Forever This Summer

by Leslie C. Youngblood

  “We’ll get to that in a sec,” I said. “First, what’s this boneless thing about?”

  I was on my feet, pacing like a coach in front of a basketball team. Adrenaline pumping.

  Jada’s words crawled out. “It’s kind of boring.”

  Flip sighed. “It’s not.”

  “If it was boring, I wouldn’t have asked you to meet us here,” Markie said.

  Jada put her phone on the bleachers and stood on a patch of grass. Stretching her arms over her head, she waited a second, then bent all the way back like this kid at Sweet Apple could do with their finger. But bending backward was just the beginning. She planted her elbows on the ground. Markie and I traded glances. I pursed my lips and prayed she didn’t hurt herself. Jada held that stance for a few seconds, then she grabbed her ankles.

  I had a feeling what she was going to attempt but I wasn’t sure. Could she? Would she? Nikki was close to passing out from sheer envy. I held my breath. Jada tightened the grip on her ankles and she slowly allowed her head to peek out between her legs until her chin was level to the ground. Then she even insect-walked a few steps. I put my notebook down and clapped so hard my hands stung. Markie fluttered her hand like it was holding a tambourine. As Jada eased out of her bend, I yanked up my pad and wrote. Jada—Contortionist.

  “She can do other moves, too,” Markie said.

  “Wow! That’s impressive,” Nikki said. “How long have you been able to flex like that?”

  Jada shrugged. “As long as I can remember.”

  “Jada the Cool Contortionist,” I said aloud. “Not the best title, but I’ll work on that.”

  “Did I deliver or what?” Markie said.

  “So we got a dance routine and a contortionist. Now it’s your turn,” Nikki said and pointed cute to Flip, letting her index finger float down like a feather.

  “You gotta do it, Flip,” Jada said.

  “Why? So the whole town can laugh at me?” Flip said. “You remember when I was rapping what they called me.”

  Latasha was back and unwrapping a strawberry shortcake bar. “Flip the Flop!” she said before shoving the treat in her mouth.

  Jada elbowed him. “Do you really care about what people say? You never really wanted to rap. This is what you like,” Jada said.

  “C’mon, Flip,” Markie said. “You know it’s for a good cause.”

  Nikki inched closer to him. “Is it something I can help you with?”

  I tapped my notebook, hoping that would bring her back from crush-town. He pulled at one of his twists. That’s when I noticed the diagonal cuts in his eyebrows. Nikki loved that extra dab of swag.

  “No, there is nothing you can help with,” Latasha said. “He does magic, real magic. I’m his assistant. Huh, Flip. Tell ’em.”

  “You’re my assistant, Tash.”

  Nikki was back at my side. “Magic, that’s what’s up.”

  Flip nodded in Jada’s direction, then held his head down and took in a few quick breaths.

  I knew that type of anxiety. It’s what I felt every time I stood in front of people, especially if I danced. Hiccups that start in your stomach, hands wet and clammy.

  Jada stood, pretended to hold a microphone, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please. Introducing Flip the Fantastic and his assistant, Lovely Latasha!” Jada waved her hand like she was that lady from Wheel of Fortune.

  I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he was doing. Markie stood looking on like a proud coach.

  Flip dug around in his backpack and took out a deck of cards, then whispered to Latasha.

  Then he shuffled the cards.

  “Will my assistant please step forward?” Flip said. Latasha scurried over to Flip and curtsied. “Now, I need a volunteer from the audience.”

  Nikki was in front of him in a flash.

  “And who do we have here?” Flip said.

  “Nikki.”

  “Well, Nikki,” Flip said. He shuffled the cards in front of him again. “Pick a card.”

  Nikki stared at the cards like she expected them to change colors.

  “Study long, you study wrong,” Markie said.

  Nikki pulled one and held it to her chest.

  “Now show the card to the audience,” Flip said and turned his back.

  Nikki stepped closer to each of us and scanned the card inches from our noses. Three of Diamonds.

  “She’s finished, Magnificent Flip,” Latasha said.

