supposed to be. I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. Hell, what I was made to do. The crowd could be silent and I’d still know that.
When Aunt Pooh introduced me to hip-hop, Nas told me the world was mine, and I believed it could be. Now, standing here on this stage, I know it is.
Epilogue
All of the words on the page have blurred together, I swear. I glance at my phone. “How long have we been at this?”
Curtis looks at his phone, too. “Only two hours, Princess.”
“Only?” I groan. Our ACT prep books and laptops are spread out around us on my bedroom floor. We’re taking another practice test tomorrow—the real exam is a little over a month away. Curtis comes over a lot so we can study together. I think I’m ready, even though our studying usually turns into something else.
That’s exactly why I say, “We need to take a break.”
“Oh, for real?”
“For real,” I say.
“Let me guess—you wanna do this instead?”
He’s all grins as he steals a quick kiss. One kiss becomes two, two become three, and three become making out on the floor of my Tweety shrine of a bedroom. My mom, Trey, and I have been living with my grandparents for less than a week now, and I haven’t had time to redecorate.
“Hey, hey!” Trey calls from the doorway. Curtis and I separate so fast. “That ain’t no damn studying!”
I roll onto my back and groan. “Right now, I actually look forward to the day you go off to grad school.”
“Unfortunately for you, you stuck with me for a couple more months,” he says, and looks at Curtis. “Bruh, you better watch yourself. I will drive three hours to whoop some ass.”
Curtis innocently puts his hands up. “My bad.”
“Uh-huh,” Trey says. “I’m watching, Curtis.”
I sigh. “Don’t you need to go pick up Jojo?”
Trey’s taking Jojo to a Markham State basketball game. Jojo’s been geeking out about it all week like it’s an NBA game. Poor baby, he doesn’t realize Markham can’t play worth shit.
“I’m going.” He kicks my door. “But keep this damn door open, too. Ain’t nobody got time to be called ‘Uncle Trey.’ I oughta tell Granddaddy y’all up in there, passing cooties.”
He goes off down the hall. Curtis waits a few seconds before he leans over and kisses me. “Cooties, huh?”
But there we go, getting interrupted again. My mom loudly clears her throat. “That ain’t studying.”
“That’s what I said,” Trey calls from wherever he is.
Curtis gets this ridiculously cute sheepish look about him and oh my God, I almost can’t deal. “Sorry, Mrs. Jackson.”
She kisses her teeth. “Mm-hmm. Bri, which one do you prefer?”
She holds up two outfits. One’s a navy pencil skirt with matching blazer that Aunt Gina bought for her. The other is a gray suit that Aunt ’Chelle bought.
“They look so much alike—does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters,” she says. “I gotta look right for my first day.”
She starts at the school district on Monday as Dr. Cook’s secretary. One of the first things he wants her to do? Schedule monthly meetings with the Midtown Black and Latinx Coalition so he can make sure things are going smoothly. The other order of business? Look into a new security firm for the district.
“What, you’re not gonna go with the one Grandma bought you?” I ask.
Mom’s lips thin. Grandma bought her a floral print suit. It’s loud. It’s bold. It’ll blind you if you stare at it too long.
“I’m saving that for church,” she lies. “C’mon now. Help me choose.”
“The navy,” I say. “It says, ‘I wanna be here, I mean business, but I still got some style, and I may cut you if you cross me.’”
She snaps her fingers and points at me. “That’s what I’m talking about. Thank you, baby. Y’all can get back to studying . . . studying!” she adds with raised eyebrows. “Curtis, you’re welcome to stay for dinner. I’m making gumbo.”
Yes, Grandma is actually letting her cook in her kitchen. No, I don’t know where the aliens put my real grandma or if we’ll ever get her back.
“Thank you, Mrs. Jackson,” Curtis tells my mom.
My phone buzzes on the floor, and Sonny’s smiling face appears on my screen. I hit the speaker button. “What’s up, Sonny Bunny,” I tease.
“Shut up, Bookie.”
“Hey, Bri,” Miles calls from the background.
“Hey, Miles.”
“Y’all better have some adult supervision over there, I know that!” Mom hollers.
“Chill, Aunty Jay. Nothing’s happening,” Sonny says. “Bri, you need to get on Twitter. Something huge just