FIFTEEN
I asked my mom if you could move in with us, and she shot that down real quick,” Kiki says over FaceTime. “Says she loves you but got her hands full.”
“So did my parents,” Truth says, patting her bonnet. “Mad wack. We could fit you in my room, easy.”
I sniff under the covers, the sun coming through the blinds. I walked into the guesthouse around ten last night and finally called Kiki and Truth, then cried myself to sleep.
“Thanks, chat, for asking,” I mumble. “I get it though.”
“Did you talk to your aunt yet about moving in with her?” Truth asks.
“Nah. She don’t really have the space for me either. And … I don’t know.”
Kiki and Truth huff, falling silent, looking as depressed as I feel.
We haven’t all looked this sad since Grandma died.
And I really don’t know what to say when everything I’ve ever known has been snatched from me.
It’s like I’ve been pickpocketed and didn’t know until it was too late to do anything about it.
New home. New school. New friends. Well, not really. Can I even call Myah a friend?
“What are you gonna do?” Truth asks.
After seeing Jabari’s brother last night, it feels silly thinking about myself when a family just lost their whole world.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Yo.” Truth breathes in deep. “I know this is wack but take it easy on your pops, aight?”
“What? Why?” I snap.
“My mom said it’s mad hard trying to keep a spot in Harlem that you can afford. And everywhere is mad expensive. And your pops is a forreal Harlem dude, born and bred. He probably wasn’t trying to leave either.”
“Yeah,” Kiki says. “Though it’s wild messed up he didn’t tell you what’s up, he also lost his moms. He must be so sad. Just like you. But trying not to show it.”
Everyone in the house seems to freeze as soon as I enter, dressed and ready for another hot day.
“Oh! Morning, Harmony,” Lena says, holding a pot of coffee.
“Morning,” I mumble back. If ghosts are real, I don’t want Grandma popping up on me, telling me I’m being rude.
Dad is at the kitchen table, eating cereal. Doesn’t look like he slept much, and I feel a little guilty for yelling at him like I did. He lost someone too—his mom. But he shouldn’t have lied to me. That much I know.
“Hey, Mony love,” Dad says, but I say nothing. Grandma gotta be mad at him too.
Dad saw me fill out the application, refresh my email a million times waiting for a response, and the whole time, he knew we weren’t going back to Harlem.
Or maybe he wasn’t paying attention at all?
Maybe he had no clue how important any of this stuff was to me?
My stomach feels queasy, and I wish Grandma was around to give me some of that pink stuff to keep me from throwing up all over myself.
Dad shoots Lena a nervous look. “Uh, Harmony,” Dad says. “Can we talk? I think maybe we should—”
My phone rings and I look down at the unfamiliar number. I’d rather talk to a telemarketer than Dad, and that’s saying something.
“Hello?”
“Hey, girl.” It’s Myah.
She’s not someone I want to talk to either, but anyone is better than Dad.
I step out onto the porch for some privacy. “Hey. What’s up?”
There’s a brief silence before she clears her throat. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything. We cool?”
I sigh. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Okay, cool, ’cause we heading to the beach today.”
“The beach?”
“Yeah. It’s on Tybee Island. Some of my friends from school are going, and we got room for one more in the car if you want to go.”
The beach sounds like everything I need in my life right now.
“I was supposed to help Robby with the robot thing today. And shouldn’t we be preparing? We only have one more day before the gala.”
“He’s fine! He can do it himself. Come on, girl, we NEED a beach day. We’ve been dealing with some heavy stuff.”
I glance at the door, thinking of Dad sitting inside, waiting for me so we can talk, so he can say all the things he should’ve said months ago. I’d rather be anywhere but here. And Myah’s right. Robby’s been building robots since he could walk. He’ll be fine without me.
“Well. Okay, I guess.”
“Cool! Pick you up in twenty.”
I rush back into the house, passing the adults without a word, and out to the guesthouse. I change into my bathing suit and cover-up, throwing my hair in a bun.
I run back into the house and grab my camera bag and towel from the closet.
“Soo … where are you going?” Dad asks behind me.
“Out,” I say, remaining cold as ice.
He clears his throat. “Harmony. Can we talk?”
I pay him in silence.
“Harmony, I’m still your father, and you need to stay home so we can talk about this,” Dad says with some bass in his voice. “I know you’re mad, but I did what’s best for not just you but for us.”
