The Black Kids(64)

What do I want? To be understood. To be happy. For my sister to not be so sad. For my parents to not be so stressed, for them to get along. For Lucia to not leave me. To be loved. Real love that feels like feathers, like flight. Right now, I feel like I’m sinking.

“Please just let me be the one to tell her.” I start to panic. “It should come from me.”

Before he can respond, Courtney, Kimberly, and Heather return.

“Hey, bitches!” Heather wraps her arms around Trevor’s neck, and the two of them fake romantically dance with each other, but honestly it seems pretty real to me. They look into each other’s eyes, and the way they look at each other makes me sad that there’s only a few more weeks to go before Trevor heads off to New York and Heather is in Ohio at Oberlin. Then there will be hundreds of songs between them instead of just their own pride.

“May I have my boyfriend back, Ashley?” Kimberly says.

We let go.



* * *




I will tell Kimberly everything when the night is done after the lights go bright and we all stumble toward our hotel rooms or after-parties or limos, before she and Michael make it up to their suite and she gives him even more of herself than she already has. It’s not that I think she should avoid having sex itself; just not with him, not if she’s only doing it to keep him hers. Keep that part of yourself yours for just a little bit longer, I want to tell her. My first friend. I’ll come clean. But for now, I’ll get punch.

At the punch bowl, LaShawn and Candace survey our peers.

“Hey, Cricket,” he says. He places the ladle into the bowl and carefully pours into a red plastic cup before passing it over to me.

I extend my hand to Candace. “I’m Ashley.”

She laughs. “Girl, I know who you are.”

“Groove Is in the Heart” comes on, and Candace says, “That’s my jam right there! C’mon.”

“Be there in a minute,” LaShawn says while Candace shrugs her shoulders and shimmy-shakes away.

“I’m glad they let you in,” I say.

LaShawn shrugs. “I wasn’t gonna come, but my mama told me I paid for my ticket same as everyone else, and I got a right to be here. Plus, between the tux and the flowers and everything, that shit wasn’t cheap, and she work too damn hard to waste her money like that, she said. So… yeah.”

He laughs and it’s defiant, but also, there’s a bit of sadness underneath.

“I’m happy you’re here.”

“You look really nice, Ashley.” He blushes, then stutters, “I mean, you always do, but you look…”

“Nicer?”

“Right.”

“You look nicer too,” I say.

We both wait for the other to speak.

“Did you know female dragonflies fake their own deaths to get away from unwanted advances?” he blurts out. “Brian and I watched this documentary last night.…”

“So what you’re saying is, I should fake my death to get away from guys’ advances?”

“Only the unwanted ones,” he says.

We both stand there, frozen still and blushing.

“Well… I guess I should go find my friends.” I turn, take a few steps, and then the dance floor eats me right up.



* * *




I wander through the crowd looking for Courtney, Kimberly, and Heather. I’m surprised to see that even weirdo Steve Ruggles is at prom. With his hickey arms covered by tux sleeves, he almost looks normal. His date is kind of cute, even. I’m pretty certain she doesn’t go to our school. Nobody cute who goes to our school would go out with Steve Ruggles.

“Hey, Steve, do you know where Kimberly and Heather and them are?”

“You know my name?”

“We’ve been in the same classes for six years.”

“Eight.”

“Right. Have you seen them?”

“This is my girlfriend, Becky.”

“Nice to meet you, Becky.”

Her hands are very cold and very small, and her eyes are reptilian, but in a pretty way. She must be a very strange girl herself to love a boy who kisses himself for entertainment. But I guess love works in strange ways. There’s someone for everyone, as Grandma Opal used to say.

“Check outside.” He shrugs. So I do.

The party has spilled out to the hotel pool, which the prom committee has decorated with tasteful little tea lights. When it gets too hot inside, I walk to the double doors and out into the night air.

This is a mistake.



* * *




Michael and Kimberly sit by the water talking. I’m paralyzed; too afraid to stay outside, too afraid to go back in. The decision is made for me when I turn to retreat and Kimberly yells across the pool, “Don’t you dare move, Ashley!”

I stay right where I am as she bounds over to me. Everyone outside grows silent. And then Kimberly is up in my face, her blue eyes glowering.

“What is wrong with you?”

What is wrong with me? I think. The question plays in repeat on a turntable in my head as Kimberly yells. I don’t actually hear most of what she says until the very end. She doesn’t yell this. This she whispers.

What she whispers is: “You stupid nigger.”