I shrug. ‘I don’t know, Miss Odeen. School is just … I don’t know if it’s for me.’
‘I understand you feel that way,’ she says. ‘But school does give you options, Evie.’
I pick at a rusty part of my chair. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, college, perhaps,’ she says. ‘I think you’d really enjoy it. You may change your mind about that, of course. But I do know having a high school diploma gives you choices.’
‘My mother thinks it’s the best choice for a young girl to get married and settle down with a nice guy,’ I say, before stopping to think back on our conversation and wondering what my mother really thinks now. ‘I mean, that’s what she’s always told me I should do. That’s what my sister did.’
Miss Odeen smiles, switches the cross of her legs at the ankles, and pauses. ‘There’s nothing wrong with getting married,’ she says. ‘I think I’d like it. One day.’
I wonder if Miss Odeen has a boyfriend, but of course, I’d never ask. I also wonder if Grandma and Mama are peering through the windows behind us, spying. I’m tempted to turn and look, but I don’t.
A car rumbles past, and a cardinal flies down, perches on the sidewalk, and pecks at something frantically before flying away. Miss Odeen takes a deep breath, like she has all the time in the world to sit with me. Maybe she does.
‘I really can’t believe you ever got in trouble when you were younger, Miss Odeen,’ I say. ‘I truly can’t. You’re always so … put together.’ I blush.
Miss Odeen laughs a high, tinkly laugh. ‘Tell that to my mother,’ she responds, but she doesn’t elaborate. Then she says, ‘Evie, listen, do you have a study hall?’
‘Yes, during sixth period,’ I say. Students are supposed to go to the library or the auditorium during that time and, well, study, I suppose. I usually spend it smoking with the girls behind the gymnasium or putting my head down and taking a nap at one of the big library tables.
‘Excellent,’ says Miss Odeen. ‘I don’t have a class at that time. I was wondering if I could talk you into being a sort of teaching assistant for me. You know, helping me organize my papers, grade vocabulary quizzes, that sort of thing.’
It’s not uncommon for teachers to ask upperclassmen to do this, to be a teacher’s aide. But I don’t know anyone in my grade who does it, and certainly not anyone in my crowd. I picture sitting in Miss Odeen’s bright and organized classroom, stacking papers, sharpening pencils, maybe scrubbing her desks clean. I imagine the two of us talking to each other while we work. I also imagine the other girls and what they might say about this offer, but something tells me they’ll understand. Or maybe I just don’t mind too much how they’ll react.
‘I’ll think about it,’ I say. ‘I’ll let you know for sure when I’m back at school.’
‘Wonderful,’ she says. ‘I hope that will be soon.’
‘It will be,’ I say, and I know as I say it that it’s true.
‘Well,’ she says, standing and handing me the coffee cup, ‘I should be heading home. Will you please tell your mother and grandmother it was lovely to meet them both?’
‘Sure,’ I say, taking the cup in hand. There’s a bright pink kiss stamped on the side of the white cup. ‘Your lipstick is such a pretty color.’
‘Thank you,’ says Miss Odeen. ‘It’s Revlon’s Cherries in the Snow. It’s actually something of a ridiculous name if you think about it too much, especially when you live in Houston, where there’s rarely any snow.’ She peers at me. ‘You don’t have your eye makeup on like you normally do.’
‘I’ve been too tired to bother, I guess,’ I say. ‘My friend Juanita next door was the one who taught me how to do it.’ I feel a prick of guilt that I’ve pushed my friends away lately, and I glance over at the Barajas house again for a moment, wondering when I’ll see Juanita and the others, and how that will ever happen.
‘Well, I like your makeup,’ she says, heading down the porch steps. ‘I don’t think I could pull it off, but you can. It’s very daring!’ I grin, wondering what Grandma might think of Miss Odeen’s opinion.
‘Miss Odeen,’ I say as she reaches the sidewalk. She turns to look at me, smiling softly. ‘Thanks so much for coming to visit me.’
‘Of course, Evie,’ she says. ‘Please take care of yourself, and please don’t forget about sixth period, all right?’
‘I won’t forget.’
Later that day while I’m watching television, Juanita and Connie and Sunny appear on my front porch, peering in through the screen door.
‘Your mother said you’re ready for us,’ yells Connie through the screen. ‘So we’re here.’
Just then, Grandma comes in from the kitchen, and you can tell she’s holding her tongue.
‘Would you like your friends to come inside and sit?’ she asks.
Confused, I stare at my grandmother, then back out onto the porch. A small smile appears on my face, and on hers, too.
‘Your mother went next door while you were napping and before she left to run some errands,’she says. ‘She told Juanita you wanted to see your friends.’
My smile grows wider, and a warm feeling of happiness floods over me.
‘Thanks, Grandma,’ I say, getting up off the couch. ‘I’ll just go outside.’
As I step onto the porch, I suddenly feel shy. ‘Hey,’ I say. Even though it’s only been just over a week, I’ve gotten used to being alone and inside my own head. I feel a pang remembering the last time my friends came for me and I turned them away. Still, looking at Connie’s face and Sunny’s face and Juanita’s face, my heart swells.
If they’re upset about last time, they don’t show it. They’ve waited for me until I was ready.
‘Hey, kid,’ says Connie, and she punches me gently on the shoulder, smiling wide enough to reveal her cracked incisor. ‘We thought maybe you were never going to leave the house again.’
‘I thought so, too, for a little bit,’ I say, rubbing my shoulder with a small laugh.
‘You wanna go sit on my back steps?’ asks Juanita. ‘Out of sight of old grandma?’ She winks.
‘Yeah, sounds good,’ I say, sensing a lightness in my feet as we start walking. ‘I’m crazy for a cigarette, now that I think about it.’
‘I’m not sure you should be smoking,’ says Sunny with a serious look on her face. ‘You were in the hospital.’
‘Okay, Mom,’ says Connie, sassing Sunny like she does. But then she pauses and studies me, her eyes suddenly clouded with worry. ‘I don’t know, though. Maybe you shouldn’t have one, Evie. Maybe Sunny’s right.’
Sunny’s eyes go wide at this. ‘Does anyone have a pencil? I need to write this date down. The day Connie said I was right. It won’t happen again until we’re at least twenty-five.’
Everyone cuts up and starts laughing as we head toward Juanita’s back steps, scoot and sit close to one another, and light up our smokes.