CHAPTER 13 #2
“You really gonna wear dat fa’ ya’ 'big' thirteen?”
Mia threw a look at my fit, her voice had a gritty scratch to it.
I smoothed out my denim,
“Girl, you buggin’. Dis is a classic fit. Plus, I’m savin’ my birthday money.”
Mia pushed off the wall, a restless energy in her movements.
“Forget dat lil’ girl money, Sum. Yo’ pops ain’t shit, my pops locked up, nobody's handin' us the crown no more. We gotta go get it.”
I felt the shift in the air.
“I don't know, Mia. Mama is at work and I told Shay I would watch tha boys so she can go see Nico.”
“Rules are fa people who can afford 'em, and you broke.” Mia snapped, already heading toward the corner.
“Come on. You wanna be a boss or a baby on ya birthday?”
I looked back at the house. Shay was watching us from the window with a suspicious squint. I swallowed hard and stepped off the stoop, following Mia toward the rumble of the overhead tracks.
“Yo, hold up,” I said.
“Mama told me, don't go to the mall wit’ no money. You jus’ beggin’ fa trouble or lookin' fa a handout.”
Mia didn't break her stride. She just let out a cold, raspy laugh.
“Yo’ moms is livin’ in a dif’rent world, Sum,” Mia snapped.
“My pops used ta say, if you wait ‘til you can afford it, you’ll be walkin’ ‘round barefoot ya’ whole life.”
“I'm tryin’ ta celebrate today, not get processed Mia.”
My words bounced off her back. She kept stepping without a single glance my way.
The rhythmic clack-clack of the regional rail replaced the sounds of the city as we headed toward the King of Prussia Mall.
The air conditioning didn't do much to cool the tension rising between us.
Mia was slumped in the plastic seat, her eyes hard and restless.
Mia was chasing a ghost. To Mia, being broke ain’t an inconvenience, it’s an insult.
“We gettin’ those Tommy Hilfiger sets today,”
she whispered, her voice low and gritty over the screech of the tracks.
“Fa’ yo’ birthday, Sum. We deserve 'em.”
I felt a cold knot in my stomach.
“Mia, I was gonna get somethin’ small. I can’t jus’ buy—"
“Buy?” Mia cut me off.
“Wit’ what? Dat lil’ twenty? Girl, dat won't even get you tha socks. We takin’ what we want.”
I gripped my backpack purse, my heart starting to sync with the speed of the train. I thought of Mama’s face. I ain't a thief. But I didn't want to lose the only person who understood what it was like growing up in West Philly.
“Mia, let’s jus look first. Maybe tha sales—”
“No sales! Jus’ do what I do.”
She started giggling with a wildness in her eyes.
The doors slid open with a hiss. My ‘big’ day had officially begun, but not the way I had imagined.
The department store was a maze of bright lights and security mirrors. Mia stalked the aisles, her fingers snatching and tucking with the precision of a professional. She slid a navy-blue cropped top into her bag without breaking her stride.
“Yo’ turn,”
Mia hissed, nudging me toward a rack of denim skirts.
“Don't be a baby. Do it now while tha lady’s at da’ register.”
I reached out, my fingers trembling as they touched the fabric. I saw the security guard at the end of the aisle turn his head.
I grabbed the skirt, bundled it up, and tucked it under my arm, pressing it against my side. I looked at Mia and gave a frantic nod, the universal signal for ‘I got it.’
“Let's go,”
My voice cracking.
We walked out of the store, my heart ready to jump out of my chest. Every step felt like a mile. Once we hit the food court, Mia ducked into a corner, with a triumphant grin on her face.
“Told you! Look at dis,”
she flashed the stolen tags.
“Now show me yours. Lemme see whatchu got.”
I waited until we passed a deep clearance bin near the exit, a messy pile of discarded hangers and oversized sweaters, and I dropped the skirt right back into the store’s inventory. I couldn't do it.
“I... I dropped it in my bag,” I lied, patting my empty backpack.
"I'm keepin’ it tucked away ‘til we get home. Too many eyes in here, Mia. I don't wanna get snatched up on my birthday.”
Mia looked at me for a long second, her eyes narrowing, searching for the lie. Then, she let out a short breath.
“Dat’s smart. See? You gettin’ betta’ at dis already.”
