Quite an Undertaking - Devon's Story by Barbara Clanton Page B

When will you find out?”
    “Well, I just got the application yesterday, but I have to send it back right away. If they like how I look on paper, my dance teacher, Ms. Adams, says they’ll ask for my audition DVD. She told me that if they ask for a DVD it means you’re ninety percent in.”
    “Cool. I hope they ask for your DVD.” I reached for my worksheet from the kid in front of me.
    “Me, too.”
    We read in silence and then answered the questions on the worksheet. I didn’t know all the words in the story, but I was pretty good at winging it. I hoped I could find a way to wing it with Rebecca because I desperately wanted to find out if she was gay like me.
    Mme Depardieu collected our worksheets with about five minutes left to the period. The way she tossed them into her “papers to be graded” basket told me we wouldn’t be getting them back anytime soon. When she sat at her desk and started typing on her keyboard, I knew the lesson was over for the day.
    “That was fun,” I said to Rebecca sarcastically.
    “Yeah, a real blast.” She rolled her eyes. “Actually, speaking of fun, we’re going to the mall on Saturday. Do you want to go?”
    I never realized how such a simple question could turn me inside out. Yes, yes, yes, I screamed inside my head. Omigod, Omigod, Omigod. I didn’t even care who the “we” referred to.
    “Sure,” I said with as much cool and calm as I could muster with my heart beating a thousand miles an hour. I tried to ask her what time, but the question caught in my throat. I coughed and tried again, “What time?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. We’ve got a couple of days to decide, but Jessie usually likes to eat at the food court first, and Natalie, well, she doesn’t care when we go.”
    Jessie. Bummer. Of course, the “we” included her. She wouldn’t do anything to me with Rebecca right there, would she?
    “Okay,” I said, “let me know on Friday.” Most of me knew I shouldn’t go to the mall with them because of Jessie, but the prospect of hanging out with Rebecca made the stupid part of me take over.
    “Great.” She reached down into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out her cell phone. Keeping it low under her desk, she asked me for my cell number. My insides started shaking as she punched the numbers in. She saved it and said she’d text me later with the details. She snuck her cell phone back into her backpack and then looked up at me with a grin as if we had just gotten away with something grand in Mme Depardieu’s class.
    The bell rang to end the period, and Rebecca stood up. I got up to walk out with her, but when I saw Jessie waiting in the hallway I sat back down and pretended to fuss with my backpack. I didn’t want to see if Jessie would shoot daggers at me again. I’d better get some thicker armor, I thought to myself, because in order to hang out with Rebecca, I’d probably have to hang out with Jessie, too.
     
     
    AS WE STROLLED into the food court at the Maplewoods Mall that Saturday, Natalie and I walked a step behind Jessie and Rebecca. They had picked me up at my house at around
    11:30 and by 12:15 we were in the food court trying to figure out what to eat. Jessie and Natalie went for Chinese, but I decided on the wrap place. Rebecca, seeming torn, opted to go with me. Ha! Devon 1, Jessie 0. I knew that was childish, especially since Jessie hadn’t sent me a single dirty look, but still, it felt good for a moment.
    When we regrouped at a table near the Chinese food counter, Jessie shoved a big spoonful of fried rice into her mouth and said, “Hey, we can’t always eat fried chicken and watermelon. Right, Devon?”
    Fried chicken and watermelon? What did that mean?
    Rebecca threw Jessie an exasperated look—one that said, “Behave.” That’s when I understood. Fried chicken and watermelon were supposed to be black foods or whatever, and I was white. I was the only white girl sitting at the table with three black girls. Maybe