The Girl in the Window

Earlier that day, during first period, Sasha was excited for lunch. She was too excited for me. A part of me didn’t want to talk to her and for the most part I didn’t. I absorbed myself into my class work. She didn’t really seem to mind that I was quiet. Her focus was on herself. Although I was into my work, my mind was elsewhere. Amara and I barely discussed her future decision regarding dating Sasha. It was like we both avoided talking about it. Then it made things worse on how she dressed. She looked just… I didn’t want Sasha to have her even if it was for a short period of time.

That day Monroe looked different. It took me some time to pinpoint it. For one, he was growing out his hair so he didn’t look like a black ass skinhead anymore. Then I realized that he wasn’t wearing his usual Abercrombie and Fitch or Hollister. He simply had on a plain blue T. He ditched the tight ass skinny jeans too. But that could have been for other reasons because black guys decided they didn’t want their balls to breathe anymore. Sometimes I even caught Wanya trying to pull that shit. Either way, it looked better. He looked neater.

Still he decided he wanted to sit next to me. He seemed well off on his review to start with and judging where his bookmark was, he was halfway through the book.

I was doing a review on a book by Toni Morrison called Beloved. I had a thing for literary fiction and Toni Morrison was “the one”, so I enjoyed her literature.

“You know somethin’,” Monroe started to say. “This book is boss. It’s answering almost all the questions I had about why some black people are or were the way they are. You did this on purpose.” I chuckled. Then he kept writing. His focus was so much on the book. “But it’s not enough.”

“I know. That’s why I’ma help you. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Cool…” He was about to say cool beans. “Uh, you gonna sit where you usually do at lunch today?”

“Nah. I don’t want to.”

“Okay… you can sit wit’ me if you want.”

“Aight.” For a second I thought he was going to ask what did Amara say, but he didn’t. He probably assumed she said yes.

For some reason my eyes gravitated towards Molly. She was staring at me and as soon as I noticed, she looked away. I smirked. She had a harder time getting over the incident with Monroe than he seemed to have. Or perhaps it was that she was upset that he seemed to be trading her friendship with mine. It probably wasn’t Molly’s intention to completely end their friendship, just to keep it as that. But Monroe was no longer interested in her friendship and seemed more interested in mine.

When the lunch bell rang, Monroe and I left the class at the same time, like we were walking together. Then in the hallway Molly called his name.

“What does this bitch want?” he murmured to me. “Should I ignore her?” She called again.

“No, go,” I answered. He stopped and turned around, then walked her direction. I continued on to the cafeteria. I went through the line and sat down, starting to eat my food. I kept turning around to see if Amara or Sasha were at the table. Amara got there first. She was looking around, trying to find someone. Her eyes passed me, and then she did a double-take. When she saw me, she smiled. I smiled too. We looked at each other for a little while before she looked at Sasha coming to the table. I turned back around, not wanting to draw attention. Little while later, after I was done eating my chicken nuggets, Monroe came to the table. He looked slightly upset. He practically dropped his lunch tray on the table.

“Can you believe what this bitch said to me?” he said, upset.

“What?”

“She said ‘Monroe, I’ve been thinkin’ about what you said and you know… I can be your girlfriend.’ I’m like, what the fuck? She had on this googly face like I was supposed to be happy an’ kiss her face.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said that I don’t want her now. Then she was like ‘Why?’ and I said ‘‘cause…’ I was tryna be nice but then I got real mad ‘bout it so I said ‘‘cause, bitch, you’re ugly. You always have been. I was just too dumb to see it.’ Then she got all sad lookin’ like she was gonna cry. You know, I used to fall for that but I couldn’t even do it today. She just looked uglier.”

“You know that was mean.”

“I know but what she said to me was some bull.”

“True. You ever gonna take her back?”

“Nope. She’s too… ugh.” I laughed. “She looked like an albino strawberry.” I laughed even more. “I just wanted to get wit’ her ‘cause I wanted to know what her crotch looked like. Never been wit’ a red head.” I shook my head.

“That was real nigga like.”

“What? No.”

“Yeah.”

“Well… never again.”

“What if she started bugging you more?”

“No, just no,” he said in an annoyed tone. I chuckled then I glanced behind me. All I saw was a grand smile on Sasha’s face and my heart jumped ship.

“Ay,” Monroe said, getting my attention. “She say yes?”

“It looks like it,” I said looking down. My emotions started to weld.

“You’re not gonna fight for her?”

“No point. I can’t do for her right now.”

“Why?”

“Not emotionally prepared.”

“But you seem to like her a lot. This might sound weird but I would watch you two in the morning since I sit alone now with nothing to do and ya’ll seem so complete. Why’re you gonna let that go?”

“Look Monroe, there’s more to it than you know.”

“It’s that guy isn’t it, from your book? You said you’ll never love again. Can’t remember his name.”

“Monroe…,” I almost whined.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave it alone.” But his reminder of “that guy” had me gloomy for the rest of the lunch period. When the lunch bell rang, I walked slowly to class. Monroe was ahead of me but he kept looking back at me.

We got to class and he looked everywhere but his paper, and then looked at me, still with a sad expression. What surprised me was when he placed his hand on my back. I almost broke out of my sadness.

“I’m sorry, really. Sometimes I go too far with things,” he said. I looked at him.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. He slightly rubbed my back before he moved his hand and went back to writing. Feeling anxious, I took out my phone and stared at Amara’s name in my inbox. I opened up my conversation with her and stared at the reply box for a while before I worked up the nerve to type: ‘What did u say?’ then sent it. I waited anxiously for her reply. After about two minutes she replied with: ‘Uh… I said yes.’ I reread the text again as if it would change or I missed something then eventually I put the phone away and went back to writing. It was just a distraction for me.

