GEMS {working title}

          I was unaware when the unidentifiable thing inside me broke. I was too quietly focused on her swaying hips, the somewhat-slow-rhythmic yet exuberant movement of her body, or the shimmer of her crimson-ruby-strawberry-blonde hair to feel it shatter. Silently, almost blissfully, did the alien signal slip beneath my internal radar and pass without incident.

It would have evaporated completely had she not noticed me noticing her and stopped.

She was in the middle of a laugh-----probably at something one of her well-dressed girlfriends had said---- when she saw me. She gave no obvious outward sign to anyone, other than a barely perceptible shift in her gaze; not a wink exactly, but a slight narrowing of the eyes to let me know she had felt my glance.

This in itself wouldn’t have --- stung, maybe is the word--- if she hadn’t been in the arms of another man when she did it. I inclined my head in an equally small movement to acknowledge her presence, and she turned back to her friends.



And so it ended; it didn’t matter, I told myself.

We had caught each others’ eyes for a moment…for less than a moment.

And that was that.

So it would stay.



Or rather…so I had thought.

       

        Twenty minutes later I was nursing my drink… a ‘slow screw’ against the wall… when the gentlest of touches grazed my shoulder. I looked up into the evergreen gaze I never thought I'd see so close up again.



“Hi,” she said breezily. “I didn't expect to see you here.” 

“I didn't expect to be here,” I said.

“You don't look like you were, actually,” she retorted in a fashion I had once been all too familiar with.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“You looked like you were a thousand miles away, Sean,” came her reply. “Your body is here... but you can't even hear the music. Which, in this place, is an incredible feat, I must say.”

She had that wry smile on her face; the one where she scrunched up her nose and squinted her eyes, as though she had heard something really funny and smelled something really pungent at the same time.



And of course, she was right.



        I hadn't been thinking about it really, at least not deliberately. Yet after seeing her, that same odd feeling, that kind of pre-signal of awe/dread that made me aware of her had drawn some part of my mind back.



Back to where such an extreme reaction to this girl would have been more natural.

Back to where such a conversation with her in such a place would have been unheard of.

Back to where I could so clearly remember seeing that smile on a daily basis.

Back to where most things in my life had once made sense.

Back to myself, before....and back to her....





Oddly enough, I had first met her at a party of such.



            We were from totally different backgrounds, but at these middle school parties, everyone mixed...or at least, tried to mix... with everyone else, because we all felt so lost and unsure. This was the beginning of the year.... I remember because Miss Reese had assigned us some arbitrary group project, and the Halloween decorations hadn't even been put up yet. But Harley Menlo had by some graceful blessing of the middle school Gods managed to convince his parents that a 7-9th grade mixer would be the perfect way to start the new year; get people interacting with each other on neutral ground, away from the confines of the stifling school environment.



            Why I was at this particular event, I don't know. Harley was an odd guy. At 14, he had a great sense of humour, but no athletic or academic ability to speak of, or rugged good looks. Actually, I'd be hard pressed to say if he had any good looks. All of these shortcomings were offset by two major factors: he was a genuinely nice guy, and he had parents with money, and thus a great house. All the upper-class cool kids had attended that night. While Harley had no particular affinity for me, he also had no grudges against me either, so I ended up receiving an invitation.

Well, why the hell not? I had thought; I had nothing better to do on a Friday night, save maybe take a few rounds out on the weight bag. So, I had called my boys, grabbed a shower, threw on some easy gear, covered it in my black jacket and set off to watch middle school kids of all races, ages and cliques within the greater Atlanta area fuss over their appearance, worry about the possible thoughts of the opposite sex, get juiced, and dance….badly.



        My boy Jason had just offered me my second illegal beer when I had noticed her in the corner chatting amiably with two other girls. Okay, so I'm a liar; I had noticed her from the moment we strutted into the place, but then again, even back then, I tended to notice everything. I had seen her around school, but had never really taken regard of her before now. Looking back at that moment, I think she stuck out to me because of.... I'm not sure why.



