The Twelfth Card

helping you,” she muttered.
    Then he smiled, giving her a lowered-lid gaze. “I’ll make it worth yo’ while. You come over to my place anytime you want. I’ll fuck you good. I’ll evengo down on you. I know what I’m about in that department.”
    “Go to hell,” she shouted. Heads turned.
    “Listen up,” he growled, gripping her arm hard. Pain surged. “You got the booty of a ten-year-old and you go round like some blondie from Long Island, thinking you’re better’n everybody. A peasyhaired bitch like you can’t be too choosy when it comes to a man, you know what I’m saying? Where you gonna find somebody good as me?”
    Geneva gasped at the insult. “You’re disgusting.”
    “Okay, girl, fine. You frigid, that’s cool. I pay you to help me. How much you want? A C-note. Two? I got tall paper. Come on, name yo’ price. I gotta pass this test.”
    “Then study,” she snapped and flung the organizer at him.
    He caught it in one hand and yanked her close to him with the other.
    “Kevin,” a man’s voice called sternly.
    “Fuck,” the boy whispered in disgust, closing his eyes momentarily, letting go of her arm.
    Mr. Abrams, the math teacher, walked up and took the organizer away. He looked at it. “What’s this?”
    “He wanted me to help him cheat,” Geneva said.
    “The bitch’s wack. It’s hers and she—”
    “Come on, we’re going to the office,” he said to Kevin.
    The boy stared at her with cold eyes. She glared right back.
    The teacher asked, “You all right, Geneva?”
    She was rubbing her arm where he’d gripped her. She lowered her hand and nodded. “Just want to go to the bathroom for a few minutes.”
    “Go ahead.” He said to the class, all staring, allquiet, “We’ll have a study period for ten minutes before the test.” The teacher escorted Kevin out the back door of the classroom. Which filled suddenly with rapid-fire gossip, as if somebody had clicked off the mute button on a TV. Geneva waited a few seconds then followed.
    Looking up the corridor, she saw Detective Bell, standing with his arms crossed, near the front door. He didn’t see her. She stepped into the hallway and plunged into the crowd of students heading for their classes.
    Geneva Settle didn’t make for the girls’ room, however. She came to the end of the hallway and pushed through the door into the deserted school yard, thinking: Nobody on earth’s going to see me cry.
    *   *   *
    There! Not a hundred feet from him.
    Jax’s heart gave a fast thud when he saw Geneva Settle standing by herself in the school yard.
    The Graffiti King was in the mouth of an alley across the street, where he’d been for the past hour, waiting for a glimpse of her. But this was even better than he hoped. She was alone. Jax looked over the block. There was an unmarked police car, with a cop inside, in front of the school, but it was some ways from the girl and the cop wasn’t looking at the school yard; he wouldn’t be able to see her from where he was even if he turned around. This might be easier than he’d thought.
    So quit standing around, he told himself. Get your ass moving.
    He pulled a black do-rag out of his pocket, slicked down his ’fro with it. Easing forward, pausing besidea battered panel truck, the ex-con scanned the playground (which reminded him a lot of the yard at prison, minus, of course, the razor wire and gun towers). He decided he could cross the street here and use the cover of a Food Emporium tractor-trailer that was parked along the sidewalk, its engine idling. He could get to within maybe twenty-five feet of her without being seen by Geneva or the cop. That’d be plenty close enough.
    As long as the girl continued to look down, he could slip through the chain link unnoticed. She’d be spooked after everything that’d happened to her, and if she got a glimpse of him approaching, she’d probably turn and run, shouting for help.
    Go slow, be careful.
    But move now. You may not get a chance like this again.
    Jax started for the girl, picking his steps carefully to keep his limping leg from shuffling leaves and giving him away.

Chapter Sixteen
    Was that the way it always worked?
    Did boys always want something from you?
    In Kevin’s case, he wanted her mind. Well, wouldn’t she have been just as upset if she’d been built like Lakeesha and he’d hit on her for booty or boobs?
    No, she thought angrily. That was different. That was normal. The counselors at school talked