Before, After, and Somebody In Between Read online

  “He never told you anything. You’re making that up.”

  “Hey, he’s my dad, not yours. He doesn’t care about you. He feels sorry for you, okay? So go ahead, suck up to him all you want. You’re wasting your time.” She darts away and comes back, waving my science notebook. “ ‘Gina Brinkman, Gina Brinkman.’ Ha, wait’ll he sees this—he’s gonna have you committed!”

  “Nikki, don’t.” I lunge crazily and hit the bathroom door, and Nikki snaps the lock while I’m blinking away stars.

  Everything’s in that notebook: all my fantasies about Danny, about being adopted by the Brinkmans. Rows and rows of Gina Brinkman, page after page.

  Thinking that it’s a good thing her parents’ room is on the other side of the house, I throw myself into the door. “Give it back, Nikki! I swear, I’m not kidding.”

  “Go to hell, Gina Brinkman!” Maniacal giggling.

  “Goddammit! Give it back, or I’ll—” What? I’ll what? “I’m gonna tell ‘em about those pills.”

  Touché! Silence, and when she creaks open the door, I notice her eyes for the first time: huge black pools surrounded by tiny rims of pale blue. “What pills?”

  “You know what pills. The ones I found in your room.”

  Lucky for me she doesn’t go for my throat. “You went in my room?”

  “Give it back! Or I’m going straight to your dad.”

  “Knock yourself out. It’s your word against mine, right?”

  Right, but if I can get them to search her room … “Fine. Let’s go.”

  I grab her sleeve, but she wrenches away. “Wait!” So I wait. “Don’t say anything. They’ll flip out on me, okay?”

  “Then give—me—back—my—notebook.”

  A second later, the notebook ricochets off my head. “They’re only uppers! And I need them, okay? How’m I supposed to keep up with my classes? How’m I supposed to keep my weight down? I have to dance, remember?” She stops me with an iron arm as I try to slink off. “Everybody I know uses that stuff. I bet you’d take it yourself if you weren’t such a pathetic little suck-up. Ri-ight, Mar-tha?”

  When she calls me Martha again, I lose it. “Hey, you can take fucking cyanide for all I care, so go ahead! Do it!”

  “I hate you!” she screams, and savagely slams the door.

  “I hate you, too,” I say to the shivering wood.

  Flipping through my notebook, I check each page for my stupid, immature babblings, and rip out and flush every incriminating sheet. Then, as long as I’m destroying evidence, I hit my closet as well. I dig out my yellow sweater and the three empty beer bottles, and tiptoe through the dark to carry it all out to the trash. Taffy follows, squats, and then dances beside me as I squeeze my eyes shut and yank down on Danny’s necklace. The chain snaps as I rip it from my neck, and the silver heart skitters into the trash can with a soft metallic chime. Then I kneel in the grass, in the moonlight, in the cool night air, and hide my face in Taffy’s silky fur.

  I know Richard didn’t tell her. I know it in my heart.

  …

  When I get downstairs in the morning, Nikki’s finishing up her so-called breakfast—a half of a piece of toast and some watered-down OJ. The second she sees me, she pops up and leaves the room.

  Claudia fills my juice glass. “I take it you two aren’t getting along.”

  Brilliant observation.

  “Well, it’ll blow over. She’s been working herself so hard, and now she tells me she wants to audition for Sleeping Beauty. I have no idea where she gets all her energy.”

  Ha. I do.

  Finally she notices I haven’t said a word. “Gina? What’s the matter?”

  Before I can open my mouth, Nikki flies back into the room. “My bracelet’s gone!”

  “What bracelet, sweetie?”

  “The one Daddy got me for Christmas. It’s not in my jewelry box.”

  I hate the way she’s looking at me. Like, hello! She thinks I took it?

  “Are you sure?” Claudia asks. “Why don’t you look again?”

  “I’m telling you, it’s gone. Somebody stole it.” A theatrical pause. “And I’ll bet you anything it was that friend of Gina’s. That black guy.”

  Claudia’s coffee cup clatters. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oooh, gosh. I guess Gina never mentioned it.” Nikki’s glacial eyes meet mine, a declaration of civil war.

  I hoot. “Are you nuts? Jerome wouldn’t touch your bracelet.”

  “Well, who else then?”

