If I Tell by Janet Gurtler Page B

held my breath, not quite believing he was going there. People never went there.
    “Are there any other people in your life? Black people, I mean. Like grandparents or aunts or uncles or something?” Jackson asked.
    My laugh was bitter. “That whole side of my family doesn’t even acknowledge I exist so…um, no,” I snapped.
    He stayed quiet for a minute. “It’s hard. Being the only one.”
    “There are other black people in town. That’s how I got there, after all.”
    “I know that. I meant in the family. And you’re the only biracial girl at Westwind. So you’re kind of alone there too.”
    I snorted. “Thanks for noticing.”
    He glanced over and raised his eyebrows before looking back to the road. I lifted a finger to my mouth and started chewing on a hangnail.
    “I notice things. I like to think I look a little deeper.”
    I glanced at his profile, envious of his thin nose. I’d always hated my wider nose, sure God gave it to me to remind me I was partially black. I tried to imagine his life for a moment, but I was too wrapped up in my own misery.
    “I hate when people make snap judgments. Hate it.”
    Something inside me cracked a little. The darkness around us hugged me like a blanket, making me feel secure and more intimate with him.
    “I don’t give a crap who someone’s parents are or what they do for a living,” he added, and the blanket of darkness tugged at me.
    “My life is a mess,” I blurted out, surprising myself.
    I looked over to see if he’d laugh or mock me. He just nodded.
    “In high school, my mom was the blond princess, and my dad was the football star. A total cliché except that he was black. Back then it mattered even more than it does now. My mom, the rebel. Anyhow, they didn’t go out for very long before she got pregnant. Grandpa told me my dad, I mean the Sperminator, didn’t want her to have the baby. Me.”
    Grandpa had never sugarcoated his words. He was a strong believer in truth. He tried to make up for the fact that my father had never wanted me born by loving me more, but he’d always told me the truth about my birth.
    “My father’s family moved away before I was born. They didn’t want to ruin the Sperminator’s chance at playing college football. They never contacted me. They pretend I don’t exist. I’ve never spoken with any of them.”
    Jackson nodded and glanced at me. I didn’t see pity in his eyes before his gaze went back to the road. It was something else. And because he wasn’t feeling sorry for me and because I was filled with liquor, I kept talking.
    “My grandparents raised me. My mom lived with us too, but we were more like sisters. Anyhow. We all did fine. I mean, my grandparents were great, but obviously they didn’t know anything about being black. I looked the part but didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Well, until Simon came along.”
    “Simon?” Jackson asked.
    I lowered my head, studying my shoes. “Simon has been my mom’s boyfriend for about five years. He’s black. We used to be kind of close.”
    “Used to be?”
    I ripped off the skin from my hangnail with my teeth and it hurt, but in a different way than the pain inside me.
    “It changed. My mom is pregnant, and Simon…” I thought about Lacey. An image of her kissing Simon flashed in my mind. Her arms wrapped around his. His mouth all over hers. I leaned my head back against the seat. “It’s nothing.” I closed my eyes tight to chase away the image. “We don’t get along anymore.”
    “Did something happen? With you and Simon?”
    “Oh, my God, no!” My eyes flew open, and I shivered.
    “Sorry,” he said softly. “You just looked really…freaked.”
    “It was nothing like that. Never mind. It was just…a stupid fight,” I lied. “It doesn’t matter.” I turned my head and stared at the blackness outside. There were a few cars on the street, and the streetlights shone bright, but it seemed like most of the population of Tadita was home