His lines sound rehearsed and spoon-fed. That makes me even more mad. He’s been listening to Lena. Is she the one who told him to get rid of our apartment and leave the only home I’ve ever known? Why couldn’t he save our house? Was being in his band more important than giving us a normal life?
Angrily I zip up my camera bag.
Robby runs out of his room and stops short as if knowing something is up. Lena looks as if she wants to stop him but doesn’t talk.
“Where are you going?” Robby asks, frowning at my orange swimsuit.
“I’m going to the beach with Myah.”
“Oh! Okay. Ummm, can I come?”
“No,” I snap, a little too quick. “She didn’t invite you. Just me.”
The room goes dead silent. Robby squirms.
“Baby, Harmony got plans, but why don’t you come to work with me?” Lena says, trying to give Robby an assuring smile. “I still got so much to do for the gala, and you always have the best ideas.”
Robby looks at her for a brief second and returns to me.
“But … but you said you would help me with the robot for … you know.”
I shrug. “You can do it without me. You’re good at that stuff.”
His eyes grow wide, toggling from his mom then back to me. “But … but …”
I spin to face him. “I just need to get out of here without you up under me for a while. Okay?”
A car horn blows outside. Mr. Horton’s truck pulls up to the curb with Myah in the passenger seat and two other girls in the back.
“Later,” I yell over my shoulder and run out the door.
Crisp waves roll out from the ocean and slap the shore. I haven’t been to the beach since last summer, when I went to Coney Island with Truth and Kiki. After chilling all day, we spent the night playing games, riding rides, and watching the fireworks.
Now I may never see them again.
How could Dad do this to us?
My chest caves in at the thought. I take my camera out, clicking a couple of photos just to keep myself from crying in front of people.
Myah, wearing a green bathing suit and sunglasses, runs out of the water, laughing, while her two friends from school play in the waves.
They packed sodas, sandwiches, chips, and cookies, just like my girls would back home.
We listened to Lil Baby in the car on the way to the beach, just like I would with my girls.
We even laughed about Mr. Horton’s funny driving, just like my friends and I did about Kiki’s mom’s driving.
It all seems so familiar. But these aren’t my friends.
They’re Myah’s. And I’m not entirely sure whether Myah’s my real friend or not.
“You okay?” Myah asks me, drying off with a towel. “You seem … off.”
I don’t want to tell Myah what happened with Dad.
I don’t want her to think he’s some jerk or like other parents who don’t care what their kids think.
He just … didn’t have a choice. At least that’s what I try to tell myself.
I also didn’t want Myah to think that I hate Savannah.
I mean, it’s pretty cool. But I miss Harlem.
I miss home. The thought of being stuck down here without even the chance of saying goodbye …
“Why wouldn’t I be, after learning about you?” I shoot back.
Myah bites her lip and sits next to me on the towel. “I guess I get that.”
“But nah, I’m good,” I say with a sigh. It’s not like I totally trust her to tell her what I’m really feeling or nothing.
Myah stares at me. “Okay. So, who died?”
I reel away. “What!”
“Back with that Maverick guy. He had you thinking real hard about somebody who died. Somebody who maybe had you thinking you were seeing things. So. Who was it?”
I’m a little floored at how Myah can read people like a book. Maybe she is some kind of psychic after all.
“My grandma,” I admit, a frog in my throat. “And I guess my mom.”
“Oh. Wow. I’m sorry. Was … seeing my grandmama … hard for you?”
“No. Your grandma’s mad cool.” I sniff. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. She’s been gone a little while now.”
“Girl. That was your grandma! What other way you supposed to act? If I lost my grandmama, I don’t know how I’d act.”
I bite my quivering lip, gripping the towel tight.
“I miss her,” I say. “She was, like, my best friend. Nothing feels the same without her. House don’t feel the same. Food don’t taste the same. Holidays. Birthdays. Nothing. And I guess I’m just trying to figure out how I’m supposed to go on when I don’t know how to move on from all that I know.”
Myah nods. “My uncle Clay died two years ago. Real sudden. It hit everyone hard ’cause he was, like, the funny one. You couldn’t have a cookout or party without him. He used to pick me up from school every Friday with a hot pickle.”
“A hot pickle?”
She holds her hand up. “You wouldn’t understand.
Them things are good! Anyway, now Fridays don’t feel the same without him.
But one day, I started talking to him. Telling him how I miss him and our pickles.
When I got home that day, there was a pickle waiting for me.
Just sitting there right on the table. I took it as a sign. ”
“Is … that how you figured out you could talk to spirits?” I whisper.