the killings began. Before the killings, it had been, Because I’m your mama and I said so.
After Ma stepped out of the dressing room to model the dress I’d just been dispatched to find, I asked whether I should be worried about the similarities between the latest victim and me. She looked under the other stalls before answering, because you never know.
“Worrying won’t help a thing, but you should always be aware.” I think as much to reassure herself as me, she added, “Whoever it is, he seems to want boys.”
“What about Angel?” I’d forgotten the rule about not discussing the murders around Bridgette, but Ma must have, too.
“I don’t think it’s the same person, whoever killed her.”
“So now there are two killers looking for kids?”
“No. I think Angel shouldn’t have been included with the boys. I think her murder was a one-time deal for whoever killed her, but it looks like the same killer or team of killers is going after the boys. They don’t want a girl, for whatever reason.”
Ma may have thought this gave me comfort, knowing that girls weren’t wanted, but it didn’t. Maybe Angel was only the first of the girls to be killed. Already six boys were dead. I didn’t tell her that her words hadn’t reassured me, knowing it made her feel better to think she’d put my mind at ease. Bridgette had been quiet while we talked, aware of a rare chance to hear about the case. When Ma requested a size ten in a different style, Bridgette didn’t remind us of her ability to pick a dress and safely return to the dressing room, offering instead to put the tried-on dresses back on the hangers.
Chapter Nine
I was grateful for the end of the school year, even though it didn’t look like I was going to have much of a summer vacation.
“You may have to go to public school in the fall.” Ma broke this news to me while she drove down I-75 as though it was an inconsequential matter and just a by the way .
“Why?”
“I can’t afford it. That scholarship you got from the Knights of Columbus was for only one year. As it is, I’m working extra jobs to make ends meet.”
I thought of the fur coat she got last winter though we live in a climate that made it impossible to wear fur ten months out of the year. When she’d brought it home, she said she got a big discount at the nice clothing store where she worked security, and besides, it was only fox. Our car was bought the year before, a brand-new Buick Regal. When Ma would pull up to my school in the West End wearing the fur coat and driving the new car, I felt good knowing my mother was the prettiest, best dressed of all the mothers, and sporting the nicest car. Her store discount and salary from extra jobs allowed her to buy me nice things too, and I loved showcasing them as much as she did. But now all I could wonder is whether the car note and the fur were all that separated me from the public school in our neighborhood.
“But I can’t just leave the new school in the middle of everything.”
“What everything? You’re between school years. I didn’t think this would be such a big deal. You’re always complaining about how you can’t stand those kids, how they’re all stuck-up and rich and racist. So what’s the problem?”
“I’m just thinking about getting into college.” I was also thinking how the high school in my district served not only the kids from my neighborhood, but from the nearby projects, too. How it had one of the highest teen pregnancy rates in the school system. I wasn’t exactly sure what this meant to me, but it was a statistic cited whenever TV news and newspaper articles gave proof that an inner-city school was both dangerous and ineffective. I thought about how soft I’d gotten in the last year, and how the hard kids would read my softness from a mile away.
“Well, if you want to go, you’ll have to make it happen.” Ma drove through traffic like she always did, weaving and speeding as if
After Ma stepped out of the dressing room to model the dress I’d just been dispatched to find, I asked whether I should be worried about the similarities between the latest victim and me. She looked under the other stalls before answering, because you never know.
“Worrying won’t help a thing, but you should always be aware.” I think as much to reassure herself as me, she added, “Whoever it is, he seems to want boys.”
“What about Angel?” I’d forgotten the rule about not discussing the murders around Bridgette, but Ma must have, too.
“I don’t think it’s the same person, whoever killed her.”
“So now there are two killers looking for kids?”
“No. I think Angel shouldn’t have been included with the boys. I think her murder was a one-time deal for whoever killed her, but it looks like the same killer or team of killers is going after the boys. They don’t want a girl, for whatever reason.”
Ma may have thought this gave me comfort, knowing that girls weren’t wanted, but it didn’t. Maybe Angel was only the first of the girls to be killed. Already six boys were dead. I didn’t tell her that her words hadn’t reassured me, knowing it made her feel better to think she’d put my mind at ease. Bridgette had been quiet while we talked, aware of a rare chance to hear about the case. When Ma requested a size ten in a different style, Bridgette didn’t remind us of her ability to pick a dress and safely return to the dressing room, offering instead to put the tried-on dresses back on the hangers.
Chapter Nine
I was grateful for the end of the school year, even though it didn’t look like I was going to have much of a summer vacation.
“You may have to go to public school in the fall.” Ma broke this news to me while she drove down I-75 as though it was an inconsequential matter and just a by the way .
“Why?”
“I can’t afford it. That scholarship you got from the Knights of Columbus was for only one year. As it is, I’m working extra jobs to make ends meet.”
I thought of the fur coat she got last winter though we live in a climate that made it impossible to wear fur ten months out of the year. When she’d brought it home, she said she got a big discount at the nice clothing store where she worked security, and besides, it was only fox. Our car was bought the year before, a brand-new Buick Regal. When Ma would pull up to my school in the West End wearing the fur coat and driving the new car, I felt good knowing my mother was the prettiest, best dressed of all the mothers, and sporting the nicest car. Her store discount and salary from extra jobs allowed her to buy me nice things too, and I loved showcasing them as much as she did. But now all I could wonder is whether the car note and the fur were all that separated me from the public school in our neighborhood.
“But I can’t just leave the new school in the middle of everything.”
“What everything? You’re between school years. I didn’t think this would be such a big deal. You’re always complaining about how you can’t stand those kids, how they’re all stuck-up and rich and racist. So what’s the problem?”
“I’m just thinking about getting into college.” I was also thinking how the high school in my district served not only the kids from my neighborhood, but from the nearby projects, too. How it had one of the highest teen pregnancy rates in the school system. I wasn’t exactly sure what this meant to me, but it was a statistic cited whenever TV news and newspaper articles gave proof that an inner-city school was both dangerous and ineffective. I thought about how soft I’d gotten in the last year, and how the hard kids would read my softness from a mile away.
“Well, if you want to go, you’ll have to make it happen.” Ma drove through traffic like she always did, weaving and speeding as if
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