In fourth period, my eyes stayed glued on my picture I was painting. I wasn’t really adding any new colors on the board, just painting the same brown over and over again. At that point I just wanted to disappear or at least be at home. It wasn’t helping that I was painting her.

Amaya could see my gloomy mood and my painting effort. It was obvious that there was a rain cloud over me.

“Shade,” she called. I kind of just ignored her. “What’s wrong? You’ve been painting the same area for ten minutes now.” I shook my head. “Shade…” I didn’t want to talk so, I didn’t. Eventually she let it drop knowing I wasn’t going to fess up.

Fortunately basketball was a decent distraction although thoughts of her threatened to invade my mind. My game was the same but my petty talk to the players was at level zero. Luckily Jamesha wasn’t giving me problems because at that stage, I was easily irritated and would snap with a touch.

After practice Darnell waited for me as usual. Of course he noticed my mood. I made it no secret that something was eating me. He looked kind of sympathetic like he knew what was wrong with me. So he hugged me. It caught me off guard and it kind of upset me because I wanted to cry, but I held my tongue. Then we walked to his car. We got in and he drove off.

“Don’t worry too much,” he started to say. “It won’t last long.”

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause I know Sasha.”

“But what if Amara falls for Sasha?”

“Even if she does, it won’t be the same as it is wit’ you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m sure it will end up like that.”

“Whatever. Let’s stop talkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Aight.”

“My mom wants to meet you.”

“When?”

“Today.”

“Why?”

“You want the honest truth or the lie?”

“I’ve learned to settle for lies.”

“Well, she said it was ‘cause you drive me home everyday now.”

“Aight den.”

“I don’t want you to meet her.”

“I feel you. Don’t want no one meeting my uh… parents.”

“Yeah. My mama be trippin’.” We were silent for a moment. I didn’t know what to say until I thought back on Sasha and Amara.

“What do you think ‘bout Sasha dating Amara?”

“Hum…” He thought about it for a moment.

“I think that Sasha went out of her league, and I don’t mean that in an insulting way.”

“What do you mean then?”

“I mean like, Sasha isn’t for Amara. I’m not making sense. I just feel bad about talkin’ ‘bout her badly.”

“Tell me as best as you can.”

“Amara is smart like you, book and street and she’s not the type to play around in a relationship. But she’s also really nice so she didn’t want to hurt Sasha but it won’t work ‘cause Sasha is really indecisive and she doesn’t take many things in life seriously. And she’s almost completely street smart.

“But you, you’re the kind Amara likes.”

“How do you know what she likes?”

“She told me. She told me she likes someone who’s serious, but flexible and someone who’s smart. And she says she has a weakness for tortured souls. She said it’s because she likes helping people with their problems. She likes feeling like a soul redeemer. And she likes mystery because it makes things more interesting. She likes someone who loves deeply, but she feels that sometimes her likes come back to forsake her because she sometimes ends up hurt.”

“I don’t love deeply.”

“Yes you do. That’s why you don’t let anyone in.” I stared out the window. “Trust me. It won’t last long.”

“But it hurts.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. I almost shuddered.

“You’ll be fine. You’re strong, Shade.”

Darnell parked right in front of my house. He immediately got out of the car while I was slower to leave. Mr. Daniels sat on his porch covered in everything warm. My attention quickly left him as we headed up driveway.

“Let me do most of the talking, kay?” I said.

“Yeah, sure.” I walked into my house and I could immediately see my mama sitting at the kitchen table staring at papers. She looked up with a neutral face as we walked into the kitchen.

“Mommy, this is Darnell.”

“Good evening, ma’am,” Darnell said with better etiquette than I imagined. I could see a glint in her eyes but she didn’t smile.

“Hi Darnell, how are you? I guess Shade told you that I wanted to meet you.” She stayed sitting at the table. “You live near here?”

“Yes ma’am, just around the corner on the other street.”

“So… how did you and Shade meet?” I almost rolled my eyes.

“Ma, we had the same class together,” I cut in to say.

“So ya’ll were friends.”

“Yes.”

“Can you let the boy speak?”

“Yes, we’re friends.” Then he smiled. If she didn’t like his bright smile, I had nothing left. She smirked.

“Okay. I’ll see you later then.”

“Okay. Nice meeting you.” I saw Darnell out the door.

“Bye, Darnell,” I said as he left.

“Peace, Shade.” I closed the door.

“Man, you were all up in his business.”

“Girl, no I wasn’t. And you know you didn’t do too bad. He’s a good lookin’ boy. Polite too.”

“So you gonna stop sweatin’ me?”

“Not if you keep sleepin’ with him.”

“Mommy, I’m not! That was last year and the last time. I keep tellin’ you this.”

“Mm-hum, you jus’ hope he can make some kinda money for you in the future.”

“What the hell, mommy, I’m not tryna marry him, damn.”

“Whatever. Go away now so I can file my taxes.”

“What? You were supposed to do that in February or something.”

“Well I was supposed to get married in a week or something but shit happens, don’t it?”

“Whatever. What’s for dinner?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you jus’ gonna leave off to Amara’s house anyway? Or at least that’s where you say you goin’.” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“You’re not?” She said it as if she were grateful for my choice to stay home.

“No.”

“Okay.” She put down the papers.

“Let’s go out to eat.”

“Where?”

“Where do you want?”

“Uh…”

“Nothing too expensive.”

“Um… Outback?”

