On the Come Up(68)

And just like we said, when I rap, “Pin me to the ground, boy, you fucked up,” Malik puts in a clip of the incident.

Will it change the minds of the Emilys though? Probably not. Honestly, nothing will. They’ll never truly understand because they don’t wanna understand someone like me.

Regardless, I hope my video gives them heart palpitations.

We’re uploading it to YouTube when Sonny’s phone buzzes. He takes it out and practically has a temper tantrum on the couch. “Dammit! My pops wants me to come home and babysit the gremlins.”

I hit his face with a pillow. “Stop talking about your little sisters like that!”

Sonny has three little sisters: Kennedy is ten, Paris is seven, and Skye is four. They are the absolute cutest, and if it was possible to adopt siblings, I would. Sonny loves them to death . . . except when he has to babysit them.

“They are gremlins!” he claims. “I was talking to Rapid the other day and they—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out.” I make a T with my hands. “You can’t just slip something like that in casually! You’re talking to Rapid again?”

Sonny’s cheeks get super rosy. “Yeah. I actually talked to him on the phone. This guy here convinced me to explain to him why I ghosted.” He points at Malik.

Malik pretends to bow. “Happy to help.”

“So, I messaged Rapid and told him that we found his IP address, and that I knew he didn’t live in the Garden,” Sonny goes on. “He asked if we could talk on the phone. I agreed. He reminded me that he never said he lived here, I just assumed. He understood why I was thrown off by it though. We talked a long time.”

Um, I need more than that. “What else did he say? What’s his name? What does he sound like?”

“Goddamn, I swear you’re nosy,” Sonny says. “I ain’t telling you all of our business.”

I raise my eyebrows. “So y’all have business?”

Malik wiggles his. “Sounds like they do.”

“And you two clearly have none since you’re all in ours,” Sonny says. “We talked about everything and nothing. But it’s weird. We were so caught up in talking that I never got his real name. He didn’t get mine, either. We didn’t need them though. I knew him without knowing his name.”

Am I grinning? Yes. I poke his cheek, the same way he did when it came to Curtis. “Look at you, blushing and shit.”

He dodges my finger. “Whatever. What’s even weirder? I think I’ve heard his voice before. Just can’t figure out where I’ve heard it.”

“At school?” Malik asks.

Sonny pinches his top lip. “Nah. I don’t think so.”

“Are y’all gonna meet up?” I ask.

He slowly nods. “Yeah. I want y’all to come along when we do. You know, just in case his ass is a serial killer.”

“What? So we can all end up dead?” Malik asks.

“That’s what ride-or-die means, ain’t it?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re lucky we love you.”

“I am. And since you do love me”—he cheeses at Malik—“can I bring the gremlins over here? That way we can start another round of Mario—”

“Hell no,” Malik says. “Your sisters need to stay at your house. I’m an only child for a reason.”

“Dammit!” Sonny groans. He steps over Malik’s outstretched legs. “Rude ass.” He punches Malik’s thigh.

“Ow! Hobbit-looking ass!”

Sonny gives him a middle finger and leaves.

Malik rubs his thigh. I smirk. “You okay?”

Malik sits up, straightening out his basketball shorts. “Yeah. I’ll get revenge. The Punching Game is back on.”

Not again. The last one was in seventh grade and lasted for months. Just out of nowhere, one of them would punch the crap out of the other. Whoever got the best reaction was the winner. Sonny won after punching Malik in the middle of prayer at church.

“You hungry?” Malik asks me. “I can fix us something.”

“Nah. I should probably head home, too. Besides, you can’t cook.”

“Says who? Girl, I can hook you up with the best Chef Boyardee you ever had in your life! Quote me on that. But for real.” He gently elbows me. “You can stay as long as you want.”

I pull my knees up to my chest. I took my shoes off ages ago. I’m not dumb enough to mess up Aunt ’Chelle’s sofa like that. “Nah. I should probably go check on my mom.”

“What’s wrong with Aunt Jay?”

“I think everything’s getting to her. We didn’t go to church, and then she went in her room and stayed in there. I mean, that’s not a big deal, but that’s what she used to do back when . . .”

“Oh,” Malik says.

“Right.”

We’re quiet for a while.

“It’s gonna get better one day, Breezy,” Malik says.

“Will it?” I murmur.

“You know what? I got something for this. I bet that I can make you smile in less than two minutes.” He gets up and scrolls through his phone. “Actually, I bet I can do it in a minute.”

He taps his screen. “P.Y.T.” by Michael Jackson starts playing. It’s no secret that MJ is the key to making me smile. So are Malik’s attempts at dancing. He lip-synchs, “‘You’re such a P.Y.T., a pretty young thing,’” and does some kinda move that looks more like he’s itching.