“Why can’t she just eat efo, like we are?” Mom asks.
The truth is, I don’t want to make Belle uncomfortable—which Ifeel bad for even thinking, because it’s not like I’m ashamed of being Nigerian…
“Honey, what if she can’t handle the spice?” Dad says.
“Ah… she’s an oyinbo. I forget not every oyinbo can handle spice like you.”
“You bet I can.” Dad’s arm wraps around Mom and I look away, erasing this moment from my brain.
“Chiamaka, the efo is almost ready. I’m sure your friend will love it.”
“That was really nice, Mr. and Mrs. Adebayo,” Belle says.
Dad looks at me, his thoughts seeping through his expression like,See what we told you!
I roll my eyes at him with a smile.
“Okay, so Mom and I will tidy up; you guys go andhangupstairs.” Dad is doing hisI’m a cool Dad, I promisevoice.
Belle follows me to my room, where she immediately takes a seat on my bed comfortably, like we’ve been friends forever. I like that there isn’t the need to be too weird around each other—even though I’m still scared my room isn’t clean enough.
HerCamp Niveusshirt glimmers under the dull lighting of my room. It’s burgundy and the silver ring of the camp logo stands out to me most, reminding me of the way Jamie’s used to when he wore it, and her ripped jeans are frayed in an awkward way that distracts me from why she’s here in the first place.
“So…Pretty in Pink…”
Belle’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been staring at her way too long.
I sit down on my bed, opening my laptop up. “Prepare to have your heart broken.”
“And if it doesn’t break?”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“If it doesn’t, you’re not human and this friendship is over.”
“Okay, but do you have enough tape to fix me if I am broken?”
My stomach flips and my heart does its thing.
Belle’s face goes really red. “That was incredibly cheesy—sorry.”
I shake my head. “I’m used to cheese. Every movie in my top ten—if you discount the Marvel films—should be renamed Cheesy Movies one through ten,” I say.
She smiles at me, her cheeks still flushed—it is quite cold in here, I should probably offer to turn the heat up…
“I would never peg you as a rom-com girl, Chi.”
Jamie said the same thing to me once. I’ve spent so long building up an image of myself at school—an indestructible two-dimensional mask—that I forget sometimes it’s only me who sees behind it, sees who I actually am.
I love chemistry, biology, and physics so much I could marry the subjects and have this huge polygamous family, and I love all those criminal science investigation shows and films about mutants, but it doesn’t mean I can’t also like sappy things likeThe NotebookandWhen Harry Met Sally.
“I like happy endings,” I tell her.
Her smile turns into a grin.
“Me too,” she says.
19