“Sure. Hurry up and get ready and put some makeup on or something. You look so dull sometimes.”

“Why thank you. What about Trae and Ebony though?”

“I’ll take them to their baby sitter. They ate already.”

“Aight.”

I actually did put some makeup on. I did a smoky eye using gold, pomegranate, midnight, and black. I learned to do it from a You Tube tutorial. And instead of just putting my hair into a bun, I did flat twists in the front, put my hair into a ponytail and curled the rest. For a while, I stared at the jewelry Amara gave me. One set was a dark blue and fuchsia necklace with short, three strand earrings. Each strand was a different length and ended with a small cowry shell. After a good five minutes of staring, I finally decided to put them on. Went to my closet and stared at my clothes. I decided on my black and pink shirt and my royal blue jeans that I never wore. And just for the fuck of it, I matched my fuchsia flats. I looked at myself in the mirror for a good minute. I actually looked good; like I put an effort in what I wore.

When I got downstairs, my mama stared at me then she smiled.

“Oh my god… you look like my daughter, and not my gay son.”

“Thank you very much. You look like your age, and not ten years older.” She actually managed to laugh, which she usually didn’t do.

“Come on, Shade, le’s go.”

We were silent in the car ride there. I didn’t know what to say to my mama since we rarely talked about anything personal. Plus I didn’t know what to tell her. It was like that new guy you wanted to make friends with but didn’t know what to talk about. When I really thought about it, it was a sad, tragic situation to be in that shouldn’t be.

But when we were seated at our table in the restaurant, she seemed to finally be able to open up the conversation.

“So, what kinda grades you been makin’, Shade?” she asked while cutting the starter wheat bread.

“Straight A’s,” I answered.

“Okay. What… what are your classes?” It was like she couldn’t believe she was asking the question.

“First period is English III, second is algebra II, third is critical writing, and fourth is art III.”

“Why art?”

“I’m runnin’ out of classes to take.”

“There aren’t any other writing classes?”

“There’s creative writing but I took that las’ year. Everything else is too boring or not enough people for the class.”

“Why don’t you take Chorus?”

“Nah.” She gave me a slice of bread. I took a bite out of it.

“Why not?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause you like to sing.”

“I know but—”

“But nothing, just take it.”

“My senior year?”

“What, you can’t take it this year?”

“Yeah but, I already have my classes picked.”

“Switch one out.” Then she reminded me of that boring Shakespeare class I was dumb enough to sign up for. I could read him on my own if I wanted.

“Aight.”

The waitress returned to take our order and of course I ordered the steak with a baked potato with green beans. My mom ordered a cheeseburger with fries. We were sitting in silence for a while before I remember something.

“Ma, our first basketball game is on Friday. You gonna come?”

“I don’t know. I have to get Nana Fox settled in first.” I looked down, slightly upset.

“Okay.”

“Maybe some other time.”

“Sure.” Again, we sat in silence. There wasn’t much I wanted to talk to her about.

“Shade, what do you do at Amara’s house when you’re there?”

“We talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything.”

“Like…?”

“School, and stuff.”

“Hum.” My eyes went straight to this girl with a fat ass walking past. She had on fitted yoga pants and with each step her ass was dancing. And because her waist was so small, it looked even bigger. She had ass for years. Damn, look at that booty, I thought. Then I realized I was at the table with my mama. Luckily for me, a fine boy was walking our way when my mama looked back to see what had my attention.

“Why you lookin’ at him fo’?”

“He look good.” She rolled her eyes.

“You needa put some blinders on.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I’m grown, and it’ll be a while ‘fore I look for a man again.” I threw my hands up dramatically and looked at the ceiling, waiting for an angel to come down.

“There is a god,” I said jokingly.

“Whatever Shade, you worry ‘bout yo’self.” I looked at her.

“You’re not so good with guys, ya’know.”

“Who else was that bad? Jus’ ‘cause they left me, that don’t mean they were bad.”

“Oh, you don’t know who you be gettin’ wit’ sometimes.”

“Who else?” I looked away, staring off in the distance.

“Don’t matter now, they gone.”

“Who Shade, dammit, who?” Just then our food arrived. It was a quick save and I was hoping she dropped the subject. I went right to eating, and so did she.

“You have a boyfriend, Shade?” she asked after swallowing.

“No.” The answer was as simple as that.

“Is Darnell ever gonna be—”

“No-o.” I cut her off.

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I know the answer’s no.”

“What about that other guy? Gosh, I keep forgetting his name… Kanye… no, Donté.”

“Damn, it’s Wanya, and I’m not tryna date anyone.”

“Well… you might wanna start lookin’ for someone who gonna take care of you ‘cause yo’ time is comin’ to an end. You’re about to graduate, right?”

“Man, I can take care of myself.”

“How? You don’t got a college education.”

“I have a four-point-oh un-weighted GPA and a four-point-seven-five weighted. With the amount of money you make, I can get a lot of financial aid, and I can apply for scholarships and grants. Plus, I got a one-seventy on the PSAT and if I study, I can get higher on the actual SAT.”

“Oh…”

“Didn’t you know this stuff? I told you before. I show you all my report cards and test results.”

“I forgot.”

“Course you did.”

“But where you gone get the money for the SAT?”

“Damn, you can’t even spare that?”

“Maybe. We’ll see. What about application fees?”

“Fee waivers.”

“Guess you been doin’ your homework.” I nodded my head and took a couple bites of my steak. It was juicy and tender.

“When Nana Fox comes, do you think she can sleep in your room?” My mama asked.