I wasn't then, still couldn't be now.



But, there were 20 other pretty faces in the crowd that night, and I wasn’t looking to really get to know any of them. My eyes glossed over her group of equally pretty girlfriends, swept around the floor again, and landed on the snack table.

I went over to the punch bowl, figuring I was probably taken aback by how unremarkable she was that made her so remarkable in some way. You would have sworn I had called to her; she came right to that punch bowl while I was there.



“Pour me one while you’re at it, please?” asked a lively falsetto voice. I looked over and there she was: a 13-year-old red-headed girl with clear, olivine skin and contrastingly bright green eyes, biting her lip with this bubbly look on her face. She had on a fitted, light- blue short sleeved T, and a jeans skirt. Funky glitter bead jewelery adorned her hands, neck, and ears...even a gold bracelet draped over her ankle.

I thought that was funny; I had never seen a girl with a bracelet on her ankle before. This thought was cut by the sound of a tinkering laugh.



        I looked up into those semi-closed eyes and that scrunched up nose for the first time as she put her hand over her nose as she giggled.

Yes; Giggled.

She was giggling. That’s right; at me.

You ever hear anything like that in all your life?



“What's so funny?” I asked, but she just stopped for a second, blanched, and then burst out into more giggles.

“I'm sorry,” she said “but it's your face...”

“Excuse you?” I said, her punch glass half filled in one hand, the dipper poised in the other. I tilted my head to side a bit; this crazy white girl is laughing at me?



I must have given her a look to wilt flowers. She just proceeded to laugh even harder....



“You look like the Coyote does after he gets hit by one of his own traps in Looney Toons”, she uttered through a peel of girlish chuckles. “I don't mean to be mean, but really, you look seriously confused and outta place.”

“Thank you very much, Miss nitrous oxide,” I said, a bit affronted. “Do you go around giving everyone your opinion on how they look?”

“Only when they catch my attention,” she said.

“And I caught your attention, for some reason?” I asked.

“More like I caught yours,” she replied before nibbling her lip again, but otherwise appearing completely relaxed

“Really?” I said, now a bit annoyed and almost shoving the half-filled glass in her hand.

“Well you were watching me over there, weren't you? Me and my friends...?”

“No, I was not ‘watching you’,” I said in utter disbelief at this girl's gall. “You had better reality-check yourself, lady. Just who the Hell do you think you are, anyway...?”

“Oh my,” she said airily “is he blushing? I do believe he is...”

“But what the ...” I blurted, now completely affronted (partially maybe, because I very well might have been blushing...)

“Gwen,” she interjected, a big smile on her face and hand extended, “Tanavale.”

“I beg your pardon…?”

“That's who the Hell I think I am,” she said, the smile never leaving her face or eyes, “Genevieve Evelyna ---Gwen--- Tanavale. It's nice to meet you.”

“Umm...wait a minute...huh?”

“Listen,” she replied, still smiling “if we are ever going to dance, lock eyes and start our first torrid teen love affair, then I obviously can't wait for you to make the first move. So, I'm Gwen, Gwen Tanavale. It's nice to meet you, even if you are a bit slow on the uptake. Thanks for the punch, by the way.”

She took the last swig from her glass, held onto my hand and basically led me out onto the dance floor.



        The music was upbeat pop and hip hop, and most of the other 7th and 8th graders were against the walls, the upperclassmen taking up much of the dining room floor with their dancing. I had half a mind to pull my hand back, but I wanted to see where she was going with this; I let her lead me into dancing to a slow pop song.

I Can Love You Like That by All4One, I think.....



“And you are...?” she asked, her arms sliding easily around my neck.

“I’m...S-Sean,” I answered, moving somewhat awkwardly. “Sean... Cray. Nice to, um...meet you... girl, what the Hell are you doing?”



She just continued to look at me and smile.



