From the Desk of Zoe Washington(5)

I picked up my pen and started to write.

Dear

What should I call Marcus? I couldn’t call him Dad. Paul had been my dad ever since Mom married him when I was five. He might look nothing like me, with his olive skin and hazel eyes, but he was my dad in all the ways that mattered.

I sometimes called adults by their first names—like Trevor’s mom, Patricia. But that was because I’d known Patricia forever, and at one point she told me to call her that.

I crossed out “Dear” and started over.

Dear

Hi,

Even with that settled, I had no idea what to write next.

I got your letter, I began. I was really surprised since I never thought I’d hear from you. I—

There was a tap on my shoulder, so I looked up. Trevor. He had scooted down toward my end of the porch steps. Now he was clearly in my space, with Butternut happily wagging his tail next to him.

Trevor’s mouth was moving, and when he realized I couldn’t hear him, he pointed to my earbuds.

I yanked them out. “What do you want?”

“What’re you writing?” he asked.

“Are you kidding me?” I stood up.

“What?” Trevor rubbed one of his eyes.

“I’m not talking to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” I said.

“That’s not a reason,” Trevor said.

Butternut barked and jumped up my leg.

I sighed loudly. I couldn’t even write a letter on my own steps without Trevor messing it up. “Forget it. Take the whole porch if you want. I’m going inside.” I turned toward my door with my journal tucked under my arm.

“Hold up,” Trevor said.

I took a deep breath and got ready to yell at him to get a clue already, but when I faced him, he was holding Marcus’s letter. Which must’ve fallen out of my journal. It was unfolded, and he was reading it.

“What are you doing? Stop it!” I snatched the letter from him. “That’s mine. It’s private.”

Trevor put his hands up in the air, but looked me straight in the eyes. “Is that from your dad?”

I stopped short. “What are you talking about?” I tried to keep my face even and make my voice sound casual.

“Your dad that’s in jail.” Trevor paused, and then said, “He’s there because he killed somebody, right?”

My breath caught in my throat. “How do you know that?”

Even though Trevor and I used to be close, I never told him about what Marcus did. I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. Trevor, Jasmine, and Maya knew my birth dad was in prison, but not why.

I hated that this person related to me was a monster. A murderer. It made me want to throw up. He could be locked up for the rest of his life, but there was a chance he could get out early after serving twenty-five years. It was called “parole.” I sort of hoped that wouldn’t happen.

Trevor shrugged. “Your mom told my mom once. They were in our kitchen, and I was coming down the hall. They didn’t know I could hear them.”

“When?” I asked.

Trevor thought about it. “Last year or something.”

“You never told me.”

“I didn’t know if you knew. It seemed like a secret or something.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

Trevor stepped closer to me. “Why aren’t you talking to me? And why didn’t you invite me to your birthday?”

There was a long pause before I said, “I know what you said about me.”

His eyebrows scrunched up. “Huh?”

I didn’t want to repeat the words. Plus, I was in the middle of something, and Trevor was getting in the way. Again. “I don’t have time for this right now,” I told him.

Before Trevor could say anything else, I turned around and began to storm inside. But then I remembered something important and turned back.

“One other thing. You better not tell anyone about the letter. Seriously, you cannot tell anyone. If you do, I . . .” I paused. “I’ll never, ever forgive you.”

“I won’t tell,” Trevor said, his face serious. “Even though you won’t say why you’re mad at me. You can’t ignore me forever.”

Watch me.

Before Trevor could say anything else, I went inside, Butternut trailing behind me.

A moment later, I heard Trevor’s storm door creak open and closed. With my journal and Marcus’s letter in hand, I ran down the hall to my room. Now I could focus on what really mattered.





Chapter Five


Almost an hour later, I finished the letter.

June 26

Hi,

I got your letter. I was really surprised since I never thought I’d hear from you.

I’m not sure what to call you. I can’t call you Dad because Mom’s husband, Paul, is my dad. Mom taught me to always call adults by Ms. or Mr. whatever their last name is, unless they say it’s okay to use their first name. Am I allowed to call you Marcus? This is all kind of weird.

I listened to the Stevie Wonder song “Isn’t She Lovely.” It’s nice. I started listening to some of his other songs too. I really like “Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours).” We don’t have a record player, but I do know what one is. I downloaded some of his songs to my phone.