“Nope,” I said abruptly. That was the last thing I needed, Nana Fox lingering around my room. She was old so it wasn’t like she was going to be doing much, so all she would be doing was sitting in my room, sewing.

“Why not?”

“I’m sixteen going on seventeen. I ain’t tryna have her all up in my business.”

“Oh yeah, especially when you’re messin’ wit’ Darnell.” I sucked my teeth.

“I’m not sleepin’ wit’ Darnell, dammit. He hasn’t had sex for some months now and neither have I.”

“Oh, well, I guess she can sleep in my room. There’s no real room in yours now that I think about it.”

“Cool.”

“But that don’t mean she ain’t gonna bother you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“An’ you ain’t gonna be disrespectful to her like you are to me.”

“Mm-hum.” I didn’t want to talk about Nana Fox’s arrival because I didn’t want it to take place. Nana Fox for my mama was like her mother. She practically raised my mama. She was there when my mama got married and she was in the room when my mama gave birth to me. She saw my mama yell at the doctor to change my name to Shade. I was supposed to be named Ebony. When my mama went broke after Trae’s dad left, she was there to be a helping had. There was no way of getting out of the arrival of Nana Fox in that case and never did I fuck for money.

We ate what we could and took the rest with us. Silence for the most part echoed between us aside from the petty unimportant conversation we would have. I knew I would have to talk to Amara soon but I didn’t know how.

I was lying on my bed, but I couldn’t move. My legs were propped open and my arms spread across the coarse sheets on my bed. Everything about my room was the same, but something was different. A body consumed coldness before I heard someone coming down the hallway. I couldn’t move to see who it was, but I didn’t have to when I heard them say: “You’re so beautiful.” In the blink of an eye, I was completely naked, but still in the same position. Then He climbed on my bed and instantly started fucking me. It was passionate but my vagina didn’t like the attention. It felt dry, and like his dick was working to tear skin. Suddenly he got up and left then I had this nauseating feeling. My room turned to a black room with my bed in the middle. Then I heard chains clinging together. An orange suit. My dad in hand and ankle cuffs started pacing past my bed, looking at me in disgust. His eyes cut through my soul and made me feel like nothing. Each time he passed, his face seemed to become more and more ghastly. It scared me senseless. I wanted to say ‘I’m sorry’, but I could do nothing.

Just to make matters worse, His hands cradled my waist from behind and moved to hold my breasts. His breath was hot on my neck before a cold kiss was placed on my shoulder muscle. My dad stopped and stared but not in disgust. It was sadistic. I glued my hand to my face and held my head down in shame.

Then I woke up. It was hard to keep from shuddering. It had been a long time since I had dreams of him and having them was a bad sign. The worse part about it was that the dreams combined him and my dad. I knew that if they got worse I would relapse. But I didn’t know what to do about it. I had no one to tell. I couldn’t even tell Amara.

When I woke up by my alarm clock, I almost jumped when I saw Trae sitting on my bed next to me.

“Jesus Christ, Trae,” I said, fatigued. I looked at the time, already knowing it was five-twenty then looked at Trae.

“I don’t like it when you sad, Shady.” Trae said.

“How do you know if I’m sad?”

“Cos I heard you breathin’ hard las’ night like what you do when you have nightmares.” It was nice that he was being so sweet about my well being, but he was the last person I wanted to see.

“It’s okay, Trae, I’m okay.” I hugged him tightly and smelled his innocence. His small body warm and sweet. I wished I was so fresh and innocent, unaware of the problems of the world. Never did he see a girl’s vagina, or bare breasts. Or a man’s dick – I didn’t know his future. He never had to worry about the pressures of sex; making money; raising children; marriage; divorce; financial urgencies; death. He didn’t have to worry about any of it, and even if it was right around the corner, it never weighed on his mind.

And he was so sweet that I couldn’t help but love him. But I had my personal issues with both him and Ebony.

I let him go and stood up, to start to get ready for school.

“How was school yesterday?” I was usually the only person to ask him that question. Our mama almost never talked to any of us anymore.

“Um, I found a big grasshopper at recess. It was huge! I called ‘im Joe but I accidentally let him go ‘way.” I smiled, taking off my shirt and putting on the one I wore the day before, not giving a fuck. “What do grasshoppers eat?”

“Hum, I don’t know. I think flowers and well, grass.”

“Oh, I thought they ate grass too.” I put on the same pants on from the day before. “An’ I read a – no, three books.” I smiled ear to ear, facing my dresser.

“What were the names of the books?”

“Um… they were Dr. Seuss books.”

“Oh, they still read those now-a-days?”

“Yeah. It was the One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. And uh, both Cat in the Hat books.”

“Aw, I like those books too.” I started doing the same makeup as the day before. I was more than happy to know that he was reading. “You read those ‘cause you want to or ‘cause your teacher told you to?”

“I wanted. School gets boring a lot so, I read during nap time an’ after I finish my work.” When I was done, I walked up to him and squatted to his height. “You look pretty,” he said. I smiled at him.

“Thanks Trae… you know, you’re really smart.” I looked away. “Just like your dad.” I hugged him one more time before I told him to go. He told me to have a good day at school before he left.

That morning I sat with Amara. I practically forced myself to do it because I felt it was awkward. And at first, we said nothing. She just looked at me for a few seconds before looking away.

“You look… you look good,” she said.

“Thanks. You always do.” My eye contact with her was a lot more limited. Shortly after, it didn’t seem right for me to just sit there and be quiet.

“I’ma go to the bathroom right quick,” I said.

“You want me to come wit’ you?” she asked.

