So Done

by Paula Chase

  Dedication

  To Representation . . . it matters!

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue—Mila’s November

  Epilogue—Tai’s November

  About the Author

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter

  1

  For people keeping score: Metai Johnson didn’t need anybody.

  Not her father, who acted like he was sixteen years old.

  Not her mother, who depending on which Cove rumor you believed, had either been sent back to Korea or was a manager of a hair-supply store her parents (Tai’s grandparents) owned somewhere.

  Tai didn’t know if either were true, and all Nona, her grandmother, would say was, “She not around here, no more.”

  Tai believed Nona, but she had looked her mother up on FriendMe, anyway. Once . . . maybe twice. Definitely not more than four times. She was sure it was her unless there were a lot of Kim-Tae Yuns out there. The account was locked. So all Tai knew was they had eyes alike and sort of the same kind of name—tay not tie, she always had to tell people.

  But she didn’t know if it was really her and she’d stopped caring.

  She didn’t need anybody.

  Just because her heart was doing tiny leaps since she’d noticed that Mr. Jamal’s truck was gone already, which meant he’d headed to his sister’s to get Bean, which meant Bean would be home soon . . . didn’t mean she needed Bean. She just missed her. Missing somebody and needing them weren’t the same thing.

  She sat on top of her nightstand staring across the small road that separated her row of townhouses from Bean’s. She’d been up there all morning, afraid if she moved she’d miss her return. Not that Mr. Jamal would let her come hang out right away. He never did. Even when Tai tried to sweet-talk her way inside for just a few minutes, Mr. Jamal would always say the same thing—“Jamila just got home, Metai. She’ll see you tomorrow.”

  It was the dumbest rule she’d ever heard of.

  It didn’t stop her from waiting, though. She just wanted to see Bean back, for herself, the second it happened.

  The weekends Bean visited her aunt in the Woods were bad enough. Her being ghost all summer was too much. Tai had looked so lame walking to center court by herself. She’d hung out with Rasheeda and Monique, but it got played out, fast.

  For one, Mo had a bad habit of always rolling her eyes or scrunching up her mouth when she disagreed with Tai. She also didn’t have a problem telling Tai she was overreacting.

  Then, Sheeda was just too sometimey. One minute she was 100 percent on your side agreeing, then as soon as Mo so much as opened her mouth to breathe the opposite, Sheeda was skating to the other side. It got on Tai’s nerves. Like, girl, pick a side.

  Still, the fact was her, Mo, Sheeda, and Bean were a squad. Had been close since fifth grade when the seventh-grade girls in the hood came at them sideways trying to start trouble.

  It stopped almost dead once they cliqued, though. The older girls knew Mo and Tai were a match to anybody when it came to clapping back, and if it came to it, knuckling up.

  In Tai’s mind, she was the leader when they were all hanging together. But without Bean, she realized she was the third wheel. It’s why she had faked not feeling well to get out of going to the zoo when they went with the Boys & Girls Club and even to the carnival, her favorite tradition. She wasn’t about to sit there looking dumb while Mo and Sheeda shared their little inside jokes. It made her feel like an outsider in the small circle she’d been the head bee of since elementary school.

  That wasn’t the only thing, though. Bean’s absence had left a block of cold anger in Tai’s stomach all summer. The closer it got to Bean returning to the hood, the more the anger melted. But it had eaten at Tai that Bean had never once invited her over to the Woods. Not even for a few hours just to chill. Tai couldn’t even hint at an invite since Bean had barely texted her, either. And barely was being generous.

  Like, how do you take a break from being somebody’s friend? Tai wondered, the icy annoyance seeping back into her veins. Because that’s what it felt like Bean had done. One minute Bean was right there across the street. They were texting, hanging at center court, or chilling at Tai’s, like, almost every day. Then bam, Bean was in the Woods and it was like she fell off the earth. At least if she had jumped into the Mini Chat now and then that would have been something, but she had cut everybody off. Who does that?

