The File on Angelyn Stark Read Free Page A

studying in class.”
    “Oh.” I grin. “I knew that.”
    Mr. Rossi tells me to turn my desk to his. He talks about Africa and AIDS, about the starving people and the economy. He says that his mother was there with the Peace Corps in the 1970s, and he tells me about a trip he made with her when he was only seventeen—
It was beautiful, Angelyn
. I listen to him like I never do in class. I almost forget why I’m here. Almost.
    Mr. Rossi asks if I’ve understood everything.
    “Yes,” I tell him. “Thanks. I want to travel sometime. And see things.”
    He motions me up. “Then you will.”
    We put the desks in line.
    “I want to do those things, Mr. Rossi. But I don’t know how I can. I’m not going to college or anything. Mom’s never been out of state. Neither have I.”
    “When I was student-teaching in the Bay Area,” he says, “I had a student join the Coast Guard. They sent her everywhere. All over the world. She loved it.”
    “Coast Guard?” First time I’ve heard those words together.
    “I can tell you more another time,” he says, back behind his desk.
    I gather my stuff. “You’d do that?”
    “Sure I would. Now, you will get that homework done.”
    “I will, Mr. Rossi.”
    “Okay. I’ll be expecting it.”
    I stop at the door. “The thing with Steve, and the beer—”
    He waits.
    “It’s not what we do every day.”
    “That’s good to know,” Mr. Rossi says. “Oh, and, Angelyn?”
    “Yes?”
    “Tell Genius not to bring that stuff anywhere near school.”
    “It won’t be a problem.” I leave smiling.

CHAPTER FIVE
    I lied to Mr. Rossi. I don’t
have
to meet my mother. Not right away.
    After I leave him, I head toward town instead of the bus yard, where Mom works as a dispatcher. Town is three blocks uphill, and I reach the top hungry. Down Main Street I stop at a food cart by the park for a hot dog and Coke. Paying, I see two skate kids watching me while they toe their boards. The bigger boy says something about “boobs,” and the smaller one palms his chest. When they see
me
watching
them
, they giggle together like a pair of first-grade girls.
    They need to be squelched.
    “That isn’t cool,” I say, down to the bench where the boys are kicking it.
    The bigger one fades, but the smaller kid is grinning. “What isn’t?” he asks.
    “Saying stuff about some girl.” I look at each of them. “Some
older
girl.”
    “Sorry,” the big boy says, eyes down.
    “You should be.”
    “What are you going to do with that hot dog?” the little one asks.
    Not believing it, I stare. A dirty grin splits his face. The kid is maybe eleven.
    “You’re too young to know,” I tell him.
    “You’re beautiful. Both of us think so.”
    “Yeah?” The boys nod. “Go and play with your boards.”
    The little one starts a spin with his toes. “You going to watch us?”
    “I might. If my hot dog gets boring.”
    The park is small and shaped like a bike wheel, spokes out from a cobblestone center, old oaks and pine trees keeping it shaded. I settle on a bench on the spoke opposite the boys and get to eating.
    You’re smart
, Mr. Rossi said. Mrs. Daly used to say it. That makes two.
    The shadows grow long. The skate kids leave. I watch the traffic, keeping an eye out for Mom’s truck.
    I see Jeni before she sees me, hurrying toward the park from deeper downtown.
Keep going
, I think, but when she stops, I say hey.
    Jeni nods from the sidewalk. “Hi.” Lukewarm.
    Coming in, she takes the bench the boys left.
    “You know what time it is?” I call.
    Jeni checks her watch. “Quarter to five.”
    I rub my arms. It’s getting cold. I check the traffic. Still no Mom.
    “Waiting for someone?” I ask.
    She huddles in her jacket. “I think maybe I missed them.”
    I toss the hot dog wrapper and soda cup in the nearest can and cross to her.
    “Tell me about Mrs. Daly.”
    Jeni is stiff as I sit. “She’s in a wheelchair. I don’t know why.”
    “That sucks. Mrs. Daly always liked