CHAPTER 9
CROSSROADS
When I was eight years old, Shay was eleven.
And I couldn’t decide if she was growing up too fast or was being pulled there.
She had Mama’s beauty, but it came out sharper, like a blade that caught the sunlight.
Her cheekbones cut high against her milky chocolate brown skin, and her lips was always glossy from the clear roll-on Lip Smacker.
She kept her hair in a fresh doobie most days, smoothed until it swung when she walked.
When Shay turned a corner, that wrap bounced behind her.
She wasn’t asking to be seen, you would just be stupid not to notice.
Boys her age trailed behind her like stray puppies.
Older dudes pretended not to gawk, meanwhile their eyes followed her up and down the sidewalk.
The Aunties on the block shook their heads shamefully,
“That girl growin’ up too fast.”
“Denise betta’ tighten up on her.”
Nearly every night there was yelling in our house. Mama would tower in the hallway with her hands on her hips while Shay rolled her eyes and smacked her lips, none of it phased her.
“Why you got dat lil bitty skirt on Shay?” Mama would probe.
“It’s a skirt,” Shay threw out flat and brash.
“It’s barely fabric!”
“Ummmm it’s summatime! It’s hot outside.”
Mama would keep going, her voice full of what came out as anger but was really fear.
“You think dese boys out here lookin’ at you like a child? Huh? You think they care how old you are?”
Shay would grin mischievously, thinking she knew things Mama didn’t.
And I recorded her every move, she was like magic to me.
Summer of ’93 was scorching in a way that felt personal.
The sun cooked the block hard, heat rose off the pavement, bending the world at the edges.
My birthday had recently passed, which meant I was officially nine years old and convinced I knew more about the world than I actually did.
A fire hydrant had been cracked open earlier in the day, and water rushed along the gutter in a tiny river.
Kids were splashing through it barefoot.
The aroma of barbecue floated down the street from one of the neighbors grilling on their porch.
Music poured from a car parked halfway up the block. Life was loud.
In the center of that fire, was Shay. She leaned against the metal railing on the corner, owning the street, cackling with two of her friends.
Her head tilted back when she laughed, the sound bright and sharp.
I squatted halfway up our front steps, watching it all, the way I always did.
Watching Shay, watching the block, learning.
The engine was louder than a racecar. Heads turned, and a candy-red mustang rolled lazily down the block, it knew it was being watched. The windows was tinted dark. When it froze at the corner, the entire block seemed to shift its attention. Nico. I knew his name, the whole ‘hood did.
He was way older than Shay, and way too flashy.
He moved through, silently letting you know the rules didn’t apply to him.
His fade was sharp enough to cut glass, a gold chain thick as rope rested against his white V-Neck T-shirt.
As he leaned his arm out the window, the glare bounced off the watch on his wrist.
He resembled the men in rap videos. Suave.
Untouchable. Dangerous in a way that felt exciting and wrong at the same time.
Obviously, Shay peeped him too. Because suddenly her posture straightened, and she flicked her hair back over her shoulder. Her laughter changed, now more flirty. Nico leaned out the open window and said something low. I couldn’t hear everything from the steps, but I heard enough.
“You lookin’ good, lil’ mama.”
Shay giggled, too loud. She tucked her hair behind her ear, abruptly shy in a way I had never seen on her.
Nico’s voice stayed smooth.
“You need sumthin’ betta than ‘ese lil boys out here.”
At first, Shay didn’t respond, she smirked. A chill ran through me despite the air being cranky with fever. The way Nico focused on her wasn’t admiration, it was possession. A claim.
Next thing I know, the front door behind me flung open so hard it rattled the windows.
“Shaylene Drake!” Mama’s voice sparked through the air.
“Get yo’ fast ass in dis house right now!”
The block paused for half a second. Shay’s smile disappeared and her friends melted away. Nico grinned devilishly while he leaned back in his seat, calm as ever, and tapped the gas. The Mustang rolled hesitantly off the street.
Mama grabbed Shay by the arm and dragged her inside. The door slammed, and the yelling started.
“You tryna end up like me?” Mama shouted.
“You want some foo’ drivin’ you straight into hell? You don’t know what these streets will do to you, little girl. You ain’t ready!” her words sharp as knives.
Shay’s voice fired back hot.
“You don’t know everythang, Mama!” her eyes red with fury.
“I know these streets!”
“But I ain’t you!”
I stood in the hallway frozen. Mama’s voice was full of fear, Shay’s voice was full of hunger. I figured this fight wasn’t really about Nico. It was about Shay wanting more, and Mama knowing exactly how ugly ‘more’ could be. It wasn’t long after that when Shay got into her first fight.
We was walking to the poppy store. I had a dollar clutched in my hand for Now & Laters and a juice.
Shay walked ahead of me, her hips swinging with confidence.
Two girls waited outside the store, arms crossed, faces stiff with attitude.
I recognized them immediately. They hated Shay simply because she existed.
They hated her pretty. Hated that all the world seemed to bend slightly around her.
“Here she go,” one of them said.
“Lil’ Miss I’m all that.”
Shay stopped walking and she placed one hand on her hip.
“Ho, don’t hate me cuz you look like dog shit.”
The other girl smirked.
“You ain’t even dat cute.”
Shay dropped her bag. The fight exploded instantly.
Fists flew, hair got yanked, faces scratched.
A crowd formed out of nowhere. When the other girl landed a hit, Shay swung back twice as fierce.
It ended when the Mr. Ali who owns the poppy store grabbed them both and pulled them apart.
Shay’s left eye had a small slit above it, and her hair was wild. She grabbed my hand and pulled me away.
“See, Summer?” She stated, breathing hard.
“You don’t let nobody talk slick.” Her voice was fierce.
“You either put up or shut up, ain’t no in between!”
In her eyes I saw a dangerous fire burning too bright.
Later, at the house Mama confined herself in her room with the door closed. Through the wall I heard her crying, soft, broken. Shay flopped on our bed holding a damp towel against her eye. I crawled beside her and tucked myself against her side. Time passed and neither of us spoke.
“Shay,” I whispered.
“Are you gonna be okay?”
She peered down at me and smiled weakly. Noticeably it wasn’t her regular smile.
“Course I am, lil’ sis.” She brushed my hair back gently.
“Don’t worry ‘bout me.” Her voice dimmed.
“Jus’ watch n’ learn.”
But I did worry. Shay was stepping into a world I couldn’t follow. A world Mama couldn’t protect her from. No matter how hard I tried to hold onto her, the block had its own grip.
By the end of that summer, I watched Shay from a distance more often than I walked beside her.
She laughed louder, walked faster, dressed flashier.
Mama’s warnings bounced off her like rain.
I still loved her, still idolized her. Except now, I feared for her too.
The block was creeping closer. Relaxed, patient, ready to swallow her whole.