Forever This Summer

by Leslie C. Youngblood

  Markie shrugged, then said, “You used to let me wear sneakers with my dress. I hate dresses. But you liked them so much that I’d wear them just for you. And you let me keep my sneakers on so I’d be comfortable. Then you told me one day that I never had to wear a dress again. Even when I was a grown-up if I didn’t want to. All girls don’t have to wear dresses.”

  Mama had told me that it’s unhealthy to compare your body to other girls’. That’s not what makes a girl, a girl. Markie didn’t like nail polish, glitter, or frilly things like Nikki and I liked. Was Aunt Vie the one to tell her that was okay? There was more silence in the diner than there was in the entire world. Even the hum of every appliance had quieted. Seemed like we all waited for Aunt Vie’s response.

  “Who are you? What are you talking about?”

  I sucked in my breath and held it.

  Aunt Vie tried to yank her arm away from Grandma Sugar, but she held it firm and led her away from us. “What is she talking about? Who is she? Tell me who she is!”

  Grandma Sugar led Aunt Vie to the kitchen. Mama rushed over to Markie. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Markie said.

  Mama patted Markie’s shoulder like a baby’s back. “Sometimes faces and memories come back to her when we least expect them. Other times, it breaks our hearts when she doesn’t know who we are. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love us.”

  “I said I was okay,” Markie snapped. “I don’t need you explaining anything to me. I’ve been here. I’ve seen it all happening.”

  Mama hadn’t taken her eyes off Markie.

  I cleared my throat. “Maybe we can all go to the movies. Wouldn’t that be fun, Mama?”

  “Now, that’s a good idea,” Nikki said. “Do they have the kind of chairs that recline? I love a good recliner.”

  I leaned back and kicked out my leg. “Right, nothing beats a comfy recliner.”

  Mama wasn’t fazed. She was still deciding how to respond to Markie’s attitude. Her words were a gut punch and Mama wasn’t the only one who felt it.

  “I’m outta here,” Markie said.

  “Wait! I’ll drive you. It’s getting late,” Mama said.

  “I don’t want you to drive me. I’m not one of your little babies. I’m fine.”

  Nikki stepped in front of her. “Hey, Aunt Trina said that this was my celebration. So stick around.”

  I nodded my head toward the back table. “Yeah, Aunt Essie closed the diner just for us. It’s too soon to leave now. Let’s just go have another float.”

  Mama’s face was sunken. And she barely opened her lips wide enough to speak. “Maybe one more before dinner. I’ll let you girls talk now.” Mama slunk away and went to Grandma Sugar and Aunt Vie.

  Peaches wasted no time running up to Markie. “You made my mama sad,” Peaches said. “I’m not talking to you anymore. Don’t care if you give me one of your wrinkly ole dollars.”

  Aunt Essie grabbed Peaches’s hand. “Okay, calm down, sweetie. Markie didn’t mean to raise her voice like that, did you, Markie, yeah?”

  I grabbed on to Nikki’s arm. If Markie sassed Aunt Essie, I just don’t know if I’d be able to hold it together.

  Markie turned her right sneaker to its side. “No, ma’am.”

  “Why don’t you three go out and get some air? Give Aunt Vie a moment to get settled. She hasn’t been in the diner in a bit. Okay? And we’ll save the floats for after dinner. Got peach cobbler, too, if you like.”

  We all muttered, “Yes, ma’am,” and headed toward the door.

  The air outside smelled like wet dirt. But there were no other signs of rain. The three of us stayed under the awning, pretty much where Markie and I stood the first day we met.

  Markie was staring at her phone. She put it down to her side when I planted myself in front of her.

  I pursed my lips, which tasted of mouthwash. “What was all that about, Markie? You have to know this is hard for my mama, too. She didn’t deserve that.”

  “She was going out of her way to be nice to you,” Nikki said.

  Markie shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

  I sighed and stared her straight in her eyes. “What would you call it?”

  “Nothing. You’re right. She didn’t deserve that. This is harder than I thought. It’s crazy that I miss being with Aunt Vie so much. I’d give her nothing but trouble with my attitude sometimes. Running away. Acting out in school. That’s how I ended up going back and forth in foster care. Maybe that’s why she kept what was happening from me until she couldn’t anymore.”

