mean what I think she means? I close my lock with a sharp click.
"You live close, right?"
"Not real close. Three blocks."
"That's close. I could come over for a little while."
What can I say? Tanya isn't somebody you can even seem like you're disrespecting and get away with it. "My house is pretty dull."
"That's okay."
"I mean
really
dull."
"I don't mind."
It's pretty obvious that nothing I can say is going to change her mind. I don't know why, but she wants to come home with me. I have to let her.
We walk down Concord Street and under the train bridge. Tanya is stomping on the edges of ice along the sidewalk, making a crunchy sound. She can walk and stomp the ice and look around at everything and talk nonstopâall at the same time. Me, I'm watching out for Alonzo. We turn up Moore Street past the Japanese restaurant, and I figure we're out of his range. Now I can breathe.
Tanya leans against me a little. "Your parents won't be home, will they?"
"I don't know. They work odd hours. One of them could be."
"So what would they say?"
"About what?"
"Guys don't usually bring girls home unless it's their girlfriend, you know? They might freak, seeing me."
"Because of your lip ring?"
"That's funny. You know what I mean." She touches her face.
"They won't care that you're black."
"African American."
"Sorry, African American. They're pretty liberal."
"Maybe they're liberal about other people, but not when it comes to their own kid. That happens a lot."
"No, they'll like you. They'll be happy I'm bringing anybody home. I could bring home Ben and he could be calling everybody Nazi and they'd say, 'It's nice you're making friends, Devon.'"
"So I'm just
anybody!
"
"No, you're not anybodyâI mean, you're somebody, and they'll like you."
Nobody's home.
I can tell because neither of their cars is in the driveway or the garage. Still, when we get inside, I call out for them, pretending they could be there.
Tanya drops her book bag against the hall wall. "Nice place. What do your folks do?"
"Mom's a divorce lawyer. Dad owns a funeral home."
"A funeral home?"
"Yeah, he embalms people for a living. Wait here, okay? I'll only be a minute."
She walks behind me to the stairs. "I want to see your room."
"No ... I mean, it's nothing specialâjust a room."
"I still want to see it."
"It's kind of messy."
She looks at me with a little tilt of her head."
Your
room, messy? I don't believe it."
"I'll be down in a minute, really."
"Is this another thing of yours?"
A thing? I guess it is. Mom says I have "tendencies," now Tanya says I have "things." "It's just that I haven't had anybody in my room."
"Nobody? Ever?"
"Yeah, but it's only been two months since we moved here. The cleaner doesn't even go in."
"How about your parents?"
"Mom does sometimes. Dad usually stays out."
"It's like your personal space, right?"
"Right."
"That's coolâI can relate."
I start up the stairs, but hearing her behind me, I stop and turn around.
"I'll just look from the doorway. I won't even put a toe inside. How's that?"
We go upstairs and I open up my bedroom door. I hang my book bag on the wall hook and then sit at my desk. Usually I turn on my computer and then take a shower while it's booting up. Today I just sit there.
Tanya's standing at the doorway. Only her head is sticking in. "This is like being in a museum where they rope off a room and you can only look in."
"I don't think anybody would want to see my bedroom, Tanya."
"Sure they would. It's the kind of room all parents want their kid to have."
"My dad thinks I keep it too neat. One time back in Amherst he took TV away for a weekend because I had my shirts lined up by their colors in my closet."
"He took away TV for that?"
"Not just for that."
"What else?"
I don't usually talk about this stuff to other kids. Actually I never talk about this. It's nobody else's business. So why am I now? I'll have to think about that tonight. Right now Tanya's waiting
"You live close, right?"
"Not real close. Three blocks."
"That's close. I could come over for a little while."
What can I say? Tanya isn't somebody you can even seem like you're disrespecting and get away with it. "My house is pretty dull."
"That's okay."
"I mean
really
dull."
"I don't mind."
It's pretty obvious that nothing I can say is going to change her mind. I don't know why, but she wants to come home with me. I have to let her.
We walk down Concord Street and under the train bridge. Tanya is stomping on the edges of ice along the sidewalk, making a crunchy sound. She can walk and stomp the ice and look around at everything and talk nonstopâall at the same time. Me, I'm watching out for Alonzo. We turn up Moore Street past the Japanese restaurant, and I figure we're out of his range. Now I can breathe.
Tanya leans against me a little. "Your parents won't be home, will they?"
"I don't know. They work odd hours. One of them could be."
"So what would they say?"
"About what?"
"Guys don't usually bring girls home unless it's their girlfriend, you know? They might freak, seeing me."
"Because of your lip ring?"
"That's funny. You know what I mean." She touches her face.
"They won't care that you're black."
"African American."
"Sorry, African American. They're pretty liberal."
"Maybe they're liberal about other people, but not when it comes to their own kid. That happens a lot."
"No, they'll like you. They'll be happy I'm bringing anybody home. I could bring home Ben and he could be calling everybody Nazi and they'd say, 'It's nice you're making friends, Devon.'"
"So I'm just
anybody!
"
"No, you're not anybodyâI mean, you're somebody, and they'll like you."
Nobody's home.
I can tell because neither of their cars is in the driveway or the garage. Still, when we get inside, I call out for them, pretending they could be there.
Tanya drops her book bag against the hall wall. "Nice place. What do your folks do?"
"Mom's a divorce lawyer. Dad owns a funeral home."
"A funeral home?"
"Yeah, he embalms people for a living. Wait here, okay? I'll only be a minute."
She walks behind me to the stairs. "I want to see your room."
"No ... I mean, it's nothing specialâjust a room."
"I still want to see it."
"It's kind of messy."
She looks at me with a little tilt of her head."
Your
room, messy? I don't believe it."
"I'll be down in a minute, really."
"Is this another thing of yours?"
A thing? I guess it is. Mom says I have "tendencies," now Tanya says I have "things." "It's just that I haven't had anybody in my room."
"Nobody? Ever?"
"Yeah, but it's only been two months since we moved here. The cleaner doesn't even go in."
"How about your parents?"
"Mom does sometimes. Dad usually stays out."
"It's like your personal space, right?"
"Right."
"That's coolâI can relate."
I start up the stairs, but hearing her behind me, I stop and turn around.
"I'll just look from the doorway. I won't even put a toe inside. How's that?"
We go upstairs and I open up my bedroom door. I hang my book bag on the wall hook and then sit at my desk. Usually I turn on my computer and then take a shower while it's booting up. Today I just sit there.
Tanya's standing at the doorway. Only her head is sticking in. "This is like being in a museum where they rope off a room and you can only look in."
"I don't think anybody would want to see my bedroom, Tanya."
"Sure they would. It's the kind of room all parents want their kid to have."
"My dad thinks I keep it too neat. One time back in Amherst he took TV away for a weekend because I had my shirts lined up by their colors in my closet."
"He took away TV for that?"
"Not just for that."
"What else?"
I don't usually talk about this stuff to other kids. Actually I never talk about this. It's nobody else's business. So why am I now? I'll have to think about that tonight. Right now Tanya's waiting
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