Extract from A Truth I Don't Know by Anne M.L. Anderson

Illustration by Andrew Hinchcliffe

Prologue

Roseland, Chicago

 

I’m ready for bed, on the couch with the blankets tucked around my face, when I hear them. A pair of feet pounds up the stairs. They race down the second floor hall. They stop outside our door.

I clench my hands together. Last week I heard those exact same footsteps in my dream. It was Uncle Antonio. Then there were more footsteps, and those terrible men appeared. I woke up screaming. Mama sat with me on the couch, held me, told me over and over, “Mali, it’s just a dream.” But it had felt so real.

This time I pinch myself. It hurts, so I know I’m awake. It means these footsteps aren’t a dream. Mama sits at the table under the light. She’s been reading through a stack of papers from the hospital and marking the important bits. Now her pen waits in mid-air while she listens.

“Mama,” I say.

There’s a hammering on the door and someone yells, “Baby Girl, you in there? You gotta let me in.” It’s Uncle Antonio.

Mama sucks in her breath and coughs. She uses the table to prop herself up. She peers in the bedroom to check on Deron. Then she walks to the door and turns the bolt lock, but not the chain. Antonio thrusts the door open an inch. Mama looks through the crack and says, “You ain’t bringing no trouble into my home, Antonio.”

“None, Baby Girl. I swear, ain’t nothing like that,” he says.

“Mama,” I try again, but she’s having none of it.

“You – bed,” she says, pointing her finger at the couch without turning around. Then she slides back the chain and Antonio dashes inside. Rivers of sweat run down his face and neck. His puffy coat is unzipped. He runs to the table and topples it over. Mama’s papers fall on the floor. He jams the table against the door. He re-sets the bolt lock and chain. So Mama and I both know he’s a liar. He’s brought trouble with him

I sit up on the couch, wrapped in my blanket. I squeeze my knees. My heart races.

“Go back to bed, baby,” Mama says, but she isn’t watching me. Her eyes are glued to the door. She slides out her phone. Her breath is raspy and short.

“Hurry,” I whisper.

Outside someone’s playing music. I hear the heavy hip-hop beat. The wind howls, covering the sound. Then a door slams and there are more feet, pounding, terrible feet, echoing through the stairwell.

“Oh God,” Antonio says.

“Get your brother,” Mama says to me. I throw off the blankets and run to the bedroom. I scoop Deron’s heavy, sleepy body into my arms. He’s almost too big to carry. But his eyes are tightly shut.

Antonio rushes around our kitchen. He pulls at the window, but there isn’t a fire escape off our apartment, and even if there was, there are bars on the windows.

“What have you brought here, Tony?” Mama whispers. But she’s not looking at him. She’s looking at me and Deron, fists clenched, like no matter what happens, she won’t let nothing in the world come between her and her babies.

If we push Antonio back into the hall now, make him leave, maybe—

Fists pound on the door. It’s too late.

“Mali, c’mon,” Mama says. She grabs my hand and pulls us into the bathroom. Mama sinks to the toilet, presses me and Deron against her. The bathroom’s got the only door in the apartment, but it ain’t never closed all the way, so we can still see into the living room.

Mama dials 911 on her cell. I can’t move.

We watch the front door shake in its frame. Fists and feet attack the door like a thunderstorm. The wood splinters and cracks in the middle and I can see arms and gloved fists. Another foot kicks at the door and it splinters again.

“My babies,” Mama says. Her heartbeat rushes in my ear. Deron’s head is heavy against my chest.

Antonio yells from the middle of the room. His eyes dart like an animal’s. He jerks from one side of the apartment to the other. He runs to Mama’s bedroom.

“Hello? Hello?” says a voice from Mama’s phone. “This is emergency services. Please identify your position. Hello?”

A gloved hand reaches through the crack and turns the bolt. The chain rips out of the wall and our table falls forward. Six men race inside. They wear ski masks on their faces, gloves on their hands. One throws open our bathroom door and sends it crashing against the wall. Another drags Antonio out of the bedroom.

“Hey now, let’s not be like that,” Antonio pleads.

“Shut up,” says the man holding him. He raises a gun to the side of Antonio’s head.

“No!” Antonio cries.

The gun cracks and the room shakes with the explosion. Blood splatters across our wall. When the man loosens his grip, Antonio collapses to the floor. His face runs with blood, his eyes twist upward, empty.

Deron wriggles in my arms. His little hands clutch at my shirt.

Then my breath catches in my throat and I’m screaming. Shrieking. I can’t stop.

The man at the bathroom door turns, looks at me. “You shut up,” he says. He raises a fist.

The man with the gun swings around. He points the gun right at me, Deron, and Mama. My voice dies.

Mama jumps up, so me and Deron are behind her. “This ain’t got nothing to do with us. You get out of my home now or I’ll see you rot in jail for the rest of your lives. The cops are on their way.”

