I cross my arms to hold myself tighter. The word group brings me back to Wednesday meetings inside a church basement. Memories I try hard to block out.
“But I’m clean,” I say with a shaky voice. And it’s true. Well, mostly.
Mom takes a deep breath. “Marigold, I love you. I also know you. And with the kids . . . we cannot have another incident like back home. I won’t put Sammy through it. Again.”
Using Sammy . . . a low blow. But I can’t argue. That’s the thing that happens once you’ve OD’ed. You lose the trust of everyone and it feels impossible to get it back.
With a sigh, I grab the cup and head for the bathroom. The test is going to be negative, but just the thought that Mom felt she had to give it to me cuts deeper than a knife, burning me alive.
Seventeen
THE GARDEN CLUB secured another donation for the beautification project in Maplewood. Today we are planting orange mums by the elementary school, in honor of Halloween. Ms. Fern said it was to inspire trick-or-treaters. The room’s only response was silence.
Yusef attacks the patch of earth with his pick, uprooting and hacking anything in his way. I follow with large garbage bags, collecting trash and weeds. He works fast, trying to dig himself a hole straight to middle-earth. He hits a rock, deep in the soil. The pick rings like a bell, forcing him to stop and catch his breath.
“You okay?” I finally ask.
“Oh, I’m straight,” he says with a sad laugh. “Except for the fact that my mom, dad, brother, and now E are all up at Big Ville and I’m just . . . here.”
“Sorry, Yuey.” And it’s true. I feel so deeply sorry for him. But even more so for E. Mom’s right, I’m only friends with people to get what I want, what I need. Yusef for his tools, Erika for her weed.
Yusef cracks a smile. “Told you not to call me that.”
“Yeah, but I feel the need to fill Erika’s shoes. Not that I ever could.”
“You don’t have to. I like you just as you are.” His mouth curls up into a charming boyish smirk. No longer feeling worthy of his kindness, I turn away. This is all my fault. I cost a friend her freedom. But I can’t tell Yusef that. Knowing what the Sterling Foundation is capable of, who knows what they’d do. I won’t risk his life too.
“It was worth a shot,” I mumble, stuffing more trash into a bag.
He squats down to rip up a handful of ragweed and shakes his head.
“She would’ve never brought that shit to school. I’ve known her my whole life; she wouldn’t do something that stupid.” He sighs. “They planted that shit on her. No question. Not that I can prove it.”
Guilt floods my stomach and I’m ready to vomit anything that will relieve the pressure.
“My mom thinks I’m still an addict,” I say, throwing more trash into the bag.
Yusef freezes, neck craning in my direction. To his credit, he tries his best to mask the shock, but I know this revelation was a sledgehammer to the idea he’s painted in his head about me.
“Well . . . are you?” he asks in a measured voice.
“I haven’t touched the Percs in months, and I don’t plan on it. Problem is no one believes me.”
He stands up, taking off his work gloves, and dusts off his shirt. “Maybe ’cause you keep lying, even to yourself.”
I scoff. “Dude, I’m fine. I’ve changed, seriously, but weed, weed is nothing more than a plant. Like, medicinal therapy. Not even that dangerous.”
“But have you actually tried giving it all up?”
“It’s not that simple,” I say, flustered. “I have these weird episodes and the medication I used to take back in Cali . . . just made me a foggy mess.”
“And weed makes you a lying mess if you have to sneak around to do it.”
It wasn’t intentional, but being called a mess has an icy bite to it, enough to make me shiver.
“Weed . . . it really just stabilizes me,” I start, trying to find a way to explain what feels so hard to put into words. “In, like, a way better way than those meds did. I have really bad anxiety. And if it was legal—”
“But it’s not!” he shouts. “And anxiety? What you got to be anxious about? You have both your parents, ones with good-ass jobs, food in your fridge, a free house . . . no one around here got it as easy as you! They have a real-ass excuse to be strung out!”
I narrow my eyes, breathing flames. “Yusef, ‘I have anxiety’ is a full and complete statement. I don’t have to explain the what and why to you!”
We glare at one another until the anger starts to fade from his eyes.
“You right. My bad, I guess.”
Aside from wanting to smash his face into the ground, I’m pretty proud I stood up for myself, just like my guru taught me. Anxiety is a real thing. I wouldn’t be this way for shits and giggles.
Yusef sighs. “Look, I hear you and all, but that shit locked up my whole family. My whole neighborhood, gone just like that. Folks still ain’t right. We’ve lost everything, and I can’t lose you too, because I like you!”
Heads snap in our direction, the entire garden club zeroing in. My mouth drops open and I quickly swivel away, trying to find something to do with my hands to ease the grossly embarrassing moment.
“Oh, I . . . um . . .”
Yusef winces. “Uh, I mean, not like you like that. I’m saying, you cute and all, but . . .” He takes a breath. “Okay, this is gonna sound . . . weird.”
I snort. “Weird? In Weirdville? This must be good.”
“You’re, like, the first regular friend, that’s a girl, that I’ve ever really had. Well, besides E, and she don’t really count.”
“Imma tell her you said that,” I laugh.
He smirks, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s just that . . . all the girls here, they all want something.”
“Ha! Dude, humblebrag much?”
“Nah, I’m serious,” he says, seeming torn. “You know the statistics here after them Sterling Laws. Fifteen to one. I can’t even look at a girl longer than ten seconds without her thinking we’re together. I’ve even had girls claim they were pregnant, trying to trap me, when it’s just impossible.”
“Well, anything is possible, especially when you’re having sex!” I laugh. “Unless you’re not; then I guess that would explain it.”
Yusef turns away, snatching up the pick. I cock my head to the side.
“Wait, are you seriously telling me you’re a virgin?”
He shrugs, not meeting my eye.
“You mean, with all these girls . . . dude, you are literally sitting in a gold mine with blue balls! Treat yourself! No one would blame you. What’s the holdup?”
He shrugs. “I dunno. I want to wait. For someone special.”
“Yeah, right! I know guys who would kill to be in your shoes.”
He eyes me. “Cali, not all guys are the same. Trust me on that.”
We work in silence for a while and it feels good, just working with the earth, not thinking about school, Erika, Piper, the Sterling Foundation, or our creepy-ass house . . . until I glance at my watch.
“Shit. I have to go! Gotta stop by the library before it closes so I can finish and print my lit essay for tomorrow.”