Chapter 3
Riley Beach, Florida, was a decent-sized city that felt like a small town because of the street I lived on. My family knew everyone that called Emerson Street their home. The place was packed to the brim with Black and Hispanic families from everywhere you could imagine.
We looked out for each other, which was a blessing and curse. And it made summers the most drama-filled season of the year because that’s when everyone returned home. The block party was usually the beginning of it all.
The music was almost louder than the conversation. Kids ran up and down the street, waving streamers and popping confetti someone had given them. The older women gathered near the main table of food, fanning themselves with folded pieces of paper. They scolded the kids whenever they got too rowdy and complained about how old everyone and everything was getting.
“Guess who.” Someone covered my eyes from behind, scaring the living daylights out of me. I yelped without thinking, earning laughs from Nate and Claire.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Fran apologized, quickly giving up her game. She gave me a tight hug and kiss on the forehead. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Kira.”
“I was only surprised.” My cheeks burned as she giggled along with the rest of them. Thane Miller, her boyfriend, came into view, also chuckling at my mini freakout.
“You good?” he asked with a raised brow. He was a sweetheart, but naturally intimidating because of his large build. As usual, he was the only white person at the party.
I hadn’t seen the two of them since high school graduation. They lived on Emerson and grew up at the end of the street, across from one another. We first met when Fran asked Nate and me to be her guests at her impromptu wedding to Thane. The event took place in her front yard with hordes of stuffed bears and a groom who had an eight o’clock curfew. We were all in kindergarten at the time, while Nate was the big kid in first grade.
Since their young marriage, the couple received full rides to Westbrooke University. Fran was brilliant with numbers and Thane was a linebacker for the football team.
“I’m fine.” I waved him away, ready to get the attention off of me pronto.
Fran bounced up and down to the music. As to be expected, she was a ball of energy that could rarely be contained.
“Wanna dance with me?” she asked, tugging at my arm. The mini backpack on her shoulders moved up and down, making the keys inside shift to the beat of the music.
“Hard pass. I’m trying to get another plate.” I nudged my chin in the line’s direction. “Just gotta wait a few years until the line isn’t so long.”
“Dance in the meantime. Come on, please?” she begged. Fran was tiny, at barely five feet tall. She was like a kid with braids in her hair and freckles on her warm brown skin. I hated the idea of letting her down when she wore such a wide smile on her face. The expression was how I’d become her bridesmaid before even knowing her name, after all.
“Please,” Fran sang.
“Yeah, please,” Nate begged too, knowing full well I was a horrible dancer with bad knees. I shot him a warning glare because I knew all he wanted to do was record me.
“Sweetheart,” Claire spoke up, sounding like the auntie she always aspired to be, and gestured her fork to her paper plate. “Will you go get me another slice? My feet are killing me.”
“Of course.” Fran beamed and grabbed the plate Claire was offering her. She skipped away, already forgetting about convincing me to dance. Thane followed her, giving us a knowing look before leaving.
“Thanks,” I told Claire.
She brushed the crumbs off her hands and lifted her feet to rest across the empty chair at our table. “We crappy dancers gotta stick together. Besides, if your knees are anything like my feet, dancing is only going to make it worse… Jesus, I sound eighty, not twenty.”
“Your feet bothering you again?” Nate asked, unable to hide the concern in his tone.
Claire looked at me, but I shook my head. No more playing pigeon. That was my first wish for the summer.
“Yeah,” she replied in a dry tone. “No more than usual.”
“You need me to get some ice?” he offered.
“No.” She didn’t even look at him as she spoke. “I’m good.”
“It’s no big deal—”
“I said, I’m good, Nate,” she repeated. “Drop it.”
“Fine. Whatever you want.” Nate stood up abruptly and went in the direction where the beer coolers were. I watched him run a frustrated hand across his head as he went.
“Y’all need to stop acting like kids,” I told her as she watched him leave.
