cups, and tells us to find a booth. She also says that Trey’s not here. He’s gone to lunch. Apparently it’s possible to get tired of eating pizza.
We fill our cups at the soda fountain, and Malik and I lead Shana to our little corner booth that we usually share with Sonny. Somehow, it’s always available. I honestly couldn’t imagine sitting anywhere else. We treat it the same way old ladies at Christ Temple treat their seats—if somebody ever beat us to our booth, we’d give them a stank-eye powerful enough to smite them on the spot.
Malik stretches his arm across the back of the booth, technically around Shana. I’m gonna act like it’s only across the booth though. “Can I hear the song now, Bri?” he asks.
Shana sips her soda. “What song?”
“Bri recorded her first song the other day. She played it for everyone on the bus this morning.”
“Ooh, I wanna hear it,” says Shana.
Had she been on the bus this morning, I would’ve had no problem letting her hear it. Now? Now is different. “Maybe another time.”
“Aww, come on, Bri,” says Malik. “Everybody heard it but me. You’re gonna have me feeling some kinda way.”
I’m already feeling some kinda way. “It’s not that good.”
“Considering how you’ve written some of the best rhymes I’ve ever heard in my life, I bet it is,” he says. “Like, ‘There’s a beast that roams my streets—’”
“‘—and he goes by the name of crack cocaine—’” I say my own lyrics.
“‘It’s kinda strange how he gets in the veins and turns mothers into strangers who only share the same name.’” Malik finishes. “Can’t forget my ultimate favorite, ‘Unarmed and dangerous, but America, you made us, only time we famous—’”
“‘Is when we die and you blame us,’” I finish for him.
“That’s deep,” says Shana.
“Bri’s got skills,” says Malik. “So, I know this song is probably amazing. Just promise that you won’t act brand new when you blow up. I knew you when you were afraid of Big Bird.”
Shana snorts. “Big Bird?”
“Yes.” Malik chuckles. “She’d close her eyes every time he came on Sesame Street. One time, Sonny’s dad put on a Big Bird costume for Sonny’s birthday party. Bri ran away screaming.”
Shana busts out laughing.
I clench my jaw. That was not his business to tell, and especially not for a joke about me. “It’s not logical for a bird to be that big,” I bite out.
Really, it’s not. Tweety Bird? The love of my life. Big Bird? I don’t trust that ho. Plus, have they seen his nest? He probably hides bodies in it.
Malik’s laugh fades. There’s not a damn thing funny to me. “Chill, Bri. I’m joking.”
“Fine,” I mumble. “Whatever.”
I take out my phone, pull up the song, and hit Play.
Shana shimmies a little in her seat. “O-kaay. That beat is nice.”
My first verse starts, and Malik’s eyebrows meet. They stay together through the rest of the song. When it gets to the lines about the incident, he and Shana both look at me.
Once the song’s over, Shana says, “You did your thing, Bri.”
Malik bites his lip. “Yeah. Dope.”
That look on his face says more than he’s saying. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s just . . . you talked about doing stuff you’ve never actually done, Bri.”
“I think you’re missing the point, Maliky,” Shana says.
Maliky?
“She’s not saying she actually does that stuff. She’s saying this is what they expect her to do.”
“Exactly,” I say.
“I get that, but I don’t think a lot of other people will,” says Malik. “What’s with all the talk about guns?”
Oh my God. Seriously? “Does it matter, Malik?”
He puts his hands up. “Forget I said anything.”
He’s this close to pissing me off. “What’s up with you?”
He looks at me. “I should be asking you that.”
A waitress sets our piping-hot pizza on the table. We’re pretty quiet as we dig in.
After a little while, Shana sets her slice down and wipes her hands with her napkin. “I actually wanted to talk to you, Bri.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. About the other day.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah . . .” She trails off and looks at Malik. He kinda nods, as if he’s giving her the go-ahead. “A bunch of us have been talking about how Long and Tate seem to target certain students more than others.”
She may as well say it. “You mean the black and brown kids.”
“Right,” she says. “It’s ridiculous, you know? Of course you know now . . .” She closes her eyes. “God, that came out wrong. I’m the worst at this.”