got you that phone, or your boxing coach in North Jersey?”
Toya snickered, pulling out pots and pans.
“Neither,” I replied.
“Somebody else?” Toya froze, reaching into the cabinet.
“Hell, yeah,” Renata chimed in. “Tori got somebody sniffing up her ass at that ritzy school. Got her them dope ass clothes!”
Now Treesha was frozen over my aunt, Sonya’s, kitchen table. Only her eyes moved to take me in from head to toe, though I was sitting. “A guy or girl?”
I rolled my eyes, finishing up the message to Samantha.
“A guy, bitch.” Renata swept up the plastic bags to put them into another grocery shopping bag, storing them all.
“Oh, shit,” Treesha whispered. “You like him? Like…like him?”
I shrugged, eyes on my phone like something was grabbing my attention. There wasn’t. I just didn’t want to talk about this. It was nothing at all. Nothing I understood, at least.
“I think he like her, too.” Renata bragged.
“No, he don’t!” I snapped.
“Well, damn, Tori. You ‘on’t think a nigga—or a bitch—could like you?” Toya challenged. I shrugged, rolling my eyes again. “It ain’t like you ugly. Shit.” She scoffed. “You always had a bad ass body, no damn belly—”
“And them fuckin’ titties for days!” Treesha broke out laughing. They slapped palms. “I remember I used to stuff my bras with socks in middle school because I wanted my titties to look like yours.”
“They got a point, Tori.” Renata’s tone was more gentle. “You’s a good-looking girl. You just gotta open up. Talk.”
“I do talk,” I argued. “Y’all think you can drive me up to New Brunswick so I can catch my flight tomorrow?”
“When?” Treesha asked, mouth wide open.
“Tonight. After we eat.” My attention was finally on them. I couldn’t stay down here another night. “I can pay you.”
“How much?” Treesha asked like she had a car. But I had to take her seriously. Sometimes, Renata would let her take her car out.
I shrugged. “After chipping in for food, I got like thirty dollars.”
“That ain’t gone fill up no tank to go up to North Jersey and come back,” Renata returned.
“It’s all I got.”
“That’s what?” Toya asked. “Two hours.”
“It ain’t that long.” I shook my head. “It’s like an hour forty-five minutes.”
“One way, though, T.” Renata’s tone was apologetic. She wasn’t going to do it.
“Tell me more about this guy from Blakewood and, if somebody’ll keep NeNe for me, I’ll do it,” Treesha challenged.
I sucked in a deep breath, leaning back in my chair. “He’s tall, real tall. He’s a football player…the star on the team. Everybody knows him.”
“He the big man on campus,” Renata added.
“Oh, shit!” Toya clapped her hands.
I found myself rolling my eyes a lot. “It’s not that serious.”
“So he ain’t poppin’ up there?” Treesha asked.
“Well…” My head bobbed. “He is, but it’s just not that serious. He got me a phone because I’m like the poorest person there.” I knew that wasn’t all the way true, but it felt that way with Ashton, Aivery, and their West Beverly High crew. “He felt sorry for me, so he bought me a phone.” I shrugged. “It’s probably refurbished.”
“Re-what?” Toya asked.
“Nothing. It’s not that big of a deal,” I sighed again. “He probably does it for other girls.”
“So, the nigga a player, Tori?” Toya wouldn’t drop it.
No amount of deflecting could make me lie. “No.” I shook my head. “I ain’t say all that.”
“Then what is he?” Treesha demanded, clearly entertained that there was somebody who had caught my attention, or I’d caught theirs.
He’s someone else’s boyfriend!
Although Ashton only seemed that way when I saw him with Aivery, holding or kissing her in public. Even that made me feel things. It was stupid. All wrong, and dangerous. These were the things I couldn’t say because I didn’t understand them.
Feeling defeated, as usual, I shrugged again, turning away. My phone rang in my hand. It was my mother. I stood and started to the back of the house to take her call.
“Yeah, Ma.” I rolled my eyes, knowing where the conversation would go.
I swear, I’d just given out this number to my family days ago, and now wished I hadn’t. Not being accessible had its perks.
“Where you at, Tori?”
The short hallway was dark, all the doors closed, making it quieter back here. “At Aunt Sonya’s.”
“Why?”
“What you mean why? I’m with the girls.”
“Sonya cooking?”
I shook my head. “No. She ain’t here.”
“Then what y’all doing?”
“‘Bout to cook something.”
“What y’all cooking?”
“Spaghetti.”
“Oh. What time you coming back here?”
My eyes closed to a squeeze. “I’m not.”
“What? You staying over there?” she yelled. “Ain’t no