The Bad Boy and the Tomboy

by Nicole Nwosu

  “Macy, you got to pick a movie,” Stevie said.

  My arms went up in defense. “Nope, you guys decide.”

  “You’re the birthday girl,” Andrew said from where he and Austin were playing air hockey. “Pick a movie.”

  “Okay.” Justin was sitting between Sam and Jasmine on the couch. I forced myself not to look at Sam, focusing on my brother. There was no mention between Sam and me about what happened earlier today. Maybe that moment didn’t happen the way I thought it had. Maybe we didn’t almost kiss. “Justin, you pick.”

  Justin took over the laptop as Dad went upstairs to answer the doorbell for the pizza delivery.

  Sam and Cedric hadn’t acknowledged each other and I still felt the tension between them. There was no sight of a potential fight, and how civil they were despite being in the same room with each other for the past hour made me relax.

  “Can we talk?” Cedric asked me.

  “Yeah.” The two of us headed upstairs, leaving my friends, who were still arguing about the movie. As my dad was paying the pizza man at the door, I pulled Cedric up to my room.

  Closing the door behind us, I said, “More privacy. My friends can be extremely nosy, like my dad and brother. Whatever you want to tell me, make it quick before they find out we’re gone.”

  Cedric reached into the pocket of his sweater and handed me a box. “Happy birthday.”

  The action made me freeze at the similarity between him and his cousin. I took the box from Cedric, opening it up to see a charm bracelet inside. Small silver stars dangled from the bracelet and that made it more beautiful. He put it on for me and as I moved my wrist, we watched it jangle. “I love it. Thank you.”

  When he kissed me, for that moment before the nosiest people in my life, Jon Ming, Austin, and my brother, attempted to burst into my room, I knew that with Cedric in front of me, there should be no reason for me to think about Sam. At least, that was what I tried to convince myself.

  19

  This Isn’t Some Wrestling Match

  The following Tuesday, I was standing at my locker after school talking with Jasmine, who was about to go to one of her student club meetings. Caleb and Jon Ming were next to us practicing Spanish when Austin, Jacob, and Brandon came up to us, looking ready for practice. “What’s everyone doing during the break?” Jacob asked.

  Everyone was listing their plans when Sam appeared beside me, startling me. “Stop doing that,” I said, my hand over my heart.

  “Did you know that Sam was on a math team back in England?” Caleb mentioned. Sam scowled as the boys entertained the topic.

  “They’re idiots,” Jasmine said.

  I shot her a grin. “They’re our idiots.” She linked her arm with mine as we headed in the direction of the gym, passing a group of people. Beatrice was among them, and her eyes lingered on Jasmine’s for a moment before she continued her conversation. I hadn’t seen Beatrice and Jasmine interact since that day weeks ago. I nudged Jasmine. “You okay?”

  “I’ll see you at your place.” She unlinked our arms and headed down the hallway.

  The interaction was still on my mind later that day as Jasmine ran a comb through my hair in my room. Or at least tried to. “Do you brush this thing?” she asked.

  “This thing is attached to my head,” I defended myself, wincing. After practice today, Jasmine had come over, a duffel bag of clothes indicating that she was staying the night.

  She huffed, dropping the comb on my desk I was sitting in front of. “I’m done. I can’t work like this.”

  I pulled my long hair around my shoulder, my bracelet jangling on my wrist. “I should get a haircut.”

  “With a haircut you need to get layers,” Jasmine advised as she lay on her stomach on my bed. “Untangle those knots, get rid of the many split ends, and maybe you can get highlights.”

  “Jas, we agreed that you can comb my hair,” I said as I went through my closet. “Not make suggestions for me to find a way of ruining it.”

  “You’re not going to ruin it,” she groaned. “You’re stubborn.”

  I grabbed a large sweatshirt, throwing it over my T-shirt as Jasmine objected. “I’m not allowing you to leave the house, let alone have your boyfriend see you like that.”

  She stood and ransacked my closet before throwing over some different clothes. Staring at the outfits she picked, I sighed, the sudden memory of the way Beatrice had looked at me, the way she and her posse had looked at me for years appearing in my head. “Jas, I know a lot of things are going on but—”

  “No,” she said abruptly. “Don’t talk about it.”

  “You can’t let Beatrice get to you.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed as she stood. “That’s hypocritical.”

  “How?”

  “You let her get to you all the time,” Jasmine exclaimed.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” she argued. “She makes you feel insecure when it comes to you being yourself, but what she says to me? Especially when you’re not around? When no one is around so it’s my word against hers and I know I’ll lose every time? It’s not the same, Mace. Don’t let her get to me? Don’t let her get to you.”

  “She doesn’t.”

  “Yes, she does,” Jasmine continued. “Every single time she calls you names and says bullshit. She’s obviously wrong but you still let her get to you.”

  “Okay, what about you? What about what she says to you?” I countered, taking a step toward her. She sounded frustrated, which made me frustrated as I continued, “Dude, there’s a lot of stuff going on with you right now. From her to your dad—”

  “Stop.”