“Nah. I’ll be back.” But I wasn’t planning on coming back. In the bathroom, I checked my makeup among many other girls, knowing nothing was wrong with it. It became too crowded for my anyway. Girls were flat ironing their hair and taking off hair wraps. Some were doing their complete makeup in the mirror. So after a while, I left. In an instant, I felt guilty. I was making Amara feel bad about dating Sasha and I shouldn’t have been doing that. But there was no way I could fake my happiness. What was I supposed to do? I thought. I didn’t know what to say to her that wouldn’t make her feel guilty. Plus, I wasn’t in the best of moods. Everything lately just seemed to be going every way but mine. Everything either made me sad or upset. Amara was a part of my hope and her decision was slowly breaking me. But for that moment alone, I sucked it up and slowly walked back to the table. When I got there, she was looking around aimlessly. Seconds escaped with silence before anything was said.

“How was your day yesterday?” she asked.

“I’ve had better days,” I simply said. It was like we were right back at day one. Her curious questions with my petty, nonchalant replies. There was no telling by her expression how she felt about my cold shoulder and I didn’t mean to be that way, I just felt bad. It wasn’t just her decision either, it was many other things.

“Shade… are you mad at me?” I looked down at my hands.

“No. It’s just not the best of days.” I said.

“But… you usually talk to me ‘bout those bad days.” I sighed.

“Everything’s okay, Amara.” She sighed. She knew I wasn’t okay but she also knew that I put my wall up with guards protecting it. Soon, the bell rang. I didn’t hesitate in leaving and telling her bye. She left giving me a jaded bye then went to class.

Without hesitating, I went straight to doing my work. We had to read some stuff from the literary book and answer the questions that came with the selection. I hated doing that because they would put twenty questions in one numbered question.

As usual, Sasha came to class late. The teacher gave her a pink slip which probably told her she would get In School Suspension (ISS) for so many tardies to another class. The teacher we had didn’t care about tardiness. Sasha rushed to sit down.

“Damn, I got so many of these that I can make confetti wit’ ‘em on new years.” She laughed, I smirked. “So what’s good wit’ you today?” she asked.

“Um… I’m alive.”

“Yeah, that’s always good.” She took out her phone to check for text messages. “So um, in case you don’t know—”

“I know.”

“Okay… how?”

“She told me.”

“Oh… okay.” I continued to do my work then she started telling me about their conversation the day before. With all honestly, I didn’t want to hear it. Most of the time I was pretending to listen giving an occasional “cool” or “really” but I honestly didn’t give four fucks and I didn’t want to hear her talk to me about Amara. Personally I thought that she was slightly trying to spite me by talking about her because she knew I liked Amara and wanted to date her. And she knew that I knew she was upset and maybe even jealous about the fact that I basically chose Amara over her. Even if she said she didn’t care, at that moment she was making it clear that she did.

After what seemed like forever, she stopped talking about Amara and attempted to do her work. She didn’t know the answers to anything so her eyes started to wonder over to my paper. But I had small hand writing and my paper was on the other side of the desk so she couldn’t see anything. She looked at me as if expecting me to let her cheat, but I pretended not to see. So she gave up and put her head on the desk. It was the longest we spent not talking in the class in a while.

When Monroe saw the effort I put into my appearance that day, his eyes didn’t blink. Everyone else in the class was blurred by his vision. All he saw was me. I sat next to him, in my assigned seat, and took out my class journal. From the corner of my eye I could see him smile.

“Wow Shade, you look… great,” he said. I smirked.

“Thanks.”

“Tryna win Amara back?” I chuckled.

“Nah, my ma just suggested I wear this today.”

“Okay, you should listen to her more.” I smiled. He went right into reviewing his essay review. I was reviewing my one on Beloved. The essays were due on Monday and the final copy had to be typed or hand written in ink. I made too many mistakes in writing to find the patience to hand write the essay. Plus I didn’t have a computer at home so I would always have to stay after school to type it. But since I was doing basketball, that task would be harder.

“Monroe, when I go to your house on Saturday, can I use your computer?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure.” He kept reading then stopped again. “You sittin’ wit’ me at lunch again?”

“Yeah.” I could see him hold back a smile.

“You ever gonna sit wit’ ‘em again?”

“Maybe, if you sit wit’ us.” He chuckled.

“I don’t know ‘em.”

“You’ll get to know them. You’ll love Amara. You might even try to steal her.”

“What about Sasha?”

“Not so much her. You’re still recovering.”

“Okay. Is Amara African?”

“Yeah, Ethiopian to be exact.”

“She looks Ethiopian.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, chuckling.

“Well, when I first saw her a while ago, I thought she was African. But at first I thought all African girls were ugly because I’ve seen a few. But when I thought about it, it didn’t make sense because four Africans was a horrible selection to judge them if they make up the second highest population in the world. My observation was invalid. Plus, Amara isn’t ugly… at all.

“So, I thought of what the fuck could she look like? The only people I knew their looks by heart were Nigerians, and to me, she doesn’t look Nigerian. It took me a while of going through different tribes of African people and it was so hard to find. Then one day I decided to watch that show called Taboo, ‘cause I wanted to make myself more culturally aware, and one part talked about Hamar people of Ethiopia. At first I didn’t pay much mind, until I saw the women. I paused it, ‘cause I have DVR on Direct TV, and they were wearing a similar looking necklace to Amara’s, and some had their hair cut short and although many of them were topless, in that particular part, some of them had there… things, since I can’t call ‘em shirts, that were like stripes of fabric hanging from this shell like neckline thing—”

“Cowry shells,” I corrected him.

