Chapter Thirty-Six
DISCONNECTED
On a Saturday in September, a sunny and bright day, Tracy sat at the window of her bedroom in Area Place. A science book rested, open but unread, on the sill. The window was pushed up to let in fresh air, but its porous metal screen kept Tracy separated from the outside world. In one place, the screen was cut, so a right-angle flap of the wiry mesh curled open—a refreshing and direct link with the outside. At one point, Tracy fingered the curled flap and thought briefly about it. It had always been there, and she wondered who had cut it and why.
Area Place was alive with noises—car horns, conversations from pedestrians, music from passing cars. Tracy couldn’t see the activity, but she heard it, for her window was at the back of the apartment building, and while there was a sidewalk back there, few people used it and hardly anyone congregated in view. Earlier, when it was still morning, Pretty Boy, Drexel, Patrick and Short Fat Bobbie had stopped by the front door, on their way to the playground. Tracy had been ecstatic to see them but didn’t join them. She had too much homework, she’d told them, and her mother had grounded her for not cleaning the kitchen the night before. The second explanation was a lie, but she couldn’t tell them the truth—that she was afraid to run into Virginia Daggett. The only one she would have told, Scooby, had not been with them, and when Tracy asked where he was, the boys said he had been spending most of his time with Sheree.
At least two hours had passed since the boys stopped by. Since then, Tracy had watched Saturday cartoons, listened to Sade on the headphones, and tried to do a homework assignment. She would have phoned someone—she had LaKisha Thomas’ number, and there was always Tree—but Mama’s phone was disconnected. So now, as she sat at the window, Tracy sighed and nursed the irrational thought that no one in Area Place liked her anymore. But then, much to her excitement, two girls came along the sidewalk behind the apartment. Scratchy laughter announced their approach. Tracy looked, curious, then brightened when she saw the girl with the gold nose ring and thick wide hips.
“Tree!”
The girl swiveled her head, still in the midst of laughter, and without a change in expression or mood began walking toward Tracy’s window. Tracy noticed Tree’s reaction, the lack of special excitement they used to share upon seeing each other, and was hurt by it. The girl who was with Tree, someone Tracy did not know, lingered on the sidewalk and peered at Tracy without expression.
In moments, Tree stood in the grass beneath the window.
“Hey,” said Tracy, smiling. Yes, she and Tree were no longer friends, really, but in that moment she was glad to see anybody.
“Girl, where you been?”
“What you mean? You know I’m at my aunt.”
“I know that. But don’t you come home on Saturday?”
“Fridays.”
“Don’t nobody see you,” remarked Tree. “What? You too good to be wit’ us now?”
Tracy searched her ex-friend’s face. She knew Tree well enough to recognize what she saw. This was not their usual playful back-and-forth; Tree was serious. Tracy was so hurt by the realization, so surprised by it, that she could only laugh once weakly and scoff, “Now, Tree, you know me better than that.”
Tree sucked her teeth, lifted her brow, and sighed with affected boredom. Tracy understood the gestures. It was Tree’s anyway expression, and in this case it meant Tree wanted to end the conversation and go. Tree looked back at the girl waiting on the sidewalk. Tracy looked at the girl, too, and knew for sure she had never seen her before, but she looked like a girl who would cuss somebody out for no reason—the type of girl, Tracy realized, Tree must have preferred for a friend. Something inside of Tracy died, and she looked at Tree with the resignation of one about to close the lid of a coffin over a friend’s face.
“Well, don’t let me hold you up,” Tracy offered.
“Ah’ight.”
And then Tree was gone. Tracy left the window and closed it, pulling the science book from the sill. She fell across the bed and felt a pressure in her throat that was the desire to cry, but then she remembered Beck and the fact that she was part of the school’s Important People, and suddenly the choking sensation went away. She didn’t need Tree, a drug-dealing, nose-ring girl from the ghetto. Didn’t need a friend with a funky attitude, because she belonged to the basketball team. She belonged to Miz Grace! And remembering that made Tracy smile and try, again, to focus on the science homework she should have completed hours ago.