Heart of Gold (16 page)

She didn't hide her displeasure.

Brain set her straight. “She told us because we're family, not to spread your business.”

“Remember the first time we all got together, and the speech Tamar gave about us looking out for one another?” asked Amari.

“Yeah.”

“That's what this is about.”

She liked that they were concerned, but she didn't like knowing Crystal told.

“So, number one,” Amari said, looking concerned. “Whatever is going on with your parents, it's not your fault. Your mom even said that, right?”

She nodded.

Brain added, “And no way is Ms. Bernadine going to let you get sent back to Miami or anyplace else. Not happening, so stop worrying. Let the adults do their thing, and you just lay low until they get it worked out. Everything'll be fine.”

“And if you need somebody to talk to you, you got us, Tamar, OG, and Reverend Paula, not to mention your mom and dad. They're all straight and will tell you the same thing. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Amari threw his arm around her shoulder and squeezed gently. “We're not letting nothing happen to you, girl. Remember that.”

Not wanting them to see the tears of emotion in her eyes, she hastily wiped them away. Flanked by her big brothers, she walked to the doors to begin the school day.

Zoey was still concerned about her parents, however, and being sent back to foster care in Miami weighed heavily on her mind. She was also not happy with Crystal. Big sisters were supposed to hold on to secrets—at least, they did in books and in the movies. After the test, during the free hour Mr. James gave them on Fridays, Zoey went to the art room to speak with Crystal.

“Hey, Zoey.”

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

Zoey watched Crystal putting paint on a canvas. The image reminded her of the two-faced Roman god Janus they'd studied last spring, only the face was Crystal's. The side facing left looked like the old her, complete with the ugly blond weave. The face profiled on the right wasn't finished but appeared to be the Crystal that Zoey was talking to now, with the nice makeup and the cute haircut. “What's this?”

“The last part of my triptych for the big art show competition in LA next year. I'm calling it
Life.
What do you think?”

“I like it.”

“It's not even close to being finished, but I kinda like it, too. How do you think you did on the test?”

“Think I did okay. Talked to Amari and Brain before school. Wish you hadn't told them what I told you yesterday.”

The brush paused. “Did they make fun of you? Because I'm going to kill them if they did.”

“No,” Zoey assured her hastily. “Not at all.” She wanted that clear so the boys didn't reap the Wrath of Crystal.

“Good. I told them because you seemed so down, and I wanted them to tell you that we all felt the same way—you're not going back to foster care.”

“But I wanted it to be just between us.”

Crystal must've seen the distress she felt. “Then I apologize, Zoey. I figured we're all in this together, so we all have to have each other's backs.”

“I know, but it's sorta like the night you ran away. You didn't want me to tell, so I didn't—at least not at first.”

“But you didn't tell me not to tell.”

“Didn't think I had to.”

“Oh.” Crystal looked embarrassed. “Sorry, but you need to tell me next time, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And I'm sorry again. I'll keep my big fat mouth shut from now on. Don't want you to think you can't confide in me. Deal?” She extended her fist.

Zoey bumped hers gently against it. “Deal.”

It was a cold day, but rather than eat lunch inside, the kids grabbed their coats, hats, and gloves and braved the weather. As they opened their bags and got set up, Wyatt announced that he and his grandmother were indeed moving to Henry Adams and would be living in one of the double-wides on Tamar's land. That earned him a series of happy high fives and congratulatory pats on the back. “I'm not sure who Tamar is, though.”

“My great-grandmother,” Amari said.

“Aka She Who Must Be Obeyed,” Brain threw in, grinning. “She's tough, but she's fair.”

“And can be a lot of fun, when you take her shotgun away,” Leah added.

“Shotgun!”

Zoey sought to reassure Wyatt. “Don't worry, she doesn't shoot kids.”

“That we know of,” Devon pointed out from his seat next to Zoey.

“You'll meet her at the reception,” Leah said. “You are going right?”

He nodded, then asked Zoey, “Are you?”

