Hello, Niveus High. It’s me. Who am I? That’s not important. All you need to know is… I’m here to divide and conquer. Like all great tyrants do.—Aces
Divide and conquer…?Who even talks like that? And who the hell isAces?
My phone buzzes again.
This time a picture accompanies the message. Two guys kissing. One with a very,verybruised neck. Gasps and giggles ripple around the room. I roll my eyes. It’s the twenty-first century, people… is this really something gasp-worthy? But then I read the message beneath.
Just in, the picture says it all. Dramatic arts and music do indeed mix well.—Aces
Is that… Scotty? With… Devon Richards?
Loud collective laughter pulls me away from the picture momentarily. I look up at everyone else as they stare at their phones closely.
“Is that Scotty?” Jamie asks. I nod.
Scotty is one of my ex-boyfriends. I guess that’s why he’d ask, even though it’s not Scotty I’m staring at. It’s Devon. He’s not a person I care for, or talk to, but it’s hard not to notice the only other Black person at school. What’s weirder than this picture is that until today, I don’t think I’ve ever even heard Devon speak. Now, out of nowhere, he got made a Senior Prefect… and then this?
Have I missed something?
“So… Scotty’s gay? Can football players even be gay? Well, he does do Drama too, so I guess—”
“Jamie, football players can be gay and drama kids can be straight. Don’t be that straight white guy who sticks his foot in his mouth,” I say. “Besides, Scotty could be bi.”
“Just surprised, that’s all,” he says, which I get. I’m surprised too. I feel like such a hypocrite. Telling Jamie not to stereotype even though a part of me questions whether me being so shocked by Devon is because he’s Black and kissing Scotty.
People finish packing up, eyes still glued to their screens. I’m the senior Science Rep, so I help the science technicians make sure all the equipment is returned safely and secured. It’s not glamorous, but I’ll do anything to make my Yale application the best. It just means I won’t be walking to class with Jamie today.
“I’ll see you at lunch?” I ask.
He nods, kissing my forehead. “Lola’s.”
His kiss is deliberate.
Jamie pulls away and looks down at me, and we stare at each other for a brief moment. I smile, then look away first.
“See you,” he tells me.
“See you,” I say.
I watch him as he leaves the classroom. My head still warm where his mouth touched it, heart still beating erratically—his gaze that told me everything I needed to know.
I’ve got Jamie right where I want him.
We’ve been playing this game for years, but I think today’s the day Jamie finally folds.
It’s the period before Lola’s and I’m in my English class. I can’t concentrate on anything but the prospect of finally being Jamie Fitzjohn’s girlfriend.
I’ve waited a long time—three years to be exact—for Jamie to see me as more than just his best friend. I’ve watched girls fawn all over him, and I’ve listened to him drone on about his hypothetical perfect girlfriend, waiting for the moment he turns my way and realizes that his perfect girl could be me. And it’s been frustrating; I’m not usually afraid of making the first move when it comes to the guys I date, but with Jamie it feelsdifferent.
Most boys are so predictable. I see right through them: their wants, desires, what makes them tick. My first boyfriend was a guy named Georgie Westerfield. He was the usual type girls like: tall, blond, and the great-great-great-grandson of the guy who owns Westerfield Socks—so in short, swimming in billions of dollars. Most importantly for me as a freshman, though, was that he was a juniorand every girl wanted him. Being Georgie’s girlfriend got me noticed, took me from being the invisible, unimportant, miserable girl I was in middle school. When I joined Niveus, I knew I wanted to make myself everything that I hadn’t been. And being Georgie’s girlfriend not only made me someone people wanted toknow, but someone they wanted to be.
I discovered it wasn’t hard to get close to Georgie; one, Jamie was his friend and mentee through football, and two, Georgie liked that I was “different”—meaning, since I’m Black, it made him look cool. I ignored that, as I knew there was only so long I could fake being into someone like Georgie, and so I got to be Chiamaka, the girl who got the guy everyone wanted, and then the first to break his heart and move on to dating the next golden boy of Niveus.
I always study them before I strike. Their social currency. Each boy, bringing something new. Georgie got me noticed and Scotty, the boy next door with ins to so many social circles, made me more likable. Jamie is the only guy I’ve actually liked as a friend, the only one I didn’t secretly hate. The only one who feels long-term. It’s hard to read someone like Jamie, though. We may be best friends, but I swear… most days I have no idea what that boy is thinking. Which is why I decided to wait, let him make the first move.
And like always, my plan worked.
Finally, at the start of last year—junior year—when I was still “seeing” Scotty but desperately wanting Jamie tosee me, he did. He’d thrown what was meant to be the party of the year. We’d both gotten really drunk, so drunk I don’t remember much of that night. But I do remember how Jamie finally looked at me and saw us as somethingmore than platonic. He’d smiled down at me, tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear, and asked if I wanted to go upstairs.
