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better. He told me I was easy to talk to.”
    â€œGerald is solid,” I said. “Built tough.”
    â€œI’m starting to see that,” Jalani said with admiration in her voice. “Then he asked me to tell him about my life, about how I ended up going to Hazelwood in my senior year and why I gave up modeling in New York. So I told him everything. He was so easy to talk to.”
    â€œI don’t think you’ve ever even told me and Rhonda more than bits and pieces,” I said.
    â€œI know. It’s hard being new among so many old friends. I was a little scared at first, but now I feel closer to all of you.” Jalani said quietly. “I know Gerald thought I’m all that because I have a nice car and such, but my life has been rough, too,” she began. “I was born in Nigeria. My mother was Nigerian, an Ibo, and my father an American missionary. We lived in a village out in the bush, with dirt floors, no windows, and no toilet. But I was happy as a child because my mother loved me, my father spoiled me, and I had the love of the whole village, who all treated me as if I were their own.”
    â€œI bet that was awesome,” I said.
    â€œWhen hard times came because of the droughts andpolitical problems,” she continued, “my parents decided to move back to the States. We lived in shacks and tenements all over the South while my father preached. But gradually, my mother got tired of his refusal to settle down, and of his frequent descents into what he called ‘forgivable sin.’ Mother got tired of forgiving him for giving more than brotherly love to the women in the congregation, so they split up. It broke her heart, but it made her stronger.”
    â€œRough stuff,” I told her. “So that’s when you went to New York?”
    â€œYeah. Mother and I found a small place of our own right in the middle of New York City. She loved the fast pace of the place. I started modeling when I was very young, and she never let me spend a penny of it. She saved it, learned to invest it, and tripled what I had in five years, then tripled that amount in the next two years. It’s almost as if she knew I would need something to survive on.”
    â€œSo that’s how you saved enough for the BMW?” I asked, interrupting.
    â€œGoodness, no. Mother would never have let me spend that much on a car. She won it on
Wheel of Fortune!
It was the most fun she ever had in her life.” Jalani grew silent on the other end of the line. “I guess I told you that mother was diagnosed with cancer two years ago, and she gradually faded away into darkness. I thought that I couldn’t live when she died last year. Gerald was so understanding when I told him.”
    â€œI told you he was an awesome dude. Now all this is happening while you’re waiting to find out about Angel?”
    â€œYeah, the waiting was the worst part—the not knowing. Being able to talk to each other really helped. I told him he was very strong. In my home village the men would have said that he had been through the fire and the scars had made him a strong and mighty man.”
    â€œNow I never quite thought of him as mighty,” I said, laughing, “but he has had his share of tough luck.”
    â€œBy that time, a doctor came out and called for Gerald. He grabbed my hand and we walked over there together.”
    â€œWhat did the doctor say? Is Angel going to be OK?” I asked with worry, remembering the reason for Jalani’s call in the first place.
    â€œShe told Gerald that Angel was seriously dehydrated and anemic. The tests said she was downright malnourished. Then the doctor asked Gerald when was the last time that Angel had eaten a good meal.”
    â€œOh, no! What did Gerald say?”
    â€œHe felt guilty, of course, like it was his fault that Angel wasn’t eating. He told the doctor that Angel was a dancer who took pride in being thin and