I forced a smile, my stomach still turning. I had a party waiting for me at home, but Mia mastered the art of the nudge. She was dead set on pulling me into the flames, ready to douse me in the same gasoline she was playing with.
That moment taught me that being grown meant setting my own code, even if I had to feed my best friend a lie to keep my hands from getting dirty.
The R5 rattled back toward West Philly, the air in the car thick with Mia’s hyped-up energy and my heavy secret.
When we reached my door, Shay already had the living room jumping.
Stereo blasting ‘Honey’ by Mariah Carey, her head bobbin while she adjusted the streamers.
She was on high alert, burning a hole through Mia’s shifty energy.
Mama emerged from the kitchen with a look that demanded we account for every second we was gone.
Mia tried to blend into the party, her eyes darting around the room while she searched for a spot to stash her winnings away from Shay’s radar.
Brandy rolled through first. She’s Ms. Tina’s daughter from right next door. We wasn't tight by choice. We just shared the same block, the same stoop, and the same static. She was cool.
Ms. Keisha made a lightning-fast appearance to hand over my birthday gift. She was holding a high-end boutique bag, crisp edges, and tissue paper tucked in all neat. Her and Mia swapped a few quick words before she ghosted.
Imani moved through the party with that same steady cadence she had back in the classroom. She sat a few rows over in homeroom, always quiet. She was really locked in while everybody else was just drifting.
Dominique, or Dom, pulled up last. She moved with a focus that said she was looking toward a much bigger future. Dom’s loyalty belonged to Mia first, but she had a realness that I couldn’t help but mess with.
Shay maintained a calculated distance from the hype.
She had already outgrown these walls. Mama had the crib on lock.
Table wiped down. Solo cups stacked high.
Bakery cake sitting there with my name iced on it, a little crooked, but it was all love.
The doorbell rang again, a delivery from Pete’s Pizza.
A whole stack of boxes hit the table, the grease already bleeding through the cardboard.
That smell took over the whole kitchen in a second.
“AYYYY!” Brandy hollered, her eyes locked on the pepperoni.
“Yo, lemme get a slice!”
“Wait” Mama snapped, her voice cutting right through the hype.
“Don’t nobody touch nothin’ til’ I get tha plates.”
Her words didn’t hold weight for long. By the time Mama turned her back, Brandy had a slice in her hand.
“Uh-uh!” Mama groaned while cracking a smile.
The squad posted on the floor, voices clashing as we fought to be heard.
The room was a symphony of soda cans popping and candy wrappers crinkling.
Ring Pops on every finger, Now it was about the undivided energy in the room.
I kept cutting my eyes toward the front door, then scanning the living room, then snapping right back to that front door. I was clinging to a private hope that my Daddy might actually show up.
Shay clocked my expression and she knew exactly where my head was at. She moved in close, voice low enough to stay under the music,
“You still checkin’ fa him?” her eyes searching mine.
I gave a weak shrug.
“He might roll through.”
She paused, then gave me a dismissive twitch of her chin.
“Aight.”
That one word was heavy, she didn't hold a lick of belief.
The night pressed on. The room got loud with a new type of hype when the lights went low.
Everyone claimed their spot on the floor with blankets and pillows, spitting the real about everything and nothing at all.
Secrets. Crushes. Who was feeling who. Who was out here acting like they was already grown. Mia rolled over closer to me,
“You had a good birthday?”
She dropped the question, looking for a win in my response. But the truth was tangled up in a knot of secrets.
“Yeah.”
I replied. And I meant it. Mostly.
I locked my focus on the entrance one last time, hoping for a miracle in the shadows.
Forty-eight hours after the cake was gone, he finally showed up on the stoop.
He knocked with a shameless confidence, like his absence didn't leave a single dent.
I swung the door wide and there he was. Rocking that same unapologetic energy, thinking he can slide back into my world on his own selfish terms.
“Happy birthday, Sum-Bug.”
The words falling off his tongue with a practiced ease. Looking at me through the mesh with sorry eyes like I owed him a smile. I stood there, my heart turning into a cold, heavy stone. Two days late. My birthday energy had already evaporated into the humid July air.
I stepped back, letting him cross the threshold without a single spark of that old-school excitement. The days of me flying into his arms was over.
By then, the block had already taught me the cold truth; some people show up when they want to, not when you need them. You can hold your breath for a miracle, but that bitter reality remains unchanged.