“You lying,” says the man with the gun. Behind the mask his mouth looks like it doesn’t belong to his face. It’s a dark, empty hole. I squeeze Mama’s hand so hard it hurts.

“Man, she’s not our business,” says a man by the front door. “And that little girl ain’t no older than my bro back home. Let’s get out of here.” He grabs the gunman’s arm and swings him around. The men talk more. They push each other. Then they’re gone. I hear them running through the hall, down the stairs. Their footsteps echo through the building.

Mama sinks back to the toilet, her breath short like the doctor warned. I bury my head in her lap. My body shakes so bad, I don’t think I can move or speak. Antonio’s dead. Just like it happened in my dream. 

Mama lifts Deron out of my arms. His eyes are still tightly shut. Mama rocks back and forth, holding us both. She prays in a whispery, raspy voice. “God, get my children out of here. Whatever it takes. Get them out.”

Then she coughs. Her whole body shudders. As she coughs again and again, I look at our door, broken and useless, hanging from its hinges. I skim my eyes over the bloody wall, the lifeless body. I look down at the bathroom floor. Yellow lines criss-cross the gray floor squares. I close my eyes tight, like Deron. I don’t want to see anything else ever.

 

 

Chapter 1

5 years later

 

Last week I had another dream.

I’ve had the dreams since I was ten, when Mama was first diagnosed with cancer. They’re full on, in my face, and they always come true. This one about Rob should happen any day now. So school is the last place I want to be.

I shove through the crowded hallway to my locker. It’s the week before summer and that means the hallways are even crazier than usual. I do my combination and kick my locker door so it pops open. I unzip my backpack and throw my math book to the floor with a thud.

Vanessa comes up beside me. “Don’t hold back, girl. Tell us how you really feel.” Her English book and notebook are already tucked under her arm.

“Just tired,” I say. I don’t tell anyone about the dreams. Not even Vanessa and she’s my best friend.

After Mama died, I moved to Hyde Park, and started school at Larson. Vanessa was new the same year. We were the only two black girls in the 6th grade, so I sat with her at lunch. That weekend she invited me over for a sleepover. We’ve been together ever since. V’s good as gold. She’s always been there for me. Unlike the rest of this sorry school.

“You do all the history homework?” she asks.

“Did he really expect us to outline the whole essay?” I say.

“I think so,” V says, sympathetically. Of course she did it. V’s also the perfect student.

The two-minute bell rings.

“See you for lunch,” she says, taking off.

“See you.”

I slam the locker shut and stride down the hall.

Alex Rollins passes me heading the other way. “Hey, Beautiful,” he calls out.

“Yeah, yeah.” I don’t turn around. Alex does it to get my goat, been doing it since I was a lowly freshman. He’s only a year older, but he’s got this dark skin and a row of perfect white teeth. He’s just been at Larson since last year, but he knows everyone, chats with everyone. He smiles and he looks like he’s never been pissed off a day in his life. It’s annoying as hell.

 

I walk into math past Jonah, who’s arguing with Mrs. Peters in the hall. “But it’s not fair,” he says. “My tutor’s gone to Malta, so I won’t have anyone to help me prepare for the final.”

Cry me a river.

I slump down at my desk. The dry-erase board is covered with Mrs. Peters’ tiny, neat handwriting. Row after row of equations and formulas.

Jonah finally lets her in the door and she taps the board as she speaks to the class. “This is part one of what you’ll need to know for the test. I’ll put up part two tomorrow.”

Behind me someone moans.

“Now I’ll give you ten minutes to copy this down, and I expect this room to be absolutely silent. Afterwards you can work in small groups to make sure you understand everything. I’ll be at my desk if you have any questions. Understand?”

The class responds with a dull murmur and Mrs. Peters marches to the back of the room.

I get out my pencil, but it’s too quiet. Dead quiet. The dream storms my mind in vivid color and I can’t block it out. There’s a bare white wall, Rob Evans’ pale face right up in mine, mocking. And then I go crazy, lash out at him. A crowd gathers around, security hauls me off.

I kick a leg of my desk. School is already stressful. And lately I’ve been missing Mama so much. It’s like every day without her gets harder, not easier. There’s no one else that cares about me like she did. No one else I can really talk to. But on the outside I’ve managed to keep it all together. I haven’t been great, average grades, Mrs. Peters called home a few weeks ago about my “attitude.” But I’ve been trying.

And now this. No one will be seriously hurt, but I’ll get in trouble. I hardly know Rob Evans. He’s a football player, a junior, big, white. He might not even know my name. But the dreams always come true.

 

At lunch, the hallways are thick with students. The library’s getting rid of a bunch of books and there’s a mob flipping through their cardboard boxes.

I almost walk right into Toby. He’s kneeling beside a cart jammed with encyclopedias. I duck my head, push past some other students down the stairs to the cafeteria. Toby and I broke up months ago, but whenever he sees me he puts on this big show like we’re still cool. Whatever. He’s the last time I’ll ever date a white boy.

