The DJ plays an old Rihanna song and a resounding scream of excitement bursts through the room. I take a sip of my applecider and chuckle at the chaos that is unfolding on the dance floor. Alice commands everyone to get on it—she loves Rihanna.
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” she booms, grabbing Kayla and motioning for the rest of us to get up.
“Let’s do this!” I say.
We create a little circle for ourselves on the dance floor. I let myself loosen up and move my body to the music. Alice is screaming lyrics and dancing wildly offbeat, but she’s having the time of her life. I’ve never seen her have this much fun, and it’s sort of contagious. Kayla pulls out the pins holding her braids up and lets her hair hit her shoulders. She shakes the rest of the style out and dances harder. I decide this is the perfect content for my first Insta story—a peek into my new life. I open IG and pan the camera to everyone doing their own thing: Kayla sticks out her tongue, Alice throws up the peace sign, Kenny and Mel make a heart with their hands, and Deanna kisses me on the cheek. I end with the camera on myself, smiling wider than I probably ever have. I post it just as the dance floor closes in and more people make their way to their groups. I close my eyes and lose myself in the music, thinking of nothing more than how good this all feels.
Then
Amari has been wanting to take me up to the roof for a while now. The flat, relatively safe part is near the infirmary, and she heard that the nurse takes thirty-minute smoke breaks when she thinks the girls have gone to sleep. Amari said the roof is pretty special, but she didn’t get into how she knows that, and I didn’t have the heart to ask.
She wants me to see it before I leave her for good. This is the only time that matters.
We have been bending the rules for weeks, in little ways. The staff spend most of our school hours catching up with each other and are usually too distracted to notice our transgressions. It’s been fun to have our own adventures; Amari is clever and always has a backup plan at the ready. Yesterday, we were replenishing our note-passing materials while the art teachers were changing shifts, and Amari got caught. The new teacher asked her what she was doing alone, and she made up some story about wanting to “draw her feelings.” She even forced some tears. The next time I saw Amari, she had a box of pens and two new notebooks.
But the roof isn’t the same as a few pencils. This risk is so much bigger that I can only imagine the consequences if we get caught—and I can’t get caught. I promised my mom. But Ialso can’t resist the temptation of being truly alone with Amari for the first time.
“What are you thinking about?” she whispers from her bed. We both faked stomachaches to spend the night in the infirmary. The nurse is handing out the last set of meds to two girls from a different unit.
“How do we explain being up on the roof if someone comes?” I ask.
“We don’t, because no one will. I’ve been planning this for weeks, and we’re going to be fine. Don’t you trust me?”
“You know I do,” I say honestly.
The nurse slides the glass shut at her station and starts patting her pockets.
“Sleep,” Amari says. “I’ll let you know when it’s time.”
I close my eyes tightly and shift my body into a believable sleeping position.
The door opens and the nurse comes in. I imagine she’s listening for our breaths, so I let out the one I’ve been holding in. I hear her move around Amari’s bed and then make her way to mine. The strong scent of hand sanitizer fills the space between us, and I have to stop my body from reacting. After she makes her rounds, I hear the door open again, then click shut behind her.
I open my eyes and lock onto Amari’s. She smirks and mouths,let’s go.
We wait only a few moments before throwing back the covers and arranging pillows to stand in for us, just in case. Amari grabs our things and motions for me to follow her quietly. We slink down the short hallway to a staircase with an Emergency Exit sign. I freeze.
“Amari,” I say, pointing to the sign. I feel my heart rate pick up.
“It doesn’t work,” she says confidently, pushing the bar to open the door.
I brace myself for an alarm—but it never sounds. Amari holds the door for me and points to the top of the next flight of stairs. I make a run for it as she puts a piece of gauze in the latch to stop it from locking behind us. I’m shaking by the time I get to the roof door, and Amari puts her arms around me. I let my nervous body sink into the hug—our first—and try to focus on being in the moment.
“Do the honors?” she asks.
I take a deep breath and let the exhale force my hands to push the door open. The night air hits my face, and finally, I feel excitement about what we’re doing. Amari leads me to a spot she says has the best view and spreads out a gown she swiped from the bathroom. The sky is clearer than I can remember and crammed with bright stars. She sets the kitchen timer she “borrowed” from the unit for twenty-five minutes, leaving us five minutes to get back before the nurse comes by again.
“It’s so clear. Wow, I haven’t seen the stars in a year!” I squeal, lying back on the gown.
Amari puts one folded sweatshirt under my head, then the other under hers. Her touch is gentle, careful, thoughtful. This is a side of her I don’t know and it’s already making these stolen moments completely worth it.
“I’ve never seen you like this… ever,” Amari says.
“Like what?”
“Excited, relaxed.”
I smile.