  “Flip the Fantastic,” Jada shouted.

  He turned around to face us again. Then he shuffled his cards. Pulled one, and without looking, showed it to Nikki.

  “Three of Diamonds,” Nikki shouted, probably louder and with more surprise than she realized.

  We all clapped. Flip and Latasha took a bow.

  “This is going to be fire for the talent show,” I said. Crowd engagement gets more donations, I remembered reading.

  “Told ya,” Markie said. “And he has more magic.”

  I grabbed a pencil and opened my notebook. “Okay, Nikki and Georgie, original Nikki dance routine.” I looked up from the notebook, directly at Jada. “Are you good with showing the town your amazing contortionist skills?” Jada nodded. “And you’re good, Fantastic Flip?” He gave me a thumbs-up.

  “We still need a few people to round out the show but this is a good start. We’re all in,” I said and stuck my hand out. It was left hanging for a moment until Nikki put her hand on mine. Then Flip, Latasha, Jada, and Markie. Once everyone’s hand was in, I shouted, “Bogalusa’s got talent on three. One. Two. Three.”

  “Bogalusa’s got talent!”

  “Name still sucks,” Nikki said.

  “Yeah, but as long as the show doesn’t, I’m good.”

  Once the sibs, which is what Markie called them, left, Nikki, Markie, and I sat there talking about the talent show. Still, at any moment, I expected Markie to veer off the topic for a moment and talk about what was in the box, or what I could do next to help. I didn’t want to press her. As Daddy liked to say, “The ball was in her court.”

  I jotted down the date and wrote Saturday in letters that cartwheeled across the page. Instead of saying anything directly about her mama, or Ms. Hannah, I said, “Time to tell me what you’re going to do, Markie.”

  “What do you mean?” she said.

  “You’re up next. Talent show. Duh,” Nikki said.

  I whistled a bit. “C’mon, Markie. We all have something. Plus, I already know one of yours: whistling.”

  Markie rubbed her chin a few times as if she had whiskers. I positioned my pencil next to her name, ready to fill in her talent and cross out the question mark. And in typical Markie fashion, she knew she had our attention and made us wait.

  “You know. You’re right, Georgie. I can do something. I really want to, matter of fact. But it’s not whistling. Ahem. I’m going to sing.”

  “Like rapping?” I said.

  “No, like singing,” Markie clarified.

  I’d have to be honest and say that she looked more like a rapper than a singer. I knew it was stereotyping and as my social studies teacher would say, “bad business”—not every tall person liked basketball, not every blond person was “clueless,” and not even a fraction of Black people, especially boys, who wore hoodies and sagging pants were criminals. And certainly, not every girl without makeup, rainbow nail color, or who didn’t wear earrings would rather rap than sing. But I’d have to admit, Mama and I watched that TLC story and Markie’s style was more like Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes than one of Tangie’s favorites, Andra Day.

  “Okay, cool. I’m putting you down for a song at the talent show.”

  “Yeah, I got you. I just need to get the pipes tuned,” Markie said.

  Nikki snapped her fingers in excitement. “A singer is money in the bank for a fundraiser. I was hoping we’d have at least one. Didn’t expect it to be you, but that’s cool. You’ve been holding out.”

  “This is pe
rfect. We’ll put you on midway and then you can close the show, too. The audience loves singers. Well, don’t be shy,” I said. “You’ve seen what we’ve got. Let’s hear something.”

  Markie cleared her throat. “What you want to hear?”

  “Give us a few lines from one of your faves,” I said.

  I closed my notebook and put my chin on the heel of my hand, giving Markie my full, undivided attention.

  Markie stood up in front of the bleachers. “Ahem. Ahem.” She chopped at her throat like I’ve seen some kids in the Sweet Apple Choir do to warm up.

  Then she let us have it.

  “Shine bright like a diamond. Shine bright like a diamond. Find light in the beautiful sea, I choose to be happy.”

  Her words crackled through the air. The sharp edges and unexpected jolts of what was supposed to be a beautiful melody karate kicked us. Pulverized our eardrums.

