Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
niomi
“My tired is tired,” Janelle says, sitting down on the wall where we used to people watch between classes. The Yard holds so many memories and a lot of them were made with Janelle in tow. “This has been a day already and it’s not even done.”
She’s right. So far we’ve squeezed in the parade, where Celine looked beautiful on her float as Miss Finley.
Tailgating in the parking lot before the actual game, where my camera guy and I went from tent to tent, consuming enough fried chicken and pulled pork and burgers and slaw and hot dogs to feed an army.
Once inside the stadium, a moving rendition of “Lift Every Voice” to kick off the game brought me to tears, like it always does.
It seemed there were just as many people outside still eating as there were packing the stands.
At halftime the game was tied. The halftime show is just as much of a draw as the game itself.
The Finley marching band left no crumbs on that field, with the tubas and trombones rocking.
The drumline was a stretch of flying mallets and sticks that had the crowd bobbing and swaying and swag surfing.
With prettily painted faces, the Finley Prancers danced between yard lines in their skimpy outfits, kicking it high and dropping it low, getting everyone hyped for today’s main event, the presentation of the homecoming court.
Celine was truly regal. I was on the sidelines grabbing footage and didn’t see Touré, but I know he was there somewhere and had to be proud.
“You coming to hear Baby X tonight at the concert?” Janelle asks, leaning back on her palms.
“That used to be the highlight, but not anymore. Not the kid.” I settle beside her on the wall. “I think I’ll head on over to the Candlewood for the old folks’ party.”
“I’ll be there soon as I can, but you know I gotta check on my babies first. Make sure they don’t start shit and keep it civil.”
“The irony. You used to be the one starting all the shit, and now they’ve put you in charge of regulating it.”
“Hey. It’s a grown ass job, but someone has to do it.” We laugh and she side eyes me. “Speaking of grown ass, you didn’t think I was gonna let you get away with what was going down between you and Touré when I walked up last night, did you? I need that hot tea.”
I groan and drop my face into my hands, laughter slipping through my fingers. “It was just a kiss.”
“After all these years, it better be more than just a kiss. You owe it to yourself to see where things could go with Touré. You owe it to me.”
I lift my head and one brow, eyeing her curiously. “How do you figure I owe it to you?”
“You never heard of vicarious smashing?’ Her grin is as bright as the late afternoon sun retreating behind her. “With all I got going on this weekend, your action is my action, unless your cousin comes through.”
“Yuck, Nelle. You and Ron . . .I need to unsee that image in my head.”
“Then vicarious smashing it is. You and Touré.”
“I didn’t even get to see him today. Maybe he won’t show up tonight.”
“Judging by the way he was talking in that interview and the way he looked at you last night, he’ll be there.”
After all these years, am I a fool to hope he is?