I'll admit it; I was confused. This girl had my mind running: what was her angle? She wasn't a bad looking girl, and I was just…well, ordinary me. 13-year-old females don't just pop up and start dancing with 13-year-old guys out of the blue; every guy knows it’s never that easy. Besides, I had been in my share of awkward positions with females before.

This just all seemed too surreal.



“Do you...who in the world put you up to... I mean, why did you...? I mean…do you normally just… pull random boys to the dance floor with you at parties?”

“No, not usually” she chuckled right off. “But then, I'm still kind of new to this whole scene, and thought I could make some new friends; I always try to be open to meeting interesting people. Standing over there, taking in the whole party with that 'I-know-there's-gonna-be-some-kinda-trouble' look on your face... you looked, like, a dozen times more interesting than these other guys. And I've seen you in school before...”



She looked at me funny here, like she was trying to examine me; her face stayed friendly, if a tad too curious...

      “You don't talk to a lot of people,” she stated plainly, “not unless they talk to you first. You don’t tend to hang out with others, or get too involved in anything. But you always answer questions in class, even the ones everyone else has no idea about….so you’re smart. And you don’t seem to be a bad guy; I've seen you help some of the smaller, quieter kids with their heavy books and stuff, even when you didn’t know them. I thought that was really cool. It made you seem... sweet.”

“So you’ve been spying on me for the last three weeks, is that it?” I asked warily.

“Oh please, don't flatter yourself,” she said like I had made a joke. “It's more like you were an interesting animal. I thought I'd get to know you a bit better up close. I saw the chance to do it here, so I took it. Anything wrong with that...?”

“N-o-o…no-no...” I said, still cagey.



This girl ---Gwen--- had not stopped looking me in the eye; I wasn’t used to most people meeting my gaze so directly. She seemed sincere. Smelled nice, too, like some kind of fruit. I noticed that my heartbeat had picked up a bit.



“S-o-o-o-o... is this that…you like me, then?”

“I didn't say that,” she responded.

“So you don’t like me?” I asked, once again perplexed.

“No,” she chuckled “I didn't say that, either.”

“So then what the hell is this?” I exclaimed, about ready to move from this confusing female.

“This is just me,” she replied saucily, “dancing with you, and trying to have some fun at this party. Again, is that a problem for you?”



I shook my head. My cheeks felt hot, and my tongue heavy. I was not used to being treated or talked to like this by my peers…and especially not by a girl.

And definitely not by some girl I had just met.

         

“You are sure there is no other reason? This isn’t some kind of set up? You're just not dancing with me because I'm...”

“Because you're what…?” she said. Gwen had stopped moving to the music; her eyes had narrowed slightly, but were still vibrant with emerald embers.

“Wait…you think I’m setting you up?” she asked, incensed; the grin had slid off her face. “Let me tell you right now, please don't say anything stupid or dumb like most boys do, okay? I'm dancing with you because I think you're interesting and might be cool to know, not for any stupid reason you might look to give. If you think otherwise, maybe you're not as smart as I thought you were, and we should just quit right now...”



I put my finger on her lips to still them.



“Shhh”, I hissed, now more aware of her underlying strength. “Alright then, point taken Miss Thing; I withdraw the question.”

The ominous feeling from the unasked question was still there; she made to pull away again, in earnest this time.

“Hey, hold up,” I said, pulling her easily back into our dancing poise, now half-grinning myself. This was no ordinary girl I was dealing with.

“..I get it: Stupid thing to say. I apologise, honestly. But at the least…I mean…”God, I thought, I feel ridiculous “... you can finish this dance with me... right?”

She looked up into my brown eyes, and her gaze softened again. A gentle smile began to spread on her face. I now plainly realised how pretty she could be.

“All right”, she said “Just the one dance...”



            That one dance had turned into more than a decade of friendship; because of it, I had gotten to know one of the most important people in my existence. I don't know… she would say that it was Fate that brought us together. Personally, before I had met her, I would have found such a thought preposterous; now, I'm tempted to question if there really are Fates, and if whether they were drunk that night.



