And then, I hear a noise, see a shadow.
Imani is home.
“You two having a party without me?” she says. It is not said as a question.
Sadie is oblivious. “Hey, girl.” She pauses the video. “Where you been?”
“With Asher,” Imani says. “You spending the night?”
And that’s when I look at the clock, see that it is midnight and I have no idea how all this time passed without me realizing it. Sadie didn’t know how late it was either. She grabs her phone, says, “My mom is going to kill me.” She calls her mom, explains that she lost track of time, and asks—begs—to spend the night. “I’ll come home first thing in the morning.” Her face flashes a smile, and so I know her mom said yes. She didn’t mention that Aunt Ebony and Uncle Randy aren’t here. But they wouldn’t care anyway.
I am glad that Sadie is staying over. She doesn’t even know it, but she is a buffer between me and Imani. For the first time since our argument at Grandma’s, Imani is sitting in my room, actually speaking to me. “What did you do today?” she asks.
I would say nothing, but I am done with lying, so I tell the truth. “I broke up with Tye today.”
Imani’s eyes fill with shock. “You broke up with him?”
Sadie gives her a look. “Why you say it like that?”
“Well, I mean, I just assumed he’d be the one who would call things off. I mean, Nala lied, she—”
“I know what she did. But Tye loves her. He chose to forgive her,” Sadie says.
“So if he’s forgiven you, Nala, why did you break up with him? What was the point of all of this?”
“Why do you care? Isn’t this what you wanted—to break us up?”
Sadie stands. “Um, maybe I should leave so you two can have privacy and—”
“Sadie, you don’t have to leave,” I tell her. Then, I look at Imani and tell her, “Say what you have to say.”
Now, Imani gets all quiet and doesn’t say anything.
“Imani, I’m embarrassed and ashamed, but I’m not sorry. Not toward you. I don’t understand why there’s tension between us. I’ve already talked with Grandma and Tye. I feel like you think I owe you an apology, but I didn’t do anything to you.”
Imani stands up quick, like a fire is under her. “You did do something to me. First of all, you embarrassed me. I brought you around my friends, and you went out of your way to mock everything we stand for. And every chance you get, you get closer and closer to my mother, and now, you’ve messed with my friend’s heart. Get your own life.”
Sadie says, “Come on, you two. You’re family. Don’t do this.”
“We need to do this,” I say. And then I walk over to Imani, make sure she is looking at me when I ask her, “Do you want me to move out? You keep bringing up my relationship with Aunt Ebony. Do you want me to leave? Give you back your mother?”
Sadie doesn’t let Imani talk. She blurts out, “Imani—don’t answer that. You two are emotional right now. Just talk tomorrow . . . don’t say anything you’ll regret.”
Imani and I are standing face-to-face. I am looking at my cousin-sister-friend, waiting for her to tell me she doesn’t want me to live with her anymore, that she doesn’t want to share her mother, her friends, her life with me. We are a mirror to each other, tears in her eyes, tears in mine. She doesn’t answer my question. She takes Sadie’s advice, turns around, walks away.
The next morning, Sadie wakes me up with a whisper. “I’m leaving, okay? Gotta get home to watch my little brother.” She is standing at the side of my bed, her bag on her shoulder, MetroCard already in her hand.
“Wait, let me walk you out.” I slide out of bed, my head still pounding from yesterday’s stress. We walk downstairs, and I open the front door for her. “Thanks for coming over,” I say.
Sadie gives me a hug. “Text me if you need me later. Hope you and Imani work things out.”
I close the door, and instead of going back into my room and hiding till Imani leaves, I go upstairs and knock on her door.
“Come in.”
When I open the door, the room is full of sunlight. The glow bounces off Imani’s white bedsheets. Everything in her room is in its place. She has never been messy, always all of her seems perfect. I stand at the door, leave it open, and lean against the frame. My arms are folded, even though I don’t want to seem guarded. I can’t help it. I don’t know her answer to my question. I don’t know if today I will be packing my bags and going back to my mom’s house. And I know technically Aunt Ebony and Uncle Randy have the last say—it is their house after all. But I don’t want to be here if Imani doesn’t want me here. That feeling is in my chest again, the seesaw feeling. I’m suspended up, up, up. No control over how hard the fall is going to be.
Imani doesn’t turn around to face me. She is still in bed, under a thin sheet, lying on her side. Her back is to me. Even though I am the one who’s come to her room to talk, she is the one who begins. “I’m sorry, Nala. I said a lot of things last night that I didn’t really mean.” Imani’s voice is always hoarse in the morning. She sounds like she is still half-asleep, I think maybe her eyes are still closed. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I know.”
Imani turns over, faces me. “I just, I don’t know. Since we were babies we’ve always been compared to each other. Every single thing we do. When it comes to Inspire Harlem, I just want to exist without having to worry about that. And you don’t even like hanging with us anyway.”
“Well, that’s only because when you’re with them, you change. And even when you’re not with them, sometimes you seem so . . . judgmental.”
Imani sits up, cross-legged in her bed, her back against the headboard. “I don’t mean to be judgmental. I think I’m just used to being the leader, the one who has to take care of you, show you the way I guess. I mean, that’s how it’s always been.”
“But that’s just it, it doesn’t need to be like that anymore. I don’t need you to speak for me or feel responsible for teaching me. I don’t want to be your shadow. I want to stand in my own light.” I walk over to Imani’s bed and sit on the edge. “And I need to give you and Aunt Ebony time alone, to just hang out without me. I’m sorry if—”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Nala. I need to be home more. That’s on me.”
We sit for a moment, not knowing what else to say.
Then Imani says, “We don’t have to hug now, do we?” and she slides back under her covers, laughing.
I yank the sheet off her, take it with me, and run out of the room. “No,” I shout. “And we don’t have to say I love you either.”
You know when someone loves you. You just know.
25
It’s just past noon, and the city is a symphony of chaos. Everything is making noise all at once, but somehow there is a calmness to the block I am walking down. Every sound complementing each other, the brakes of the bus, the honking horns, the bounce of the basketball, the slap of the jump rope against concrete. The laughing from the boys standing at the corner cracking jokes and talking big, the delivery guy swerving and zigzagging through traffic dinging his bell to alert people to move out of his way, the woman yelling into her phone like it’s a bullhorn, telling all her business.