Grown(47)

“You OK? You want me to stop?”

“No,” I whimper, clutching his shirt. “No please, stay.”

Daddy takes a long breath. “Hold still, baby. Don’t want to, you know, nick you.”

Daddy has aged since I’ve been away. The creases on his face are deep; he breathes harder, like his lungs are defeated. I tell myself it’s the strike, it’s the bills piling up, and the picket lines in the cold. But I know what it’s really from.

Me. I did this to him. I stressed him out. All the trauma I’ve been through . . . my parents probably have been through way worse, worried about a kid who wouldn’t even pick up the phone.

The tears I’ve been holding for God knows how long bubble up and let out the cry hidden deep in my belly. I cry and cry until my body is convulsing.

Daddy turns off the clippers and holds me close. I bury myself in his shoulder.

“It’s all right, sweetheart.”

“I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

“None of this is your fault. Not one drop of it. No child should ever take the blame for a man’s actions.”

I sniffle into his shirt, crumbling.

“It’s gonna be all right. I promise.”





Chapter 60


School Daze




The halls of Parkwood High School are not much different from being onstage. All eyes follow me. Waiting for me to open my mouth and sing.

But I stay quiet, keep my head down, walk quickly to homeroom, hoping to see Gab beforehand. It’s hard to reconnect with anyone over text. But maybe if we see each other, it would make a difference. I wonder if she’s been eating lunch in the cafeteria or if she still eats at our spot.

Mackenzie and Hannah give me a quick wave but don’t meet my eye. Coach won’t let me back on the team yet but says I can practice, good for my therapy.

People part the hallways like the Red Sea and clash back together the moment I pass. Voices hit my back like pebbles.

I walk into biology, our only class together. Except Gab’s seat is empty. And stays empty.

When class ends, I call Gab again.

And again.

And again.

She’s not in the cafeteria when I pick up my fries and salad. She’s not at our spot near the award case.

I pull out my songbook, the only thing I managed to salvage from my time with Korey, trying to soothe the aching loneliness. Because the biggest loss I’ve experienced in all of this is the loss of a best friend.

I wait for Mom outside, pretending not to notice everyone staring as I shuffle through the notes from my teachers, all saying the same thing: I’m failing. Couldn’t keep up with my schoolwork while I was gone and I couldn’t explain why. All they saw, or really assumed, was that I was living the celebrity high life and couldn’t be bothered with math quizzes or English essays. I want to tell everyone what happened . . . but where do I even start? How do I explain what I hate facing about myself, and how stupid I’ve been through all of it?

Shea stomps down the steps, a deep frown on her face, but in her eyes is a touch of sadness. Dried white tears stain her cheeks.

“How’s school?” I ask as she plops down next to me.

Shea scoffs. “A mess. But not as messy as your life.”

First day back and the knives are sharp.

“What the hell is your problem? Do you really think I wanted all this to happen?”

Shea examines her manicure with a sniff. “I think you got exactly what you wanted, no matter who it hurt. It just didn’t turn out the way you expected.”

Mouth dry, my stomach churns. “But . . . I risked everything for you.”

“Me?” Shea laughs. “Oh, please.”

“Yeah. I made sure that you could stay in school. Korey paid for it!”

She flashes me a hard stare.

“I would’ve rather dropped out,” she hisses. “Like, do you think I wanted this? It’s hard enough being the only black girl in ninth grade, but having an older sister be some grown-ass man’s . . . I don’t know what. All I know is I’m not allowed over my friends’ houses because of you. When people talk about you, they’re talking about me, wondering if I like old men too. When they talk about you, they’re talking about Mom and Daddy, wondering what kind of fucked-up parents would send their daughter off with some man. You wanted to be with him, no matter what it made us look like.”

Shea turns her back to me. I can’t find the words to accurately describe what I feel. Shock. Guilt. Shame. I thought if I told her all I did, how I gave up my dream to protect her, she’d have to forgive me.

But it doesn’t seem right to shove that in her face. That’s something Korey would do.

“How did you find us?”

Mom’s voice is sharp, but Louie doesn’t seem to notice. He’s busy sipping Mom’s limeade, appreciating the family photos on the wall. He’s a strange artifact of my recent past sitting on our sofa in my present.

“I got friends in high places,” Louie says. “Looking good, Enchanted! I’m digging the buzz cut.”

Daddy jumps to his feet, bellowing, “Aye, it’s time for you to go!”

“Hey, hey! Easy! I’m messing with y’all! Chanty, your friend Derrick? He hooked me up with your info.”