Page 15 of Juliet's Echo

…and started licking the window.

“Oh, fuck no,” I said instantly, scooping Juliet up. “She ain’t gotta go—we out.”

My mother covered her laugh with her hand, shoulders shaking, while my father pointed his finger toward the ground, silently ordering me to put Juliet back down.

“She will be okay, son,” he said, calm as ever.

“Gina!” Juliet shouted, pointing excitedly toward the classroom.

Her little voice carried through the glass, catching attention immediately. Gina—and some fine, pear-shaped woman—made their way to the door.

“Hey, Ju-Ju,” Gina said warmly, opening it and scooping Juliet up, kissing all over her face.

Gina, as structured and professional as she tried to be, was also a proud member of theJu-Ju does no wrongcrew. She treated baby girl more like a little sister than a student. Plenty of times, homeschooling at the studio turned into me renting out entertainers dressed like princesses and throwing full-blown parties in spare rooms.

“Et—um,” my mother cleared her throat.

Gina froze mid–babying, then gently set Juliet down and straightened herself up.

“Pardon me. Good morning, everyone,” she said, snapping back into professionalism.

My mother gave her a subtle wink before extending her hand toward the pecan-brown, ebony goddess standing beside her.

“I am Olivia, this is my husband Axel, our son Echo, and this is Miss Juliet. We are the Everettes, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman accepted my mother’s greeting with a handshake and a bright smile. The lavender sweater dress clung to her thick frame like it had something to prove—accentuating the fullness of her breasts, hugging the curves of her hips, and doing its best to contain all that thunder she called thighs. She was short too,which only made me hungrier for a taste. At five years old, Juliet was already halfway to her height.

Yeah… a nigga definitely needed to bite that.

“Mrs. Everette, Mr. Everette—welcome. I’m Ms. Faye. Ms. Dionne Faye. We’re so happy to have Juliet.”

My mother smiled politely, but I saw it—the pause. That quiet little window she always left open.

Because she knew.

We all knew.

It was coming.

“Pardon me, Mrs. Everette—and I know this is totally unprofessional—but can I please—”

“Go ahead,” my mother said softly, already smiling.

And just like that, Dionne cracked.

“Olivia Everette! Oh my goodness—I am your biggest fan. I love your work,” she gushed, hands coming together like she was trying to hold it in but couldn’t. “Girl, when you told your management company that you weren’t about to be boxed into playing just the strong Black woman or the girl from the hood—that your Blackness wasn’t an act, it was your culture? Man… I felt that in my soul.”

She placed a hand over her chest, shaking her head like the moment still lived inside her.

“That gave me the confidence to not let any job, any system, or any title define who I am—or limit what I could be. Do you understand how powerful that is?” she said, her voice rising with passion. “You’re not just an actress—you’re a shift in the movement for equality, safety, and respect for Black women. For people like me. You are myshero.”

She paused, fanned herself lightly, then laughed. “Okay… I can breathe now.”

And just like that, she snapped right back into place.

Professional. Composed. Teacher of the year.

That switch?