“I think you’re really mad about the thought of me and Sekou finally getting out from up under you. I think you like that we follow you around like little birdies. It’s the Ada Show all the time, we’re just the sidekicks. And we play into it every fucking time because it’s your family who runs all of this.” She took a deep breath like she was preparing to say something big. Then she delivered. “You think you own us.”
I felt heat flush my cheeks.
“Naira, what?” Sekou said, shocked.
Naira couldn’t unsay what she just said. And I couldn’t unhear it.
I clenched my fist and tried to keep in all the rage and hurt I wanted to unleash. I’d tried up until now to keep quiet, tried to hold myself back from lashing out because I knew how sensitive she was.
I really tried, but Naira had made it impossible.
Sekou slung an arm across the back of the seat, the tips of his fingers grazing my shoulder like he was going to comfort me or rein me in. I moved out of reach, not wanting to be touched. I didn’t want to be here with Naira, who wanted to leave, and Sekou, who seemed fine with it all.
I got out of the cart.
I wanted to say the most hurtful things possible. I wanted to cry.
“We can talk about it tomorrow when everyone’s had a moment, you know? Not say things we’ll regret in the morning,” Sekou suggested.
What was he saying? It was better to be the one leaving than the one being left.
“Ada, wait,” Naira called out as I increased the distance between us. It was enough to accuse me of wanting to keep her down by keeping her here. It was enough to spring a new plan different than what we’d talked about for years, to not trust us enough to discuss it. And now she wanted me towait. For what?
“Ada,” she said again while Sekou looked back and forth as if he was unsure which side of the rope to land on. Well, I’d make the choice for him.
“You’re a liar, Naira,” I told her.
“What?” she squeaked.
“A liar. You signed up for this research trip for your college class. Fine. But then you say you want to go away to find yourself or see what’s out there or some shit. I think there’s nothing, but whatever. But now I know why you’re really leaving for that trip tomorrow. I know ‘what’s out there.’ A boy. A boring, entitled, ignorant, rich mainlander prep you barely even know.”
Sekou groaned as his head dropped in his hand as if I was the one who’d broken our pact. But it wasn’t me. It was Naira who’d flipped on me, on him and the Isle, on our friendship.
“Jesus, Ada,” Sekou muttered.
My body trembled, but I held myself together, just for a little bit longer. “So, go be with that boy and leave me the hell alone. For good.” I turned on my heel and began walking.
“Ada!” Sekou called from behind me. “What the hell? How you gonna… What about your ride?”
I kept walking.
I spent all night tossing and turning, wondering how I could have done or said things differently. But in the end, Naira had said enough and I guess I had too. I tried brushing off Naira’s accusation that I wanted to control them, to keep them here and content on the Isle like I was. But a part of me feared she was right. I’d never want to trap someone where they didn’t want to be. Nana’s number one rule was clear: Everyone deserved the freedom to choose their own path. Naira had made hers, and I knew that meant she would probably leave the Isle. This trip was just the beginning. And as much as it gutted me, I couldn’t stand in her way.
I couldn’t wave goodbye either. And I couldn’t stand to see Sekou’s disappointed face that I’d handled Naira all wrong. What was I supposed to do, baby her? What about me?
When I woke up the next morning, nightmare and earthquake-free, all the feelings from the night before rushed at me at once when I remembered what Naira had said. What Sekou didn’t say because I had said enough.
… Leave me the hell alone. For good.
That part I hadn’t meant. As angry and hurt as I was by Naira, I couldn’t send her off with what I’d said.
From the top of the pier at the private marina on the Kin side of the Isle, I watched as the boat Naira was on backed up farther and farther from the dock, curving into a turn, and began its way up the two-hour trek to Charleston Harbor.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I fished it out, seeing the text from Naira pop up.I’m sorry.
My anger and pride might have kept me from answering hersorryor the string of messages that followed, but at least I’d still shown up for her, though she didn’t know it. She wouldn’t know I stayed on the pier, watching the boat’s wake eventually subside to light ripples as it moved farther away. She wouldn’t know I remained long after everyone else left to go about their day’s business. Long after the boat was barely a speck, and then when it was no longer there.
CHAPTER SEVEN
