On the Come Up - Angie Thomas Page 0,60

got this one dimple, right here.” He touches my cheek, right near the corner of my mouth. “That shows when you’re laughing, but not when you’re smiling, like it only wants to appear for special occasions. It’s real cute.”

Why are my cheeks suddenly warm? What do I say? Do I compliment him back? How do I compliment him back? “Your hair looks nice.”

Wow, Bri. Are you saying the rest of him doesn’t look nice? Okay, but his hair is on point. He clearly got a line up within the last day or so.

He runs a hand over the top. His waves are gone, and it looks like someone twisted the ends by hand. “Thanks. Thinking ’bout growing it out this summer for some locs or cornrows. Just gotta find somebody who can do them.”

“I can do them,” I say. “The cornrows, I mean. I don’t know how to do locs.”

“I don’t know if I could trust you in my hair like that.”

“Boy, bye. I know my stuff. Sonny’s momma is a beautician. She taught me ages ago. I used to hook my baby dolls up.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you,” Curtis says. He leans a little closer over the seat. “So, what? I’ll sit between your legs and let you do your thing?”

The corners of my mouth turn up. “Yeah. But you gotta let me do them however I want.”

“However you want?”

“However I want.”

“All right. So, what do you want?”

I try not to smile too much. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Is this flirting? I think this is flirting.

Wait. I’m flirting with Curtis? And I’m okay with the fact that I’m flirting with Curtis?

At some point, Mr. Watson pulled up at Sonny’s and Malik’s houses, and they climbed on board. Sonny’s in the aisle, his eyebrows raised about as high as they can go. Malik’s near one of the front seats. Shana’s already sitting down and seems to be talking to him, but he’s looking straight at me. And Curtis.

He turns forward and slinks into the seat.

Sonny slowly lowers himself into a seat ahead of us, staring at me the whole way down. He wiggles his eyebrows just before he disappears.

I won’t hear the end of this. I won’t.

Eventually, the bus pulls up at our school. I let Curtis get off before I do because Sonny is waiting for me at his seat. He just looks at me with those raised eyebrows.

“Zip it,” I tell him as I climb off the bus.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face says it all.”

“Nah, your face says it all.” He pokes my cheeks. “Aww, look at you, blushing and shit. Over Curtis though? Really, Bri?”

“I said zip it!”

“Hey, I’m not judging. I simply ask that you name your son and daughter after me. Sonny and Sonnita.”

This boy didn’t. “How the hell did we go from talking on the bus to having two kids, Sonny?”

“Two kids and a dog. A pug you’ll name Sonningham.”

“What goes on in that head of yours?”

“It’s better than whatever has you flirting with Curtis.”

I punch his arm. “You know what? I’ll let you and Rapid name your kids those ridiculous names instead. How about that?”

Sonny’s eyes cast down. “Uhh . . . I kinda ghosted on Rapid.”

“What? Why?”

“I did my SAT practice test the other day and couldn’t focus on that shit for thinking about him. I can’t fuck this up, Bri.”

Nobody’s harder on Sonny than Sonny. I’ve witnessed him have straight-up panic attacks over his grades and even his art pieces. “It was only a practice test, Son’.”

“That reflects how I’ll do on the real test,” he croaks. “Bri, if I get a low score on that shit—”

I cup his cheek. “Hey, look at me.”

He does. My eyes won’t let his look away. I’ve witnessed him have so many panic attacks that I can spot them before they fully form. “Breathe,” I tell him.

Sonny takes in a long, deep breath and lets it out. “I can’t mess this up.”

“You won’t. That’s why you ghosted on him?”

“That’s not all. Malik and I were hanging out the other day and did more research. We found out Rapid’s IP address doesn’t trace to the Garden.”

He and Malik hung out without me. That still gets me in my feelings a bit. But I gotta shake it off. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Rapid had me thinking he lived in the neighborhood. That’s where all of his photography is from.”

“Wait. Did he actually say he lived in the Garden or did you assume he

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