  She stared across the street like a thirsty person eyeing a glass of water, needing to see her friend get out of Mr. Jamal’s truck so all the stupid thoughts she’d had all summer would stop. Until Bean was back rolling through the hood with her again, things felt off.

  Tai closed her eyes for a second then said the words out loud, “They felt off before she even left.”

  She pushed the thought out of her mind fast, like it was a bug lighting on her leg. But it made its way back.

  She hugged her knees to her chest, her entire body taking up the tiny top of the nightstand, and gave into it. She already knew that the more she tried not to think about it, she would. So she played things over again for the millionth time.

  It had been Bean’s last night before heading to the Woods. Tai had to nag her for nearly an hour to come hang out because Bean was always worried trouble would start. Definitely if you stepped to somebody wrong in the Cove, you got your bell rung. And if it came to it, sometimes a gun might blow. So, staying in the house was Bean’s religion.

  Bean had finally come—she always did if Tai bugged her nonstop. But this time, as they were walking out of the house, Bean had mumbled, “So glad I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  At least Tai was pretty sure that’s what she’d said. Bean was really tall—a good six inches taller than four-foot-eleven Tai—so maybe she had just misheard her. Plus, she’d said it really low and her back was to Tai. When she turned around, she had seemed okay. It was crazy.

  Tai had debated with herself—had she imagined Bean was mad or not? Then Bean left and hadn’t dropped a single “hey” into their group chat with Mo and Sheeda, so Tai knew something had to be up. She started the same text to Bean, five times: what’s up? Is everything okay?

  But it made her look too pressed. She wasn’t about that life, so she deleted it every time. And as soon as she did, the urge would hit to text—u act like u in another country . . . what u can’t hit nobody up? Anything to get Bean to write back—lolz or sorry been busy—so Tai would know everything was still cool. And the longer summer wore on without a word, it definitely felt like something was wrong, like they were beefing but Tai didn’t know over what. It wasn’t like her and Bean ever fought—not really. Not unless you counted the times she changed Bean’s mind about staying in the house. That they “fought” over plenty. But that would have been dumb. Every time she successfully got Bean out the house, they had a good time. What was to be mad over?

  An answer popped into her head. Something that had happened in her backyard. It was stupid. Most things that involved her father were. That’s exactly why Tai had (mostly) forgotten about it. And she’d told
Bean to do the same thing after it happened. Her father wasn’t worth spending energy on. But she couldn’t shake it because she was almost sure that Bean hadn’t started acting funny until after. A few times she’d come close to asking was Bean mad at her because of it, but Bean knew how her father was. That couldn’t have been it.

  Could it?

  Anger welled in her chest. She couldn’t stand her father sometimes. He was forever messing up and Nona was forever forgiving him. Bean knew that, since she was who Tai ranted to anytime he’d done something new to get his stupid butt in trouble. No way Bean was mad at her because of him.

  Convinced, she stamped thoughts of it back like you did a roach you were trying to scare away because all the thinking and wondering stopped today. Bean was coming back.

  The cartwheels in her stomach settled. She let her eyes drift to her mirror. She approved of the honey-complexioned cutie with light green oval-shaped eyes staring back at her. For good or bad, her icy mint eyes were the one feature she shared with her father.

  She sat up, stretching her short torso as far as it would go, checking her profile. She was bootylicious curvy. Wavy jet-black hair ran to the middle of her back on one side. The other side was shaved down. She patted at the soft down absently, still not used to feeling scalp. Bean hadn’t seen her new do. Tai hoped she’d love it. Maybe she could get Bean to change up from the braids she always wore and get a matching style.

  Her phone dinged softly.

  Her grin spread so her entire face was teeth. It was Rollie and his message was classic him—simple, almost boring: heard ur girl be back on da block today

  She wanted to go in on him for not hitting her up sooner. Then reminded herself what was important was that two weeks ago, her crush since fifth grade was finally acting like he had eyes in his head and could see she was the baddest chick on their block. True, they had mostly talked about TAG, the new talented and gifted program. He played drums and was trying out for the music program. So every text turned to that or him asking was she hyped to try out for TAG dance. She didn’t care, though. At least he was hitting her up.

