“Doesn’t have to be,” Naira mumbled under her breath.
I ignored the quick pass of pity between them. Before I had a chance to overthink, she continued.
“Just because you may not go to college doesn’t mean youshouldn’t try your best, right here and now. You freaking own an island. You need to know things, so pick up the damn textbook.”
I picked up the damn book. And thought about chucking it at her damn head. But now, looking back, all I felt was gratitude that they hadn’t given up on me, or let me give up on myself. I wouldn’t have finished without my friends, and now we could move on with our lives together.
Nana Ama followed the other family members onto the boat, one of two chartered by Elder James, who happened to be Sekou’s uncle and owner of one of the largest boat companies on the Isle, while I boarded with the grads and sat down between Naira and Sekou.
“Whatever you do, don’t lose these,” Naira said, pointing to our caps. “I worked hard to get them just right, and even if you two don’t care, I do.”
Sekou flicked her on the forehead lightly. “One drum is bigger than the other,” he pointed out. “Don’t do my djembes like that. But I guess you did good.”
I peered over at his. Sekou’s cap had the djembe drums, dark sunglasses because he thought he was so damn cool, and a replica of his favorite girl—his boat. Naira’s had a few pics of her K-pop idols, a plane, and a stack of books. Then I studied mine—a firefly, and a tiny island with a palm tree I figured was Golden Isle. And all of ours had the year scrawled in gold sparkles and a small photobooth picture of the three of us from the state fair in Columbia last year. My heart swelled. Naira had worked hard when I’d been too lazy to give it a second thought.
“They’re great,” I agreed. “Thank you.”
The way she beamed back at me was the best gift ever.
Under the proud eyes of our closest family and friends, Naira, Sekou, and I walked the stage on the football field. The stadium was nearly packed, as if it were a Friday football game, and once off the stage, I popped in my earbuds to dull the growing noise—too many unwanted voices clanging together.
The Russells, Naira’s family of seven, cheered the loudest when Naira was handed her diploma. Nana Ama sat with them, but remained stoic and regal. I didn’t expect the whoops and hollers like from the other families. Nana kept her feelings tightly tucked away, something I struggled with daily. She was always very careful—careful to speak, careful to act.
But when Principal Khan handed me the piece of paper and shook my hand, I would have loved to hear her voice crying out above the dutiful claps and cheers. The one person who I knew was mine.
When Principal Khan finally announced our graduating class, the sky became a sea of royal blue as Naira, Sekou, and I threw our caps in the air and cheered with the rest of our islander and mainlander classmates alike. We threw our arms around one another, and the sadness of earlier mixed with pure joy.
Through all the commotion, I managed to do exactly as Naira had instructed and found my cap in the chaos. As I trailed my fingers along the raised ridges of Naira’s decorations, my eyes watered a little. I may have complained about attending Cal High every day, but I still planned to tack the cap to my wall of all my favorite things.
Sekou was nowhere to be found, though usually his six-foot-three frame of arms, legs, and head of dark brown natural coils sprouting several inches at all points was pretty hard to miss. He was the a total opposite of Naira, who was a foot south of him and, he liked to tease, “vertically challenged.” But her waist-length goddess faux locs with their electric-blue tips stood out like beacons, and I spotted her in the midst of all the commotion tucked away in a small alcove near the concession stand.
I started toward her and saw she wasn’t alone. In fact, her face was practically being swallowed whole by a preppy-looking guy with super-blond hair and even fairer skin. It didn’t look like Naira would welcome my intrusion.
I hesitated, deciding to fall back and ignore the hurt and tiny flecks of betrayal creeping up. Why hadn’t Naira told me about this guy? Was she ashamed of me? Maybe I was too country? Too backward being an island girl and not obsessed with getting the latest makeup trends from Ulta Beauty or chronicling every second of my life on TikTok?
Sekou, Naira, and I supposedly had no secrets from one another. Yet here was this pasty Abercrombie & Fitch model I’d never seen and knew nothing about. Thanks to my ancestry, in our world of superstition, everything was a sign.
And just like that, the unease I’d been fighting hard to push back from the night escapade with Nana came rushing back full force. It took ahold of me, making me wonder what change was coming, and if I was ready for it.
CHAPTER THREE
Our large group assembled to head back to Golden Isle after the brief postgrad reception and final pictures. I was half listening to Nana Ama discuss the art of peach growing with some guy she knew from the farmers market, until I caught sight of Naira returning, but not alone. I glanced around for Sekou, hoping he was around to figure out this whole scene with me, but he was in the wind. Probably chasing after some girl who swore he was Nyame’s gift to women, if I knew my friend.
I tracked the trio as Naira approached, arm linked tightly with the prep from earlier, strolling along as if the rest of us weren’t baking under this hot-ass June sun. A girl who shared his same features, delicate, very fair like they’d be sensitive to burning, with dark brown hair, walked with them, looking chummy. I studied them, a bunch of questions running through my mind like I was some detective onLaw & Order. I joined Naira’s parents as she walked up and introduced the two of them.
“This is Luke Hall and his older sister, Hailey,” Naira announced.
“Only by a year and a half,” Luke chimed in to Hailey’s eye roll.
“Luke and I were in the same online history class from my dual-enrollment program. He goes to Charleston City University.” Naira grinned sheepishly in my direction, but I only narrowed my eyes in response. I had never even heard of this guy.
Beside me, Sekou materialized, bumping me lightly with his arm. “What’s this?” he half whispered in my general direction.
“No idea,” I mumbled, watching the show and wishing I had a remote to turn it off.
Luke and Hailey—who looked about as out of place as I felt—took turns shaking hands with Naira’s parents and waving at her younger brother and sisters. Naira turned to Sekou and me, her hands held out presentation style. “These are my best friends. Sekou and Ada.” She giggled. “This is Luke and his sister.”
“Yeah, Hailey,” I said. “I heard.”