  I couldn’t look at Nikki. All I could do was hear the words rattling from Markie’s lips, mixing in with the random outdoor noises of cars, kids, and birds, and wish that any of those would drown her out.

  When Markie stopped before the second chorus, I was fairly sure that if she was on Mama’s old-timey show, Showtime at the Apollo, she would be booed off, but she kept going.

  I heard Nikki clapping and I started clapping, too. Maybe we’d have to hear her sing something else. Rhianna is hard, especially “Diamonds.” That’s what the coaches say when someone sings it on any of those reality singing shows.

  “I don’t know if I’ll do that one at the show or not,” Markie said with so much confidence I thought maybe it was me. Maybe something was distorting my hearing and I just missed the melodic sound of her voice.

  “Or not,” Nikki said.

  I wasn’t quick enough to stop Nikki. Sometimes being “blunt” wasn’t always the best way.

  “Why?” Markie asked, her eyes wide.

  “Because we want to get something newer. You know. Newer,” Nikki said.

  “What do you think, Georgie?” Markie asked.

  “Sure, that makes sense.”

  “I’ll think about it. I’m going to go to the diner for a while. You two coming?”

  “In a minute. We’ll see you there,” I said.

  “Cool,” she said and threw up a peace sign.

  We waited until she’d rounded the corner. Nikki moved closer to me. Her eyes fluttering, both our ears burning.

  “Can you believe that?” Nikki whispered like Markie was close by.

  “Only because I heard it. She can’t sing that song or any other. We want to raise money, not give it back.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything to her?”

  “It wasn’t the right time. I mean she’s trying to help. I’m just supposed to blurt out, ‘You can’t sing. Stick to whistling’?” Even as I said those words, I hung my head down. I knew I could have said or done more. Truth was that I didn’t have the nerve.

  “Well, it’s clearer than ever that she doesn’t have any real friends. Who’d let their friend go around thinking she can sing when she can’t. If you let her get in front of people and embarrass herself, that’s going to be on your conscience.”

  I could still hear her voice screeching in my ears. “We’ll tell her before then.”

  Nikki put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. “Correction. You’ll tell her. I can’t believe we even have to have this conversation.” Then she stood up and pointed her finger at me. “Her arm. That’s it, right? Is that the reason you’re not honest?”

  My eyes shot to the ground. “No, it’s not, really.” Everything was piling up. I still thought about her standoff with Mama. And Ms. Hannah putting that mystery box on Markie’s lap and the way she stared at it like she wanted to swat it away.

  “You can’t even look at me. Maybe it’s not the only reason, but it’s playing a part.”

  I shrugged. “A little, I guess.”

  “Not telling her is being a fake friend. Isn’t that what you accused Lucinda Hightower of?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. I didn’t have a defense.

  “Well, don’t be a hypocrite. You’re better than that.”

  As I listened to Nikki checking the spelling of hypocrite, I knew she was right. Telling a friend the truth wasn’t always easy but it had to be done.

  22

  DEAR MAYOR OF BOGALUSA

  Late Tuesday morning, I decided that though it was short notice, sometimes short notice is better than no notice at all. Maybe I didn’t need a permit, but I’d talked to Tangie and she suggested it to be on the safe side. Luckily, Aunt Essie had a dinosaur of a desktop computer and printer in a spare room and let us use them. That’s all I needed to type my letter. Markie had come through with a few more people for the talent show. She still hadn’t said anything about the mystery box, though. But I also hadn’t asked Mama about the things Markie suspected. Since she hadn’t mentioned it to me again, I thought she’d come to her senses.

  Before I got started with the letter, I asked Nikki, only because I was desperate, “Don’t you think it’s strange that Markie hasn’t even mentioned what was inside that box?”

  “Not really, especially if it was just personal stuff.”

  “That’s true,” I said, though I felt like she could at least mention it.

  “When she’s ready to talk to you about it, she will,” Nikki said as she pulled up a chair ready to assist. “But right now, we need to stay focused on the show. Last night was too much fun.”