That thought was merely the first flash that my reverie had pulled me into before Gwen had graced my shoulder.

 

From the first moment I had met this girl, she had brought drama into my life, even without her willingly trying to do it. It was just that way with the both of us; I was usually where trouble was, just in time to fix it, and wherever Gwen went, excitement of various kinds followed her. This became evident to me after that first night, especially the Monday morning.

After Menlo's party, rumours had picked up about us all around the school. It didn't matter much, though, because rumours had picked up about a dozen other 7th and 9th grade couples. But, after a few weeks of seeing us together, it would have become apparent to anyone that we were clearly close friends as opposed to ‘going together’. Not to say I didn’t catch my share of flack from it. But then again, I was never one to take on the stupidity of the masses, anyway.

          It never occurred to me when I was a kid that my friendship with Gwen would evolve as it did. I mean we started off a bit bumpy, but somehow we became inseparable, despite how completely different we were. One could always find Gwen, Stephan ---my cousin and one of my default best male buds--- and me together, usually because we’d end up by my place. Sometimes, she would be with her core-clique of girls--- most of whom were with her that first night. Other times, she was with Stephan and me, usually accompanied by one of our other crew members like Jason, Richard or Link.



After Gwen and I had talked for a while, our respective groups ended up vibing together...my boys were fine with it, but being around all these new girls made me sort of uneasy, so I took my leave early. Not to say that they were a bad group or anything; all of the girls had their own charms, and I grew into various states of knowing them along with Gwen. But after talking with her one-on-on for so long (which, in itself, was a new experience for me,) and seeing how easy and into it they are seemed to be, my natural impulse was to back off a bit...at least until I got my bearings.

         It was weird; usually, you would see some kind of hierarchy amongst girls that age, but as different as they all were, each one seemed to regard the other like a sister; you could tell right off that they were that close. Monica, the sweet, hot-Spanish blooded thinker and flirt (that Stephan had it so badly for) could often be ‘take-charge’, but wasn’t like a ‘Queen Bee’ at all; I saw that more from the fair-haired Kelly first time I met her (seriously, the girl was hot, but a real snob in my opinion). Kyra was long-legged, slender, and sensitive, a dancer with a friendly manner. Stephanie was something else; the thick, athletic, no-nonsense ‘round-the-way’ girl, she had a similar presence as Gwen and Monnie. And Leanne...she was the really sweet, quiet, slightly freckled brunette.



After that night, this more-or-less became my posse of friends...out of no-where, I had started talking to one girl, and ended up forming friendships with six, friendships that would end up still being relevant well into my adulthood. After that night, we all kind of just...fell into doing everything together. These people grew into part of my world.



Yet still, no matter how mixed up with our other friends we became, it always came down to Gwen and me. I suppose it’s no surprise eventually we did become a pair, anymore than it was that our friends became a big group. I guess we always had been matched, in a way….



I let my mind wander between different memories of Gwen and our friends, from our days in middle school, to graduation, back to the first time I came by her house and met her parents. We all went through a lot of different stages in junior high--- she was a cheerleader (but not a snotty one, like Kelly), a great student, and even a member of the school senate for a bit. I was perpetually cerebral in my extracurricular activities; debating, editing the student news website, Honors Society, Dean’s list, and working for the Progressive Students Association. I did a little bit of wrestling in 8th grade, but gave it up because it cut too much into my martial arts time (Sean Cray was many things in school, but a jock was not one of them.)



Our social lives were also mismatched, even when we were hanging out with each other so much. Even as a kid, Gwen was gorgeous, so guys were also after her. She had had a few steady guys. I dated the odd girl here and there---even had a few memorable mutual crushes. But I was awkward, and never really developed anything major… had no genuine interest to, actually. Before her, there were maybe two girls who I had any hope of something more with. Oddly enough, Gwen would always try to find some girl whom she thought would ‘take that crabby look off my face; 9 times out of 10, we’d always end up laughing about how it didn’t work out two weeks later.