  “Nikki,” Claudia begins, but she’s looking at me kind of funny. “Please don’t accuse anyone till we have all the facts. Gina, who’s Jerome?”

  “A friend of mine. He stopped over one day. And he didn’t take it,” I repeat to Nikki. “Jerome doesn’t steal. You don’t even know him.”

  Nikki ignores this. “Mom, she even let him upstairs. And then when I showed up, he couldn’t wait to get out of here. It’s true, I swear it. Go on, ask her.”

  “Gina?” Claudia seems to be choosing her words ver-ry carefully. “Is there any special reason you didn’t mention this to me before?”

  I can only sit there, utterly speechless. I did try to tell her that night in the kitchen, but then Nikki came in and, well, I hardly thought about it again. But so what? It wasn’t Jerome!

  Claudia turns back to Nikki. “Well, look around again and if it doesn’t turn up, your father’ll just have to replace it for you. Thank God it’s insured.”

  Nikki tilts her chin. “Well, all I can say is, Daddy’ll have a fit—Oh, here he is now.”

  Richard’s not smiling as he walks into the room. At first I think he overheard our conversation, and I fight a primitive urge to bury a fork in Nikki’s skull. I hate her! And I hate the way I’m feeling, like I did something horribly wrong.

  Nikki springs up. “Daddy, I have to tell you—”

  “Not now, Nik. I have something to say.”

  A cold iceberg of terror crunches my chest. Maybe Nikki already told him about my notebook, and now he’ll demand an explanation. Adopt you? Are you nuts? Whatever gave you that bogus idea?

  Unless, of course, it’s something even worse. Like something about Momma, about her wanting me back?

  No! I won’t go.

  I’ll do anything they want. I’ll be nice to Nikki. I’ll pretend last night never happened. Hell, I’ll even say I swiped her crappy bracelet. But I’m not going back to Momma, and nobody can make me.

  Mr. Brinkman’s big hand rests heavily on my shoulder. “There’s no easy way to say this. But Mrs. Addams just passed away.”

  44

  Why didn’t I bother to call Shavonne back?

  Why didn’t I say, “Yeah, come on over!”

  Why did I blow her off?

  Because I was too busy freaking out about Danny, and now it’s too late. What kind of friend do you call that? Shitty, that’s what I call it. I was even happy Mrs. Addams was sick, just so she couldn’t come back to the Brinkmans and expose me as a fake. Come on, Gina, admit it. Weren’t you jumping for joy?

  Her mom can’t be dead.

  Oh, yes she can be. And, yes, she is.

  Tonight I’m going to the wake with Richard and Claudia, and it doesn’t even matter that Nikki knows. She knows who I am, that I’m friends with Shavonne. Soon she’ll announce to planet Earth that Gina’s a lying loser with a lunatic mom and a dead jailbird dad.

  I wish I could disappear.

  “Nikki, are you sure you don’t want to come?” Richard asks before we leave. He hasn’t said a word all day. Neither has Claudia, come to think of it.

  Nikki, who hasn’t spoken to me, period, since that bracelet thing, is too busy counting out celery sticks and raisins to even glance up. Her shoulder blades poke through the back of her sweater, and I wonder if that’s the reason for Claudia’s suddenly pained expression.

  “What for?” Nikki takes away a celery stick and adds another raisin.

  “Because I think her daught
er would appreciate it,” Richard says sarcastically, ignoring Claudia’s warning touch to his arm.

  Whap! Celery and raisins go flying off the table. “I’m not going to another funeral!” Nikki screams, and clatters out of the kitchen.

  Another funeral.

  Rachel.

  That’s what this is about. Another funeral for the Brinkmans, probably the last thing they need.

  “You spoil her,” Richard growls at Claudia.

  “You had your chance,” she shoots back in a brittle voice I’ve never heard.

  “What’s that remark supposed to mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means.”

  I stare at the strange expression on Richard’s face—half agony, half fury—with no idea what it means. What’s going on? It can’t just be the funeral. He storms out ahead of us, and next thing I know, Claudia’s eyes spill over with tears. I reach for her limp hand, and she lets me take it, and together we follow Richard out to the car even though this, I know, is the last thing I need, too.

  …

  The chapel is packed with flowers and people, everyone bawling and praying and carrying on. Kenyatta and Monique hug me like some long-lost sister, and I finally meet the infamous Rodney/Rashonda—dark-skin, slanted eyes, and astonishingly beautiful. In fact, he looks an awful lot like Shavonne.