  “We have to focus on what we can do now, Markie. That’s what I’m learning,” I said.

  While she retucked one of her dangling braids, Nikki said, “The good news is that Auntie Trina is all about the talent show. I know we want to do it ourselves, but we’ll need grown-up help with some things.” Nikki was working double time to make us see the positive side of all of this.

  “Why don’t we all go back in and enjoy the rest of the evening, visit with Aunt Vie. Sometimes I don’t like to say it aloud, but I hate that I didn’t get to know Aunt Vie better. I wish Grandma Sugar and Aunt Essie would have told my mama earlier about her condition.”

  Markie stepped off the curb and faced us. “Doubt it would have changed anything. Your mama wasn’t ready to come.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “It was a while ago, but I overheard Aunt Vie talking to your mama and asking her to visit. There was always an excuse. Even before the divorce. Aunt Vie would call and talk to your mama, but only your grandmother visited. Maybe your mama feels… guilty.”

  I thought back to Mama’s conversation on the Causeway. “Maybe she feels a little guilty for not coming back before now. Grown-ups aren’t perfect.” As soon as I said that, I wanted to shove it back in my mouth. I thought about what Ms. Hannah said about words. Those words were out now. I couldn’t take them back.

  And, like I feared, the words burned like fire under Markie’s feet. “I know better than both of you that grown-ups aren’t perfect. That has nothing to do with the fact that I think your mom knows more about a lot of things.”

  Nikki sighed. “Ugh. You are ruining this whole night. Are you saying that Aunt Trina knows something about your mama? Maybe you do need to just go home and let us enjoy ourselves.”

  For a moment, instead of dealing with the conversation, I wanted to put my hands to my ears like a child. My head was spinning. “If she knew anything about your mama, she’d have said something by now.”

  “You two just don’t get it.”

  Nikki was in the one-hand-on-the hip mood now. “Get what?”

  “Who’s stayed away from me for about the entire time since she’s been here? Who was sending Aunt Vie money to help with ‘diner upkeep’ but rarely has been back here? You said it, not me. Your mama feels guilty, but it’s about more than what you think.”

  “You’re crazy. You think my mama knows something about yours and wouldn’t tell you?”

  “Explain why she doesn’t like you around me.”

  Nikki’s voice was even higher than before. “Ah. Cause she probably figured you would get Georgie in trouble.”

  Then Markie shot Nikki a side-eye. “And you want me to believe that you two never get into trouble. It’s just me. Really?”

  When Grandma Sugar got my attention, she waved for us to come inside.

  I took a deep breath. “C’mon, let’s get back. We can talk about this at the park tomorrow.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Markie said. “It’ll be less drama if I went on home. I’ll be at the park with those kids like I promised.”

  Whatever energy I needed to ask her to stay, I didn’t have. “See ya, tomorrow,” I said and turned to go back inside with Nikki.

  21

  FAKE-YONCÉ

  Didn’t matter if Markie took credit for the talent show or not, it was still on me to make it happen. Nikki labeled Markie a “button pusher,” and I had to agr
ee. I wasn’t about to let any of that mess with the talent show.

  Nikki and I wolfed down breakfast and left the house before Peaches was up.

  “We haven’t talked about our part in this show,” Nikki said.

  “What do you want to do?” I said.

  “Do you really have to ask?”

  “Which routine?”

  “The one that would show these Bogalusa kids what’s what.”

  When we entered McClurie Park, Nikki set her purse on the bleachers, went in the center of the park, and did a backflip, testing out the ground the way Mama would a mattress.

  “Ground’s level,” she said. “Least there is space to practice. Actually, it has a certain je ne sais quoi that appeals to me.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said. “If we hold the talent show here, there’ll be space for whoever wanted to come out.”

  “And no rental fee,” Nikki said.

  I pulled out my notepad to write down the details. “Actually, since it’s a fundraiser, I’d better check if there is any fee to the town to use the park. Plus, we might need an emergency permit.” My stepsister, Tangie, was the queen of impromptu “emergency” permits whenever she helped her boyfriend organize rallies. Mental note to ask Tangie about permits.

