The Weight of Blood (7)

“We’ll need some sensitivity training for the entire staff as well.”

“What does the staff have to do with this?” he balked.

“Steve, you just found out one of your students has been pretending to be white. Do you have any idea the shitstorm that’s about to go down around here?”

He sighed. “Which reminds me. I have to call Mr. Washington.”

Maddy didn’t want to run out of the school. Running would attract too much attention. And she couldn’t use the front doors, where most of the windows faced and others could see her enormous hair and heckle her further. So she power-walked back toward the gym, down to the lower level, to the side exit, hiccupping breaths to keep from exploding. The earthquake had cracked her glasses, and she could barely see without them. But something told her that it wasn’t an earthquake at all. It felt too targeted, like it had happened under her feet and nowhere else. The thought made her want to run home faster, as if something ugly, inky black was chasing her down the hall. But as she veered around the corner, she slammed into a chest made of marble.

“Oof!” she cried, wobbling back.

“Damn, my bad!” a deep voice said with a chuckle, but he stopped as she glanced up at him.

Kendrick Scott.

He was a giant blur, but she’d recognize him anywhere with his dark complexion, towering height, and blinding smile. Breath caught in her throat; her legs froze stiff. She couldn’t remember a single time they had spent more than two seconds alone with each other. And of all days, he had to witness her like this.

What is he going to do?

He took in her appearance, stuck on her hair, his smile fading. “Uh, you okay?”

There was no recognition in his voice. Her heart quickened. Maybe he would forget all about the run-in, mix her up with some other girl, if she would only move her feet.

But as if a light had turned on, he gasped. “Maddy?”

Her name sounded strange on his tongue. A name she’d never heard him utter before. It was the wake-up call she needed.

She ran around him and out the door.

The hallways of Springville High were abuzz with gossip. Sure, some had heard about the natural disaster that had hit Mrs. Morgan’s classroom. But news about Maddy took precedence.

Wendy flew down the hall, protein shake in one hand, books in another, hoping to catch her boyfriend before he left for third period. He always stopped by his locker to switch books and clocked his timing just right so they could walk the halls together. She spotted his head hovering above the other students, standing a solid six foot two, all muscle. She stopped short of his locker, taking a quick breath to collect herself. But the news couldn’t wait, and the words burst from her lips. “Did you hear?”

Kendrick “Kenny” Scott jumped at her squeal but held in a sigh of annoyance. She bit her lips, remembering he hated the way she snuck up on him. No announcement, no greeting, just straight to whatever was top of her mind.

“Good morning to you too.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Hear what?”

“Maddy Washington is Black!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Maddy,” she said, and handed him his morning strawberry shake. “Mad Mad Maddy! She’s Black. I mean . . . African American.”

Her face flushed, hoping he didn’t notice the blunder.

Rolling his eyes, he slammed his locker shut and took a sip of the smoothie, wincing at the chalky vanilla whey powder that Wendy insisted would help with muscle gain—and for the most part, it did.

“That’s a really bad joke, babe.”

“It’s true! I’ve been trying to text you, but my phone is all messed up.”

He measured her face, waiting for the punch line. “Who told you that?”

As they walked down the hallway hand in hand, Wendy breathlessly recounted the hair incident.

“Y’all threw shit in her hair?”

She grimaced. The egregiousness of the act had flown right over her head.

“Well . . . I didn’t. Jules kinda did. But . . . it was funny how it all sort of stayed there. She didn’t even notice. Crazy, right? Maddy has a real Afro!”

“Yeah, I guess,” Kenny mumbled.

“Kara Klaine’s aunt works in the office and heard Principal O’Donnell talking about it. I mean, who would’ve known?”

Kenny stared at the floor, mumbling. “Think I saw her on the way to the bathroom. Didn’t even recognize her. She looked . . . scared.” He eyed Wendy. “What did y’all do to her?”

Wendy jumped quick to defend herself. “Nothing! Nothing that bad. If you ask me, she was kind of being dramatic,” she said with a laugh, redirecting the conversation. “But like, all these years we all thought she was white. So freaking crazy! Do you think anyone in your family knew?”

Kenny scoffed. “Why would we know?”

“I just, I don’t . . . well, I thought maybe . . .” Her words trailed off as she rubbed her temples.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, stopping to cup her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

She pushed back her white-blond hair to look up at him. Wendy had pretty strawberry freckles over ghostly pale skin. When she wasn’t babbling, he could swim in her ocean-blue eyes all day.

“I just got this killer headache.”