  Hunched between the grim, red-eyed Brinkmans, I endure the sermon, leaping out of my skin with every “Amen!” or “Praise Jesus!” All those endless eulogies about how wonderful Mrs. Addams was, how tragic this seems, and how God needed her more because God has a pla-a-an… oh, gimme a break! God doesn’t need Shavonne’s mom. Shavonne needs her mom.

  Rocking like a metronome, I mentally zone out till the final “Amen!” The room explodes into ear-splitting grief, everyone wailing and sobbing and, in general, making a bigger commotion than the sinking of the Titanic. I can’t look at the coffin because it’s too hideous, too unreal. Instead, I flee to the back of the chapel while Richard and Claudia pay their respects.

  Shavonne looks small and strangely nunnish in a black dress, probably the only one she owns that doesn’t show off her boobs. I touch her wrist. “Hey, you okay?”

  She rips me apart with burning, glassy eyes. “Like you care?”

  Everyone hears, and my face grows hot. “I-I’m sorry about the other night. I wish we could’ve gotten together, but—”

  “Fuck off.” Shavonne turns away. “I’m through with you.”

  Kenyatta puts an arm around her, but Shavonne flings it away and storms off. I rush after her, snatching at the back of her dress. “Shavonne, please!”

  She pushes me hard. “You come cryin’ to me ‘cause Chardonnay’s after your ass. You come cryin’ to me ‘cause somebody throws you off a porch. You come cryin’ to me ‘cause nobody’ll buy you a damn cello. Now what? Your life is so perfect, so who needs me, huh? Why don’t you just go back home and shove your own self up your ass?”

  Kenyatta and Monique cluster around, trying to drag her back toward the chapel. Stunned and silent, I watch her elaborate braids bob away, and then finally scream after her, “My life is not perfect!”

  “So what?” she screams back.

  I sneak outside and cry under the dark shadow of a brick wall, and this is exactly how Jerome finds me. Seeing him now is like seeing a flash of Bubby, and I think about how he’s dead, and why he’s dead, and I start bawling even harder. I don’t think I can ever stop.

  Jerome pats me awkwardly. “Aw, c’mon, Martha. You know she didn’t mean it.”

  “Yes, she did, and I don’t blame her! Her mom was dying and I just ignored her.”

  “Ain’t nothing you could’ve done.”

  “I could’ve been there, at least. She would’ve done it for me.”

  “You heard what the preacher said. It was just her time. Shavonne, she knows that.”

  I wrench away. “Yeah, like it was Bubby’s time, you mean?” Bubby, Bubby! And out it pours, the avalanche of truth. “If I hadn’t taken that money, he’d still be alive.”

  Jerome grows rigid. “What money you talkin’ about?”

  Who cares? Let him hate me. I so totally deserve it.

  “Anthony’s money. He stole my cello, so I stole his stupid money, and then those guys came after him when he couldn’t pay up. It was all my fault! And I wanted to tell you so bad.”

  “Girl, you crazy.” His voice is a hunk of steel. “You didn’t take no damn money.”

  “Oh, yes I did!”

  “Not all of it,” he argues, and I wonder how he knows. “How much you take?”

  “I don’t remember. Maybe a thousand bucks? I don’t know what was left.”

  Jerome picks at a shoelace, shaking his head. “Anthony, he had like twelve grand under that mattress.”

  “What? No way! I never took twelve thousand bucks, Jerome.”

  “I know you didn’t. I did.” At my disbelieving look, he shouts in my face: “I took the money! Man, you retarded or what? He never even missed what you took, ‘cause I took most of it first. And that’s why Bubby’s dead, okay? Not because of you.”

  “But why? Why’d you take it?”

  He drops to the grass and rests his elbows on his knees, his forehead buried in the heels of his hands. “I wanted my mom back, that’s why. I wrote her a letter and told her about the money. Didn’t say where I got it from, I just told her I had it. I figured if she thought I had money, she’d want to come back, so…” Jerome gulps. “Well, it worked. She’s back.”

  “You gave her Anthony’s money?”

  “I—”

  I shake him with both fists. “And you know what she’ll do with it? She’s gonna blow it on drugs. She’s a junkie, Jerome! Why do you want her back?”

