If I Tell - By Janet Gurtler Page 0,64

about what I’d been carrying around. How I’d been thinking about nothing but Simon and my mom for the last few months.

“You did this to yourself, Jaz. No one did it to you. And I’m really surprised.” I bit my lip trying not to cry. “I gotta say I’m more than a little disappointed in you.”

“Well you’re not the only one, okay? I was mad. I got carried away.” I brushed back a curl from my face and stared at a crack in the floor.

“So how exactly does someone fake being white?” Ashley asked in a proper tone.

“It was stupid. I didn’t mean it.”

“Do you think it really matters that he looks white?” I bit my lip, trying not to cry.

“Well, do you?” she asked.

I frowned and looked up at her, not used to this side of Ashley. “It does to some people.”

“But are those the people you care about, Jaz? The question is, does it matter to you?”

I sighed and looked up at her. At the unfamiliar glint in her eyes. Disappointment. Disappointment with me.

“It feels like he has it easier or something.”

“You mean easier than you?”

“Fine. Okay. You’re right. I’m jealous. He fits in. He looks like everyone else.” I looked around the hallway, wishing a teacher would come and chase us away, but where were they when you needed them?

“You think I’m not okay because I’m not like everyone else.”

“No. No. That’s not what I meant.” I ran my fingers through my hair and scratched at my head.

“So tell me what you meant.”

“I don’t know. I feel bad. Okay? I shouldn’t have said that to him. He has a black heritage as much as I do. I know that.” I jutted my chin out. “But the drug part is true,” I said, wanting to be right about something. “I’ve heard him making deals on his phone. Anyhow, he has a girlfriend, so why does he even care what I think?” I stepped away from Ashley, ready to move on, to hide in the library and block out this conversation. I wanted to be alone. I’d been without friends before. I could certainly do it again.

Ashley jumped in front of me, blocking my way. When I tried to wiggle by, she grabbed me. “You know what? It’s not the color thing. Or even the drug thing. It’s the girlfriend thing that’s made you crazy. You’re totally jealous.”

The bell rang as I opened my mouth to tell her she was wrong. In other words, to lie some more.

She cursed under her breath. “I can’t miss geography. I have an exam. I have to go.” She let me go but frowned and shook her finger in my face. “We need to talk. Can you meet me later?”

I shrugged.

“Text me. I’ll miss my swim practice if I have to.” She turned and started to run. “Hey,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried off in the opposite direction. “What did your mom name your brother?”

“She didn’t yet,” I called back. “He’s still generic.”

“Still?”

She frowned but disappeared around a corner as she dashed toward her classroom. I lifted my earbuds to tune out the world again, but before I slipped them in my ears, my cell vibrated. I checked call display. It was my mom. Again.

I picked up the phone.

“Jaz. Help me,” she cried into the phone. “Come quick. I think I’m dying.”

chapter seventeen

I ran up the front steps of Mom’s house and unlocked the door. “Mom!” I shouted, flicking off my running shoes on the front doormat.

Muffled baby cries wailed from upstairs like an alarm. My heart thumped, and I almost wished I’d never picked up her phone call so I didn’t have to deal with this. Sure, I was worried about her, but I knew she wasn’t dying. I also knew she wasn’t okay.

“Mom.”

There was no answer. The baby shrieks didn’t stop, so I dashed up the stairs, following the noise to the baby’s room.

I stopped in the doorway. Mom sat hunched over in her rocking chair beside the crib, her hands covering her ears. Her hair was greasy and dirty. It hung down in her eyes as she rocked herself back and forth as if she was in a trance. The baby lay in his crib, screeching and clearly unhappy at being ignored.

“Mom?”

She didn’t even look up. My heartbeat echoed louder in my ears.

“Shouldn’t you do something about the baby’s crying?”

She rocked harder. She didn’t make eye contact with me but just shook her head back and forth,