“It’s been a long time since then, Amari. Things change and that’s okay.”
“Things change oryouchanged? I meant what I said. I told you I loved you, remember? You’re the only girl I ever said that to.”
I pause for a moment, overtaken by a memory. The two of us, the stars above, the feeling of the world standing still.
But I’ve made a lot of new memories since then. My life has changed so much. You can love someone and still know that they’re not right for you.
“Yeah. I said it too, and I meant it. I just…” My voice trails off as I look to see who just came into the theater. It’s an older couple who end up sitting in the middle, far enough away that our talking shouldn’t disturb them. I turn back to Amari, who places her popcorn at her feet and faces me.
“You what? Are you just gonna keep lying?” she asks.
“I’m not lying, you just don’t want to hear the truth.” I can’t help but add, “As usual.”
“Whatever, just answer,” she says, and picks her popcorn off the ground. “Do you still love me?”
I take a beat before answering, to consider what the truth is and whether I want to share it. But I don’t even know the whole truth myself—I almost want to tell her whatever will get me out of here the quickest. I’m surprised that I feel so conflicted about being with her. I spent a lot of time wondering what it would be like to see Amari again… and then I met Deanna.
This is about more than just Deanna, though. This is abouteverything. I’ve learned a lot in the months since leaving thecenter, and my biggest lesson has been that I’m tired of people making choices for me—my mom entering me in PINS, the judge sending me away, everyone at the center controlling when I ate and slept and who I talked to. Even Amari, in a way, made choices for me—she picked me out of all the girls and pulled me into her orbit, so sure of herself I barely questioned it. It’s hard to turn down that kind of attention when you feel completely alone.
“Just answer me, Jas. Do you?”
“I’m really sorry, Amari, but I’ve moved on.” I wait anxiously for her to lash out.
She takes a really long swig of her soda before she responds. “This is about that chick you were with at the carnival, right?”
“Her name is Deanna,” I say. “She’s not just some chick.”
Amari scoffs. “All those bitches are the same.”
“Don’t call them that,” I say.
“I can call them whatever I want. I know what those girls are like. I’ve seen them around.”
I look at her and see the girl I first met at the center, the one who had no regard for anything or anyone but herself. Her tone reminds me of how she would speak to Tanya whenever she was on the verge of saying or doing something mean. I regret upsetting her, but for a different reason now.
“You don’t know them,” I say.
“I know enough.”
“What does that mean?”
Amari smiles mysteriously but doesn’t answer my question.
I look around to make sure no one’s listening in. As the lights go down, I confirm it’s still just us and the older couple in the theater.
“They don’t know about you, do they? At least I’m not the only person being lied to.”
“I’m not lying to anyone,” I insist. “Listen, Amari, we can probably be friends at some point, just not right now. I’m still getting on my mom’s good side.”
“Friends.Friends? You think I want to be your friend…” She takes a deep breath, and another big sip of her soda. “How about I don’t want anything from you? That work for you?”
It does, and I know I should feel worse for that, but I don’t. I can’t stop thinking about Deanna and how I promised her there was nothing else to worry about. I have to make sure that’s the truth. Deanna is where my heart is now. What happened at the center needs to stay there.
It’s time I start making my own choices.
“That works for me,” I say. I can see Amari’s disappointment as the light from the screen shines on our faces. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Yeah, actually,” she says, and turns to me, her stare intense.