We got so close, that our families even got along… for the most part. My Grandmother Sonia took an immediate liking to Gwen... which, in itself was rare...and Gwen seemed to hit it off really well with my older sisters.

But then, this is a girl whose inner warmth could melt Siberia. I had many firsthand accounts of how she would just slide into a place and adjust as though she was making it her own…her first coming into my house was a prime example!          



Okay, so Gwen and I had been hanging out for about three weeks---- just long enough for all of the idiotic romantic suppositions and class gossip to die down---- when I found out exactly where she lived. I was surprised; her family had moved into the house the previous year, and it wasn’t more than a 15-20 minute walk from mine when we took the sidewalks and streets.

Our houses were a part of a private residential area in Atlanta; many of the bigger homes were surrounded by at least a few acres of land and bordering on the edge of a forest. A few of the interlinking neighborhoods were separated only by a track of land that ran near the forest which was known for Short-cut Creek and a few trails. By crossing this area, one could reach some of the main roads, the park, various bus stops, or other families’ houses. Taking this route to Gwen’s cut the travel time by a third.



Of course, I didn’t really think on this until it was brought to my attention.



The first time Gwen popped up by my house, I was shocked out of my mind. Yes I had mentioned to her where my house was, but the last thing I was expecting less than an hour after coming home from 7th grade was to see my most confusing school mate… especially without having invited her. I had always gone to some lengths to ensure my two basic worlds remained separate: home was home and school was school, and never the twain shall meet. Judging from the parent/teacher conferences I’d seen other kids go through, it was always a good thing to keep home life and class life as far from each other as humanly possible.

Hence why only a select few of my friends had ever been to my place (and those times had more often been at Mommy’s urging than mine; You should bring your little friends over to play once in a while, Chipmunk; it’s healthy for little boys to have friends. Geez...)

I had no express plans to alter this scenario…. Hey, it had worked from second grade, right? No need to change it now.



Leave it to Miss Gwen Tanavale, Miss living-X-factor-free-radical-princess-of-unpredictable- behavior herself, to send all the best-laid, long standing plans crashing down in a hot southern second. I mean, picture it: I’m home, in the kitchen, snacking away on some of Grandma’s hard-dough bread and cheese with a side of chocolate-milk, when a busy little knock on the front door interrupts me mid-chew….

You know that was a hell of a knock for us to hear it all the way back here in the kitchen: that’s what Grandma’s look said was on her mind, though with her island accent, it would have probably sounded more like: “You know say dat a one bitch-lick fey we a hear it come here so.”

We waited a moment to see if Sharon or Stacy would get it, and then heard the doorbell, (which was actually less vibrant than the knock….)

         Grams looked perturbed, more at my sisters’ indifference than the actual sound. I offered her an uneasy grin around my stuffed mouth, shrugged and ran to get the door, cussing my sisters in my head all the way. It was probably one of their haphazard, bumble-brained boyfriends coming to see if they wanted to hang out, blissfully unaware that they were more than likely about to get a good old West Indian booty-grilling from Grandma; she didn’t take lightly to other children coming over to see her grandkids unannounced. It irked her even more when these visitors were here in what she deemed a “questionable or possibly inappropriate” capacity.

I’d seen enough brawny, husky-voiced, attitude-tossing, baggy-pants-wearing, think-they-are-grown suitors come here when Mommy wasn’t here, and leave as though they had hot coals up the backside. Even funnier than the arrant visitor was the predicament of the Cray child they came to visit, as they flustered between teenage indignation, embarrassment and the utter futility of trying to explain their position to the dowager greatest of Grandmothers, Sonia Chantrelle.



         I was actually smiling a little at this thought, looking forward to the position of the poor sucker who was about to be writhing on Grandma’s spear-sharp glare, stinging words (and on the occasion of them being rude, wicked backhand slap) when another fluttering knock rang out on the oak-wood door. As soon as I had opened the door, I swear I almost choked on my chunk of ham-and-cheese.



