The House of Eve (17)
My face betrayed my resolve by breaking into a grin. “I’d never peg you as a hopeless romantic.”
“Mind if I sit?”
I looked up the street to see who was watching. Two boys played kick the can, and a black dog sniffed the trash cans looking for food. Ms. Edna’s second-floor window was open, but just because I didn’t see her, that didn’t mean she wasn’t lurking. On this block someone was always paying attention.
“It’s not a good idea.”
He lowered himself onto the step two spots below me and peered up at me through his lashes. They were long and full and a shame to waste on a boy who already had so many good features.
“I don’t want you to get into any more trouble.” I turned my face toward the sky.
“Sorry about Mr. Greenwald. I didn’t know he’d act like that.”
“I shouldn’t have expected anything more.”
A blush crept up his neck and bloomed in his cheeks. “Of course you should have. Let me make it up to you.”
I pressed my lips together, searching for a hint of the Chap Stick I had applied earlier, but it had dried up.
“Just forget it, please.”
Shimmy reached into his pocket and held out a tube of lavender paint to me. “Now you can add a few flowers to the tree in your painting.”
No boy had ever brought me a gift before. They took things from me, though. Brushed up against my behind in the hall at school, looked up underneath my skirt on the stairs, always with their hands out trying to get a free feel when adults weren’t looking in the schoolyard. And then there was Leap, and the men on the street. Shimmy was so different.
“Thank you. This means a lot.”
“Come listen to some music with me tomorrow night at the Dell.” His voice was hoarse.
“Are you crazy? Deaf or dumb?” I blew out a laugh, while flipping the tube of paint over in my hand. It was the good kind that would dry fast.
“I’m serious.”
“How are we supposed to get away with that? I can’t even come in your candy store without being thrown out like the evening trash.”
He put his hands together. “Let me show you. I’ll meet you right here at eight.”
His eyes bored into me for so long I had to look away. What I should have said was absolutely not, but before I could stop myself, I whispered, “What if someone sees us?”
“I’ll have my father’s car.” He ventured up a step closer to me. His cedar scent made it impossible for me to think straight.
“Shimmy, you don’t owe me anything. The ice cream was nice but—”
“Come on Ruby, don’t make me beg.”
I sighed. No matter how hard I wanted to deny it, I enjoyed Shimmy’s company. He was smart, funny and easy to be around. And we did like the same music. I had never been to the Dell. What was the harm in two friends listening to music?
I looked up at Ms. Edna’s window again to see if she was spying, but it was still empty. If Aunt Marie found out, I was as good as dead.
I exhaled. “Okay, but we can’t be out in the open. Pull into the side alley.”
“I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER SIX WELL
Eleanor
The next morning, Eleanor tucked a copy of Our Nig: Sketches from the Life of a Free Black, by Harriet E. Wilson, into the front compartment of her envelope purse. Mrs. Porter had leant her a first edition, published in 1859, with the directive of caring for the book like she would a newborn. Nadine was still in bed with her satin sleep mask pulled over her eyes, and Eleanor tried not to trip over her mess of clothes on the floor and close the door behind her as quietly as possible. As she passed the dormitory’s front desk, the freshman girl monitoring the door called out to her.
“Quarles. This came for you.” She extended her hand.
Eleanor unfolded the paper as she continued outside. It was a letter from the bursar’s office directing her to stop in today before the office closed at noon. The detour would make her late for her shift at the library, but she didn’t have a choice.
The bursar’s office was on the first floor of the Administration Building on the north side of campus. When Eleanor arrived, a man with a jet-black mustache and square shoulders reiterated what she already knew: the remainder of her tuition was past due.
“Would you be able to make a payment today?” He tapped his ink pen.
“No, sir. What other options do I have?”
“Shall I inform your parents?”
“No, please don’t.” Eleanor did not want her parents working themselves even harder on her account. She quickly calculated how much was in her bank account, and what she had under the mattress in her room. It wasn’t a quarter of what she needed.
“Can I work for it?”
He pushed his bifocal glasses up his thin nose and took a closer look at her file. “I see that you already have a job at the library. We aren’t at liberty to give students more than twenty-five hours of work release. You’re already at your max.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do?”
The man leaned back in his seat and looked Eleanor over. He sighed before flipping through a binder until he found a business card.
“Would you be willing to take a job off campus?”