I blink, wondering how and when Kali developed such a following. Though her surge in popularity cheers me, I can’t help feeling a little like bread crust—left behind. She nods at them. “Cool.”
Catching sight of me, she waves me over with her burger. I brighten by a factor of at least sixteen.
She hands Cassandra her burger, then climbs to her feet and meets me halfway. Her expression is even, almost wry, though my inability to pinpoint her exact mood without my nose unsettles me. She neatly rolled her sweats to midcalf. Her hair looks different, no longer in braids, but neatly tucked into a bun. “There’s gonna be a lot of heartburn here today,” she drops casually, as if nothing was ever amiss.
I grin. “Thanks for coming by yesterday.”
She nods. “Your aunt’s a trip. Almost fell over my slippers when I saw her. Thought she was your mom.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“She told me what happened with Alice. Too bad about poor Layla, but it was for a good cause.”
“Right.” Guilt starts to creep in, but I push it away, feeling Kali’s eyes upon me. “I meant what I said on your voicemail. You were amazing.”
“Thanks. My mom didn’t think so. Made me see a shrink on Saturday and our pastor on Sunday.”
So that’s why Kali didn’t stay for lunch yesterday. No, the world does not revolve around Planet Mim. “I’m sorry. How is she now?”
“We’re still working on it.”
“And . . . how are you?”
“Good. It felt like I had all this lint clogging up my trap, and now it’s cleaned out. Doesn’t mean I won’t catch more lint, but for now I’m running smoothly.” She pops her neck from side to side.
I hand her the iris. “I should’ve trusted you to handle your own business.”
“Thanks.” She takes the flower and puts its frilly petals to her nose. “But that wasn’t why I got mad.” She frowns into the yellow center of the bulb, her lips a tight rosebud. Then her dark eyes probe mine. “Look, why do you think I like hanging out with you?”
“Lifetime all-you-can-eat salad?”
She gives an emphatic shake of her head.
“You’re trying to steal my dance moves?”
Her eyes flick to the sky. “Definitely no. When I got suspended back in eighth grade, Dad gave me a choice—take that weeding job with your mom or highway cleanup. It was a close call, believe me.”
I remember that day Kali’s father brought her to us. She barely spoke a word and smelled so blue and lost.
“It was the best thing I ever did.” She opens a hand large as a catcher’s mitt, moving it gracefully to accentuate her points. I feel a rush of love for her. “You and your mother are true to yourselves, even if it means not getting paid, or spending half of your day up to your ears in dirt, just like those earthworms. Made me think I could be an earthworm, too. My poetry started flying after that.”
I swallow hard. Kali had never told me that before.
“I needed you to stand up to Vicky, soIcould stand up. I needed to see you wouldn’t cave.”
“I’m sorry I disappointed you.”
“You didn’t disappoint me.” She points the toe of one slip-on, then the other. “The thing about you is that, even when you’re wrong, you’re still trying to do right, even when most people would’ve punched out, called it a day. It’s like you have to take the hardest route possible or it doesn’t count.”
“It’s a survival instinct. We hail from a long line of women who don’t want to face our mothers.”
“It’s more than that.” She cocks an eyebrow at me. “You’re honest as a Sunday shirt. I guess I never expected to see the shirt get wrinkled.”
That chafes a little. “All shirts get wrinkled, even the polyester ones.Iwas trying to be there for you.” I can hear the injury in my own voice.
Kali’s mouth bunches up. She’s either thinking, or about to clobber me. Then her face relaxes. “I’m sorry, Nosey. I should’ve been there for you, too. I guess I have a lot of wrinkles of my own to iron out.”
I nod.