         Standing there, all bouncy shoulder length bob-cut and girlish glee was none other than Miss Genevieve Tanavale. She was smiling brightly with one hand on her hip and the next poised towards the door; she looked as though she had taken a shower and had changed into another set of clothes, all soft and scrubbed and fresh as a new sprung nectarine blossom. She was wearing a short denim jacket and jumper over a delicate, off-white Lycra top. A silver butterfly beret glinted above her right temple in her shiny red hair.

An unfamiliar sensation flit through my stomach… at the time, it was so sudden and staggering, I had thought it was panic. Looking back on it now, it very well could have been some crazy sort of sexual pre-signal, but then again… the sheer shock of seeing her there, even looking so sweet… yeah, it was panic.



Okay… maybe a lil’ bit o’ both...



Well, can you blame me? I had not expected to see anyone I knew at that door; least of all Gwen; less than that, Gwen looking so…  I mean I was standing there, a stupid look on my face, my mouth full, totally aghast…



Hadn’t I told this girl only yesterday where I lived… why was she here?



To make matters even more odd, she had begun giggling again; Gwen saw my face and she went off into a quick titter, her smile brightening further, as though she was as surprised as I was.... The briefest hope that she had knocked on the wrong door popped across my mind.

Marshalling my composure as best as I could under the circumstances, I set to say something scathing.... something that expressed my shock and confusion and vague awkwardness at her being there, and after a few seconds of frenzied contemplation, the only thing that came out of my mouth was...



“Er?”



Okay; let me swallow my sandwich and try dat again....



“You wear... glasses?” she said brightly, shaking her head slightly.

“Um… Gwen?”

“Heh; you’re wearing glasses!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi! I didn’t know you wore glasses. It’s so cute...”

“Um… er…”

Why was my heart beating faster?

“Since when did you get glasses?” she asked vibrantly.

“I’ve always had glasses!” I burst out; I wasn’t trying to be mean, but I was unsure of how to deal with so much full-on... niceness.

“Really?” she said, still smiling. “Well, I’ve never seen you in them. And there’s really no need to shout, sweetie; I believe you.”

“I’ve always… worn glasses,” I said softly as I shook my head, disbelieving this conversation; I don’t think I had blinked the whole time. “I don’t... always have them on but....I’ve always had them.”

“Are you sure?” she said, biting her lip.

“I have… sensitive eyes.”

“Sensitive eyes, huh?” she guffawed and patted my cheek. “You poor baby.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Did you know my house is only about a mile or two from here?”

“No, I did not. Which again poises the question: Why are you at my house?”

“Well, duh; I came to see you, silly....”

Shit! And there goes the wrong house theory…

“...We have studying to do. You did say we should get together and do some work, right?”

Those bright eyes were looking at me with innocent expectation.

“Ah-um, yeah, but…now…?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Here?”

“Mm-hmm,” she giggled. “Well? Aren’t you going to invite a girl in?”

“Yes, me child”, said Grandma’s voice behind me, “aren’t you going to ask the young lady in?” I’m guessing I paled about three shades as Grams came to the door. “Come now, Sean... I know we raised you better than that.”



No question, this time; that feeling in my stomach was most definitely panic.  I just opened the door and mumbled for Gwen to come in.

“Thank you,” she said, beaming mischievously. She winked as she passed me and offered Grams her hand with unabashed confidence. “Oh, hello; Sean didn’t tell me that he lived with his Grandmother, too. I’m Genevieve Tanavale, but please call me Gwen. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs.… Cray, is it?”



“Chantrelle,” said Grams, taken aback by the girl’s forwardness but impressed with her manners. She took Gwen’s hand and shook it.

“Sonia Chantrelle. And Sean doesn’t live with me; I have my own place not far from here, but I stay by often when Sean’s mother is out of town. So… you are a friend of Sean’s… from school, then?”

