My stomach turns, and I remember our conversation from earlier. How Jamie looked at me like I was so beneath him. How confident he seemed that he wouldn’t be implicated in all of this. This whole time I was convincing myself that Jamie was as scared as for his future as I am for mine, but truthfully, he’s a white man andtheyare able to get away with murder.
“He has a weird definition of ‘speaking terms.’”
Belle laughs. “I can’t believe anyone would be best friends with someone like him for that long…,” she says, side-eyeing me. I nudge her softly, laughing a little too.
“I know, right? And to the girl who dated him—wow, I could never.”
“Lucky we aren’t those people, right?” Belle asks, her fingers threading through mine naturally—which I try to act casual about.
“Right,” I say.
“Anyway, I told Jamie that I have no interest in him, that there’s another person I’m hoping to see.”
My eyebrows rise, but I try not to look hopeful.
“Did you tell him who?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t know if you’d want him to know.”
I stop in my tracks and she stops with me.
On Wednesday we kissed, and then Ward came in and I had to pretend Belle was giving me my homework, praying to God and all other gods that Ward hadn’t seen us. Belle rushed out and we didn’t get to speak about it, especially after yesterday, when I just wanted to be alone.
Until now.
We start walking again.
“Sorry Wednesday got cut short. I wanted to talk after,” Belle says.
“Me too.”
I don’t know exactly what it means or why Belle is the only girl I have ever thought about in that way, but I don’t want to examine my feelings; I just want to like her and not think about my parents or the people at Niveus and their judgments and opinions.
“I’m bi,” Belle tells me. “And I’m out, but I wasn’t sure about you—I mean, everyone sort of knows all the things about you… like the guys you dated—and I didn’t want to assume anything! But you pretty much hated me while I was with Jamie, so I thought the most we could ever be is good friends… until Wednesday.”
She says “Wednesday” with a playful smile.
“I didn’t realize I liked you until Wednesday… Well, I guess I was denying it,” I say. “And for the record, I never hated you.”
“Right…,” she says after a long pause.
We’ve reached Belle’s house now. We stand, looking at each other like it’s a contest. I try not to blink, in case itisa contest. Then she blinks, and I win.
“Can I kiss you again? We never really got to finish, which I think is so unfair,” Belle asks, moving closer.
“Just to be fair,” I say, and she kisses me again, this time uninterrupted.
From watching TV and reading books, I always got the idea that a girl liking someone who isn’t a guy is meant to be a big deal and that there should be this pressing self-hate that comes with it. I feel almost weird with beingthis okaywith being attracted to Belle, but then again, there’s nothing weird about this in my mind; it feels right.
Belle says goodbye, closing her front door. I start to walk toward my place, a headache forming as I’m left alone with my worries. I can’t imagine not following through with the future I’ve dreamed about; I can’t imagine going to jail; and I also can’t imagine how disappointed my parents will be. I’ve only ever worked to make them proud. Now they’ll think all their sacrifices were wasted on a monster.
I don’t notice the black car following me until a few houses down. It moves steadily, stopping and slowing when I do, then speeding up when I pick up the pace. I swallow, walking faster.
I’m probably being paranoid, I tell myself, glancing at the car window. My heart stops. Though the reflections on the glass make it hard to see clearly, I spot a pair of black-gloved hands on the wheel and the same creepy mask from Thursday covering the person’s face.
I start to run down the sidewalk, breathing hard now, eyes stinging as I try not to fall over.
What is this?
