“Why not? She’s the one who practically raised you when V. was too busy climbing the political ladder. She’s the one who believed in you even when?—”
“Even when what?” I cut him off, my voice dropping to something dangerous. “Even when I was fat? Even when I couldn’t string two words together without stuttering? Even when I was the weakest link in this whole damn family?”
The words came out harsher than I intended, dredging up memories I’d spent years trying to bury.
Quest’s expression softened. “Prime?—”
But I was already there, pulled back against my will.
I was ten years old, walking home from school with my backpack feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. At that age I was so big I waddled when I walked. The weight was courtesy of my uncontrollable urge to eat candy and other junk. I’d sneak into the pantry at night and eat a pack of cookies.
“P-P-Prentice!” Dayvon had called out from behind me, mocking my stutter. “Wait up, Nutty Professor face-ass nigga!”
I’d tried to walk faster, but there were three of them and one of me. They’d cornered me by the old bodega, the one with the broken neon sign.
“Y-y-you got any m-m-money? Hercules. Hercules. Hercules.” DeShawn mimicked, pushing me hard enough that I stumbled while another boy did the obnoxious clap. The shit wasn’t even funny. It was low-hanging fruit.
“Leave m-me alone,” I’d managed, hating how the words got stuck in my throat, how my tongue felt too big for my mouth.
Dayvon had laughed. “Or what? You gonna c-c-cry?”
The first punch came fast, catching me in the eye. I’d gone down, tried to cover my face, but they’d gotten in a few more shots before someone’s grandmother yelled at them from a window.
By the time I made it home, my right eye was swollen shut, my lip split, and my shirt torn.
Grandma Rita had been in the kitchen when I walked in. She’d taken one look at me, and her hands had gone still on the dish towel. She stayed with us for years after my father was murdered, even when my mother remarried. She stayed around to watch after us, especially me.
“Baby, what happened?”
“N-nothing,” I’d mumbled, trying to get past her to my room.
But then Vivica had walked in, wearing one of her power suits. She’d looked at me—really looked—and something in her face had hardened.
“Who did this to you?”
“S-some boys from s-school.”
“And what did you do?”
My stomach had dropped. “I… I t-tried to walk away?—”
I didn’t even see her hand coming. The slap had rocked my head to the side, making my already injured eye throb.
“Vivica!” Grandma Rita had shouted.
But my mother wasn’t done. She’d grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at her with my one good eye.
“You let them beat your ass, so I’m gonna beat your ass too. You understand me? In this family, we don’t run. We don’t hide. We fight back.” Her perfectly manicured nails dug into my skin. “You got Banks blood in you, even if you don’t act like it. Tomorrow, you find those boys and you show them what happens when they put their hands on you.”
“B-but?—”
“No buts. You either handle your business or I’ll give you something worse to cry about.”
She’d let me go then, straightening her suit like nothing had happened, and walked out.
Grandma Rita had pulled me into her arms, her voice soft. “Baby, don’t listen to her. You don’t have to fight?—”
“Y-yes I do.” I’d pulled away, my good eye burning with tears I wouldn’t let fall. “She’s r-right. I’m weak.”