Grammy was looking at me when she said ‘friend’; all of a sudden a picture of a duck on a spit over a fire pit popped into my head.

“Ah, you see, Grams…” I began to say as we all walked back to the kitchen.

“Actually, we only met a few weeks ago, but yeah, we go to the same school,” said Gwen, shrugging off her jacket and still with that bright politeness. “We have a few common classes together, and your Grandson is an awesome student… if a bit stiff. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by all unexpectedly, but I thought we could get some studying done.”

It was then that I noticed that Gwen had her book-bag strap in her left hand; so at least this visit wasn’t totally random, thank God. She turned her eyes on me and then said “Sean said we could get together whenever, but the boy seems to be so busy at all times... I really hope it wasn’t too rude of me to just drop by like this.”



“Hmm,” said Grams. “Well, a young lady should announce herself before making a call to one’s home. But, then again, one should never be too busy to engage in learning, my dear.” Grammy was an Old school West Indian woman, really big on the whole education thing, so Gwen had just earned some points there. Thing is, I don’t think she was trying to, and that impressed my Grandma even more.

“And it’s good to see my Star making friends; he’s such a solitary soul, normally. So tell me, my dear, is this strictly a business friendship, or has my little one been making eyes at you?” 

         I felt the bit of color that had come back to my cheeks promptly drain away, taking some extra along with it! Even Gwen blanched for a moment, speechless for a second.

“Grandma!”  I exclaimed, shocked beyond belief! How could she say something like that?!

         My shock was broken by the sound of Gwen’s bubbling laughter. She had looked from me to Grams and back, the look on my face intensifying her giggles. Grams looked somewhere between stern and amused. When Gwen next spoke, it was with sheer glee, and she had to control the words through the laughter.



“Well, I wouldn’t say we’re all ‘business’ exactly, but it’s nothing like that. Your, ah... ‘little one’...  has been a perfect gentleman, at least where I’m concerned. If anything, I think he kinda has his eyes on a young lady in our homeroom, I’d say, but he’s a bit too shy to actually approach her…”

“Who are you talking about?” I spurted at her, wondering to high heaven when or how she had seen me even cast a glance at Melanie Hodges…. If anyone, I mean!

“Oh, I see,” said Grams, “You’ll have to tell me about this girl sometime, won’t you Genevieve?”

“No-she-won’t!” I blurted out.

Grams and Gwen both shot me a quick look, Grams affronted, Gwen pleased: Sucker. At least, I thought, it couldn’t get much worse.  Undaunted by my obvious horror, Grandma Sonia continued her Third degree.

“So are there only a small number of whites at your school, or is Sean one of the few black children attending?”

Had I just thought it couldn’t get much worse? I stood corrected as I paled another shade. Grams and Gwen seemed to be hitting it off (a little too well, if you asked me!) and having much too much fun at my chagrin; is it possible that they had planned this torture?

“I’d say it’s pretty evenly mixed,” said Gwen, selfless confidence shining gently through her smile. “The social situation at school is pretty casual, so you’ll see any-and-everybody mixing with any-and-everybody else. Sean and I just gravitated towards each other, I guess. My mom says people with good souls attract others like magnets.”

“Oh, I see,” said Grams, still using perfect English. “Well, you said he’s been quite the gentleman… should I take it then that there is something more than mere friendly interest on your side, then child? Are you looking to make a wish on…or should I say for my little Star?”



If I needed anything to bring back the color to my face, that one did it!



God, if you have any mercy at all for a self-conscious youth, I prayed silently, you will let a tidal wave affect all of Atlanta right now! If not a tidal wave, then how about a hurricane, or an earthquake would be nice! Just a small one, focused enough to open a jagged crack right in the floor that I could just fall into, right now!



“Grandmother!” I said, now looking at her in utter horror! “What are you doing?”

“I’m just getting to know the girl, child. Relax yourself,” she said with exasperation. “It’s an honest question. If Genevieve is a bit smitten, there’s no shame in that, is there?”

