Chapter 5
“Yo, sis, how’s the face feeling?” Nolan smirks without taking his eyes off the road.
“Shut up or the next time you go to sleep I’ll disembowel you,” I fume, balling my hands into fists.
“Damn,” he laughs. “You get slapped into next week and now you wanna commit a felony?”
“I mean it, Nolan.” I twist in my seat, ready to do some bodily damage if he keeps pushing me.
When the jokes didn’t start the moment we got into the car, I foolishly thought Nolan took pity on me and breathed a sigh of relief.
Silly me. Should’ve known it was too good to be true.
He will never be a protective big brother.
Our mother’s relentless coddling turned him into a selfish, spoiled brat with an ego to match.
Momma hates me, though. Why else would she treat me the way she does? I try my hardest to meet her expectations, but she always finds me lacking.
Nolan slows his Mercedes-Benz to a stop at a four-way intersection. “Shit, I bet the whole county heard it. Momma laid the double whammy on your ass. Sure you don’t have a concussion?”
“I hate you!” I scream. I’m about to land a punch when he strikes me first.
A sharp jab to the gut.
I double over, gasping for air, blinding pain rippling through my intestines.
“Jesus,” he grumbles. “Overreact much?”
I throw the door open and retch, but nothing comes out. Nolan unbuckles my seatbelt and shoves me headfirst to the pavement. Frustrated drivers blare their horns and speed around us, pissed at being delayed.
“Walk it off,” he sneers and tosses my belongings after me before peeling down the street.
I pluck my compact mirror from my purse and examine the damage. No bleeding, but my forehead is scraped up pretty bad. I’ll put on a little more makeup at school.
I stand tall. Straighten my spine. Pretend I’m not screaming inside.
It’s just another day, Zilphia… Don’t think. Don’t cry. Don’t let him win.
Holding my head up high, I begin the ten-minute trek to school. Walking is preferable to riding with Nolan anyway.
My thoughts drift to Sam. It’ll be especially tricky sneaking food to him now. After this morning, Momma will for sure keep track of groceries. Without me, he wouldn’t eat dinner most days.
I can’t let that happen, not ever.
My calves burn as I hike up the steep hill leading to the hulking taupe-colored brick building. “FeFe, over here, boo!” Claudette shouts in her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice.
Ugh! I loathe that stupid nickname!
God, she is beyond irritating. I’ve asked her not to call me that a trillion times, but does she listen? NOPE!
I count to five Mississippis and slide my lips upward in a fake smile.
We’ve been “friends” since kindergarten—because our mothers said so. They’re meaner than rattlesnakes and have PhDs in starting drama. Every day it’s the same ridiculous competition over who can flaunt the most overpriced outfit, shoes, and jewelry. It’s aggravating.
I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them. But Momma says these are the right girls. The right crowd.
“Hey,” I wave at the three girls clustered near the marble sculpture of Bart the Bear, Pinkerton High’s mascot.
“Ew, what happened to your forehead?” Savannah asks, backing away like I have the plague.
“I fell.” I shrug. “It’s nothing serious.”
“You are such a klutz,” Phyllis chastises me. “Do you have two left feet or what?”
“Well, I didn’t fall on purpose, Phyllis.”
“Oh, honey, what are you going to do about the homecoming dance?” Savannah tsks. “You can’t waltz into the gym hanging on Redmond’s arm looking like something the cat dragged in.”
“Still don’t get why he asked you in the first place,” Phyllis quips, throwing shade.
Savannah snorts, and Claudette snickers behind her long coffin-shaped acrylic nails.
Truth be told, I have no clue why he asked me either.
Sure, Redmond and Nolan are best friends, but he never paid attention to me until a few weeks ago.
What’s changed? Unlike my brother, Redmond’s tall, ripped, and freaking hot.
He could’ve gone to the dance with any girl he wanted, but chose me.
“Don’t fret.” Claudette squeezes my hand, offering false comfort. “Foundation will cover that nasty little bruise right up.”
“I have an important announcement,” Savannah states cheekily, changing the subject.
“Do tell.” Phyllis waggles her eyebrows. “Is it something juicy?”
Savannah flips her lemonade braids over her shoulder. “Super juicy.”
Claudette sucks her teeth impatiently. “Well, what is it?”
“I’m going to have sex with Briceson on homecoming night.”
“What?” I exclaim, wide-eyed. “But that’s tomorrow and you’re only fifteen.”
And she just started dating him. They can’t love each other this soon. Sex is a huge step and shouldn’t be taken lightly. I, for one, want my first time to be special.
“But you’re only fifteen,” Savannah mimics in a whiny tone. “Gosh, you’re such a baby. It’s not a big deal. My cousin lost her virginity at thirteen. Anyway, it’s my duty to keep my man satisfied.”
“Yeah, hello, we’re not in middle school anymore, FeFe,” Claudette retorts. “Do you think Redmond is going to stick around if you’re not giving it up? He’ll drop you like a bad habit, girl. Remember, whatever you refused to do, another bitch won’t.”
“And being a virgin at fifteen is so 1960s,” Savannah proclaims, giving me the stink face. “You really need to get with the times.”
“Creeper alert,” Phyllis mutters suddenly, wrinkling her nose.
Savannah follows her gaze. “Who?”
“The dingy white boy sitting on the stairs.”
I glance over and my breath stalls in my throat.
Sam.
Sitting on the edge of the brick steps like he belongs nowhere. Hoodie half-zipped. Knees drawn up. But it’s his eyes—those glacial-blue eyes—that pin me to the spot.