  The text sat a few more minutes as she stared across the street counting in her head. When she reached one hundred, she hit him back: yasss! Finally!

  Roll-Oh: Can’t believe it but u pressed. Ahaaa

  Rollie was the only person in the world that could call her pressed without getting clapped back. At least for now. Things were too fragile for her to get in her feelings about every little thing he teased her about.

  DatGirlTai: Hardly. Mr. Jamal ain’t gon let her come out 2day anyway. So its not like I’m gon see her

  Roll-Oh: he strict as hell huh?

  DatGirlTai: He just really into family time. But Mr. J all right

  Roll-Oh: yeah I can’t hate. He used to ball up w/ us on the court sometimes when JJ be out there. He cool peoples

  Tai’s fingers itched to text back and ask him what was up. Were they becoming a couple? Or was he really texting her just to announce Bean was back today? The whole hood knew that by now. Some people had a newspaper. The Cove had gossip.

  After ten minutes she gave in and texted back.

  DatGirlTai: What u up to 2day?

  Her heart smiled when he answered back fast like he’d been waiting on the question.

  Roll-Oh: Rat-a-tat-tat

  DatGirlTai: Thas whas up. When u start ur band don’t be caught up in groupie chicks

  Roll-Oh: LOL groupies da best part of being in a band

  DatGirlTai: Eww u grimy. I might have to stop messin w/u

  It was the closest she’d ever come to admitting that she was into him. Even as she hoped he would take it like a joke, she wanted him to admit the same.

  Roll-Oh: So u could stop talking to me jus like dat? Wow. Much shade

  She flirted back, encouraged by his answer.

  DatGirlTai: Oh so it matter if I cut u off? That’s more like it. #BettaCare

  But the convo was over the way it always was—nothing for a few seconds, then minutes. It was the only way she ever knew he was done. It was another reason she was glad Bean was back. She’d let Rollie occupy every corner of her mind. He smothered every other thought. It wasn’t cool.

  The whump of a door closing snatched her attention from the phone. Mr. Jamal’s truck sat in the small driveway.

  Her girl was home.

  Her fingers texted in a blaze: Welcome back to the block wench!

  Chapter

  2

  Jamila Phillips was anything but excited to be back home. Curious was a better word. Something had told her her dad and brothers were somewhat of a mess without her. But when she walked through the door and saw the house clean and Jeremy, her eight-year-old brother, still alive and unbruised after a summer with their older brother, JJ, even curiosity wore off.

  Between Tai’s welcome back text and the mandatory game of Spades with her dad and brothers—her dad’s attempt at family time—an entire summer was already starting to feel like wisps of a dream. She missed Aunt Jacqi, her sister, Cinny, and the small three-bedroom house in the Woods already.

  JJ and Jeremy’s bickering didn’t help.

  “You can’t play that card. You said you was out of hearts.” JJ’s head rose above the cards in his hand as he tried to peek at Jeremy’s. He was too competitive when it came to playing Spades, or anything for that matter.

  Jeremy snatched his elbows off the table, hiding his cards. “Stop trying to look, JJ.” He pouted. “You don’t know what cards I have.” He looked to Mila and their dad for help. Their dad stayed silent, letting them work it out. Seeing he was on his own, Jeremy put a little weight in his voice. “I can play that card. Bean just played a heart.”

  JJ sucked his teeth. “Two plays back you cut hearts with a spade. You can’t do that.” Seeing Jeremy’s face crinkle in confusion, JJ’s face went through a dozen versions of annoyance. He laid his cards down, careful not to slam them—that would get their dad involved in a hurry—as he argued his case. “See, man, Nut still don’t know how play. Daddy, tell him he reneging.”

