The File on Angelyn Stark Read Free

step in. The cooler pulses, sending its own light.
    “I should have given you detention before.”
    Steve’s fingers twine with mine. His hand is wet.
    “Give it to me now,” I say.
    Mr. Rossi looks off. “Ms. Stark, you come see me after school.”
    I sink back on my heels. “Okay.”
    He faces the trash crew. “I need someone to pick up these cans.”
    Everyone but Jeni finds somewhere else to look.
    Mr. Rossi points to her. “Get them, please.”
    He leads the crew off as Jeni crouches by the truck scooping cans. I’m almost sorry for her. Our eyes meet. The look she gives makes me wish I’d hit her after all.

CHAPTER FOUR
    I push into the V building as everyone is pushing out. My boot heels ring like gunshots on the steps to the second floor.
You’re the best
, Steve said when we were alone. Down the hall to Mr. Rossi’s room, I play the words back.
    “Come in,” he says, like he’s been waiting.
    I check the clock. “I can’t stay long. I have to meet my mom.”
    Mr. Rossi points to a desk near his. “Sit.”
    I slide in. “Sorry for whatever.”
    “I hated seeing you like that,” he says.
    “Can you just give me the detention?”
    “You changed your shirt,” Mr. Rossi says.
    “Yes,” I say, like a question. “I keep an extra in my gym locker.”
    He stands. “I can still smell it on you.”
    In shock I watch him start down the length of the board. Erasing.
    “Smell what? Mr. Rossi, I do not stink.”
    He erases some more. “Beer. Did you drink your lunch?”
    I’ve showered. Brushed my teeth.
    “No,” I say, picking at my jeans.
    Mr. Rossi turns. “I saw the cooler. I know
you
didn’t bring it.”
    “If this is about Steve—” I stop.
    “You’re here and Coslow isn’t.” He sits on his desk. “Why is that?”
    “You told me to come.” I work to keep my voice steady.
    “You volunteered. He let you do that.”
    “However it went.”
    “Give yourself away and you’ll have nothing left.”
    Now I’m squirming. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
    “Is that what you say to Coslow? During those lunches?”
    I stare at him. “What?”
    Mr. Rossi curls his lip. “Rolling around in the back of some kid’s truck—”
    Face burning, I stand. “I’ll be there at detention.”
    “Whoa,” he says. “Angelyn, don’t take me wrong. Sit. Please.”
    I bite my lip. And sit.
    “You’re not in trouble. You don’t have detention. I only want to talk.”
    “About Steve? I won’t.”
    Mr. Rossi moves from his desk to one by me. I stare ahead.
    “You’re on a path it’s hard to turn back from,” he says.
    “You don’t know me to say that.”
    “I could be wrong. I hope I’m wrong.”
    I fold my arms. “You are.”
    “I saw what I saw. But I think you’re better than that.”
    “What makes me better?” I ask.
    “You’re smart. There’s more to you than people know. Am I right?”
    “I make C’s,” I say. “When I’m lucky.”
    “You could do better,” Mr. Rossi says. “Couldn’t you?”
    I look at him. “In elementary I made A’s. Check if you don’t believe me.”
    “I believe you. What was different in your life then?”
    “Oh.” No one’s ever asked. “There was a neighbor lady who helped me with my homework. Mrs. Daly. She used to be a teacher. I’d stop by her place after school.”
    Mr. Rossi nods. “And? What, she moved?”
    I swallow past a sour taste. “Yeah. And I guess I just grew up.”
    “It’s good you had someone like that. Do you now?”
    “No,” I say.
    He taps the desk. “I could help, if you’ll let me.”
    The late-afternoon sun is streaming in, baking the room. I watch the dust dance in the light.
    “Why would you want to?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve been like Coslow.”
    “Mr. Rossi—”
    “And I’ve been like you. Giving myself up.”
    I don’t know what to say.
    “Got ten minutes? I’ll tell you about Africa.”
    “I guess I do. But why Africa?”
    He smiles. “That’s the unit we’re