  “No.” Jasmine had been trying to push everything away for a long time. “These things are clearly affecting you and you never want to speak about it. I was shocked that you even told me what was happening with Beatrice because you always do this. From why you and Andrew kept fighting to your parents—don’t you think it’s an issue?”

  “You’re not going to understand anyway, why the hell would I even tell you?”

  “Because we’re best friends!”

  “Best friends don’t push people into doing things they don’t want to do.” Her tone was rising but her hypocrisy set me off.

  “You do it to me all the time! From the second I started dating Cedric you’ve been making me wear clothes I hate wearing—”

  “Not the same thing,” she stated firmly, getting up and packing her things.

  “Jasmine, you’re doing it right now.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Fine, leave then,” I huffed. “You always do anyway.” Jasmine didn’t waste time as she grabbed her things and left the room, and a minute later the front door slammed.

  Jasmine and I avoided each other for the remaining days until the break. Andrew didn’t take much notice, unaware of the tension between us even though she never sat with us or came near me, saying she was busy.

  The other guys didn’t notice either—except for one. When Austin wondered aloud where Jasmine was, Sam immediately shot me a look, but he didn’t pressure me into telling him what had happened.

  When the doorbell rang on a dull Thursday evening, I opened the door to find standing on the other side the only person who would definitely know what had happened. Drake. “She told you.”

  “You guys are better than this.” Drake had seen us get into arguments over the years over stupid things. Not one like this.

  “She’s the one who’s not talking.”

  “Have you ever thought that maybe she needs her friend while everything is happening around her?”

  “She keeps pushing me away,” I said. “Why are you here? Don’t you have school?”

  “I came to visit Jas before she went off to our aunt’s because I have Fridays off. Macy, she doesn’t know how to deal with all the shit that’s
happening in our family—”

  A familiar motorcycle pulled up in front of the house. Sam took his helmet off as he got off the bike and walked toward us. However, when Sam’s eyes fell on Drake, his good mood dropped. I’d never introduced them to each other but I guess I didn’t have to.

  Drake cleared his throat nervously. “Sam.”

  “Why are you here?” Sam asked him.

  “I should be asking you that question,” Drake answered dryly, his confidence rearing up.

  “I don’t have any reason to answer you.”

  Drake’s eyes looked up to the sky before locking again on Sam. “I haven’t seen you in over two years, Sam.”

  “What?” My question was unheard, the boys too caught up in whatever tension they had with each other. “How do you two even know each other?”

  “Drake dated Bethany two summers ago,” Sam muttered. Oh. Although Drake and I were close, he never shared who he was dating. “And then he broke her heart.”

  “Sam,” Drake said. “It was long ago. She was going back to England. I wasn’t going to do long distance when I was going to leave for university anyway.”

  “Yeah, but she loved you. A lot, and you led her on.”

  “You think I felt nothing for her?” Drake sighed. “Sam, you have to—”

  Sam’s fist curled. “What you’re trying to say doesn’t mean shit.”

  “Okay.” This was escalating, and I was getting scared about where it could lead. “Sam, back off.”

  Drake kept talking. “Yes, I admit, I didn’t end things on the right note but—”

  “Stop talking, Drake,” Sam urged.

  “Even I—” That’s when the curled fist connected with Drake’s face, knocking him to the front lawn.

  Sam jumped on him, furiously punching him in the face multiple times. My feet were frozen, my mind in a state of shock at the scene before me. Drake eventually found the upper hand and pushed Sam off him. Drake’s lip was split, and Sam was breaking free of his grasp. I suddenly came to my senses just as Sam turned the tables again, and ran over, trying to pull Sam off Drake.

  “Sam, stop, you’re hurting him! Dude!” I managed to push Sam off Drake but Sam tried to get at Drake again. “Would you fucking stop?!”

  Sam’s lips parted, his shock apparent at the word that had come out of my mouth. Both of them immediately stopped fighting.

  “Get off him.” My voice was shaky, trying to comprehend what I had witnessed.

  Sam got up carefully. “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re upset. I get that, but that doesn’t give you the right to beat the crap out of him. This isn’t some wrestling match.” I stopped him from moving closer to me. “Leave.”

  His eyes widened. “Hazel.”

  “Go.”

  “You don’t mean that.” He tried to move closer to me but I pushed him back with both hands.

  I didn’t mean that. “Give me space, okay?”

  He hesitated. “I’m sorry.” He walked past me and down the sidewalk to his bike. He put the helmet on, inserted the key in the ignition, and rode off.

  Regaining my stance and ignoring the drops of blood on the grass, I went back inside my house and headed to the kitchen, where Drake was sitting on the counter, wetting a paper towel to wipe off the blood. I left the room momentarily to get antiseptic from the bathroom. When I returned, I handed the bottle to him and he opened it up, putting the liquid on a paper towel.

  “I hope you don’t have to get stitches.” Drake was cleaning his lip, hissing at the pain.

  “I’m okay,” he assured me. “I’m not calling the cops or anything.”

  “You dated his sister?”

  “For a short time one summer,” he explained. “It didn’t end well—the breakup didn’t go well. She was upset and in turn that got Sam upset. He’s never really forgotten about it.”

