The words “bitch boy” and “fairy” rang in my ears as they punched and kicked. Just like that, the boys I grew up with were no longer my boys. They were the boys I was made to be scared of.
If I could have fought back, like Dre, my life might have been so different. He’s always been able to fit in here; it’s like he has a handbook or knows unspoken rules that I don’t.
I’m at Dre’s apartment block now, staring at the guy at the door, Leon. Another boy from middle school. His brown curls nearly cover his eyes, but his stony gaze is set on me. He’s been close to Dre for years, never seemed to like me.
“It’s Devon,” I say, always holding my head high in front of them.
He disappears inside, coming back moments later with the confirmation.
The floorboards creak as I step inside. I walk through Dre’s apartment, then into his room, and there he is, with his back to me, hands in his pockets and his shoulder blades visible through the dark, clingy material of his T-shirt. I close the door behind me. “Hey.”
He twitches.
There’s a long silence; I can hear him breathing and sniffling. He brings his hand up to wipe his face, then pushes it back into his pocket.
“We should stop seeing each other,” he says abruptly, still not facing me.
I stay calm on the outside, despite the fact that my chest aches like I’ve been stabbed.
“What?” I say, swallowing hard.
“We should stop seeing each other,” he repeats. It stings. My eyes water slightly.
I heard you.
“Why?” I ask, even though I know.
He scratches his head, still refusing to look at me.
“Not everyone goes to your fancy school, Von. Not everyone has the privilege of not caring about their reputation. I have one—Ineedone. I have nothing else but this, and I can’t have you ruining it.”
I step toward him. “And how am I doing that, Dre?”
He turns to look at me now, eyes red, but I think it’s a mix of whatever the fuck he’s been taking and tears. I step even closer. He moves back like I’m gonna hurt him.
Dre tries to act all hard, but he’s not. He’s this teddy bear who needs to be hugged and kissed and loved.
I know this because I know him. I’ve known him for years, been friends with him for years—despite Ma’s disapproval. We love the same music. That’s how this all started. Tupac, Biggie—they made our friendship. Rap, R&B, Soul, we love that shit.
We used to lie on his bed for hours, listening to the oldies till day was night, before his ma kicked him out when he was fourteen.
I remember the first time he kissed me—we kissed way too late if you ask me. I’d been dating Scotty for a few months at thatpoint. I didn’t even know Dre liked me until that moment, or that I liked him.
The memory clouds my brain.
“I’m sort of seeing someone,” I tell him, despite my heart racing like I just ran a marathon and won.
Scotty, I’m seeing Scotty. I shouldn’t feel like that’s suddenly something I don’t want.
He scoffs. “Rich white boy, huh?”
I want to kiss Dre again…
“Yeah, rich white boy,” I whisper.
“Get out.” Dre’s deep voice cuts through my memories.
My eyes are watering as I shake my head.
