“Go for it,” I reply, but I feel my shoulders tighten with anxiety.
“Why were you grounded after the party but Kayla wasn’t?”
I look down at my notebook, unsure how to respond.
“You don’t have to tell me if—” Deanna starts.
“No, it’s fine,” I say. I don’t want to lie to her, so I tell her as much of the truth as I can. “At my old school, I used to get in trouble a bit. Just stupid stuff, like skipping class or whatever. Ever since I’ve been back, my mom has had a zero-tolerance policy.”
Deanna nods. “I’m glad you told me.”
“You’re easy to tell things to,” I say honestly.
“So are you,” Deanna replies, her voice low.
I look up and before I know what’s happening, Deanna leans in and kisses me. It throws me off at first. I touch my lips and she laughs.
“You don’t have to save it. I can just do it again,” she says with a smile.
Desiree, Amari, and now Deanna. Desiree felt wrong and Amari is over, but Deanna… Deanna feels different.
“Oh, you can?” I ask, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
She presses her soft lips to mine, for a little longer this time. When she pulls away, she’s just staring at me.
“I have to go. Call me later?” she says, throwing her bag over her shoulder.
“I will,” I say.
Just as Deanna starts to get up, my phone buzzes—an Instagram DM. I flip it over quickly, hiding the screen.
Deanna looks at me, confused. “All right, later.”
“Later!” I say a little too brightly. I let out a sigh when shewalks out the door, knowing that was far from smooth. Bracing myself for the possibility that Deanna somehow found out I’ve been watching her page, I check my phone.
Amari.
I’m freeeeee. I’d love to see you. P.S., you should change your name on here if you’re trying to be incognito.
I drop my phone like it’s poisonous and sink into the bench, upset with Amari—and myself. I know her personality, and I should’ve guessed that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“You done with those?” The barista interrupts my thoughts, pointing to the plates on the table.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I say, stacking them for her.
“You guys are cute by the way, you and your girlfriend,” she says.
I don’t correct her about us just being friends. Maybe we aren’t anymore.
At the end of English class the next day, I’m following Alice and Deanna out into the hallway when Ms. Taylor stops me.
“Jasmine, can I talk to you for a moment?” She pulls my zine to the center of her desk.
I try to catch Deanna’s attention so she knows to leave me, but she doesn’t look my way.
Ms. Taylor holds up my zine proudly. “This is such good work, Jasmine. I’m sure you’re already considering schools for creative writing, but I wanted to give this to you in case you want more options.” She pulls out a pamphlet and hands it to me.Top 10 English Programs for Undergraduates.
“Thank you. I don’t really write that much though,” I say.