  Mama had cleared off the dining room table, and next thing we knew, Aunt Essie and Mama onloaded several coloring books and crayons. Next, Mama dug out a DVD player that was in the closet and she’d ordered DVDs of an old-school show called Julia. It starred one of Aunt Vie’s favorite actresses, Diahann Carroll, who played the first Black nurse on a weekly series. I’d never heard of it before but Nikki and I kept watching after everyone else had gone to bed.

  “Grab your phone and google a business letter.” When she found a good one, we got down to business.

  “Should I start it with To Whom It May Concern? Or Dear Mayor?”

  “Dear Mayor,” we said almost in unison.

  “Let’s go right to the top.”

  First, I used a comma after “Dear Mayor of Bogalusa,” but I deleted that and replaced it with a colon. That was more serious, professional.

  Dear Mayor of Bogalusa:

  My name is Georgiana Elizabeth Matthews. I am a visitor of your illustrious city this summer. I know that you are busy, but this is of an urgent nature. We are hosting a talent show this Saturday to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Foundation and to honor Ms. Elvie Sweetings, the founder of Bogalusa’s favorite diner, Sweetings. In her honor we are asking for an emergency permit to gather in McClurie Park to host our event.

  “That sounds good, Georgie. The mayor is really going to like ‘illustrious.’ You sound real grown-up. I’m memorizing that word right now.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But the big issue is how are we getting this down to city hall. Double-check this again. I’ll be right back,” I said and left the room.

  When I returned, I had Mama in tow. I told her about the letter on the way to the room and showed it to her as soon as she walked in.

  “Mama, we want to get this letter down to the mayor.” I turned the computer to Mama, and she read my Word document.

  “Mmhmm… mmhmm,” Mama said as she read.

  “And you two wrote this letter yourselves?”

  “We googled a template,” I said.

  Nikki showed Mama her phone with various business letter examples.

  “This is soon, Georgie, but it’s worth a try.”

  “We need to print this. Can you drive Nikki and me down there today?”

  “Of course,” Mama said.

  “Mama, I know it’s best if you take us since it’s dealing with the government, but I want to do all the talking,” I said.

  “No problem. I’ll be there if you need
me. But isn’t Markie going, too? I mean I know you are working on it with her, but you shouldn’t leave her out since it was her idea, right?”

  “Yes, she’s going,” I said, though I hadn’t asked her.

  “Aunt Essie says she’s hearing good buzz about the show in the diner. What a good idea Markie had. And here I was thinking she was just trouble. I hated the way things went between us the other night.”

  “She seems to think you have it out for her,” I let slip out.

  “Georgie, I don’t ‘have it out for her.’ Markie Jean has a different life from you and her values may not be the same. But things seem to be going okay now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  “All she wants is to be like everyone else. Have a home and people who love her.”

  “It’s never that simple and you don’t know her as well as you think.”

  I thought again about Ms. Hannah’s telling us that you can’t take back things you say. I wasn’t going to repeat Markie’s words about Mama hiding something. If she knew anything about Markie’s mama, she’d say so. What reason would there be not to?

  Mama kissed my forehead.

  “So proud of you to help Markie bring this community together and raise money for Alzheimer’s in honor of Auntie. You too, Nikki.”

  I mumbled, “Thank you.”

  “And I appreciate how you have refocused your energy. I was a little nervous after the trouble with Peanut Man. But you’ve shown me what you can do when I don’t have you vacuuming the same floor every hour,” Mama said and laughed.

  “Please share that with my mom when I get back home,” Nikki said.

  “I’ll do that. But first, we need to go pay the mayor a little visit,” Mama said.

  I pointed to myself. “Remember, Mama, I’ll do all the talking.”

  “You got it,” Mama said and left.

  As soon as the door closed, Nikki said, “So you’re gonna let Sharkie Markie take credit for your idea. That was your chance to come clean.”

  “Can we just drop that, please?”

  “Okay, whatever,” Nikki said. “We’re gonna make sure it’s all that. Then I’m going to tell anybody who’ll listen that it was all my idea,” she said and laughed so loud, it made me laugh, too.