  Nikki looked around the park again and sighed. “You know, this might be our last chance to turn it up together for a while.”

  I twisted my lips to one side and back again. “California. It doesn’t seem real.”

  “When you see that For Sale sign my daddy plunked in our yard, it will.” At that Nikki took out her glitter lip gloss and dabbed her lips. They sparkled like a planetarium.

  About ten minutes later, Markie arrived—alone.

  I stood and greeted her. Then got down to business. “Thought you were bringing some talent?” I said.

  Nikki waved, her hand limp as a wet towel. “Aren’t you handling ‘talent acquisitions’?” Nikki reminded her.

  “If I was flaking out, would I be here right now? They’ll be along in a minute.” Then she put one leg up on the bleacher. “So what did I miss? How were things with Aunt Vie?”

  “She talked some. I think she enjoyed being out,” I said.

  I downplayed the fun we had. Some of the songs sparked memories in Aunt Vie and she swayed to the beat and even sang the chorus of one of Aretha Franklin’s songs, “I Say a Little Prayer.” Grandma Sugar, Aunt Essie, and even Mama sang along to it together. Later that night, Nikki found it for me on her phone and I replayed it so much that I practically learned every word.

  I flipped to a clean page in my notebook. “Nikki and I are stepping as our talent. Can we count on you showcasing yours? Everybody has something,” I said and yanked a pencil out of my hair.

  “I’m still deciding,” Markie said.

  Nikki scoffed. “Really? That many talents, huh?”

  “What can I say? I’m a maverick. You’ll know soon.”

  I wrote: Nikki. Georgie. Step. Dance. Duet. Then I wrote Markie’s name in all caps and drew huge question marks.

  While I doodled, a beat made my feet tap. I glanced up and the pink rhinestones of Nikki’s phone glistened as Nikki started playing music. Then she pulled a mini Bluetooth speaker from her purse.

  “What! Am I going to finally get to see you dance, Nikki?” Markie said.

  “It’s your lucky day. My partner and I ’bout to get some practice in before we have to start grooming the extras,” Nikki said.

  Since I’d been hanging around Markie, I was fairly sure I wouldn’t be too nervous in front of her. Not like in front of strangers.

  Nikki cranked up the volume to an old Beyoncé song, “Run the World (Girls).”

  “You remember this routine, Georgie. Let’s do it,” Nikki said.

  We started back-to-back, maybe a little cheesy, but then I went into a split and Nikki did a Simone Biles flip over me. When we’re on our feet, we joined hands and helped each other do windmills. We knew that wasn’t really stepping. But we combined it with other dance forms. When it was time to do a more traditional step, Nikki and I froze for a moment, getting in sync. Both our hands were solidly on our hips. Shoulders back. Neck straight, ready to make our hair whip. Well, I had my French braids, but Nikki’s braids, even in her upsweep, were whip-ready.

  Markie snapped her fingers and waved them in the air. That pumped us up. After a huge gulp of air, Nikki called out from her diaphragm, just like Ms. Jerilyn taught us at the Boys & Girls Club, but Nikki’s was always the one with the most fire.

  “The B-F-F Steppers are here to slay. The B-F-F Steppers are gonna wreck your day.”

  Okay, BFF Steppers wasn’t the most awe-inspiring or fear-evoking name, but it’s what we came up with for just the two of us. Most step teams are about three to fifty people or more.

  I was on point, matching every one of Nikki’s steps until we did a sharp pivot and there watching us were three kids who’d rolled in like a thundercloud. Nikki kept dancing but try as I might, my legs tangled like wet hair.

  The three kids seemed to have stopped the breeze. Or was it that my heart was pumping so fast that I’d raised my body temperature? The last thing I needed was to really pass out in the heat like grown-ups warned us about every hour in Georgia whenever the temperature rose above 90. I needed to remain calm and upright. I couldn’t organize a show while sprawled out on the ground.

  “Is that how they dance where y’all from?” the older girl asked with an extra dash of salt in her voice. She took a long draw from a Zesto’s paper cup, bending the straw.

