Her face pinched, but I didn’t wait for the reply. I clicked my door lock and slung my tote bag over my shoulder like a peace flag.
A custodian whistled softly, like he was cleansing the building of all the week’s chaos with soap and patience. The school looked calmer after the kids left, but the energy still lingered. I stood there for a second, breathing in the quiet. My shoulders dropped, my chest loosened, and my thoughts, always bold, always ready, tried to creep in with their usual sermon: you could’ve done more. You should’ve stayed later. You should’ve answered that email. You should’ve—I shut itdown with a thought I’d been practicing like a daily affirmation:Rest is not laziness. Boundaries are not selfish.Leaving on time is not failure. That was growth. That was my quiet victory, and I deserved to walk out of that building like I believed it.
“Ma’am!”
Mellonie’s voice came sailing down the hall, full of sunshine and menace, cutting through the quiet like she owned the building. She didn’t call my name. She called my habit—that little instance I had to slip away unnoticed, to disappear back into my routine before anybody could remind me I deserved more than survival.
“Don’t you try to sneak off like a church usher with the money bucket.”
I turned just in time to see her strutting toward me, her curls bouncing and nails gleaming a shade of bright pink. She walked like she had somewhere to be, and the world had better not stand in her way. She hugged me with the force of a linebacker—tight, loud, affectionate. Mellonie didn’t do half-love. She didn’t do polite distance, but full presence.
“You ready?” she asked, eyes already dancing.
“For what?” I asked, though I already knew. My voice tried to sound casual. My body tried to get prepared.
She put a hand on her chest like I’d offended her ancestors. “For our date with joy, boo. You told me yes to the game. I ain’t forget, and there is no way I’m letting your little pretty ass back out on me.”
“I didn’t say that. I said . . . yes.” I tried to be serious and failed.
“Good answer because I was prepared to kidnap you and drop a ransom note on NanNan’s nightstand for real.” She looped her arm through mine and started walking like I’d already committed to the plan. She didn’t ask for permission for joy but enforced it.
We laughed all the way through the front doors, the warm Texas air meeting us like it missed us. I felt the week slowly sliding off me, leaving behind the parts I didn’t need to carry into the weekend. My keys jingled in my hand, bag on my hip. My feet still hurt, but the pain felt less personal now, less like punishment, and more like proof I’d survived the week with my good nature intact.
“Look at you, smiling. I knew you had joy in there under all that responsibility,” Mel teased, unlocking her car.
“Girl, I had to dig for it. It was hiding behind a stack of essays and three parent emails,” I said, throwing my bag in the back seat.
“Mmhmm. Tonight, we are filing that undernot our business. We’re going to the game, dressing cute, and eating nachos like we not on a meal plan.”
“You on a meal plan?” I asked with a side-eye.
“I’m on amind my businessplan. There’ll be a minimum of two drinks too. Get in,” she said, then grinned.
We rolled out with the windows down, and Houston’s rap artist Propain blessed the speakers. By the time we pulled up to my place, I could almost pretend I wasn’t tired. Almost.
Inside, I dropped my school bag by the door, like it offended me personally, and headed straight for the shower—hot water, eucalyptus steam, lavender body wash—ritual and revival. When I came out, towel-wrapped and soft, Mel was in my room like I was the one intruding.
“Okay, so,” she announced, rifling through my closet with the moral authority of a stylist and the disrespect of a thief. “What we giving tonight? Cute teacher off-duty or ‘who is that?’”
“I was thinking . . . jeans, T-shirt, sneakers?” I said it like a question.
She went dead silent. “You are not wearing lesson-plan energy to a basketball game, bestie boo. You have me fucked up. Respectfully, of course.”
I laughed, easing into my vanity chair. “I’m not trying to catch nobody’s attention, Mel. Only trying to catch the scoreboard.”
“That’s cute. With all that ass, attention gon’ catch you. Might as well let it pay the cover.” She leaned in my doorway and sized me up in the mirror.
I snorted, grabbing my edge brush. “You are ridiculous.”
“And yet correct. Hair down, curls out. Soft beat. That freckle constellation deserves screen time.” She pointed at my reflection.
I swiped gloss across my lips and shook my head. “You are so extra, sis.”
“Life is short. You deserve pretty moments that got your name on ’em. We not dragging your pretty moments through The Pour House after school forever. Speaking of—tutorial center,” she said, suddenly softer.
I smiled. Even the words made my shoulders relax. “You think we can do it?”
She stepped behind me and hugged my shoulders from the back like a cape. “Think? Nah, babe. I know. We’ve been tutoring in a coffee shop corner like we aren’t the A-team . . . academic Avengers or some shit. We need space with our name on the lease and our snacks in the cabinets. S & M Tutorial Collective.”
