If I Tell

the tablecloth. “You don’t look black,” I told him. I almost wanted him to be white.
    “That doesn’t mean squat.”
    I snorted. “That’s debatable. No one knows about you by looking. People take one look at me, and they know I don’t belong to either race.”
    “You belong, Jaz. You’re a human being. Color isn’t what you are. It’s just your shade. You’re beautiful. Inside. Where it counts.”
    I looked down at the table. Yeah. Inside. Where no one could see. Just like Jackson’s color.
    “That’s easy for you to say. How come no one knows then? You can tell me you’ve never been ashamed of your grandma? You’ve never worried about people meeting her or judging you for it?”
    “Never.” Jackson said. “Grams took me in. She was already old but she fought for me. No one knew where my dad was. She told me if they found him, she’d fight for me. What could I possibly be ashamed of? Black is a part of who I am. Just like you.”
    I chewed my lip. “Not like me.”
    “I don’t try to hide it, Jaz. It just doesn’t come up. It’s not like I keep my grandma in a closet so no one will find out.”
    I bit my lip, wishing I had the option of my color pattern not coming up. “What about your grandpa? What was he like? The white guy,” I asked, trying to get rid of my uncomfortable and irrational anger with him.
    Jackson smiled. “He died before I was born. According to Grams, it was just as well. He’d have killed my dad and blamed him for my mom’s death, she said.”
    I nodded. “My grandpa died when I was thirteen,” I told him. “He was my real dad in the ways that mattered. Most people don’t get that.”
    The two of us sat in silence, thinking of our families.
    “I’d have told him,” I finally said. “About Simon, I mean. My grandpa would have known the right thing to do.”
    Jackson drummed his fingers on the table and leaned forward. “What do you think that is?” He grabbed my hand.
    I stared at his fingers on my own, and my heart played a mean drum solo in my chest. His hand made mine look little, almost dainty.
    “What do you mean?” I whispered.
    “What do you think the right thing to do is?” Jackson took his hand off mine and reached for his drink, and my fingers missed his immediately.
    I thought about his question. “I don’t know.” But in that moment I realized that in my heart I did. I’d known my answer all along.
    “I can’t tell. What if my mom rejected the baby if I told her? Like she did with me? My grandma is too old to bring up another baby. I don’t want to ruin someone else’s life.”
    “Then don’t tell.” Jackson’s fingers tapped up and down on the checkered cloth, and I listened to the rhythm. It sounded like a song. I smiled in spite of myself. He stopped, and I willed his fingers to move again but they were still on the table.
    “I guess you have to trust that it won’t happen again.” Jackson paused. “What about Lacey?” he asked.
    I tucked my hands in my lap. “What about her?”
    “Can she keep a secret?”
    I leaned back in my seat. “I think so. No one has said a word about it. And she’s not exactly the hero in this story.”
    We sat in silence for a moment, and then the waiter approached our table with a huge piece of apple pie. He placed it in the middle of the table. A scoop of vanilla ice cream had already started melting all over the crust. He put down two forks and left us with a smile.
    “Mmm.” Jackson said. “Dig in, Jaz. You need to be fattened up.”
    I gave him a dirty look, but he grinned and dug his fork into the pie, shoving a big piece in his mouth. “Mmm. It’s still warm. Come on. Do you know how many girls would kill to be told that they need to be fattened up?”
    “Well, not me. I hate being called skinny.”
    He chewed. “Skinny? Ha! You’re perfect, and you know it.”
    I lifted a fork and shook it at him. “I am not and I do not.”
    He laughed. “Your forehead gets all wrinkly when you frown like that.” He shoved more pie in his mouth.
    I took a bite of his pie. The taste of apple and cinnamon warmed my taste buds.
    “I can’t believe you’re part black.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I never would have guessed.”
    He dug his fork back into the pie. “People see what they want to see.”
    I took another piece of pie and thought about it. We ate in silence for a minute. I knew he’d never gone through what I had. Ignored by the black kids. Ignored by the white