About that time, Jasmine and Carl return. After introductions, I add, “Annie Laurie and Ellie live next door.”
“Wait,” Carl says. “Is that y’all’s room at the end of the hall? The big one on the corner?”
Annie Laurie looks up from her phone. “Yes.”
“Y’all’s daddies must berollingin it,” he says, with a chuckle.
Jasmine narrows her eyes, shoots him daggers. “Y’all don’t mind my man. He says things he shouldn’t sometimes.”
Carl shrugs. “It’s true. Their room looks like it belongs in the White House, not Martin Hall.” When he chuckles at his own quip I have to suppress a laugh of my own.
Jasmine digs her hands into her hips. “Now I gotta see it. Y’all gonna invite us over?”
“Of course, y’all can come now if you want,” Ellie says.
When we walk inside their room, I’m… well, I’m happy my grandmother didn’t see it. All of the pride I had in our room vanishes in a nanosecond, as fast as a rabbit in a magician’s trick. Their room looks like it belongs on the cover of a magazine. Carl is right. It should be in the White House.
As I look around, taking it all in, a familiar shroud of shame creeps in, making me queasy and a little mournful. Staring me in the face is this beautiful, brand-new, gray-and-white floral couch with throw pillows that actually match theirgray-and-pinkbedding. Their beds have matching upholstered headboards with extra-long dust ruffles and crisp white duvets. There are fine draperies on both—both—of their windows and not two but three closets, and their deskshave been turned into vanities with linen draping to hide whatever they want to store underneath. My God, there’s even artwork on the walls. And a wall-to-wall patterned carpet with an animal skin throw rug on top.
The chest between their beds is mirrored, like the one I saw on the cover of a magazine just last week. They have makeup mirrors with lights and a flat-screen TV. I am blown away, utterly flabbergasted, and I feel like falling apart because until five minutes ago I thought we had a perfect room. But I can’t fall apart. So, I hold it together and ask, “Did y’all do all this today?”
“No,” Ellie says, sitting down on the sofa. “We moved in yesterday.” She pats the space next to her, motioning for me to take a seat. I do.
Annie Laurie climbs up on her bed, via a white leather step stool, and pushes back a multitude of pillows to relax into her monogrammed shams.
Jasmine and Carl sit down on slipcovered desk chairs.
I have a feeling my face must be giving me away, because I can feel my eyes theatrically bulging out of their sockets. “I didn’t know we could move in before today,” I finally say.
Annie Laurie crosses her legs. “Our parents paid extra.”
Jasmine, who I’ve learned in the short time we’ve known each other always has something to say, says nothing. But Carl, under his breath, mutters, “Mmm-hmm.”
Ellie points to their Keurig coffeemaker next to the couch. “You won’t believe what’s under there.”
“Under the coffeemaker?” I ask.
Her eyes light up. “A hidden safe.”
“Ellie.”Annie Laurie gives her a scornful look.
“Oops, was I not supposed to tell?”
“No.” She darts a sideways glance at Carl and Jasmine.
“Sorry,”Ellie says, then turns back to us. “Y’all don’t say anything.”
“Not to worry,” Carl says with his hands up. “Your secret’s safe with us.”
About that time we hear a knock and a lady pokes her head inside their door. Ellie jumps up. “Mom!”
“May I come in?”
“Sure. What are you doing here?” I notice Carl stands up when she walks in.
By the sweet look on Ellie’s mom’s face when Ellie hugs her, I’m struck by how much she adores her daughter.
“How did you get in?” Ellie asks. “Everyone has to show their ID.”
