Prologue #3
Simone, however, was not from money. She got a scholarship to attend high school over here at Havenbrook Academy and commuted from the town over just to get a shot at a prestigious education.
It was also rumored that she was sleeping with one of the teachers, and he got her into the academy.
It seemed stupid to place your minor girlfriend at your place of employment, but sadly, the stories of teachers sleeping with students at Havenbrook Academy were plentiful.
With damn near everyone being true. I didn’t care to question her on that rumor.
Every morning, she’d catch two buses and sometimes the light-rail, walking the last few blocks with that same notebook in her hand like the world around her didn’t exist.
When I complained about keeping an eye on my brothers while my parents were away for work, she’d ask if I’d rather watch them in a mansion, comfortable with all our needs met, or in a run-down, barely furnished apartment, praying the lights didn’t get cut off before you finished your homework.
She told me stories about winters when the heat barely worked and summers when the windows had to stay open to let the devil out.
Insecure, goofy niggas like Sloane preyed on girls like Simone. Gave her what she was missing—materialistic possessions, financial stability, and “love.” That “love” was nothing but a disguise for the abuse she endured from that coward.
The night Simone came over and played 2K, we became best friends.
Her vibe was out of this world. There was no subject she couldn’t make sound interesting, and she took genuine pleasure in hearing me talk about music.
Not being one to overly share or express my emotions—much too macho for that—I found myself telling her everything.
The pressures of being the son of two accomplished parents.
The expectations people placed on my name before I even opened my mouth.
Even my secret thoughts of quitting school because it felt like a waste of time and I rather waste money before time. HUSH, was all I needed.
Truth be told, if it wasn’t for her, I probably would’ve dropped out.
My parents were so consumed with their celebrity lives that they wouldn’t have known until they showed up expecting to see me walk across a stage at graduation.
Simone was the only person who ever slowed me down enough to think about what kind of man I wanted to be, not just the reputation I carried.
“Echo Everette, I have never come across someone who could ace a test without studying, just finish high school and don’t piss me off,” she would fuss.
That girl wanted my dreams and my nightmares.
The good parts of me and the ugly ones too.
She listened like what I had to say mattered, even while she was trying to survive her own struggles.
Normally females I encountered admired me because of my status and who they’d become after dealing with a nigga.
Simone was the only one who simply chose me.
There was no way I could treat her like I did any other female and use her for a nut. She was my peace.
Now, don’t get me wrong—my initial plan was to fuck and add her to the long list of girls who had the opportunity to experience the best time of their lives. But Simone deserved better than that.
Sloane, of course, didn’t like our friendship and would give her a hard time about it.
He’d do dumb shit like cut her cell phone off, which I immediately added to my plan, or purposely make her miss the last bus home.
I handled that too, either by giving her a ride or letting her stay in one of the guest rooms. The latter slowly became her normal routine so she wouldn’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn just to commute back for school.
Eventually my parents contacted hers, and the Hills found comfort in knowing their only child was now experiencing a life they couldn’t always provide. Too prideful to accept direct help from my parents, the Hills allowed Simone to come and go with the Everettes as she pleased.
And truth be told, after a while she stopped feeling like a guest in our house.
She felt like family.
One evening, she texted me that she was outside, and I knew it had to be an emergency because she had a key to the house. When I went to open the door for her, her lip was busted, her shirt ripped and covered in blood.
Without a word, I took Simone in the house for my mother to care for her, then found that coward, Sloane, and beat his ass within an inch of his life.
Through negotiations between Sloane’s parents and mine, they agreed that Sloane would leave Simone alone and that no charges would be pressed against anyone.
My mother later told me that Simone informed her she was pregnant, and the baby wasn’t Sloane’s.
She didn’t tell Sloane about her pregnancy but instead had gone to officially break up with him.
He became angry and lost control. Not having much to call her own and no family support, she feared the unknown — becoming a mother.
Of course, I assured her she had nothing to worry about and that there was no way my family and I would turn our backs on her.
“Echo!” my father called again. “I know that look, son, and the answer is no.”
Anger and rage flooded my veins. If my father thought I was going to let this shit slide, he had another thing coming.
Batman couldn’t keep me off this nigga Sloane.
He was dead on sight, and everyone knew I had the pull to make it happen.
Fuck his family’s political ties — this baby now had to grow up without her mother.
“He killed my best friend. Baby girl has no mother,” I managed to get out through my teeth. Saying out loud that my best friend had been murdered sent a rush of tears out of my eyes.
“She has a mother, Echo. I’m right here,” my mother said.
Although she meant no harm, my mother’s words had me looking at her like she was the enemy.
That’s the thing about rich motherfuckers—money buys comfort so easily that nobody takes the time to sit with real emotion, let alone someone else’s pain.
Everything gets smoothed over, replaced, wrapped up in something prettier so the mess doesn’t ruin the outfit.
And that’s exactly what they were doing to Simone.
Carelessly, my mother and Dr. Wilkinson took it upon themselves to start replacing her before her body went cold.
The doctor labeling Simone as the baby’s “birth mother,” like she was nothing more than a medical footnote.
And my mother stepping forward to claim the position of her now “only mother.”
Like Simone was just some temporary vessel.
Like the girl who fought her way into this hospital, who carried that baby for thirty-eight weeks, who bled and suffered to bring her here… was suddenly just a detail we could erase.
That shit didn’t sit right with me at all.
“You are not her fucking mother!” I screamed at my mother, instantly regretting it when I saw the hurt in her eyes.
“Aye, now hold on. I know you’re hurting, son, but you will watch how you speak to my wife,” my father interjected. “Now we all agreed for your mother and me to raise this baby as ours, so Simone can live a normal life, so what is the issue?”
“The issue?” I questioned, slamming my fist into my palm.
“The issue is the baby was still supposed to know Simone as her mother. The issue is Simone is fucking dead and now can never witness her daughter live. The issue is that she never even got to hold her. The issue is this nigga Sloane is still fucking breathing. Seems like we got a lot of fucking issues here, Pop. Pick one.”
“Echo, just calm—” My mother’s sentence was cut short by a knock at the door.
I quickly rushed to the sink to wash my face. If it were my brothers returning, I didn’t want them to see me like this. Just as I patted my face dry, I heard a woman’s voice.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Joan Ross, and I am the pediatrician on staff here today. I’d like to go over baby—”
“Juliet. Her name is Juliet,” I spoke up. “It was her mother’s favorite story.”
“That is beautiful,” Dr. Ross replied. “Well, I would like to go over some tests we ran on Juliet, if that is okay?”
“Yes, please,” my mother responded.
“Very well,” the doctor said. She quickly glanced over us all before continuing. “Her hearing test was inconclusive. She passed some parts and didn’t pass others. It’s too early to be alarmed; this happens sometimes. But we’ll want to monitor it and retest when she’s around three months old.”
Her words made me sick to my stomach — more weight breaking my bones to get to my heart.
Another thing I couldn’t protect her from.
Thank God, my parents continued to listen to Dr. Ross because I could no longer pay attention.
I saw my mother accept some papers from the doctor, but I didn’t care to view them, at least not right now.
“Thank you, Dr. Ross,” my father said, shaking the doctor’s hand.
I walked to the bassinet and watched Juliet’s little chest rise and fall. I used my index finger to lightly rub the knuckles of her balled little fist. She was so warm, so innocent, and didn’t deserve all this heartache on the day of her birth.
A huge shadow approached me from behind, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Juliet.
“Own the game, son,” my father whispered into my ear.
Everything that came next would be for her.