“Yeah, and I remembered seeing Amara wearing that a couple days. Then I was like, oh fuck. So I looked ‘em up on Google and they had similar facial features as her. The girl I saw kind of resembled Nefertiti, I must admit, and Amara had similar facial features but with fuller lips and more of a round nose. I just kept looking at the Hamar women and they just kept resembling Amara in different ways. Some of them were average but others were beautiful.” I smiled. I almost wanted to hug him because he was so smart and explorative. I almost did, but didn’t.

“Wow, Monroe, only you.”

“Chill.”

“No, I mean that in a good way.” He smiled.

“I looked up other tribes too. The tribes on Africa are really interesting, I have to admit. I never would have known if I hadn’t seen how pretty Amara was. And the African women seem kinda different from others. When I look up other women from other places, it’s usually a model with questionable amount of makeup on, trying to be sexually attractive. But when I looked up African women, I saw a lot of women in their living environments with a settle natural beauty. And the thing I loved more was that many of the traditional women didn’t have beauty be defined by race, skin color, eye color, height, size or any of those things women might not be able to change. Their idea of beauty is based on their presence, hairstyles, and clothing. Why can’t it be that way here? People act like you have to be light with long straight hair, and skinny to be beautiful. I think that’s dumb.”

“Coming from you, Monroe?”

“I told you I didn’t dislike black people because of their looks. It was the stereotype.” I smiled ear to ear.

“Can you be my friend?” I said jokingly, although I was serious.

“Thought I was already.” I laughed. “Oh yeah and those earrings and necklace you’re wearing, you got those from her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, she made ‘em for me.” He smiled warmly at me, making me feel vulnerable, so I looked away.

“You should get her back.”

“Not now.”

“Well some day.”

“Maybe.” The lunch bell rang. The both of us left class together again. I got a fast glimpse of Molly because I felt the anger coming off of her eyes that was melting my skin. I couldn’t believe how jealous she was. She turned him down for something stupid and didn’t apologize. How could she expect him to like her back again? I didn’t understand some people.

Lunch that day was pizza. It was decent among the other lunches. That day, though, Monroe sat next to me. He just sat there as if it were where he normally sat. The lunch seats were a lot closer to each other than our seat in class so being closer to him gave me the opportunity to smell his cologne. I hadn’t noticed it before. It was faint, but it made me want to lean closer to him and bask in the smell. I breathed deeply. He was minding his business while eating as I smelt him.

“You gon’ eat?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. But still, I took in his scent. After a few seconds I started to eat again so I wouldn’t look like a creep.

“You have any siblings?” I asked.

“Yeah, an older brother. But he’s like how I was. He only dates white girls. What about you?”

“Uh, a brother and a sister.”

“What’s their names?”

“Trae and Ebony.”

“Oh. How old?”

“Five and three.”

“Damn, that’s a huge time gap.”

“Yeah. We all have different dads.”

“Oh.”

“I know. Sounds like my mom’s a ho. She is in a way, I have to admit. Wow, that sounded so bad.”

“It’s okay. I dislike my mom sometimes, and my dad.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause, my mom’s barely a mom. My grandma did almost everything for us. My mom is like a trophy wife. And my dad is always workin’, prolly cheating. Mom’s always bored and shopping.”

“That explains a lot.”

“What?” I shook my head.

“Nothin’.” I took a few more bites of my pizza. “I’m serious about you sittin’ wit’ us by the way.”

“Why?”

“So I won’t feel like the third wheel. Odd numbers don’t work unless all parties are on the same grounds.”

“That’s true. Okay, I will. But you gotta introduce me like I don’t know their names or anything about them.”

“Okay.”

“You haven’t looked over there at all today.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“I’m confused, that’s why. And I don’t wanna get envious.”

“Okay, I know, you want her to find her own happiness—”

“Yes! I couldn’t figure out what it was or how the fuck to say it. Thank you Monroe.” He smiled. “Can I call you by a nick-name?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause, Monroe reminds me of the old you that Molly is still trippin’ over.”

“I understand. But don’t make it something ridiculous.”

“Kay.” I thought of something. I thought of Rowie, but it was too girly and something a girl would say to her boyfriend.

“How ‘bout Roe?” He snarled.

“Nah, too typical. And one of my ex’s called me that.” I thought of something not so typical.

“Monty…?”

“Sounds so black.”

“Is that a no?”

“No. I kinda like it on the low.”

“Wow… you said on the low.”

“Pop a chill pill. It’s not that serious.”

“Then you ruin it with chill pill.” We both slightly laughed. “Okay but you can call me Monty. You gotta stick to it too. I won’t answer you unless you call me that.”

“Okay, Monty.” I said. I liked the name a lot more. Monroe seemed too formal, too white (mainly because of how he used to act) but Monty was a good fresh start for him.

Back in class Molly still hated from afar. Me and Monroe were nicely talking but that wasn’t the biggest issue she had. It was the fact that I had a new nickname for him which is something she never got to have. Monroe didn’t care about her and paid her no mind. So neither did I.

In art class, I almost regretted choosing Amara’s picture to be my choice for painting. At the same time, though, I thought that perhaps I was taking the whole thing a little too seriously. I had the chance to claim Amara but I didn’t take it. I figured that to keep my sanity and to keep from digging myself into a depressing hole, I should learn to live with it and to be happy that regardless of whatever relationship Amara chooses to have, I should learn to cherish her genuine friendship.

