My skin prickles. My throat dries. My brain screams,“Look away, look away”—but it’s too late.
“He’s staring at you, Zilphia,” Savannah remarks.
“Like he wants to eat you alive,” Claudette adds.
“Wait a minute,” Phyllis says, her eyes darting between Sam and me. “Do you two know each other?”
“Are you serious?” I snort, loud and dismissive. “He’s not even my type.”
“Come on, girl,” Phyllis croons. “You can tell us. We’re your friends.”
Friends don’t study your face like it’s evidence.
“I have never even spoken a single word to him,” I lie, praying my acting skills are sufficient.
Claudette bumps her shoulder against mine. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”
“Gah, he looks stank, and has he never heard of a comb?” Savannah retorts.
“He doesn’t stink,” I snap before I can stop myself.
Silence.
Shit.
Phyllis blinks slowly. “And how exactly would you know that?”
I laugh, tight and too fast. “I walked past him in the hall. Once.” I need to end this conversation before I give myself away. “I’m heading to the bathroom to clean up before class starts. See y’all later.” I practically run to the entrance.
Sam is on their radar now, which means they’ll be watching him and his reaction to me. This isn’t good.
Zilphia’s rich, dark-caramel skin is unparalleled. My famished gaze drinks her in, seeking sustenance only she can give me. I shouldn’t gape, but I’m hopelessly riveted by her. She’s my sunshine in my otherwise cold, dark world. Everything that is me belongs to her. I am her property. I’ll forever be at her beck and call.
I slip my fingers into my pocket and caress the gold cuff bracelet there. It’s a surprise gift for Zilphia. Our names are engraved across the surface in fancy script. I mowed lawns all summer long to save money for the expensive purchase, but she’s well worth thedays spent slaving in the blazing heat. I’m waiting for the perfect moment to give it to her.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Jiminy teases, plopping down next to me.
I jab my elbow into his ribs. “Zip it.”
“Dude, quit being so obvious,” he cautions, pushing his overgrown chestnut hair from his eyes. “That’s all I’m saying. It’s curtains if Nolan finds out you hold a torch for his sister.”
I scoff. “That fucker doesn’t scare me.”
Nolan and his entourage used to make my life hell. Freshman year was pranks, verbal warfare, and locker-room beatdowns. Sophomore year, I hit back. Hard. But I never told Zilphia. She doesn’t need that. Our tree house time is sacred. I won’t stain it with his name.
Nowadays, our run-ins are few and far between.
“What’s your end game, huh? Marriage, babies, and a desk job?” he questions sarcastically. “It ain’t happening, Sam. Not with Zilphia. Her family isn’t going to roll out the welcome mat for you.”
“She’ll choose me,” I respond, though doubt digs its razor-sharp talons in my heart. “Eventually.”
The silence that follows cuts deeper than laughter.
“Look,” he finally says. “Zilphia isn’t built for the path we walk. That girl’s got a glass life. You throw one rock—”
“You don’t understand,” I fire back. “Zilphia and me, we share something special.”
“Okay, I get it. Romeo and Juliet 2.0,” he deadpans.
