I venture back to the bedroom and watch her put on lotion while I undress for the shower.
“Bron just called me,” I announce. “You know his friend, Tiffany?”
“Mm hm.”
“She wants your phone number.”
Her hand stops mid-rub. I can practically see her processing it in her head, turning the idea over and over like clothes in a dryer.
“It’s okay to let people in,” I tell her. “Yall don’t have to be best friends, but maybe you could hang out sometime.”
She commences with her lotion. I wait, watching her, wanting to touch her myself, but I know she needs a minute.
“When you say hang out…”
“Just to get a drink. Like you do with Tori. It could be good for you.”
That seems to penetrate. She sighs quietly, then gives me one of those forced smiles. “Okay. You can give her my number. If you think it’ll be good for me.”
Well, I’m not making promises. I hope it works out, but if it doesn’t, I don’t wanna be responsible for the fallout.
She wipes her hands on her robe, then grabs her laptop. “My grades should be in by now.”
I’m in the bathroom stripping down when I hear a sound that terrifies me to my soul.
“This bitch.”
Because that’s when I know. But I walk back into the bedroom in my boxers and pretend I don’t.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes flicker up to mine, and yeah, I recognize the look. Pure darkness. Pure rage.
“My art history class,” she says, low and slow. “The bitch gave me a B.”
“What were you supposed to have?”
“An A. My paper…she gave me an 88. I needed a 90 to get an A in the class, and she couldn’t manage to give me those two points. She did that shit on purpose.”
“Raya.”
“She did.” She shakes her head as her eyes drift past me, fixing on the wall. “She never liked me. I could tell. From day one, that bitch hated me. I don’t know why. Maybe jealousy. Maybe because I asked a lot of questions. I don’t know. But I’ma find out.”
I make my way back to the bed and sit next to her. I look at the computer, not really sure what I’m looking for. “Is it possible that she just thought you earned a B on that paper?”
“I earned an A, Ace. I did.”
“Okay. I believe you. Did she give you any feedback?”
“Yes. I read it and I emailed her for clarification, but she never responded.”
“Well, y’all are on break for the holidays, right? She probably isn’t checking her email right now.”
Her eyes are still glassy and dazed and frozen on the wall, and now I’m concerned.
“Talk to me, Ray Ray.”
Her eyes snap to mine as the corners of her mouth twitch up. That silly little nickname is kinda like my emergency antidote when she goes dark like this. Break glass in case of unhinged behavior.
