The File on Angelyn Stark by Catherine Atkins

Author:Catherine Atkins [Atkins, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89989-8
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

“Um” is what he says when I ask him over.

I pace with the phone. “Forget the stuff this morning. I have.”

His cell crackles. “Angelyn, you can’t knock me around like that.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah.”

“Why should I come?” Steve asks.

“Because I’m here.”

No answer. I wait and wait.

“Steve?”

“Twenty minutes,” he says.

In his quilted jacket and big boots, Steve shrinks the room.

“You live in a dump,” he says. Turning, staring.

I fold my arms. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s cold here.” His nose wrinkles. “It stinks.”

“Okay, Steve. I’m poor. Is that all right?”

He faces me. “Is this why you never asked me over?”

“Yeah, and—well, you saw them. The people I live with.”

He nods. “Your mom and him are gone, you said.”

“For the weekend.”

“What’d you have in mind, Angelyn?”

“I don’t know. We could go out. See a movie. Maybe get some food.”

He’s shaking his head. “I didn’t come here to be your ride.”

“Steve—”

“Not that kind of ride.”

Despite it all, I smile. “You’re disgusting.”

He cracks a grin. “And you love it.”

“So,” I say. “You want to do it and leave?”

“No, I don’t want to ‘do it and leave.’ Not if we’ve got the weekend. I will stay. But why can’t we have dessert first?”

“Dessert?” I’m groaning.

“Yeah. There’s something in it for you, Ange. I’ll show you what.”

I rub my arms. “We’d go out after?”

Steve steps to me. “Whatever you want.”

Inches apart, we stare. He takes my wrists and pulls me toward the couch.

I slip free. “We don’t want that grungy thing.”

“Where, then?”

“Your truck? We could park.”

He slaps his thigh. “Here we’ve got a house and no parents—”

“Danny is not my parent.”

“No adults,” Steve says. “For tonight and all the way to Sunday. Right?”

I lean against the doorframe. “Right.”

“You said you didn’t want to be alone.” He points to himself. “I’m here.”

“Only not on the couch,” I say.

I let him lead me to another room. Mom and Danny’s room. Steve sits me on their bed. I think that I can do it—that it won’t matter. I stretch with him across the comforter.

His fingers tap my zipper. He’s pushing. Pressing. And I’m pulling off my shirt like I want it—whatever it is—as badly as he does.

“You are going to love this,” Steve says.

I pull him to me. He fumbles with my bra clasp.

“I will,” I say, and while I do, he rears off to strip himself.

Arms above my head. The bra sliding from my finger to the floor.

“Angelyn,” he says. Choked. And falls on me.

Bare chests pressed, we roll on the cool and shiny polyester.

“Let’s get under the covers,” Steve says.

“What?”

He’s pulling me up. Tossing the comforter back.

“Steve—”

The bed is unmade underneath. Bunched blankets, rumpled sheets.

He rummages through like he’s making us a nest.

Danny’s musk is rising. A long black hair from Mom sticks against a pillow.

I want to spew.

“Not here either.” I backstep from the bed. “Don’t even get mad.”

Steve faces me. “You know, you’re not Goldilocks.”

“Yeah, well.” I nod to him. “I don’t think that is what she was looking for.”

“Okay. Where do you sleep?”

We shuffle down the hall, me topless in jeans, Steve naked.

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