“Addison Payne.”
“You’re here for a coloring appointment.” She smiled. “You two can follow me.” She turned to me and pointed. “Our waiting area is over here.”
Aunt Addy gasped. “Oh! That means I can do a grand reveal.”
I laughed as Monica took her back to her stylist. Just when I got comfortable in the waiting area, a woman walked in with the cutest little girl. She looked to be about two years old and had bows all over her short hair. With a huge smile, the little girl toddled right up to me as if she knew me.
“Well, hello,” I greeted the little one.
“I’m sorry!” The woman who I presumed was her mother strolled up to us.
“It’s fine. She’s so cute,” I remarked as the little girl touched my knee.
“My daughter thinks every Black woman with locs is my sister,” she said with a little laugh.
When I opened my palm, the little girl started patting it. I looked up at her mother, and her smile faltered.
Confusion and shock puckered her face. “Jazmyn Payne?”
My brows creased. I had no idea who she was. “We know each other?”
She sat in the seat next to me. “No, not really. I mean, my name is Decca.” She gestured down her plump body. “I, um… look different than I did back then, but we, um… we went to high school together.”
“Oh.” With pursed lips, I just stared back at her.
“I never knew what happened to you,” she said softly. “I wondered for years. I even searched for you on social media.”
I was intentionally hard to find online because I didn’t want anyone from Chance or any of my students to find me on the internet. But I was surprised and curious as to why someone I’d had no interactions with would be looking for me.
“Why?” I asked aloud.
Her daughter climbed into her lap and started humming. Decca glanced at her and then back at me. “I used to see you around school and the library. I thought how they treated you and what they used to say about you was really messed up. Whenever I’d see you in the library, I always thought about inviting you to my book club or just… saying hi.”
Sitting back in the chair, I maintained eye contact. “So why didn’t you?”
She was quiet, and a flicker of shame crossed her face. “Because I didn’t want to go through what you went through. I didn’t want to lose the little social capital I had. I was lanky and awkward and kind of shy. I didn’t have many friends, and I didn’t want to lose the ones I had. So it was easier to just not…”
My brows furrowed. “It was easier to just not say anything?”
She nodded. “It was easier to do nothing than to stand up for you or offer you friendship. Especially after that flyer thing. I always wanted to apologize for never doing what I knew was right. Because Iamsorry. And you didn’t deserve that.”
“Decca, your stylist is ready,” the woman from the front announced before I could respond.
With a small smile, Decca gave me a nod as she scooped up her daughter. She walked away, and for the next few minutes, I thoughtabout what she’d said. Being a social pariah because of something I did would’ve been one thing. But it being based on a lie, jealousy, and a group of mean girls with a vendetta was maddening. To finally hear someone admit that they had seen what was happening, known it was wrong, and distanced themselves from me anyway was truly disheartening.
I hate it here.
Ninety minutes later, Monica came out to get me. “Addison and the stylist hit it off. They didn’t stop talking this whole time.”
I grinned. “That’s good! She makes a friend wherever she goes.”
“Come see her hair.”
Standing, I said, “Lead the way.”
I followed her down the hall and around a wall. It opened to a large styling room with six stations. My eyes zeroed in on the wheelchair sitting next to the station on the far right. I couldn’t see my aunt. I could see only the back of the stylist.
“I can’t believe we haven’t met before. But I’m glad you have my number now,” the stylist was saying as we walked toward them.