For the remaining of that period I painted the picture of Amara keeping bad thoughts as far away from my mind as possible. Instead I thought of all the goodness she shared with me. From the long talks about nothing, and sometimes something. Her petty confessions and my sessions of sob stories that had yet to worsen. The endless sympathy and nonjudgmental nature. Thoughts of her sweet hugs come to me. Her sultry kisses and respect for my thoughts and values. Even her giving nature was appraisable. The wonderful customs she carried from her home that she proudly shared with me. Her lovely accent and benevolent voice. Everything about her was lovely. I could still get those things from her, but I would have ruined it if I kept up my depressing attitude.

“Aw-w,” Amaya cooed, looking at me.

“The hell you awin’ for?” I said.

“Your face is like bliss.”

“Bliss?”

“You don’t even realize how much your thoughts come through on your face. You look very pretty and like you’re having peaceful thoughts.” I blushed, against my will. “Please tell me, what’re you thinkin’ about?”

“Corn bread and cheese.”

“Okay… it must be a person.”

“And jalapeños in it.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Nadie.”

“You were so sad about Amara yesterday that I want to say that it’s about her. Did she say something to you that made you happy?”

“Nada.”

“So it’s probably nostalgia.”

“Mm.”

“Do you spend a lot of time with her?”

“Mm… I know too many smart people. I needa make more bumpkin friend.”

“Pumpkins are bumpkins. If a person eats a pumpkin then they like dumplings.”

“Okay, what the fuck, Amaya?” She laughed.

“I wanted you to stop giving me these off topic answers.”

“Of course. I haven’t talked to Amara hardly at all today.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause, I ain’t know what to say.”

“Why?”

“Hum… don’t know.”

“Stop lyin’ to me!” She snapped. I laughed.

“Calm down, Amaya.”

“I wanna get to know you. I’m tryna be a therapist.”

“You’ll make a wonderful therapist. But I’m not an easy patient.”

“That’s why I like bothering you.”

“You’re not gonna do that by losing your cool.”

“You’re right… why were you upset yesterday?”

“Because… I thought that if Humpty dumpty never sat on a wall, and had a great fall, would there be such thing as scrambled eggs?” She slapped her head.

“Shade, you’re a piece of work.” I chuckled. Eventually she gave up and we went back to painting.

Basketball practice that day was strictly conditioning. The coach apparently wanted us to run until we pissed our pants or threw up our week’s diet. Even I forced myself, heaving, and I had good stamina. Some of the heavier girls almost died of hyperventilation and the out of shape skinny girls complained about pain. Since that day was conditioning, we were mixed with the JV players. A lot of them were giving attitude while the varsity players scolded their complaining and laziness.

When we had to do suicides, I about died. My lungs felt like they were bleeding. My stomach felt like it was getting ready for diarrhea. Then we did quick feet. It was barely quick feet. I was doing a march. I had to give it to Jamesha though, because she was in a lot more shape than I was in. Her feet were quick for real.

Then we went to something called level two drills where we did eight pushups, eight plank runs then we jumped up, and did it again. Girls were hollering and grunting in pain while the coach was yelling away. My arms and hands were madly shaking. Never in my life did I do such an intense workout.

By the end of practice, the coach explained to use that every week we would have a conditioning day. I wanted to cry but I knew it would be good for me.

Our practice ended before the boys. From what I saw, it was their conditioning day also. I saw one guy sitting off to the side stretching in pain, probably from a Charlie horse, while another clutched onto an inhaler. Basketball and football coaches are the craziest, I came to learn. But stamina is key in both sports.

When Darnell came out, he was obviously exhausted. His body exerted a musty smell, but it was a must I liked. He had a muscle fatigue walk.

“I see your coach killed ya’ll like ours killed us.”

“Hell yeah, that nigga crazy. Got us doing workouts like we steam powered. I’ma drink all the protein drinks I got.”

“Oh, you drink them? I just tough it out.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have any protein drinks.”

“I can help you wit’ that.”

“Cool. I’ll definitely need it.” We hopped into his car. That time he put on a CD. It was a mix-tape with various artist ranging from J. Cole, to Kanye’s old tracks, to people I’ve never heard. He played it low. My eyes went out the window and stared at the committed memory.

“My mama likes you, so that’s a good thing.”

“Oh. I thought she didn’t. She practically said ‘okay, leave now’ in a nice day.”

“I know. She was jus’ bein’ a bitch.”

“She don’t like when you bring guys around?”

“I’s more than that.” He nodded his head.

“Have you made peace with Amara yet?”

“Yeah, I think I did in fourth period.”

“That’s good. I got a book I want you to read that I’ll think is good for you. It’s really short.”

“Wha’s it?”

“That Dhammapada: the sayings of the Buddha.”

“Oh. Never knew much about Buddhism.”

“Neither did I until I read that book. It helped me to find betting peace in my mind and to control my desires. Some things it won’t fix ‘cause they’re out of my control, but I can control myself better.”

“Yeah, I need something like that. Where can I get it?”

“You can borrow mine.”

“Cool, thanks.” We got into the neighborhood and Darnell went right passed my house. I hoped my mama didn’t see his car go past. That day would be the first time I even went to his house. It didn’t look special, it was brick faced like many of the other houses. He pulled into the driveway, but left the car on.

“Le’s make this quick,” he said. So I walked swiftly to his house. The anticipation to see the inside of his house was making me crazy. Inside his house felt a lot more depressing than the outside. It was a feeling that was hard to explain at that time. It was probably the smell of the house that obviously had traces of weed and old house. It was the bare walls and single coffee table and the small TV that was probably never off. Even more, his mother sitting on the couch drinking a glass of alcohol and a blunt in the same had as the glass. She was a tall, strong looking woman that had a worn face. Her hard face covered her true beauty. All her youth looked sucked out of her. The only thing that gave away her true youth were her eyes.