  Mila could tell Jeremy’s feelings were hurt by the way his lip pooched, but he held off whining. Rubbing his shoulder, she leaned over, talking low.

  “Remember how we said you should only use spades if you don’t have the suit being played or if spades leads?”

  Jeremy kept his cards on his lap, checked them out, then nodded hesitantly. JJ made a prrfft noise as he sighed. He slid down in his seat, arms folded, but wisely stayed quiet.

  Mila looked down. Jeremy had definitely reneged. He did it all the time. Anybody with Jeremy on their team lost, which meant JJ never wanted him to be his partner. Which meant Jeremy’s feelings got hurt right out of the gate.

  She hated how rough JJ was on him.

  “That’s enough,” her dad said. He stretched and landed his long arms on both JJ and Mila’s shoulders. He pulled them toward him in an awkward hug. “This little moment of togetherness was brought to you courtesy of Dad. Welcome back to the asylum, baby girl.” He kissed Mila on the forehead then lightly knocked skulls with JJ before lecturing, “I’ll go over the finer points of Spades with Nut later. But you don’t need to be so hard on him, Jamal Jr.”

  Mila and Jeremy shared a smile. JJ hated when their dad went full-name on him. He sucked it up as their dad continued. “First of all, it’s just a game. Second of all, you getting mad over it is only teaching him how to be a bad sport. Do better.”

  He stood up, towering over his son. His light brown eyes were soft around the edges. The lecture was mild advice, not a forewarning to punishment.

  “Yes, sir,” JJ said, full of attitude that their dad thankfully ignored.

  Jamal Sr. sidestepped his way around the coffee table. “Come on, Nut. Help me make your sister a welcome-home dinner.”

  “Can it be spaghetti?” Jeremy asked, running after him.

  Out of habit, Mila gathered the cards and started cleaning up. She wasn’t hungry, bu
t there was no point in sharing that. Her brothers were always hungry, especially Jeremy.

  “Y’all keep letting Nut play wrong and he gon’ end up getting his feelings hurt when he play with other people,” JJ said. He scooted his cards toward Mila with a flick of his fingers. “You know how people get about playing Spades. They take it serious.”

  His face was screwed up in what Mila called his “harder than you” look. He’d started doing it at the end of the school year. It was annoying, not just because it was ugly looking but it made Mila scared that he was trying to be like too many other dudes in the Cove—all about proving they weren’t afraid of anything. Part of her got it. In their neighborhood, one minute somebody could have your back. But then, if your back weighed theirs down, it was every boy and girl for themselves.

  The fact was, sometimes friendships in the Cove were like a magic trick—now you see ’em . . . now you don’t. Mila couldn’t get used to that, but JJ, a year older and supposedly wiser than her, rolled with the way things were around their block. She just hoped it wouldn’t ever make him too rough.

  She took her time collecting the cards, tapping them on the table every few seconds so her stack stayed neat.

  JJ folded his long arms across his chest, staring at her, challenging her. She’d been home for exactly three hours and already they were bumping heads—which in JJ language was having a conversation.

  She put a rubber band around the cards. “I was trying to explain the rules to him. But by then you’d already hurt his feelings,” Mila said. “You know once his feelings hurt, he not even listening anymore.”

  JJ shrugged. “Yeah, well, ain’t nobody out there in the hood gonna care about his feelings being hurt.” There was an angry glint in his eye. He seemed ready to say something else. Instead he sighed and put his hand out.

  Mila looked at his empty hand, confused. He shook his hand at her. “Give me the cards, man. I’mma put ’em away.”

  Mila laughed. “You act like I should have known that. When was the last time you ever helped clean up?”

  JJ rolled his eyes but he cracked a smile. He plucked the cards out of her hand and stored them in a wooden box next to the sofa. Mila sat on one end of the sofa and he sat two cushions down from her. They looked like two people on an awkward first date waiting for their chaperone to sit in between. His long legs were stretched out off to the side of the large coffee table. When their dad wasn’t home, he kicked his feet up on the table. But he knew better now.