The Mare

Velvet

Ginger took me to this store. I told her I was going to a party, and I was. It wasn’t my party; nobody gave me a party. But Alicia was inviting me to a party. I didn’t know why. Maybe because I gave her the paper I wrote with Ginger and because we got in trouble together and I made her laugh. Maybe because Strawberry wasn’t there anymore. Really, I don’t know why. She still acted like she hated me, mostly. But she invited me and I wanted to wear something good. Ginger said, “Let’s buy you something, it’s your birthday soon.” And she took me to this store with things in it nobody in my neighborhood would wear. I said, “This is too fancy,” and Ginger said, “No it’s not.”

But when I came out of the dressing room in this shirt she gave me, the lady in the store said, “A twelve-year-old shouldn’t wear that.” Ginger said, “I’m clueless.” And the store lady picked something. She picked out a short blue skirt that showed my legs and then this shirt. I felt weird, but the store lady said, “It’s very cute.” I said, “It shows my body.” And she said, “But not in a bad way.” I didn’t understand because it showed as much of my body as the other thing that she said a twelve-year-old shouldn’t wear. But in a way I did understand because it didn’t have lace and it wasn’t black.

I looked in the mirror and I was ugly and stupid. I looked and I was pretty. In the store I did look pretty. In my house I knew I would not. At the party I didn’t know. But I wanted the outfit. I wanted it.

I wore it to the party. And nobody spat. They looked at me. I could see they were looking like I looked in the store: I was ugly and stupid and then I was pretty. That is how the girls looked. The boys looked different. And I wished Ginger had not taken me to that store.

But then that boy Dominic walked in. And I was glad that she did.

He wasn’t alone — he was with Chris, who Helena got in Strawberry’s face about. Also this thin tall boy with very dark skin and long straight-black hair who walked like he was somebody famous. And a girl, somebody older than us. She was black but light, with red hair and a silver belt with a buckle that spelled SONDRA, and she walked and turned her little head so beautiful. My gladness turned sharp in me; I remembered Dominic’s arm around Strawberry with her red-streaked hair. Sondra looked at me, but Dominic did not. I looked back at her, then looked away, and then the boy who acted famous was next to me. Up close he had nasty teeth; brown and rabbit-y, but two of them long on either side, like he’s a vampire. His eyes, though, were like warm candy, like a song where the singer sounds like a liar, but you believe it anyway.

He said, “Hey, shawty. Who got that dress for you?”

Across the room, Alicia and Helena were looking like they didn’t believe.

“It’s not a dress. It’s a skirt and a top.”

“Your boyfriend got it for you?”

This song came on: Supersonic, hypnotic, funky-fresh—and I just smiled.

“Aw, your boyfriend got it for you. That’s nice.”

— beat flows right through my chest—he touched my arm. “But I could get you something better. What’s your name?”

“Hey, Shawn,” said Dominic, “what you talkin’ to my little cousin about?” He was there with Sondra, who looked at me very chill. “Sondra, this my cousin Velvet.”

He remembered my name. My glad was back, big and soft; I looked down and mumbled hi to Sondra’s hi.

“Just inviting her for a smoke, thass all.”

“She too young for that.” He looked at me with the little dent in his nose and his eyes soft like—

Suddenly I felt Sondra standing there, strong and perfume-y, with covered eyes. Not saying anything. Not having to.

“She old enough for a boyfriend,” said Shawn.

“That don’t mean old enough to smoke.” Dominic punched my arm real soft. “But you can hang with us if you want.”

So we went to somebody’s bedroom with clothes all over their bed. Shawn went to sit next to me, but Dominic moved too fast for him, between me and Shawn so close that his leg was against mine. Shawn didn’t say nothin’; they just talked about something else. Sondra talked to me separate. She said, “Your boyfriend bought you the outfit? It’s cute.” Her voice was nice.

“I didn’t say it’s from a boy. My godmother got it for my birthday just today.”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Twelve.”

“It looks like money. She rich, I guess. Really, you don’t look twelve.” And then she passed me this sweet-smelling rolled cigarette, but I didn’t take it. Because Dominic was there and he didn’t want me to. So I just sat and felt Dominic’s leg like it was breathing his life into my leg, up into my whole body. What they talked about after that didn’t matter. I was just breathing in life. When we walked out of the room, Alicia and Helena gave me eyes like they did not know who I was and hated me anyway. But I didn’t care. Dominic was walking in front of me. He had his arm around Sondra, but he turned his head to look at me. And his look was not candy. It was tight and hot, joking and serious. Like a song I never heard before.