Starr couldn’t have planned a better entrance.
“Too bad classes and teachers have to go along with all this,” Dionne whispered as if she wasn’t still overwhelmed by their popularity. She pulled her vibrating Sidekick from her purse and slid it open with a flick of her thumb.
Starr just gave a hint of a smile as she stepped up to the large display board and pushed her shades atop her asymmetrical haircut. “There’s a freshmen assembly right after homeroom,” she told them as they stepped up behind her.
“Good, my first-period class is algebra.” Marisol’s high-pitched voice was agitated. “I mean no offense, but how is that going to teach me how to handle my inheritance one day? Seriously? Seriously? Se-ri-ous-ly!”
Dionne laughed along with Starr, but thought about what her mom had said and her life back in Newark, where most people didn’t have much money.
Why couldn’t her mom get back with her dad? shethought. Or let her live with him? Or let him buy her a bigger house in a better neighborhood like he’d offered? It would be so much easier that way. Then she wouldn’t have to lie to her friends.
Dionne fell back behind her friends a bit as they made their way down the hall. Starr and Marisol knew she lived with her Moms. But they thought Risha Hunt was a stay-at-home mom, living off a stipend from Dionne’s father in a huge house in Livingston, New Jersey, who was busy with lots of charity work. She only hung out with them or had weekend sleepovers at her dad’s apartment. They didn’t know anything about her real life with her mom in Newark in a two-bedroom apartment. They didn’t realize her mother had to work. They didn’t know about her old Newark friends or her crush, Hassan—none of it. She always had to stay on her toes and keep her story straight to keep her friends from finding out.
Dionne thought of the text message her Moms had just sent her:
DIDISMOM: GOOD LUCK ON YOUR 1 ST DAY. XOXO.
She pushed aside her guilt as she followed her friends into the girls’ bathroom on the first floor at the end of the brightly lit, long hallway. Yet again, something as simple as a place to go to the bathroom was so different from her old life. There was no institutional gray-colored tile, prisonlike sink troughs lining the wall or bathroom stalls with the faint scent of industrial-strength ammonia.
Pace Academy’s bathrooms had a plush waiting area with two chaise longues upholstered in suede, marble-tiled floors throughout and wood-framed mirrors above pedestal sinks. The stalls were white with enough room to comfortably change clothes. Floral arrangements were positioned around the huge vanity area and the walls had a mural of some garden-of-Eden-looking scene. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. And the faint scent of something sweet and fruity hung in the air.
There was a trio of floor-length mirrors in the corner that provided a 360-degree view of one’s outfit. Small wooden boxes contained pads and tampons for those “special” days that every girl hates.
It was not like any school bathroom Dionne had ever seen. Indeed, nothing at Pace Academy was like anything she had ever seen.
Starr reached in her messenger bag and pulled out an OUT OF ORDER sign. She stepped outside and stuck it on the door of the bathroom. She kept one handy for times like this when they needed some privacy.
Dionne checked her hair in the mirror while Marisol flopped down onto one of the chaise longues.
“Just a quick FYI before we head to homeroom,” Starr told them as she moved across the floor and dropped her purse and messenger bag next to Marisol.
“Last night I decided that I want a huge birthday party and I want it to be on MTV’s My Super Sweet 16 ,” Starr declared as if she was announcing that she was running for president.
“Liar, liar,” Marisol muttered under her breath.
Starr ignored her.
Dionne watched their reflections in the mirror.
“It’s going to be one of
“Too bad classes and teachers have to go along with all this,” Dionne whispered as if she wasn’t still overwhelmed by their popularity. She pulled her vibrating Sidekick from her purse and slid it open with a flick of her thumb.
Starr just gave a hint of a smile as she stepped up to the large display board and pushed her shades atop her asymmetrical haircut. “There’s a freshmen assembly right after homeroom,” she told them as they stepped up behind her.
“Good, my first-period class is algebra.” Marisol’s high-pitched voice was agitated. “I mean no offense, but how is that going to teach me how to handle my inheritance one day? Seriously? Seriously? Se-ri-ous-ly!”
Dionne laughed along with Starr, but thought about what her mom had said and her life back in Newark, where most people didn’t have much money.
Why couldn’t her mom get back with her dad? shethought. Or let her live with him? Or let him buy her a bigger house in a better neighborhood like he’d offered? It would be so much easier that way. Then she wouldn’t have to lie to her friends.
Dionne fell back behind her friends a bit as they made their way down the hall. Starr and Marisol knew she lived with her Moms. But they thought Risha Hunt was a stay-at-home mom, living off a stipend from Dionne’s father in a huge house in Livingston, New Jersey, who was busy with lots of charity work. She only hung out with them or had weekend sleepovers at her dad’s apartment. They didn’t know anything about her real life with her mom in Newark in a two-bedroom apartment. They didn’t realize her mother had to work. They didn’t know about her old Newark friends or her crush, Hassan—none of it. She always had to stay on her toes and keep her story straight to keep her friends from finding out.
Dionne thought of the text message her Moms had just sent her:
DIDISMOM: GOOD LUCK ON YOUR 1 ST DAY. XOXO.
She pushed aside her guilt as she followed her friends into the girls’ bathroom on the first floor at the end of the brightly lit, long hallway. Yet again, something as simple as a place to go to the bathroom was so different from her old life. There was no institutional gray-colored tile, prisonlike sink troughs lining the wall or bathroom stalls with the faint scent of industrial-strength ammonia.
Pace Academy’s bathrooms had a plush waiting area with two chaise longues upholstered in suede, marble-tiled floors throughout and wood-framed mirrors above pedestal sinks. The stalls were white with enough room to comfortably change clothes. Floral arrangements were positioned around the huge vanity area and the walls had a mural of some garden-of-Eden-looking scene. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. And the faint scent of something sweet and fruity hung in the air.
There was a trio of floor-length mirrors in the corner that provided a 360-degree view of one’s outfit. Small wooden boxes contained pads and tampons for those “special” days that every girl hates.
It was not like any school bathroom Dionne had ever seen. Indeed, nothing at Pace Academy was like anything she had ever seen.
Starr reached in her messenger bag and pulled out an OUT OF ORDER sign. She stepped outside and stuck it on the door of the bathroom. She kept one handy for times like this when they needed some privacy.
Dionne checked her hair in the mirror while Marisol flopped down onto one of the chaise longues.
“Just a quick FYI before we head to homeroom,” Starr told them as she moved across the floor and dropped her purse and messenger bag next to Marisol.
“Last night I decided that I want a huge birthday party and I want it to be on MTV’s My Super Sweet 16 ,” Starr declared as if she was announcing that she was running for president.
“Liar, liar,” Marisol muttered under her breath.
Starr ignored her.
Dionne watched their reflections in the mirror.
“It’s going to be one of
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