happened. I can’t even look him in the eye with the way I’m feeling.

  In the elevator, as I get closer and closer to the fifteenth floor, there’s too much going on in my mind. It’s like I’m fighting with myself to not think, but I can’t. It’s impossible. I mean, I can still feel Nashawn’s hands on my body, and it’s like every place he touched me isn’t only mine anymore. Everything feels different now.

  Nana is on the phone when I get into the apartment. “Hold on,” she says when she sees me coming through the door. “She just came in.” She holds out the phone for me. “Here. It’s Renée. She wants to talk to you.”

  I shake my head and keep walking right past her down the hall. I go straight into the bathroom, then slam and lock the door behind me. The last thing I’m in the mood for is one of Renée’s excuses. I don’t even wanna hear her voice right now. I can’t deal with it.

  I can’t deal with anything.

  I sit on the side of the bathtub, put my head in my hands, and cry hard without making any sound. My chest feels heavy and full, and it’s hard to breathe. I feel so stupid and disgusted with myself that I can’t keep it inside anymore. I wanna scream.

  What’s the matter with me? Why would I do something like that? I’m not even like that.

  I run the water in the tub, take off my clothes, and make sure not to look in the mirror, because I can’t face myself right now. All I wanna do is wash Nashawn off me, fast, before Nana gets a good look at me. Because the truth is, she been waiting for this, and she’s gonna know what I been up to. She’s gonna know that some boy been touching on me. Like, there’s probably fingerprints on my body only she can see.

  Later, while I’m in the bathtub, sitting in the soapy water, Nana knocks on the door. “You okay, Babe?” she asks.

  It takes me a second to answer, to make my voice sound normal. “Um, yeah. I’m fine.”

  “You sure? You been in there a long time now.”

  “I’m coming out in a minute.”

  She knows, I tell myself. She’s not stupid. She has to know something’s up.

  I hear her trying to turn the doorknob. “Is this door locked?”

  “Is it?” I ask. But my voice don’t sound right. It’s too high. She’s gonna know I’m acting weird. I know she is. “Oh, I’m sorry, Nana. I didn’t mean to lock it.” I stand up and step outta the tub. “Hold on.”

  I wipe my eyes and wrap a towel around me. Then I look at myself in the mirror, thinking, Do I look the same? I’m not sure. I can’t tell anymore.

  When I open the door, Nana is standing there with her arms folded. Her eyes don’t look at me. They look into me. Like she’s investigating me, analyzing me. At first she don’t say anything, but the silence is enough to make me nervous, especially since I can’t think of anything to say to her.

  So I turn away from her and pick my clothes up off the floor. With my back turned to her, she asks, “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say, still not looking at her. “I just needed to take a bath. I felt so—” I almost say dirty. “I felt so sweaty from all the cleaning up we had to do after the show.”

  Nana is quiet, like she’s waiting for me to say something else.

  “I feel so much better now,” I say, balling up all the clothes and putting them in the hamper.

  “Why didn’t you want to talk to Renée? She wanted to explain to you what happened.”

  I shrug. “It don’t matter.” I try, but I can’t keep my voice from cracking a little bit. “It’s just a school play.”

  I
walk past her, outta the bathroom and into my room, and she follows behind me.

  “She said there was a lot of traffic,” Nana says. “You know how those highways get, especially on a Sunday when everyone’s coming home from their weekend trips.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

  I search through my drawer for some pajamas to put on.

  “How was the last show?” she asks, still staring at me funny. “Anything happen?”

  She’s not asking about the show. We both know that.

  “No, nothing unusual. We got a standing ovation.”

  “What took you so long to get home?”

  “The bus,” I say. She’s still giving me that look, like she’s trying to read me. “Um, can I get dressed for bed now? And I have a lot of homework I didn’t do all weekend.”

  She stands there for a few seconds and I have to look away, it’s so uncomfortable. Finally, she says, “Okay. But make sure you come get some dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry. Um, I got a slice at the pizza shop near the bus stop. I’m full.”

  More staring. Then, “Well, okay. Get your homework done. Renée’s going to be home tonight. I hope she don’t get in too late, because she needs to get herself a full night’s sleep.” She’s talking to herself again. “That girl’s in the real world now, not college. She’s a working woman. And when you’re working, you can’t function on no sleep. You know what I mean?”

  “Yes, Nana,” I say.

  “Well, okay, then,” she says and walks outta the room real slow. I close the door behind her, not really sure how I got outta that. I mean, if Nana suspects something about what I did, at least she’s keeping it to herself. For now. And that’s a good thing.

  SEVENTEEN

  I thought I would hear music when I woke up the next morning. And singing. But instead there’s nothing. Only the pounding in my own head.