She looked at him over the sandwich in her gloved hands. “Um, no. I'm going home after school. I'm sorta on punishment.”

Every eye turned her way.

“What did you do?” Wyatt asked.

She'd confessed before thinking about the consequences, and now she was on the spot. “I was lifting weights, even though my dad said I shouldn't.”

“Why were you lifting weights?” Leah asked.

She really didn't want to admit why, so she said, “It was a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, right,” Devon drawled.

“I don't need to lift weights to kick your butt,” she tossed back.

A chorus of
ooo
s followed that.

“You sucker-punched me,” Devon said accusingly of the incident he was still trying to live down. “And I couldn't hit a girl.”

“And you were screaming like a little girl when my daddy pulled me off you.”

Laughter.

Seeing the surprise on Wyatt's face, it occurred to her that she might not be making the best impression, so she shut up about that and said, “Have fun at the reception.” Avoiding his eyes, she went back to her sandwich.

But Devon, being Devon, wouldn't let things be. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You like him, don't you?”

She ignored him.

“I know you do.”

“Leave me alone, Devon.”

He whispered again in a singsong voice, “Zoey and Wyatt, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Amari. Get your brother.”

“First came love. Then came marriage. Then came Zoey with a baby—”

She punched him so hard he fell off the bench, and when he hit the ground, she was already on him, punching and swearing and calling him names. He ducked and screamed and tried to turn himself into a ball to escape her fury, but it was too late. It all happened so fast, the other kids stared frozen, mouths open. Finally, Amari jumped up, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her free even as her arms continued to flail like the vanes of a windmill.

“Let me go, Amari!”

Hand over his bleeding nose, Devon screamed, “I hate you, Zoey!”

“Let me go!”

Then Mr. James was there. He took in the still-flailing Zoey and Devon, crying on the ground. “What is going on?”

Amari put Zoey on her feet, but held on to her arm.

“She hit me for no reason!”

“Liar! I will kick your country butt back to Mississippi!” Anger brought out her Florida drawl.

“Zoey, quiet!” said Mr. James.

“He's a menace, Mr. James!”

Wyatt was staring her way, but she didn't care.

“Amari, let's get your brother to the bathroom and get this nosebleed stopped. Everyone else, back inside. Zoey, call your mom.”

Still heaving with fury, she stormed back to the building and hoped Devon's nose bled until Christmas.

A short while later the still-angry Zoey sat with Mr. James in his office, along with her mom, Ms. Lily, and Devon—who had toilet paper stuffed in his nose and a cold pack over his swelling eye. Neither of the moms looked pleased.

Mr. James asked, “Who started this?”

“He did!” Zoey snapped. “He was whispering some stupid rhyme about me having a baby.”

Ms. Lily turned to Devon. “What?”

He wouldn't meet her eyes.

Zoey said, “He's an idiot, Ms. Lily.”

“Zoey . . . ,” her mom warned.

“But he is! I should sue you for sexual harassment,” she told him.

Her mother said, “You know how he is. Why didn't you just ignore him?”

“I tried, but he wouldn't shut up. Idiot!”

“Stop it,” her mom warned again.

Fuming, Zoey sat back against her chair.

Ms. Lily asked Devon, “What did you say to her?”

He didn't reply.

“You were brave enough to say it earlier, so let's hear it, and I do mean now.”

He complied, although due to the toilet paper in his nose and the soft pitch of his voice, it was a bit hard to understand the words.

Her mom sighed. “It's just a silly old school rhyme, Zoey, not something to fight your friend over.”

“The rhyme's stupid, and so is he!”

Ms. Lily asked with confusion, “Who's Wyatt?”

“A new student,” Mr. James explained.

“Oh.” She eyed her son and shook her head in what appeared to be disbelief.

Mr. James said, “I'm suspending them both for three days.”

Neither mom appeared to have a problem with that.

Zoey didn't either. As long as she didn't have to share air with Devon July, she could be suspended for the rest of her life.

“I'll be sending your assignments home by e-mail and expect them to be turned in on time.”