Through all of this, Gwen was just looking at Grams and chuckling, blushing softly, as though she was enjoying this (which I’m guessing she was, to no end) yet was still remaining a bit coy. She took a look at me and almost fell off the kitchen stool, but she kept herself and responded.



“Oh no, Mrs. Chantrelle,” she said, pleased beyond belief “I can assure you, I like Sean a lot…just, not that way. Tee-hee….”

“Oh no,” said Grams, reverting back to her Kingston-bred speech. “So wha’appen? What

wrong wit’ me likkle yute’, den? Mi grandson bad, or wha’? ‘Im too black?”

She was half joking… but only half. She wanted to see Gwen’s reaction, and she was pleased; Gwen was so honest, there was no premeditation in her face at all; the girl was grace under fire.

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Gwen, “Sean’s cute in that bookish-sweetheart kind of way--- I think those glasses are adorable on him--- and he’s proven to be the best guy friend I’ve made in the year I’ve been here. But we don’t like each other like that; we’re really platonic, you know...casual. Sean and me are still a bit young to get into the whole heavy romance thing... I mean we’re just in Junior High, right?”

She threw another wink my way with that one; my throat went dry.

“Hmm. I see” said Grandma. She looked at Gwen and me, and I just put my hand to my head and prayed again for this to be over.



Why was my grandmother doing this to me?



         Gwen was looking as sweet as warm honey, meeting Gram’s gaze with all the earnestness in the world. Grandma put her tongue in her cheek, thought for a moment and then shook her head as she turned from us back to her cooking.

“Too bad”, she said “and such a pretty young girl, too. Hmm; you could do worse for friends, you know, Star.”

By now, I was just too dismayed for words, so I just shifted my gaze from one to the other before looking back at my shuffling feet. I vaguely heard Grams offer Gwen a sandwich and some pastries she just taken out of the oven.



“These are awesome, Mrs. Chantrelle,” she said, munching on a mini beef patty.

“Thank you, child,” replied Grams with a very slight grin. She was very proud of her cooking, and loved feeding people whenever she could, especially if they were appreciative. “Feel free to eat all you want. I’ve made more than enough food here. And please, call me Mama Sonia, eh.”

“Really?” said Gwen with unfeigned gratitude and sweetness. “Thank you. Thanks a bunch. Speaking of studying, we’d better go up and get started on that, right Sean?”

“Ah… right,” I said, nonplussed. 

I was amazed.

No arguments, no complaints, no suspicions. 

In 15 minutes, this girl had managed to come in here and utterly charm my Grandmother, the woman whom for a year had chastised the Reverend at her church for having shifty eyes. And she was coming up to my room to study, when I hadn’t even officially invited her over to my house! My room!? And Grams was more or less cool with it, too?



Had I missed something?



“If you want more of the patties, bread and cheese, you can take with you, one time, eh” said Grandma. “And please, child, eat up; you look as though you hardly ever touch anything…”

At this, Gwen blushed and lowered her eyes.

“You know, my Nana says the same thing” she admitted almost embarrassed. “I don’t know what it is. I eat and eat and eat and never seem to gain an ounce. I think I have a fast metabolism or something.”

“O ho?” said Grams, “Well you must come around for dinner sometimes. Trust me, there is nothing like a well cooked island meal to put some proper curves on a growing young lady’s body, hear?”

She was looking at Gwen with all seriousness. I was standing by the hallway with Gwen’s bag, still trying to gauge the reality of the situation. 15 minutes and she had gotten to Mama Sonia stage; 20 and she had an open invitation to dinner. And all of this had gone on in front of my eye without me saying a thing, eh? I swear, I felt totally arbitrary to the whole situation.

For the teenage male ego, this was a bit of a blow to take.



“I’d like that,” the girl replied. “Thank you, Mama Sonia.” With that we left the kitchen and headed up the stairs to my room, Gwen chatting amiably all the way.