“Since August? That’s when it started for you?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.
“Yeah. Why you care?” My voice sounded hard, but inside I was shaking. She was playing on all my insecurities.
“Tell her, Shay,” Donique pressed.
Shayla’s eyes slid over me slowly, an evil grin marring her pretty face. “Baby girl, the only reason he even walked up to you that day in the cafeteria was because Deon asked him to,” she said, fake pity in her tone.
“Deon?” I repeated. “What Deon got to do with?—”
She interrupted me, ready to spew her venom. “He wanted to shoot his shot at Taniyah, but you always somewhere right behind her. So, he asked his boy to run interference. Deon told us he told Jabali he might luck up on some rich pussy. Jay was all for that. Deon said he felt kinda bad you caught feelings, but that’s life.”
The amphitheater seemed to shrink. I felt sick, like I was drowning in noise. I heard everything at once: car doors closing up on the parking lot, kids laughing as they ran around backstage, Mr. Floyd tapping the microphone and saying something about checking levels. Christmas carols faded out as the sound system clicked over. It was cold in Emancipation, but suddenly I felt hot.
“You lying. Everybody know Donique still wants Jabali, Shayla. You just mad because he not thinking about you,” I said, but my voice sounded weak even to my own ears.
“Mad?” Donique laughed. “Girl, please. This not about me. This about you being delusional.”
I shook my head. The scene in the cafeteria flashed in my mind. I was sitting at the end of the table with my book, waiting on Taniyah, pretending not to listen as everybody talked over me. Jabali slid into the seat across from me with his tray and asked what I was reading. I ignored him. He kept on until he got a smile out of me. We never looked back.
That had been a setup? A fucking favor?
“He wouldn’t do that. Jabali cares about me—” I whispered, trying to push down the doubt, the fear at their words.
“Aww, he told you he cares about you. They all say that when they trying to get what they want. It is not that deep, Kyleigh. You just an assignment he took real serious,” Shayla said, fake sympathy dripping off every word.
“Oh, and you ain’t the only one who hooked up with Mr. Jabali in August,” Donique said, lifting her sweater and revealing the slight swell of her stomach. She smiled at me.
No. Something buzzed in my ears as nausea roiled my stomach. I heard Mr. Floyd in the background saying, “Testing, one, two, testing,” but his voice sounded far away.
“Anyway, it worked out,” Donique went on. “Deon got to talk to Taniyah that day, right? So, he was happy. But Jabali kept on entertaining you even after. That’s when it got funny. He said you were sweet, though. Real sweet. He didn’t want to hurt your little feelings. You different, a fun little break for him.”
“Like a Thanksgiving break,” Shayla chimed, a knowing smile on her face.
My throat closed. “How you even know about?—”
“Girl, this Emancipation. People talk. You think people didn’t see that F-150 by that tree? You think he didn’t brag about being the one to bag the Lil Houston girl with the soft voice? Mrs. Amanda’s granddaughter? Girl, you like royalty to some people. He got all that from playing wingman? Jay winning,” she said, laughing.
“But the break is over. Jabali will be right back where he belongs,” Donique added, rubbing her belly.
I realized the humming in the speakers had stopped. There was a strange silence hanging in the air for one long moment. Then, from outside, there was the sound of a microphone squealing and someone saying, “Umm… who turned my—” before it cut off again.
The “God mic.” My stomach dropped.
“Was that on?” Mr. Floyd yelled from across the stage, sounding panicked. “Somebody tell me that was not on!”
But even as he shouted, I heard sound from the audience. There were murmurs and soft laughter. I could imagine theheads turning as people whispered to each other. I saw the realization flicker across Shayla’s face. Then she grinned.
“Oops. Guess everyone just heard that, huh? It ain’t like they didn’t already know. Probably not even really funny anymore,” she jeered softly.
I swear the world tilted then narrowed. My body started moving before my brain caught up. I pulled the headset off and tossed it onto the nearest chair. My vision blurred, my eyes burning with tears I refused to shed.
Behind me, somewhere near the edge of the curtains, a familiar voice shouted, “Kyleigh!”
I didn’t stop.
“Kyleigh, wait!”
I ran down the stone steps, away from the stage, away from the bright lights and the rows of faces I knew were staring at me.Me. Kyleigh. The outsider. Always the outsider. I ran up the stairs, hit the gravel path behind the amphitheater and kept going, the cold air slicing into my lungs.