  The girl was taller than Markie and me. She wore dingy shorts and a T-shirt that she’d tied in the front, exposing her outie belly button. The other girl may have been about eight and wore pajamas with double- and triple-stacked ice-cream cones printed all over it and no shoes. On our right was a boy who was straddling a bike with towering straight handlebars and bugle bike horns taped to each bar. His hair was shaved at the sides and the top was reddish twists.

  Nikki finished the routine with a salute but hadn’t said one word. She stared at the boy like he was the one who had made the shady comment, not the girl. Before it got super weird, she snapped out of it and said, “That’s right! It’s stepping. Don’t y’all step here?”

  “Yeah, we do. That’s why I was wondering what that was you two were doing,” the taller girl said.

  “C’mon, Jada. You know that was pretty good,” Markie said to the taller girl.

  “It was okay,” Jada said.

  “‘Okay’ is for second place—that’s a first-place routine,” Nikki countered.

  Jada tugged at the knot in her T-shirt. “Not by the looks of it. Who steps with just two people anyway?” She sucked her teeth and swayed her body to one side, but her feet remained planted. “Who are these wannabe dancers?”

  “Wannabe?” Nikki said. “My trophies go higher than you can probably count.”

  “Calm down, Ciara,” Markie quipped. “This is Ms. Essie’s grandniece. And this is her BFF, Ricki.”

  “Don’t play with me, Markie, you know it’s Nikki. And I got your Ciara comment, too.”

  Markie introduced the kids as Jada, Latasha, and the boy, Flip. Then Nikki whispered and pinched my arm—he was the “cute boy” from the library.

  “Where y’all say y’all from again?” Flip asked.

  “Atlanta,” I said.

  “A-T-L… HotLanta. Up north,” Nikki added.

  Jada darted her eyes between both her siblings. “She must think we’re some country bumpkins.” Then she turned back to me and Nikki. “We know about Atlanta. It ain’t even close to around here.”

  “You might have to even get on an airplane,” Latasha said. Her eyes soaked in the sky.

  “No, you don’t,” Flip said. “But it sho’ ain’t near here. That’s down Georgia way.”

  “That’s right,” I said, like a teacher’s pet pointing my clicker to the southeastern part of the United States.

  “We’re no
t about copycatting here,” Jada said.

  Nikki stepped back. “I created that routine myself.”

  “Really? From what I saw, they’re fake Beyoncé moves. That’ll make you Fake-yoncé,” Jada said.

  Now that I was certain I wasn’t going to faint in the heat, I had to take charge. Organize. I cleared my throat. “Here’s the deal. Nikki’s one of the best dancers in Atlanta,” I said. Then I turned to Markie. “These are the kids for the show, right?” She nodded. “In that case, we’re supposed to form a team to entertain people, raise money. So we should be all about showing our talent and giving constructive criticism. If you can’t do that, there’s the door.”

  “Too far with the door,” Nikki whispered. “There’s the gate,” Nikki announced.

  “She has a point, Jada,” Markie said. “You know who it’s for. You said you were onboard.”

  “I know. I know. I just don’t like folks that ain’t from here acting like they’re better than we are.”

  “You fired off first, sis,” Flip said. “Ms. Vie’s one of the nicest people you ever want to meet. She’s ’bout as nice as Grandma Mirenda used to be. Knows no strangers.” He twisted those tall handlebars until the tires ground down in the red dirt.

  “That’s true,” Jada admitted. “Guess we gotta cut her grandniece and BFF here some slack. The routine was pretty good.”

  I spotted my notebook that had fallen on the ground. I grabbed it and crushed it to my chest. With the faint sound of an ice cream truck in the background, I hoped I could hold their attention. Flip lifted the tail end of his Grambling T-shirt and dug into his pockets and pulled out a dollar. He gave it to Latasha and she sprinted off.

  “So you’ve seen our acts. What can you two do?” I said.

  Flip elbowed Jada. “This sister doesn’t have any bones.”

  Jada punched his shoulder.

  “Ooouch,” he said.

  “No bones? What does that mean?” I said and jotted her name and a question mark. “What ’cha got?”

  She glared at her brother. “If I do that, then you know what you gotta do?”