I shake my head. “Nah, I’m broke. Just here for support.”
“You sure? Cuz maybe we could work out a deal or somethin’?” he says.
I sigh and cross my arms over my chest to keep his roaming eyes from gettin’ a good look.
“No. Thanks.”
I try to rush Anne outta the store once she’s paid up. It’s hard. She keeps on lookin’ in the bag to check on Eartha. Like she’s scared her new friend might hop out and run away. Never knew she was such a fan.
I sip my cherry soda. We can’t sit at the drugstore counter on account of our abundant melanin, so we sit in a booth in the back and take our sweet time. Anne nurses her lime rickey and watches me, concerned. I told her all about the incident at the lookout. All about how this weirdo has been appearing in places where I am. How he knows who I am.
“And you have no memory of ever meeting him before this summer?”
“None. Clay don’t know who he is either.”
“Wow. That’s so scary.”
“I know.” I sip the last of my soda, wishing I had more. Not because I want more, but just to have something else to focus on.
She picks up her cigarette from the ashtray, inhales, and when she exhales, she tries to blow the smoke away from me. I still get some and try to cough as lightly as I can. She looks at me sheepishly.
“Sorry, Evvie. You’re smart for never pickin’ up the habit,” she says. She sticks her arm out and flicks the cigarette, away from me. “And now they say it can cause cancer? It’s terrible. I wanna quit. I wish I had your willpower,” she says, inhaling again.
I don’t tell her that it has nothin’ to do with my willpower and everything to do with my vanity. I’ve seen the yellow stains between Mama’s fingers and the permanent tint of gray on her teeth. Also, after a while, smokers start to stink. Not for me, thanks.
“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t go up to the lookout anymore, if I were you. Especially after dark,” she says. I don’t say anything, and I know she just wants to help, but this bit of advice is ludicrous. Why in the world would anybody go up to the lookout during daylight hours?
“And maybe you and Clay should stick to more populated areas. Or go out on some group dates? There’s safety in numbers.”
I crack up for a second, but she just stares at me, confused.
“Why’s that funny?”
I wipe the smirk off my face cuz she looks so sincere.
“That could get awkward,” I say.
“Why?”
I take a deep breath. “Anne? You honestly don’t know why Clay and me like to be alone?” I keep lookin’ at her, until it finally sinks in.
“Oh,” she says. It’s one little sound—“oh”—but it’s filled with such melancholy. Her body drops back against the seat, and she just stares at me. Is she disappointed in me? Judgin’ me? Probably. I just don’t need to hear some sanctimonious no-sex-before-marriage lecture right now. We’ll just have to agree to disagree.
I shake my head and fiddle with my straw.
“There’s nothin’ to be done about it,” I say, ignoring the look she’s still giving me. “The only thing I thought maybe I could do was…”
“What, Evvie?”
I wanna tell her. I wanna tell her about the strange magic that I know can protect me as soon as I figure out how to control it.
“Nothin’,” I mutter.
“No, tell me. What were you about to say?”
I shift in my seat and think of what she might like to hear. “I was about to say, I thought I could… pray. Ask God for protection or whatever. But I don’t think that’s gonna be enough.”
Anne reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.
“I’ll pray too.”
I’ve never had any intentions of sharing my secret gifts with most of my friends. They’d just think I was crazy or puttin’ ’em on. But I have thought about telling Anne Marie. And I would, if it weren’t for one problem: Anne Marie is a real churchgoer. An old church lady in trainin’. Now, I go to church myself, but only because I have to. She goes because she wants to. I’ve often wanted to tell her about me, but I always chicken out. What if she decides I’m possessed by the devil or somethin’? I’d hate for her to start seein’ me differently or, worse yet, to be scared a me. So I keep it to myself. As for her, I don’t mind her being devout, but if she starts fallin’ down, speakin’ in tongues and shit, I don’t know. That might be a bridge too far.
“You should tell your mother, Evvie.”
“So she can lock me in the basement for the rest of my life?”
“You need to get an adult involved. I can tell my parents. Maybe my dad’ll have some ideas. He was in the army.”
“Please don’t. All you gotta do is tell one person, and before ya know it, half the town’s in my business!”
“Then what are you gonna do?”
I don’t feel like discussin’ this anymore. I have to handle it my way. Mama has enough to worry about, and I truly hate the idea of becoming fodder for gossip. I don’t know what to do yet, but I’m not gonna figure it out right now, so it’s best to let it go and move on. She listened, which is what I needed. She can’t do anything beyond that.
“Maybe I’ll talk to Mama about it,” I lie, to end the conversation.
She sighs, instant relief. I think she still believes parents can take care of everything. Bless her heart.
We head for the door, and Anne stops to flip through a Life magazine. The woman behind the counter glares at her, cuz I’m sure she wants Anne to cough up the twenty cents instead of readin’ the whole thing in the store. Psh! I hope she stands there and reads
