Sweet Peril
Page 25
I wouldn’t cry in front of Zania. I closed my eyes tight and tried to shut out the memory of those images.
“You are ill?” Zania asked from the doorway. I shook my head, wishing I could stand.
“Sometimes I get . . . overwhelmed by all the pain,” I explained.
Zania stared down at me with her awesome mane of black waves like I was the strangest creature she’d ever seen. I wanted her to think I was strong and worthy of aligning herself with, but I felt weak. I fumbled for the tissues. Zania pulled out two sheets and handed them to me before squatting at my side. I blotted my dampened, scratchy eyes.
Her gaze searched me for any sign of falsehood or insincerity as I blew my nose. “You helped me last night,” she said.
“We tried. But that guy worked fast.”
Zania peered at the floor and let her hair fall, blocking her face. Her hand shook.
“You held me like a mother,” she said.
“I was glad to be there for you.” I gave her my warmest heartfelt look. “I have to leave today. I wish I could stay or take you with me. I came here to bring you the good news and I hope when the time is right you’ll be an ally.”
“How can a woman like me help? I do not bother with self-control as you do. Look”—she held out a shaking hand—“even now I tremble for the poison my body craves. And it helps me face my tasks. It numbs the hatred.”
I closed my eyes. I understood that. I really did.
“You’ll get yourself killed if you keep drinking.”
“I do not care.”
“But I do.” I grabbed her hands in mine and spoke with all the earnest conviction in my heart. “Think of all the little girls the Dukes will have in future generations. Girls who will grow up without the love of a mother. Girls who are doomed to hate their lives. We can change that, Zania! I don’t know how, but I know it can happen in our lifetime. We need you. All I ask is that you keep yourself alive and be ready. Please.”
I felt her hands shaking in mine. Her eyes were wet.
“I need a drink,” she said in a small voice. A bitter laugh followed from far in her throat.
“No,” I choked out. I couldn’t very well send her to rehab or stay by her side to nurse her through detox. What I was asking her to do was nearly impossible and we both knew it.
“All things are possible,” I whispered, just as much for my own benefit as hers. I leaned forward and we hugged. She was breathing hard, clinging to me with the same grasping urgency she had the night before.
“My sister,” I murmured. “You can do it.”
Fall
Senior Year
CHAPTER EIGHT
LONDON
I received a text message from Dad during the homecoming football game, telling me to check my email. I ditched my school-spirited party crew in the bleachers and took off for home. Dad had hooked me up with a supersecure server last year for our communications. My hands actually shook as I fired it up.
Patti came in my room, looking surprised to see me.
“It’s from Dad,” I told her. She stood over my shoulder and read along.
I have another prospect, but the timing hasn’t worked out yet. In the meantime I want you and Kopano to go to London to inform the girls. Your itinerary is attached.
Sweet! I was going to see the twins! I printed my itinerary and deleted the email. Patti squeezed me tight from behind as I grinned.
A week later, in the middle of October, I was skipping school to fly to England. I sent Jay and Veronica a vague message telling them I’d be out for a few days doing some stuff for my dad. I could tell them where I’d gone when I got home, even though mentioning Marna might not be a good idea with those two.
Kope flew down from Boston and met me at the departure gate for our flight from Atlanta. I could hardly contain my excitement as we boarded the plane, and Kope seemed to be lighthearted, as well. Our last trip had been so stressful, but this one had a different feeling.
I looked forward to sitting next to Kope during the flight since we hadn’t on the way to Syria. Being the diligent do-gooders we were, we both took out our schoolwork after takeoff.
I turned to Kope and found him watching me, a heavy book open on his lap. It was always a little startling to discover his serious eyes on me, and he must have sensed my surprise because he gave a shy smile and let his attention fall back to his book.
After several hours I needed a break from math problems and history facts. I laid all my stuff in the open seat between Kope and me. He closed his book and laid it with mine.
I looked down at his texts. Population and Development Studies. Biological Studies in Public Health. His eyes were on his hands as he rubbed his palms back and forth. I wished I knew how to make him more comfortable around me. He used to be more open, but lately it was like he was too careful.
“How much longer do you have in college?” I asked him.
“This is my final year.”
“Oh, wow, that seems fast.”
He glanced down at his books. “It will be two semesters early. I’ve taken classes every summer.”
A small grin formed on my lips when he said “semestahs” and “summah.” His accent was beautiful, with similar sounds to Jamaican English and the Queen’s English, but something all its own. I watched him with avid curiosity before he caught my eye and looked down at his light-brownish-pink palms.
