I knew what movie she was talking about. I’d seen it twice. But I joined in with the others and stared at her blankly.
“Anyway, they finally meet at an ice rink and it’s snowing and they make out in the snow. You wouldn’t want that? I would. And if not snow then rain.”
“We can’t do snow or rain — think about your hair.” I took off my hood and rubbed the top of my head. “Look at Chelle.” Everyone turned to Rochelle, whose hair was now in that stage between natural and straightened. Puffs of tangled curls spiralled out from behind her ears while the part of her hair that was still straight lay flat atop the kinks, giving her a bizarre mushroom head. “She looks like a palm tree.”
“Fuck off,” said Rochelle, but then she touched the back of her head and glanced in Chris’s direction. “Wait, do I really, though?”
Anita nodded and Rochelle rushed to the washroom. I took another forkful of poutine and smiled at the gentle embarrassment I’d caused; no real harm was done, but the insult was enough to make Jordan snigger appreciatively, which earned me points.
No one said anything for a bit, each of us focusing on our forks, fighting each other for more cheese on our fries.
Then Aishani spoke. “Kara, I think Chris is looking at you.”
“And his boy Devon,” said Jordan.
I tried to keep my eyes from widening with alarm. “What?”
“Yeah, he’s been staring at you since we came in,” said Aishani.
“Maybe he’s just checkin’ for Chelle,” I said. “They always check for her.”
Rochelle returned to the table, her hair in a high ponytail with a thin black headband around her edges to hide the frizz. “What’s going on?”
“Chris and Devon are checking Kara out,” said Jordan.
“I don’t know what they’re talking about,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
Rochelle turned around and after a few seconds she looked back at me and giggled. “They’re checking you out for sure. You got eyes in your head?”
I didn’t know what to do. I looked at Rochelle for some sort of sign, some kind of wordless communication to signal how I was supposed to react in this situation, but she didn’t give me anything.
“Rhatid! Devon is smiling at you. Smile back, Kara,” said Jordan. “Or wave or something. He’s looking at you.”
“No he’s not,” I said again.
Anita spoke this time. “Well he won’t be checkin’ for you when you look so tore-up tore-up.”
“True,” said Rochelle. “Go to the bathroom. Pat down your braids, put on some makeup or something for once.” She rooted around in her knapsack and took out the makeup bag she hid from her mother. It was a slim case, pink and white with wide-petalled flower designs all over. She handed it to me. “Gwa’an, nuh.”
“I don’t know…”
They all shouted at me. “Gwa’an, nuh!”
The bathroom was small and kind of grimy. It only had two grey-doored stalls, and the white ceramic tile was yellowed and dirt-grubbed. The mirror above the sink was foggy, almost opaque; I could barely see my reflection much less use it as a guide to put on makeup. I was about to go back to the table when the door swung open and Devon walked in.
He was short for a guy but a good few inches taller than me. He had mahogany skin and a smooth, oval face, eyelashes longer than most girls’, and really broad shoulders; he could probably carry me around on his back. I thought about what my mother would say if she were standing where I was, how she’d raise her head and set her jaw, how her voice would echo around the room. But all I could say was, “You know this is the girls’ washroom, right?”
He smiled at me a little. “Your friends told me you were waiting for me in here.”
“What? No.”
“Your girl Rochelle said for me to come in here.”
I waited for him to say something else but he didn’t. There was only one door and he was standing right by it. I couldn’t imagine Rochelle telling him that, setting me up like that. I couldn’t even imagine Anita doing it. Our group could be hurtful but never cruel. Devon had to have come in on his own.
I headed toward the exit, but he shifted his weight so that he was in front of the door.
“I want to leave.” I hoped my voice sounded forceful enough.
“Why?” His tone was light, like he and I were playing a game. A sick, nerve-wracking game.
“Don’t be scared,” he said. I was scared, but I didn’t want him to know that. I wanted him to think I could hold my own. I wanted them all to think that.
He took a step closer to me. I took a step back. That made him chuckle and he leaned back against one of the stalls.
“Chris told me you were shy. I get it, let’s just go slow.”
“Chris doesn’t know anything about me.”
“He said you were the quiet one. Always chillin’ behind your girls. C’mon, don’t be so scared,” he said again.
Rushing toward the door crossed my mind, but if Devon managed to block me from leaving that would just make everything worse. I took a step forward, and he pushed off from the stall.
“My food is getting cold.”
He was only a foot or so away from me now.
“I bought it with the last of my allowance . . .”
“I’ll get you another one after.” He closed in on me, reaching up with his left hand, and pushed one of my braids off my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. My skin burned.
“I want to go.” I said it again.
“Don’t be like that.”
His thumb was under my chin, gently tilting it upward. I turned my head away.
“Kara — ”
I flinched at hearing him say my name and almost screamed when the door opened again. Devon looked behind him to see who’d come in, and I moved quickly past the girl at the door and hurried back to our table.
The chairs were empty, pushed out from the table; crumpled, gravy-stained napkins and empty Styrofoam containers littered the tabletop. I looked around but I couldn’t find Rochelle and the others anywhere in the store, and white was all I could see out the windows. Blue squiggles were on one of the napkins and I picked it up.
Sorry. Jordan’s handwriting.
I stared at it. They’d really left me. Devon sauntered back over to his corner, the swag in his step telling me that a lie had been whispered, that the girl from the washroom now had gossip to spread. I wasn’t so quiet anymore and everyone would know. Laughter boomed out from the corner. Devon’s friends were eyeing me and giving him props, nodding their heads in my direction. Only Chris seemed to be straight-faced and uninterested.