Zoey nodded.

“My head hurts, Mom,” Devon whined.

“I'll get you something when we get home. You're going to have to stop picking at people, Devon.”

“Nobody likes me.”

“You think?” Zoey snapped.

Her mother's eyes flared with disapproval.

“Is there anything else, Mr. James?” Ms. Lily asked.

“No. You can take them home. Zoey, learn to control your temper.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Devon?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Grow up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll see you both after suspension.”

And with that, the moms stood and took their kids home.

On the ride back to the house, Roni glanced over at her stone-faced child. “You know you were out of control, right?”

Silence.

“You and Devon used to be best buds.”

“Not anymore. Can't stand him. Nobody can.”

“But nobody else is punching him out, so what does that tell you?”

Silence.

“Tell you what, I want you to have a sit-down with Reverend Paula. Since you won't talk to me about what's going on with you, maybe she can help. You can't go through life knocking folks out just because they get on your nerves, Zoey. When you're an adult, they put you in jail for that.”

Silence.

“So your lockdown is extended until you go back to school. No electronics. Just books. I'll send your dad a text and let him know what's going on.”

“Can we just move to Paris so I never have to see Devon again?”

“No.”

Zoey went up to her room, and a disappointed Roni sent Reg a text.
Zoey
gave Devon beatdown. Again. 3 day school suspension. *sigh* Hope you're having a good time.

He came right back at her:
Again?! *sigh* Home tomorrow. See you then
.

She noted he hadn't mentioned missing her, but then again, she hadn't mentioned missing him either. She ran a hand down her face. Her child was crazy. Her husband was crazy. She was crazy. Good thing she wasn't a drinking woman. She walked to the piano and took a seat on the bench. For whatever reason her fingers began playing “Stormy Weather,” so she went with it and sang along.

Up in her room, Zoey was mad at the world: Devon, her mom, Mr. James, Crystal, Amari. After witnessing her actions at lunch, Wyatt probably thought she was some crazy girl, and that made her mad as well.
Why is life so hard?
For the past couple of years life had been awesome. Reverend Paula helped her talk again. She went on tour with her mom. She fell in love with cars—got to work in the garage. Now? Life sucked. She'd had to whip Devon's butt—again. People were all up in her business. Wyatt and her parents had her insides churned up. Life seemed to be raining bricks down on her head, and she felt like Dr. Bruce Banner right before he busted out of his shirt and turned into the Incredible Hulk. Maybe if she went for a ride on her bike, some of the Hulkness would go away.

She grabbed her coat and went downstairs. “Can I go ride my bike? I need air.”

Her mom was seated at the piano, scoring a chart. “No.”

“But, Mom, I'm going to explode.”

“Go out on the deck. Plenty of air out there.”

“But, Mom!”

“Or you can go back up to your room.”

Zoey recognized that look. “That's not fair!”

“Keep talking, and the next time you see Danica Patrick she'll be driving a walker.”

Snapping her mouth closed, she turned and ran out of the room.

“And don't slam your door!”

When Zoey reached her room, she wanted to slam the door so badly. But she was angry, not stupid, so she threw herself on the bed.

A short while later her mom came to her room. “I'm going over to the store now. Do you remember what I told you?”

“Yes,” she grumbled. “No electronics. Just books.”

“Good. I'll be back in a few hours.”

Zoey didn't tell her to have a good time.

Standing in front of her window, she watched her mom drive off, then sat down to wait. When thirty minutes passed, she picked up her outdoor gear and got ready for her mission. She hated wearing her helmet—helmets were for babies—so she left it behind. In the kitchen, she cut a few slices of the chocolate cake she and her mom had had for dessert the day before and put them into a big ziplock bag. Making sure she had her keys and her phone in her coat pocket, she went to the garage for her bike. Because she was at home, the ride to Mr. Patterson's would be much longer than had she been leaving from the school, but the bad day made her not care about that. She just wanted to ride, do something nice for somebody. Maybe it would make her feel better.