I didn’t. I know I didn’t.
I purposely left out details like that. I didn’t want to involve him at all in the stakeout. I didn’t want him to get hurt.
“Weird. I don’t remember saying it to you.”
“Strange how memory works, isn’t it?” he says after a long pause, his voice faltering a little.
The only way Terrell could know that is if… is if he’s in on it too. It’s convenient that he showed up just when this all started, claiming to know me. Maybe he was placed to watch over me like I’m a lab rat, paid by Niveus to pretend to like me.
I’ve been so stupid. Trusted a complete stranger, who, despite everything, is probably working for Aces. The pictures of the purple tube. Pictures of me outside Dre’s apartment. Everything about Dre. Maybe that’s how Jack knows Terrell too… Maybe they were working together, trying to ruin my life, hurt me, for whatever reason.
Why can’t I remember you, Terrell?
I take out my phone, trying not to look panicked. “Looks like my ma needs me home,” I lie, which gets his attention. I move off his bed, standing up at the same time he stands up from the chair.
“Want me to walk you home?” he asks.
I force a smile, shaking my head. “I think I need to be alone right now.”
He nods. “Do you know what you want to do about Niveus?”
I don’t say anything; I can’t bring myself to. I can see him tryingto understand my sudden shift in mood, looking at me, unblinking, like he wants to say something.
I just want to leave, so I say, “I’ll see you, okay?” We lock eyes, his face confused and a little sad.
I’m breathless as I spin around, rush out of his room, down the stairs, and through the front door. He calls after me, but I don’t stop or turn or listen. I just run—again.
When I get home, Ma is standing over the cooker, boiling potatoes. She looks at me, her eyes filled with love as she opens out her arms for a hug.
I put my bag down, throwing Terrell’s hoodie down with it, and go to her, letting myself finally cry, knowing my ma is not a fraud like everyone else.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asks, and I don’t know what to tell her.
The school you have to work three jobs to keep me at is incredibly fucked up and racist.
No one asked for my permission before leaking my life to the world.
Me and the boyfriend you don’t know about broke up… Oh yeah, and, Ma, I’m gay and I don’t want you to hate me for it, because I love you so much and I can’t live with you hating me, so please don’t.
That’s what’s wrong; all those things, and then some. But I can’t speak; if I speak, I’ll tell her everything, and then she’ll hate me.
So I just cry and cling to her. The bubbles in the boiling pot grow louder.
“Vonnie, tell me what’s up. You know you can tell me anything, right?”
I shake my head. That’s what she says now, but she doesn’t mean it. If I had girl problems, I could tell her everything, but not this.
“I don’t want to lose you, Ma.”
“Boy, I’m going nowhere. Jesus keeps me alive and well. Tell me what’s wrong.” She pulls away and forces me to look at her.
“I hate school.”What a fucking understatement.“And you work hard so I can go.”I can’t breathe, I can’t look at her.“I hate it so much. They look down on me, say things about me.” I’m crying so hard it shakes my bones, rattling my rib cage. My nose blocks and I feel trapped in my own body.
“Vonnie, you only have a few months left… You should have said something ages ago; I would have pulled you out if I knew you’d be happier somewhere else.”
“It’s only gotten really bad now. They keep talking about me.”
“Saying what?” she asks, eyes glassy and concerned.