  In the glow of the dirty streetlight I see tears stream down his cheeks, feel his shoulders shudder under my hands. “I don’t know, I don’t know. Girl, you got a mom. And maybe she’s crazy and maybe she treats you like shit, but at least you got one. You don’t know what it’s like.” He buries his head deeper, and I have to strain to hear his words: “So it was me, okay? Me, not you.”

  We sit there for a long time, both of us crying, till Claudia and Richard come looking for me. When they see our faces, I know what they’re thinking, that we’re just two old friends crying over poor Shavonne.

  If only they knew.

  45

  March creeps into a gray, rainy April. I keep thinking about Mrs. Addams. I keep thinking about Bubby. All of it makes me wonder, Who’s gonna be next? Whose name is next on God’s needed-more-up-here list?

  Momma?

  No! Zelda swears she’s fine.

  The fact that Nikki knows my dirty secrets makes life ten times worse, and each day I wake up to a putrid smog of doom. I can’t think. I can’t concentrate. By the end of the month I’ve lost five pounds and three-tenths of a point on my GPA, and I’m harvesting a zit the size of Pluto in the middle of my chin.

  Because Nikki’s a grade ahead, I rarely run into her at school, but lately she seems to be lurking every time I turn around. Behind me in the lunch line, and we don’t even have lunch at the same time. At the end of the hall, hovering near my locker. Wandering out of a lavatory as I’m jiggling my way in. It’s like she knows where I’m going to be and makes it a point to be there. Maybe it’s a game, but it spooks the hell out of me just the same.

  Chloe and Faith meet me for lunch today as usual, blabbing about the school concert, their horny boyfriends, a possible cruise to the mall. Would they be acting this normal if Nikki had already ratted me out? Of course not. Still, whenever somebody glances my way, I wonder if they know, what they’re thinking, what they’re whispering behind my back. Stuff about white trash? X-ACTO knives? Oh, yeah, don’t forget “slum rats.”

  As the lunch bell rings, Nikki strolls into sight with her drama-geek pals. Chardonnay-style, she smiles, holds up a pen, and jabs the air a few times.

  Faith sends me a funny look. “What’s that al
l about?”

  I’m not sure, but I think the so-called jig may be up.

  Too freaking paranoid to go to my next class, I tell the nurse I have cramps, call Claudia to bring me home, and then hole up in my room, consumed by a blistering red fury. Why, why does Nikki hate me so much? Because she thinks I’m a suck-up? Because I remind them of Rachel? Well, thanks to Miss Nicolette Brinkman and her big honkin’ mouth, my whole existence is spinning back into shit mode.

  Fine! If Nikki wants to fight dirty, I can fight dirty, too. Wait till Richard finds out his darling baby’s a crank queen.

  By now, of course, those capsules are long gone. I hunt through her closets and every single drawer, and check under the mattress and even in the toes of her shoes. I find birth control pills—wow!—and some X-rated e-mails, but nothing stronger than a jar of chocolate-covered espresso beans.

  But I do find one thing: that freaking bracelet! And that’s how I figure out she lied about losing it, that she only did it to get me into trouble.

  I study the sparkling stones through a dull red haze. No way will I let her get away with this.

  Minutes tick by, then an hour. Finally I hear Nikki come home from school and start fighting with Claudia about some party she wants to go to with Justin tonight. Thundering up the stairs, she stops dead when she sees me.

  “What are you doing in here?” she yelps when she notices her drawers open, her clothes flung around, and all her sheets on the floor. “You trashed my room?”

  Claudia’s there in a flash, and smacks a hand over her mouth. “Gina! What happened here?”

  Considering everything, I sound pretty calm. “I was looking for drugs.”

  “Drugs!” Nikki squeals. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “She is doing drugs. She even admitted it. She says everyone takes them, and it’s the only way she can keep up.”

  Claudia whirls on Nikki, and Nikki jumps back in alarm. “Mommy! You don’t believe her, do you?”

  “And look what I found.” I dangle the bracelet under Nikki’s nose. “It was right in your jewelry box. Nobody stole it. You made that up.”

  “Yeah, right. If that bracelet was there, you put it there yourself. Mom, can’t you see what she’s trying to do? You know I don’t do drugs, and you know I don’t lie. Why would I lie about my bracelet? I mean, what’s the point?”