This Is My America(12)

Dean’s eyes widen, and that little dimple I always stick my pinkie in to tease him reminds me how our friendship is so controlled by who’s around us.



Dean moves away from the counter, toward what has always been our corner. Together. For, like, ever. Most of my letters crafted right there. His mom doesn’t move, blocking me from our nook, while he grabs his things.

I should’ve just stayed outside and waited for Dean to come out, but he’s always trying to get me and his mom to interact. It never works out right. I swear, since I turned sixteen last year, Mrs. Evans has acted like we’d never met before. Cold. Always asking if I came by to get my mama when she knows darn well I’m here for Dean. She also loves name-dropping girls who come by for Dean. Lately I’ve been avoiding the store when Mama tells me Mrs. Evans is around.

I want to say I’m being ridiculous. Snap out of it. The truth is, I don’t know how to be around Dean anymore.

“Ready?” Dean slings his backpack over his shoulder.

I nod, sensing Mrs. Evans’s judging eyes on me. So strange how a replica of Dean’s eyes can give me such an opposite feeling. It’s not in the way she acts about Daddy being gone; it’s just I know she don’t want to know me. The truth is, I don’t want her to know my story, either.

As soon as we step outside the store, I can breathe again.

Dean loosely places his hand on my shoulder as we walk toward his truck. When we arrive at school, we hop out and take the steps up to the front doors side by side.



“I’m working after school. Want to do some homework in the back?” Dean asks.

There’s nothing I’d rather do than stay at the store and hide behind a good book in the corner while Dean works. Watch him jump to help a customer, then slide right back to me and read over my shoulder. And on busy days, sneak up to the empty loft upstairs and play music, since his parents have never been able to rent it out.

“I need a ride back, but I can’t stick around,” I say.

Dean looks down. “She doesn’t mean to be like that, you know.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” I lie.

“You sure you won’t come, though?” Dean asks. “I can take you to where you need to go and wait.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

I know he thinks I’ve been avoiding him lately, but it’s just that being at the store’s not the same with his mom watching me all the time. And I’ve got some making up to do.

“I was gonna try to catch Jamal off guard,” I explain. “You know, hold him hostage until he talks to me.”

“Smart.” Dean’s face brightens. “I still don’t get why you did it, though.”

“Not you, too?” I look away. I was hoping to skip this conversation with Dean.

“I got your back, but the way your family looked on TV. They were shocked. My stomach was churning watching it go down. It was like a car accident, and I couldn’t look away.”



Dean’s always on my side. The fact he was hit hard by what I did really seals the deal. I messed up. He’s supported me through all the letters I’ve written to Innocence X and helped strategize ways to get their attention. He knows how much this means to me. The guilt twists in my stomach. I’ve gotta fix things with Jamal.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought I’d immediately get a call from Innocence X, and then all would be forgiven, but nothing. Like usual.” I shake my head.

Dean slings his arm around my shoulders. “You’ll fix it. You always do. Come on, grab your books, bell’s gonna ring soon.”

We head to my locker, where Tasha’s lingering, grinning as she watches Dean and me head her way.

“Hey, Dean.”

“What’s up, Tasha?”

“Waiting on this girl. But now I know why Tracy is so late.”

“Yeah,” I say, “because Jamal ditched me again. You seen him?”

“Nah. Not yet. I heard something, though.” Tasha shakes her head but keeps her mouth shut in front of Dean.

“All right, Tracy.” Dean backs up, catching a clue. “I’ll see you later.”

I give him a thankful grin as he walks away. I mouth, Maybe I’ll stop by, and he flashes me a smile.

“Cuteness.” Tasha clicks her tongue as she hands me my books. “I don’t know why y’all don’t just bite the bullet and date. He gets a pass, you know.”



“Oh yeah, why?” I shut the locker and flick her hair.

“Because he’s the finest white boy I’ve ever seen. People would understand.”

“Oh, that’s how that works, huh? You know I’d have every white girl in school thinking they could get with Dean because they’d be mad he’s with me.”

“Please. Those heffas still wouldn’t even think in their wildest dreams y’all was together. You wasting time playing friends. You know that’s why nobody asks you out, anyways. That and Quincy.”

“You stay on that Quincy tip. He don’t want me; I told you to go after him already.”

“Don’t think I didn’t try. He got eyes for everybody but me. And I know it’s because of you. He’s just waiting for his moment to edge right on in between you and Dean.”