The Twelfth Card

in their eyes when they saw where he was headed.
    Hey, she thought to them triumphantly, wrap your minds round that .
    I’m in heaven. Geneva Settle looked down, face hot with pumping blood.
    “Yo, girl,” he said, walking up close. She smelled his aftershave. Wondered what it was. Maybe she’d find out his birthday and buy him some.
    “Hi,” she said, voice trembling. She cleared her throat. “Hi.”
    Okay, she’d had her moment of glory in front of the class—which would last forever. But now, once again, all she could think of was keeping him at a distance, making sure he didn’t get hurt because of her. She’d tell him how dangerous it was to be around her. Forget snapping, forget yo’ momma jokes. Get serious. Tell him what you really feel: that you’re worried about him.
    But before she could say anything he gestured her to the back of the classroom. “Come on over here. Got something for you.”
    For me? she thought. A deep breath and she walked after him to the corner of the room.
    “Here. Got you a present.” He slipped something into her hand. Black plastic. What was it? A cell phone? Pager? You weren’t allowed to have them in school. Still, Geneva’s heart pounded hard, wondering about the purpose of the gift. Was it to call him if she was in danger? Or could it be so that he could get in touch with her whenever he wanted to?
    “This’s phat,” she said, looking it over. She realized that it wasn’t a phone or beeper, but one of those organizer things. Like a Palm Pilot.
    “Got games, Internet, email. All wireless. Wack how those things work.”
    “Thanks. Only . . . well, it looks expensive, Kevin. I don’t know about this . . . ”
    “Oh, it’s cool, girl. You’ll earn it.”
    She looked up at him. “Earn it?”
    “Listen up. Nothing to it. My boys and me tried it out. It’s already hooked up to mine.” He tapped his shirt pocket. “What you do is, first thing to remember, keep it ’tween yo’ legs. Better if you wear a skirt. Teachers don’t go lookin’ there, or they get their ass sued, you know? Now, the first question on the test, you push the one button there. See it? Then push that space button and then type in the answer. You down with that?”
    “The answer?”
    “Then, listen up, this’s important. You gotta push this button to send it to me. That little button with the antenna on it. You don’t push it, it don’t send. Second question, push two. Then the answer.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    He laughed, wondering why she wasn’t getting it. “Whatchu think? We got a deal, girl. I’ll cover your back on the street. You cover mine in class.”
    The realization hit her like a slap. Her eyes looked up, bored into his. “You mean cheat.”
    He frowned. “Don’t go talking that shit out loud.” Looking around.
    “You’re kidding. This’s a joke.”
    “Joke? No, girl. You gonna help me.”
    Not a question. An order.
    She felt she was about to choke or be sick. Herbreathing came fast. “I’m not going to do it.” She held the organizer out. He didn’t take it.
    “What’s yo’ problem? Lotta girls help me.”
    “Alicia,” Geneva whispered angrily, nodding and recalling a girl who’d been in math class with them until recently, Alicia Goodwin, a smart girl, a whiz in math. She’d left school when her family had moved to Jersey. She and Kevin had been tight. So that’s what this was all about: When he’d lost his partner, Kevin’d gone looking for a new one and picked Geneva, a better student than her predecessor but not nearly as good-looking. Geneva wondered how far down on the list she’d fallen. Anger and pain raged in her like fire in a boiler. This was even worse than what had happened at the museum this morning. At least the man in the mask hadn’t pretended to be her friend.
    Judas . . .
    Geneva raged, “You got a stable of girls feeding you the answers . . . What’d your GPA be if it weren’t for them?”
    “I’m not stupid, girl,” he whispered angrily. “Just, I don’t need to learn this shit. I’ll be playing ball and getting tall paper for endorsements the rest of my life. Better for everybody for me to practice, ’sted of study.”
    “ ‘For everybody.’ ” She gave a sour laugh. “So that’s where your grades come from: You steal them. Like you’d fiend somebody in Times Square for a gold chain.”
    “Yo, girl, I telling you, watch yo’ mouth,” he whispered ominously.
    “I’m not