She only gave me so much as a glance before she looked back at the TV and took a draw of her blunt. Anyone in the right mind would know that she was tired.

Darnell went in the refrigerator and handed me a strawberry flavored protein shake. He took one for himself.

“I’ll be right back,” he said then headed to his stairs that were past the family room. I was caught in an awkward situation. His mute mother sat on the couch smoking and drinking, looking as if she had no real reason to live. She was wearing an old, raggedy wig. On her arms and knuckles, I could see scars and bruises. It was a dead give away.

To distract myself from her depressing looks, I turned around and drank the protein shake. It tasted weird but it wasn’t too bad. My eyes were scavenging the kitchen for some kind of personality but there was none. Everything was bare and boring.

After what felt like forever, Darnell came back downstairs with a tiny book in his hand. He walked up to his mother and kissed her on the forehead.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said.

“Mm-hum.” I was hoping to hear her voice but I guess that wasn’t the day to. Me and Darnell finally left the depressing house. We hopped into his car and didn’t say a word. I was no dummy and I knew asking him about his mother was a no-no. He dropped me off at my house and said bye. I said goodbye to him back and went into my house. The first person I saw coming into the house was my mama. It was like she was waiting for me. Something else was different, though.

“I saw that boy’s car pass our house,” she snapped. “Did you go to his house?”

“Ma, it ain’t even like that. He just gave me a protein shake and this book.” I showed her the Dhammapada. It was a tiny book with the Thai Buddha on it. She looked at the book.

“What’s that for?”

“He wanted me to read it.”

“A Buddhist book?”

“Yeah.”

“A Buddhist book?” The voice boomed down the stairs with a heavy Caribbean accent. My heart jumped from fright. Around the corner coming from the stairs came an old reddish face and silver curled hair on the top. Eyes that matched her hair pierced my face. It was Nana Fox. I put the book into my pocket. “What is this Buddhism? Cocoa, are you teaching the girl Buddhism?” Cocoa was Nana Fox’s name for my mama because growing up, my mama loved eating chocolate.

“No Nana.” My mama pronounced her name like nah-nah, so did I. “She got that from this boy.”

“Oh, the one she’s been sleepin’ wit’?” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh my god,” I said.

“Don’t say the lord’s name in vain.” She looked me up and down, analyzing me. “You’ve gotten so tall and big. Look at you… you look too grown for your own good.” I sighed, wanting out of the situation. “At least you’re not fat, but you gone have all the boys lookin’ at you.” I tried to walk past her and into the kitchen to do my homework. Nana Fox followed me. My mama went into the family room to watch TV. “What kinda grades you make in school?”

“A’s.” I didn’t want to prolong the conversation.

“So you play basketball?”

“Yes.”

“How tall are you now?”

“Five-eight.”

“Goodness. You must get your height from your dad. But why do you have that Buddhist book, are you Buddhist?”

“Nah, Nana.”

“What about that boy? Is he Asian?”

“No, he’s black.” She made an expressive sound.

“Never heard of a black person that’s a Buddhist. What you need to do is find Jesus and leave them poor people alone.”

“Okay.” Finally she stopped talking, but I knew she would start up again.

“You been sleepin’ wit’ that boy?” I exhaled in frustration.

“No. Mommy don’t know what she’s talkin’ ‘bout.”

“She tol’ me you slept wit’ him.” I looked in my mom’s direction, not seeing her, annoyed.

“That means nothin’ now.”

“I tell you girl, men are gonna use you. You needa save ya’self.”

“Too late for that now, isn’t it?”

“Shade!” my mama snapped. She told me to be respectful to Nana Fox. I didn’t know she was listening so hard.

“Chile gotta mouth and an attitude.” I closed my math book and gathered all my belongings to head to my room. There, they couldn’t bother me.

After I was done with my homework, I kind of wanted to see Amara. But I didn’t know where she stood on that since she was dating Sasha. I took out my phone and stared at the inbox. Her name was at the top of my list. I just wanted to talk to her about everything that was going on in my life and ask her about hers. To see her smile. That one shot of beauty that most would die before they see. I left the inbox area and went to the picture I had of her. Her face tranquil and her smile blissful. For a long time I lied on my bed and stared at her face, thinking of all the things I loved about her. Eventually I set the phone down and began to write.

If there’s a heaven

You can find it within the smile on her face

An unspeakable place, beyond the very

Imagination we are given

And a sentimental look of eyes capture

The moment, shields the lies

If there’s a heaven, it is her

When I reread the poem I thought it was too deep. It was too raw and came off as corny to me. I closed the book and lied on my back. Monroe came to my mind. That was a first. I had a way of gravitating towards him if I were to be completely honest with myself. He almost fit the characteristics of the guys I messed with. He wasn’t as tall, though. Maybe about six or six-one, and not the freakish six-three and above. But he was liquorish black with white teeth. I should have known there was a reason I chose to talk to him. He had lips like Darnell, but different. With his growing hair, his head looked proportionate with the rest of him. He looked fresh.

But what the fuck could I do with Monroe? He wouldn’t want someone like me, and I wasn’t sure if I would want him.

Darnell popped back to mind. Darnell fit the description perfectly. He was about six-three, strong, and dark as coffee bean: beautiful. He didn’t belong where he lived. He was supposed to have a good life, and not a mother that looked like hell had overcome her soul. A questionable father that fought with her. I could only think why? Why do good people go though hell and the bad ones live in luxury?

Too many people. Too many thoughts. I needed a shower and rest.