If I Tell Read Online Free PDF Page A

of course not. He just doesn’t seem, I don’t know, like the coffee-shop type.” I rubbed at my guitar charm and glanced out into the café.
    “There is no type, honey. Do you know how hard it is to get part-time workers these days? Unless he’s not doing his job or he’s stealing from me, he’s more than welcome to work here. He’s a good kid.”
    “That’s probably not what his parole officer says,” I mumbled, and my cheeks flamed again. By trying to hide my interest, I sounded like a jerk.
    “Hey.” Amber smacked my arm lightly. “You of all people don’t strike me as the judgmental type.” She gave me a dirty look before slipping out of the work area and heading for her office at the back of the shop.
    I made a face at her back but avoided looking toward the cash register, where I felt Lacey’s presence in the pit of my stomach. I kept busy fetching milk from the cooler, filling steel carafes, topping up mixes, and cleaning up spills.
    Inevitably Lacey sauntered over to the Pit and stood still, just staring at me. I ignored her.
    “So, how’s it going?” she finally asked.
    “Fine.” I wished there was a mute button I could press to keep her from saying more.
    “You going to stay mad at me forever?” she asked.
    I scrubbed the counter like I was sanding Grandma’s old furniture. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lacey jut her hip out. She blew a bubble with her gum and breathed out until it popped.
    “I’m sorry. I mean…about what happened,” she said. “We were both really drunk.”
    I scrubbed harder, concentrating on the counter and not making eye contact with her. “You weren’t too drunk to know it was Simon.”
    She shifted from one foot to another. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know how it happened.”
    I willed her not to say anything more. The less I knew, the better.
    “This is really awkward,” she said.
    “You could say that.” A surge of anger hit me, and I glanced straight at her. “How could you do that? Simon, Lacey. It was Simon.”
    “I was drunk, Jaz. It was stupid.”
    “Drunk is always your excuse.”
    Lacey didn’t speak for a moment. “Ouch,” she finally said and lifted a hand and studied her nails. “I didn’t mean to get that drunk. I feel terrible.”
    I sighed. Didn’t she get it? Simon was almost family. Last year when some kid at the mall called me an Oreo, it was Simon I went to. He was the only person I could talk to about things like that.
    “You’re a strong, beautiful girl with talent and smarts,” Simon had said when I told him. “Not a cookie.” He’d rubbed the top of my head. “No one can take away who you are inside or out. Don’t let other people make you feel bad about who you are.”
    I’d dropped my head. “I look black on the outside. But I’m not.”
    “You are black,” Simon said, standing straighter. “And that’s something to be proud of.”
    I couldn’t look at Simon. I didn’t feel like I shared or deserved that heritage. That pride in being black. I wasn’t the real thing, one way or the other.
    Simon had moved closer and put a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Our people fought for equality and respect for hundreds of years. You’re up for this. You don’t have to earn it, Jaz.”
    But I wasn’t sure. Not then or now.
    “Jazzy?” Lacey said.
    I glared at her. After standing up for me, after being part of my family for so long, Simon had ruined it. Lacey had ruined it with him.
    Lacey must have read my expression because her eyes filled with tears. She rubbed them, smudging her black eyeliner.
    “You know how I get. It didn’t mean anything. You know that, right? Can you forgive me? Please?”
    I glanced away, not able to stand the sight of her. I did know how she got. How many times had I told her she shouldn’t get trashed and make out with random dudes? How often had I stood by her while she dealt with the morning-after remorse?
    “We’re talking about my mom’s boyfriend.