Page 3 of Grown

Yeah, I can read between the words unsaid there too.

I solved that problem by shaving off my locs. But somehow, my presence is still distracting.

At the mirror, I glide a hand over my baldy, the short hairprickling my fingertips. The cutest shirt I own looks plain in the dingy locker-room light. I didn’t want to do too much... it would set off alarms and I’m already nervous enough about today as it is. Maybe later, with Gab’s gold hoops and some bright pink lipstick, I’ll look... hot.

Hot? This is going to be a disaster.

Mackenzie slams her locker shut with a smirk. “Kyle Bacon.”

I press my lips together to compose myself before feigning ignorance. “Who?”

“Kyle Bacon? He’s a senior. Tall... um, dark eyes...”

Black, I want to say, help fill in the blank she’s trying to avoid.

“What about him?” I sigh, knowing where this is going.

“Well... he doesn’t have a date to the dance. You should go with him.”

“Why? I don’t even know him.”

“You can get to know each other. Like a blind date.”

“I’m not taking a blind date to homecoming.”

“Come on! You’ll look so good together in pictures.”

“How do you know?”

Mackenzie’s cheeks burn pink, her freckles on fire.

“Just... well, he’s cute! And you’re, like, really pretty.”

I snort. “I can’t believe you’re quotingMean Girlsright now.”

“All I’m saying is, you need a date. He’s available. It’s not like you’re strangers. He saw you at the talent showcase last year. Actually, everyone saw you at the talent showcase, but he remembers you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, he liked the video I posted.” She pulls out her phone and scrolls through Instagram, turning up the sound. There I am, singing Aretha’s “Ain’t No Way.” Bet seventy-five percent of my classmates had never even heard of the song before.

I swallow back the memory. The last thing I need today is a reminder of the stage fright that hit me minutes beforehand. But like Gab says... wasn’t ready then, but I’m ready now.

I shrug. “Well. Maybe. Since we’ll look good together and all.”

“Cool! Study sesh after school? If I fail bio, my mom will kill me. Or take my phone. I don’t know which is worse.”

I slip on my book bag. “Um, nah. I got something to do.”

Despite Coach’s lateness warning, I wait until the coast is clear before popping out of my hiding spot, sneakers squeaking against the wet tile. I pull back the curtains and set up my phone. Ten-minute vocal warm-up video on YouTube.

“La la la la la la la la laaaaaaa.”

Pool acoustics are great, but showers are really where it’s at! The only sound booth I’ve ever known.

I rehearse my song for later over and over. It has to be perfect, flawless.

Who knows when I’ll have this chance again.