After I fight through the cafeteria lines, I sink into my seat opposite Vanessa and Leah. V smiles at me. She and Leah are talking about some new department store downtown in Water Tower Place. Leah’s on this vegetarian health kick, so she’s got carrots, peppers, and celery spread out on plastic wrap in front of her. She takes a bite of her carrot stick, holding it with her long, manicured nails.

I bite into my hamburger. It’s cold and dry. This time next week I could be out eating real food. I imagine myself some chicken wings, the hot grease on my fingertips, the salty, crispy skin. The cafeteria sounds wash over me until they’re a distant buzz in my ears. In my mind, I’m already on summer break. The dream with Rob is history. Maybe it didn’t even come true. I’m walking in the sunlight, music beats from an open window—

“Mali?”

I open my eyes, take in the beige walls, the sticky floor, the long-cafeteria table. Vanessa’s eyes, behind her chunky black glasses. “What?” I say.

“I said, we’re going to Water Tower after school. They’re doing make-up demos. Do you want to come or don’t you?”

“Make-up demos? Leah put you up to this?”

“There’s nothing wrong with looking good,” Leah snaps. “But if you’ve got somewhere else to be, we don’t need you anyway.”

“What? Where would I—?”

“Oh please, you’ve been high-tailing it out of here all the time lately.”

Vanessa nods. “Last week Friday. The week before that you did it twice. We never see you anymore.”

It’s because I’ve been visiting Mama. Or at least my memories of Mama. I used to be able to handle things, but lately I’ve been so desperate to talk to her. I take another bite of hamburger.

V keeps watching me. “Everything okay?” she asks. She always knows when something’s the matter.

I swallow the clump of burger and fake smile. “I’m fine,” I say. “Maxine’s been on my case about grades.”

It’s true. Maxine’s my aunt. I live with her and my Uncle Jesse. She’s a complete horror and everyone knows it.

Vanessa’s still looking at me.

 Of course it’s not just Maxine. Really it’s just been too much. Everything’s been too much. And the dream will happen any day now. But I can’t say any of that.

“So, are you coming to Water Tower or not?” Leah says.

 It’s easier to give in to them, enjoy an afternoon away from all this crap. “Okay, I’ll meet you by the lockers after history,” I say.

“Good,” V says, smiling.

Thomas Rafferty puts his tray on the table, squeezes in beside Leah. “You guys study for the math final yet?” he says.

Vanessa groans.

“Just say your tutor’s in Malta.” I tell the group about Jonah whining to Mrs. Peters.

“Malta? I don’t even know where Malta is,” Thomas says.

“It’s a country off the coast of Italy,” Leah says.

“Jonah said the same thing to Mr. Ripple in science,” Vanessa says.

“It’s pathetic,” Thomas says. “Everyone’s busy and stressed. Why should he get a break because of some fancy tutor?”

“The final’s not that bad,” says someone behind me. I turn to see Alex Rollins holding the back of my chair, leaning over from the table behind us. God, he’s good looking. His fingers are long and fine, his arms thin but muscled.

“That’s a relief,” Thomas says.

“Did you have to know series?” Leah asks.

“Well, I think Mrs. Peters expects—”

Vanessa kicks me under the table. “Mali, Earth to Mali,” she whispers.

“What? What?”

“You’re drooling.”

I roll my eyes. He’s so not my type. Both of his parents are professors at the University. His dad’s in the Law School. He’s like a different species. Ogling him is like ogling a mountain goat at the zoo. A cute one.

They’re still talking about math when the two-minute bell sounds. I’ve got art next and it’s at the other end of the school. I stand up, push back my chair.

“Mali?” Alex says. I ignore him. Math is the last thing I’m worried about.

“Three and a half more days to go, girl,” Vanessa calls after me. I try to smile. It’s going to be a long week. I dump the rest of my hamburger in the trash and head out the door.

 

At the end of the day, my head is full. It feels like the dream is buzzing all around, banging on the sides of my brain, waiting to happen any day, any minute. I see Rob’s dumb face jammed in front of mine, my fist flying out, the crowd surrounding us. I have to leave before I get into some serious trouble.

As soon as the bell rings I rush out of history. I weave through the mass of students and kneel at my locker. I shove my French and history stuff in my bag. I’ll do math tomorrow during assembly when I can pump Leah for the answers. I zip my bag, sling it over my shoulder. Most of the other sophomores are only just getting to their lockers.

“Hey Mal – wait up!” I hear Vanessa holler.

“Can’t,” I yell back. “Doctor’s appointment.”

“What? But what about Water Tower Place?”

Shit. I completely forgot. And I can hear the hurt in V’s voice. I hesitate for a moment, but I can’t. Not now. I shrug, holding my hands out like, what the hell can I do? I need to go home. My real home, Roseland. Before all this crap makes me explode.