him in place. “It’s totally fine. Thank you.”
What I want to say is Please just treat me normally.
I hope that no one decides to sneak a picture of me and post it somewhere later on. I scan the table, but the boys have their phones put away. I sigh, relieved.
Milo reaches past me and grabs a handful of fries, shoving them into his mouth. “The Thai chili ketchup is my favorite,” he says to me, still chewing.
They all dig in, and I figure I better start eating before all the fries are gone. And Milo was right. The fries are good. I’ve had actual pommes frites in Belgium when I visited with my parents, and these are right up there. Even the Thai chili ketchup is pretty good after I get used to the tangy taste. I start taking big handfuls, just like Milo did. He smiles at me, once again with a tinge of smugness.
“Worth the trip?” he asks.
I nod but don’t say anything else since he’s gloating.
“So what’s with this surprise?” he asks Raf.
Raf wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and excitedly rubs his palms together. “Okay, so boom. About a month ago I was scrolling through Instagram, looking for inspiration, you know, like usual.” Milo, Vinny, and Ben all roll their eyes, but Raf continues. “And I came across this artist, some boy named Eli, and his illustrations were dope. So, being the genius that I am, I get the idea that he should design our band logo, since we’ve been talking about it for so long but haven’t actually done anything about it. I messaged him, gave him some ideas, and he came up with this.” Raf reaches down, unzips his backpack, and pulls out four black T-shirts, dropping them in the center of the table.
The other boys exchange a skeptical glance and sit motionless.
“Well, go ahead and look at them. Damn,” Raf says.
Milo is the first to grab a T-shirt and hold it up. In the center, there’s an illustration of four white birds flying in a circle. DOVES HAVE PRIDE is written underneath it in bright-purple letters.
“Doves Have Pride,” I say, confused. “What’s that mean?”
“You didn’t tell her about the band, Milo?” Raf asks, incredulous.
“It’s our band name,” Milo explains, still staring at the T-shirt.
Frustrated, Raf takes it upon himself to elaborate. “We’re like Bruno Mars and his band the Hooligans but better,” he says. I hold in a snort. I bet he wouldn’t be happy to know that Milo told me the complete opposite. “Or if you ask Milo’s parents, they’d say we’re making the devil’s music.”
Raf, Vinny, and Ben laugh. Milo smiles and shakes his head.
“Okay, and what does that mean?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Milo says. “Just that my parents aren’t happy I left the church choir to do secular music.”
Raf adds, “And they gave him until the end of summer for something to finally happen with the band before they force him to start taking classes at CUNY.”
“Can you please stop telling all my business? Damn,” Milo says, reaching behind me to pluck Raf in the ear.
“What?” Raf swats him away. “I’m just saying, that gives us even more reason to wear these shirts. We have to look our best to give ourselves the best chance, you feel me?” He pauses, suddenly focusing on me. “Can I ask a question? What’s with the wig?”
Taken off guard, I say, “I’m trying something new.”
“Oh.” Raf nods. “I mean, I liked the curly hair, but I like this look too. I used to follow you on Instagram before you deleted your account. What was that about, anyway?”
I shake my head, unsure of how to answer. This is the last thing I want to talk about.
“Raf.” Milo’s voice is sharp.
Raf looks at me sheepishly. “Sorry! I was just curious.”
“It’s fine,” I say, wishing they’d go back to talking about their T-shirts. I contemplate leaving. Has enough time passed for Gigi to have a sufficient amount of space?
Of course, Milo is looking at me carefully when I glance at him. He pushes the basket of fries closer to me.
“Doves Have Pride is a line from ‘When Doves Cry,’ the song by Prince,” he says. “You’ve heard it before?” I nod. “Prince inspires a lot of our music. So we chose that name, and it stuck. Or it was the only name we could all decide on, I guess.”
“And because when I’m singing, my mic is on,” Raf says.
“Oh, okay,” I say. Then quietly, so