“And what are you studying?” I asked, bending one leg up in the seat and positioning myself to face him.
“You are ill?” Zania asked from the doorway. I shook my head, wishing I could stand.
“Sometimes I get . . . overwhelmed by all the pain,” I explained.
Zania stared down at me with her awesome mane of black waves like I was the strangest creature she’d ever seen. I wanted her to think I was strong and worthy of aligning herself with, but I felt weak. I fumbled for the tissues. Zania pulled out two sheets and handed them to me before squatting at my side. I blotted my dampened, scratchy eyes.
Her gaze searched me for any sign of falsehood or insincerity as I blew my nose. “You helped me last night,” she said.
“We tried. But that guy worked fast.”
Zania peered at the floor and let her hair fall, blocking her face. Her hand shook.
“You held me like a mother,” she said.
“I was glad to be there for you.” I gave her my warmest heartfelt look. “I have to leave today. I wish I could stay or take you with me. I came here to bring you the good news and I hope when the time is right you’ll be an ally.”
“How can a woman like me help? I do not bother with self-control as you do. Look”—she held out a shaking hand—“even now I tremble for the poison my body craves. And it helps me face my tasks. It numbs the hatred.”
I closed my eyes. I understood that. I really did.
“You’ll get yourself killed if you keep drinking.”
“I do not care.”
“But I do.” I grabbed her hands in mine and spoke with all the earnest conviction in my heart. “Think of all the little girls the Dukes will have in future generations. Girls who will grow up without the love of a mother. Girls who are doomed to hate their lives. We can change that, Zania! I don’t know how, but I know it can happen in our lifetime. We need you. All I ask is that you keep yourself alive and be ready. Please.”
I felt her hands shaking in mine. Her eyes were wet.
“I need a drink,” she said in a small voice. A bitter laugh followed from far in her throat.
“No,” I choked out. I couldn’t very well send her to rehab or stay by her side to nurse her through detox. What I was asking her to do was nearly impossible and we both knew it.
“All things are possible,” I whispered, just as much for my own benefit as hers. I leaned forward and we hugged. She was breathing hard, clinging to me with the same grasping urgency she had the night before.
“My sister,” I murmured. “You can do it.”
Fall
Senior Year
CHAPTER EIGHT
LONDON
I received a text message from Dad during the homecoming football game, telling me to check my email. I ditched my school-spirited party crew in the bleachers and took off for home. Dad had hooked me up with a supersecure server last year for our communications. My hands actually shook as I fired it up.
Patti came in my room, looking surprised to see me.
“It’s from Dad,” I told her. She stood over my shoulder and read along.
I have another prospect, but the timing hasn’t worked out yet. In the meantime I want you and Kopano to go to London to inform the girls. Your itinerary is attached.
Sweet! I was going to see the twins! I printed my itinerary and deleted the email. Patti squeezed me tight from behind as I grinned.
A week later, in the middle of October, I was skipping school to fly to England. I sent Jay and Veronica a vague message telling them I’d be out for a few days doing some stuff for my dad. I could tell them where I’d gone when I got home, even though mentioning Marna might not be a good idea with those two.
Kope flew down from Boston and met me at the departure gate for our flight from Atlanta. I could hardly contain my excitement as we boarded the plane, and Kope seemed to be lighthearted, as well. Our last trip had been so stressful, but this one had a different feeling.
I looked forward to sitting next to Kope during the flight since we hadn’t on the way to Syria. Being the diligent do-gooders we were, we both took out our schoolwork after takeoff.
I turned to Kope and found him watching me, a heavy book open on his lap. It was always a little startling to discover his serious eyes on me, and he must have sensed my surprise because he gave a shy smile and let his attention fall back to his book.
After several hours I needed a break from math problems and history facts. I laid all my stuff in the open seat between Kope and me. He closed his book and laid it with mine.
I looked down at his texts. Population and Development Studies. Biological Studies in Public Health. His eyes were on his hands as he rubbed his palms back and forth. I wished I knew how to make him more comfortable around me. He used to be more open, but lately it was like he was too careful.
“How much longer do you have in college?” I asked him.
“This is my final year.”
“Oh, wow, that seems fast.”
He glanced down at his books. “It will be two semesters early. I’ve taken classes every summer.”
A small grin formed on my lips when he said “semestahs” and “summah.” His accent was beautiful, with similar sounds to Jamaican English and the Queen’s English, but something all its own. I watched him with avid curiosity before he caught my eye and looked down at his light-brownish-pink palms.
“And what are you studying?” I asked, bending one leg up in the seat and positioning myself to face him.