He’s staring at me. Just me.
What the hell is he doing?
We made a rule. No looks. No words. No acknowledgment.
And he’s burning a hole through me in front of the worst gossips in the entire school.
My skin prickles. My throat dries. My brain screams, “Look away, look away”—but it’s too late.
“He’s staring at you, Zilphia,” Savannah remarks.
“Like he wants to eat you alive,” Claudette adds.
“Wait a minute,” Phyllis says, her eyes darting between Sam and me. “Do you two know each other?”
“Are you serious?” I snort, loud and dismissive. “He’s not even my type.”
“Come on, girl,” Phyllis croons. “You can tell us. We’re your friends.”
Friends don’t study your face like it’s evidence.
“I have never even spoken a single word to him,” I lie, praying my acting skills are sufficient.
Claudette bumps her shoulder against mine. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”
“Gah, he looks stank, and has he never heard of a comb?” Savannah retorts.
“He doesn’t stink,” I snap before I can stop myself.
Silence.
Shit.
Phyllis blinks slowly. “And how exactly would you know that?”
I laugh, tight and too fast. “I walked past him in the hall. Once.” I need to end this conversation before I give myself away. “I’m heading to the bathroom to clean up before class starts. See y’all later.” I practically run to the entrance.
Sam is on their radar now, which means they’ll be watching him and his reaction to me. This isn’t good.
Zilphia’s rich, dark-caramel skin is unparalleled.
My famished gaze drinks her in, seeking sustenance only she can give me.
I shouldn’t gape, but I’m hopelessly riveted by her.
She’s my sunshine in my otherwise cold, dark world.
Everything that is me belongs to her. I am her property. I’ll forever be at her beck and call.
I slip my fingers into my pocket and caress the gold cuff bracelet there.
It’s a surprise gift for Zilphia. Our names are engraved across the surface in fancy script.
I mowed lawns all summer long to save money for the expensive purchase, but she’s well worth the days spent slaving in the blazing heat.
I’m waiting for the perfect moment to give it to her.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Jiminy teases, plopping down next to me.
I jab my elbow into his ribs. “Zip it.”
“Dude, quit being so obvious,” he cautions, pushing his overgrown chestnut hair from his eyes. “That’s all I’m saying. It’s curtains if Nolan finds out you hold a torch for his sister.”
I scoff. “That fucker doesn’t scare me.”
Nolan and his entourage used to make my life hell. Freshman year was pranks, verbal warfare, and locker-room beatdowns. Sophomore year, I hit back. Hard. But I never told Zilphia. She doesn’t need that. Our tree house time is sacred. I won’t stain it with his name.
Nowadays, our run-ins are few and far between.
“What’s your end game, huh? Marriage, babies, and a desk job?” he questions sarcastically. “It ain’t happening, Sam. Not with Zilphia. Her family isn’t going to roll out the welcome mat for you.”
“She’ll choose me,” I respond, though doubt digs its razor-sharp talons in my heart. “Eventually.”
The silence that follows cuts deeper than laughter.
“Look,” he finally says. “Zilphia isn’t built for the path we walk. That girl’s got a glass life. You throw one rock—”
“You don’t understand,” I fire back. “Zilphia and me, we share something special.”
“Okay, I get it. Romeo and Juliet 2.0,” he deadpans.
“Fuck you, Cricket.” He’s my best friend, but sometimes I want to throttle him.
“Dude, fairytales aren’t real. Girls like Zilphia don’t date, let alone marry, white trash.” I wince, rearing my head back as if dealt a violent blow. “Hey, no offense, man. Hell, I’m white trash too.”
I glance down, trying to rein in my emotions. “I love her.”
“I know, but you will never exist for her outside that tree house. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
“You done?” I snap, refusing to acknowledge the truth behind his words. “I shouldn’t have told you shit. You throw the situation in my fucking face every chance you get.”
“Hey.” His voice softens. “I’m not trying to kill the dream, Sam. I just don’t wanna be scraping your heart off the pavement later.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need a goddamn watchdog. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”
“Hendricks,” Nolan calls, marching toward me. Redmond strides at his side.
“Here we go,” Jiminy mutters.
I grab the rusted metal handrail and push to my feet. “What do you want?”
Jiminy stands too, ready to throw punches if necessary.
“Damn, why so hostile?” he asks, his eyebrows dipping low in mock concern. “We just wanted to check on you. Make sure your mom’s okay.”
My jaw tightens, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.
“Saw a video of her giving the whole neighborhood a show,” Redmond chimes in, barely controlling his laughter. “Shame there wasn’t popcorn.”
The fuckers cackle like they just heard the funniest joke on Earth.
“I gotta hand it to her, though.” Nolan leans toward me, his voice low and taunting. “For an old bitch, she looked pretty good.”
“Back off,” Jiminy growls.
“Or what, pussy?” Nolan sneers.
“I’ll smash your shit in,” I threaten, my fists clenched and itching to land a hit.
“Space and opportunity,” he goads me, spreading his arms wide. “Space and opportunity.”
“Hey!” the security guard yells. “Is there a problem?”
Nolan plasters a smile on his face. “Not at all. We’re just having a friendly conversation.”
“Save it for later. The bell’s about to ring.”
“You’re lucky,” Nolan mumbles, giving my cheek a quick slap before he and Redmond amble past us.
“Your future brother-in-law is a major asswipe.” Jiminy slings his arm across my shoulders. “Family gatherings should be a blast.”
“Shut up, Jiminy.” I shrug him off and stalk into the building.