Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(39)

Terrell looks back at me. “White Chicks it is.”

He puts the disk in, then stands, his big ears poking out, before climbing over the coffee table and taking a seat next to me, closer than I was expecting. I can smell his cologne, fruity but at the same time not. It’s a hard scent to figure out.

“Ever watched this before?”

I shake my head.

“It’s funny, one of my favorites.”

My palms are sweaty. “I’ll probably like it, then. I’m quite easy.”

Terrell laughs. “Easy, huh?”

My face burns.

“Didn’t mean it like that,” I say, smiling, leaning back now.

“Sure, either meaning is good for me.”

I raise an eyebrow but say nothing.

I hadn’t given it proper thought before, but now I can’t stop thinking about it: the fact that Terrell seems to be open about his sexuality and so casual about it. It’s not something you can be casual about around here.

The way he told me we’d kissed—that I was his first kiss—was so casual too. And weird. I know I couldn’t have kissed Terrell. I’d remember something like that, especially in middle school. I always remember kisses because they always mean something.

My first girl-kiss was with Rhonda White in third grade. She was also my first girlfriend, and I really liked her. I thought her Afro was pretty cool. She ended up dumping me for some fifth grader, which I got completely. There were no hard feelings.

My first boy-kiss, though, was Scotty, and that wasn’t until the end of freshman year, when I finally figured myself out. My first everything was with Scotty, really. I don’t regret it, though. I don’t like regretting things, even things with bad endings.

A weight on my foot pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look down, jumping back when I see a tiny ball of fur with claws and a tail.

“Is that a rat?!” I shout, bringing my feet up onto the couch, looking away from whatever it was that violated my foot.

“That’s Bullshit—”

“I felt something!”

Terrell looks amused by my discomfort.

“Yeah, I know.” He bends over and lifts something up onto his lap. “It was my cat, Bullshit. Didn’t know he was in here. Sorr—”

“Who the fuck names their cat Bullshit?” I ask, face warm as I try to distract from how much I embarrassed myself just now. The cat sits on Terrell’s thighs, staring up at me with its honey-colored eyes. It meows casually, like it didn’t just give me a mini heart attack.

Terrell shrugs. “The name suits him.”

He looks serious, stroking the cat with one hand. It’s so small it could probably fit in Terrell’s palm.

“Any more surprise pets you want to warn me about?” I ask, placing my feet on the floor again.

Terrell shakes his head. “What? You don’t like animals?”

“They’re…” I look at Bullshit, who stares back at me like he couldn’t care less about my existence. He meows again. “… okay, I guess.”

Bullshit hops off Terrell suddenly, and I jump again.

“I think you could grow to like him,” he tells me as the cat saunters off. I swear I see a smirk on its furry face.

Bullshit.



* * *



Tuesday


The stares aren’t as annoying as they usually are when I enter school. But that could also be because all the lights are off.

In fact, the majority of students hardly seem to notice me as I walk through the hallway. Most are distracted by the lack of light, and others are focused on Chiamaka, standing next to my locker. She’s holding this ugly green bag and a Starbucks cup, with her straight brown hair pushed back by a matching green headband.

When I get to her, the focus shifts to me. My heartbeat increases but I pull my shoulders back, trying to show them they can’t get to me.

“Can I help you?” I ask Chiamaka, who still hasn’t moved. The overhead lights suddenly blink back on. Chiamaka winces when she sees my face properly in the light. I can imagine how my face looks, what with all the bruising.

“I just wanted to tell you that I told Headmaster Ward about Aces and their lies and practical jokes … so this should all be over soon,” she says quietly.

She looks up at me, her deep-brown eyes filled with certainty.

I can’t help but laugh. I haven’t heard this much crap in such a long time.

“You think Headmaster Ward is really gonna help us?” I ask, because I’m genuinely perplexed. She looks at me strangely, and I think it’s because I can’t stop smiling.

“Yes, of course he will.”

“Wow. Okay.”

She shakes her head. “He only wants what’s best for the student body; you’ll see that in the prefect meeting today.”

I’ve been trying not to think about that meeting. It means more time trapped in Caucasian-ville.

“Okay, Chiamaka,” I say, purposely looking between her body and my locker, hoping she’ll get the hint and move.

She stays, staring at me for a while—I swear there’s a flash of something I’d describe as almost human behind her eyes. Then she finally moves to go.

“Wait,” I say.

She turns back. “What?”