  “He didn’t have to do that.”

  “I haven’t seen him since that summer. Or her. That was the last I heard of her before, you know, the accident.” He sighed. “I’m going to head out. Have a good break, Mace.”

  Drake left, the conversation about Jasmine apparently forgotten, and I went to my room.

  Later that night, I was texting Cedric about his upcoming trip to Bali when someone knocked on my bedroom door.

  “Macy?” Dad opened the door and walked in, still in his work clothes—a gray suit but sans his black shoes—and plopped down on the bed beside me. “You had a rough day?”

  I told him what happened. My dad looked amused. “You swore?”

  I sat up. “That’s all you got out of that story?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just hard to believe. You made a vow when you were eleven that you would never swear. This is gold.”

  “Because Sam wouldn’t listen and he was being a jackass.”

  My dad raised his eyebrows at my second slipup. “Sam hurt Drake, huh?”

  “He should have spoken with Drake instead of lashing out,” I said. “I don’t even know what that was about. I can’t forgive him for that.”

  “Eventually, you will.”

  “Why do you think that?” I asked before he stepped out the door.

  “Because I know you will,” Dad said. “And because you haven’t taken off the necklace he gave you.”

  20

  Do You Have Wi-Fi?

  I didn’t get my height from my mom’s side of the family.

  Justin, Dad, and I stood in the suburban neighborhood of my maternal grandmother’s house on Saturday morning. My brother and I both held large duffel bags filled with clothes for the week. Our grandmother treated us to a smile, her hazel eyes bright.

  Nonna hugged me. “Macy, you look tall from down here!” She moved to Justin, grasping him in a hug. “I haven’t seen you two in so long. Macy, last time I saw you, you were dressed in the most boyish clothing for a girl.”

  “Good to know some things haven’t changed,” Justin muttered as I swatted him on the back of the head.

  We stepped inside the comforting house with its wooden floors and beige walls, some adorned with photos. The air even smelled like lavender. Nonna grinned at Dad, who lingered on the threshold. “Nick, how have you been?”

  “I’ve been good.” They exchanged a hug and I struggled to recall the last time I had seen them in a room together. “How about you?”

  “I’ve been great.” She held him at arms’ length. “It’s good to see you.”

  Dad’s grin softened. “It’s good to see you too. When you play board games or card games? Don’t go easy on them.”

  “I never will,” Nonna promised. “They’re my grandkids.”

  Dad laughed, turning to us. “Be good to your grandmother, all right?”

  “We will be,” I promised him.

  After Dad left, Nonna turned to me and Justin. “Have you two eaten? I’ll make food. But first, let’s get you to your rooms.”

  We climbed the stairs and Justin spoke up. “Nonna, do you have Wi-Fi?”

  Nonna waved a hand. “I don’t need the internet. I have cable.”

  My brother gasped. Drama queen. “I have to go a week without internet?” Nonna and I ignored him and she gestured for me to open my door.

  The walls were a neutral beige color. From the double bed to the desk to the bookshelf to the pictures in frames and posters of bands, anyone could tell that the person who’d owned this room had been organized.

  “This was her room,” Nonna said behind me. “There were some days Lauren barely left it, and just sat reading on that window seat.”

  Lauren Jessica Anderson. There was a picture of her on the desk, in which she was dribbling a soccer ball on a field. Nonna picked it up and held it for a moment before setting it down. She shot me a comforting smile before leaving and closing the door behind he
r.

  I found a scrapbook in one of the drawers. There were multiple pictures of her and my dad before they’d gotten married. Suddenly, Justin opened the door, eyes wide as he surveyed the room. “Wow. It’s like she’s right here.”

  Justin opened the drawers one by one, grabbing the first thing he could find and lifting it to his nose, inhaling.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shh, I’m trying to make this moment last—I think I can smell her on this T-shirt.” I snorted and Justin looked at me, confused. “What?”

  “You’re smelling a sports bra.”

  My brother dropped it like it was on fire.

  “Kids, I’ve got your dinner ready!” Nonna yelled from downstairs.

  Looking down at my phone as Justin left the room, I saw Sam’s name was near the top of my text messages. I shouldn’t feel anything for him. He was too impulsive. There was no way I should want to be with someone like that. I was supposed to be giving him the silent treatment, but all I wanted to do was talk to him.

  “That was good.” I fell back in my chair, hands on my stomach.

  “I could tell since you wolfed it down.” My face grew warm and Nonna laughed even louder. “Don’t worry about that. Your grandfather would have eaten this every night if he could have. He never got tired of it.”

  The mention of my grandfather reminded me how much the house had probably changed for Nonna since he and Mom passed. I couldn’t fathom how much grief she had endured for the last decade. Once we were done eating, I took the dishes and washed the plates. Justin wandered into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket on the counter.

  “What’s that you have there?” Nonna asked as I dried my hands.

  She moved her glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose, her eyes on my necklace. Justin answered. “It’s a gift from her friend.”

  Nonna examined the pendant. She’d recognize the similarity to the other necklace. “If he gave you something like this, I’m guessing he’s more than a friend.”