So Done

by Paula Chase

  “That’s not to your face,” Mila said sharply. “And it’s different than them giving you a whole name because of it. You don’t know how it feels.”

  “And you get in your feelings about the littlest things,” Tai said. She couldn’t believe Bean had just snapped on her. Was this really happening? She started walking again, flip-flops smacking hard against her feet as she tried to sort it all out in her head.

  First Bean went to the Woods for the whole summer. She didn’t send text one the entire time. Now she was being all brand-new wanting people to stop calling her something they’d called her forever. It was too much.

  She waited for Bean to say “never mind” or something to signal it wasn’t a big deal. If she did, Tai promised herself she’d give in—say sorry back, call her what she wanted. She wasn’t trying to ruin their first time hanging out. But only if Bean said something first. That’s how it always worked.

  They walked in silence. The quiet was a weight on Tai’s head.

  They passed third court. In a few minutes they’d be near center court, where the squad was waiting and everybody would see them mad at each other. Tai didn’t want that. Not now, when she finally had her sidekick back, riding with her.

  Something told her Mo would have plenty to say about them arguing already. How many times had they all been together and the word petty had been thrown out there to describe Tai? It was all supposed to be a joke, but Mo had used the word five times too many for Tai. She could call herself petty. Because sometimes she was petty. You had to be toward some people. But the real was, she didn’t want Bean thinking she was being petty.

  She coached herself: It’s her name. I don’t care what she want people to call her. Just say you’ll do it. Just say it.

  She snuck a peek, hoping to see Bean pouting. It would mean she was just as upset as Tai was about them fussing. Then Tai could save the day by just giving in and making everything right again. But Bean’s face was a stony mask of anger.

  Tai couldn’t remember a single time she’d seen Bean genuinely mad. Until that very moment, she didn’t even know her best friend could get mad. It sounded dumb but it was true. And it was scary. She fumbled to say something that would erase it.

  “I ain’t making no promises. But I’ll try,” she declared. In her head it sounded way nicer than how it actually came out. But it was out. She’d done it. She’d been the bigger person, i.e., the opposite of petty. Take that, Mo.

  She breathed slowly through her nose to stop her racing heart from leaping out of her chest. It was over. She could finally fill Bean—Mila? Jamila? Tai couldn’t decide—in on her and Rollie. She’d been dying to ask her whether their ship name should be RollTai or MeTollie. She turned to share her thoughts and saw Bean roll her eyes up toward the sky and mouth, “Gee, thanks.”

  She mouthed the words so hard Tai swore she’d actually heard them.

  She was still staring at her when Bean finally looked her way.

  “Yeah, all right,” she said. And it sounded like she was forcing herself just like Tai had forced herself to give in to Bean’s request.

  The lackluster response took the wind out of Tai. She felt like she was walking down the street with a stranger. But in three minutes they’d be at the rec. Everybody would be happy to see . . . Mila. Tai would look crazy standing there with a stank face as the world welcomed back her best friend. So she did something she had never done before—she played like she hadn’t seen Mila’s reaction. She talked on and on, about Rollie, heard herself laugh, and was more grateful than she would ever admit when Bean . . . Mila (whatever) laughed back.

  At the end of the day, she’d convinced herself that it wasn’t a big deal after all. It couldn’t be. They still had a few weeks left of summer. Her girl was back home. And her and Rollie were this close to becoming (she and Bean decided) MeTollie.

  Things weren’t just back to normal, they were better than normal.

  Chapter

  4

  Monday morning Mila was up early. She heard her dad walking through the hall softly, trying not to wake anybody. It was only 5:30 a.m., an hour earlier than he usually got up, which meant it was his day to open the auto repair shop where he was a supervisor. She lay still, readjusting to the sounds of the house through the thin walls—her dad creaking down the stairs, JJ’s light snoring next door, and Jeremy’s feet kicking furiously at something, then calming.

  After hearing the door close behind her dad, she lay there, hoping sleep would return. But her brain was up and ready to go and thinking about yesterday’s walk with Tai through the hood. She’d surprised herself over how angry she’d been. Her anger had lit in her chest like a match to gasoline. She’d been close to returning home—her mood ruined—then shocked when Tai agreed to stop calling her “Bean.” If you could call somebody saying they’d “try” as agreeing. That was classic Tai and enough for Mila. As quickly as the anger flared, it had blown out and, thankfully, the rest of the afternoon had been fine.

  Even though she’d enjoyed strolling the hood more than usual—mainly because she hadn’t done it in so long—she still didn’t get why Tai loved wandering from one court to the other so much. The goal was usually to run into Roland or meet up in front of the rec or at the basketball court with Mo and Sheeda. It always felt like they were walking in circles. But anything was better than being over at Tai’s house.

  Mila made her way down the stairs, skipping over the step that squeaked. Sun bathed the living room in light. The room felt so much bigger when they weren’t all in it. She sat in the corner of the couch with her long legs curled to her chest as the sun crept farther into the room, warming her. She was back home whether she liked it or not, wanted to be or not.

  Whether the Cove was the worst or best place to live depended on who you asked or what newspaper you read. The DRB Daily said the crime activity in the Cove was a blemish on the city. Mila had asked her dad what a blemish was. She was only eight at the time, Jeremy’s age. At thirteen she was more familiar with blemishes than she wanted to be, but back then it was a new word.

  She learned two things that day: that a blemish was a flaw that spoiled how something looked and that when it came to anything the paper said about their hood, it instantly turned her dad into a ghetto professor. He wasn’t behind a podium like a professor, but standing in front of the sink washing up the dishes from dinner, he lectured like one.

  He plucked the paper from Mila’s hand and skimmed the article. His mouth twisted like someone had rubbed lemon on his lips. “The Daily takes one fact, adds in fifteen opinions, and calls it news.” He had slammed the paper onto the table, ignoring Mila’s outstretched hand, then changed his mind. He lifted it back up to his face, lips moving as he continued reading. He waved the paper as he talked. Droplets of water from his still damp hands sprinkled Mila. “It’s not like I want people driving through our neighborhood like it’s a zoo, to check it out for themselves, but I’m tired of the paper making folk think a bunch of thugs are lying in wait for anybody that gets near the entrance.” His eyes glowed. He fixed them on Mila, his lone student, and she had gazed up at him. What her dad said was king. When he got like this—and that was anytime somebody attacked the Cove—she found herself curious but also afraid of his passion. The only other thing he spoke about with that much energy was her, Cinny, and her brothers. It’s how she knew he loved their neighborhood, “blemish” or not.

  His eyes softened but his words had been firm. “The sad part is most of the nonsense that goes on here only hurts the people living here. They don’t need to be unnecessarily scaring folks away.” With that, the anger dissolved. He laid the paper down on the table. His fingers were black with newsprint but he hadn’t seemed to care. He opened his arms and pulled Mila into a hug. “Listen to me, Jamila. It’s a lot of knuckleheads in the Cove but it’s way more good people here who just can’t afford to live nowhere else. The paper don’t care to learn the difference.” His stomach ballooned then caved as he sigh
ed. He stepped back so she could see his face. “We’re all either criminals or victims to them. But that doesn’t mean it’s true. There’s plenty good in the hood. Plenty.” He pecked her on the forehead and went back to washing dishes. Lecture over.

  Mila never did finish reading the article. And the thing she never told her dad was that what little she had read she agreed with. There was crime in the Cove. There was drug dealing. There were fights and even shootings sometimes. She didn’t really understand why her dad defended it so much. She wasn’t really sure what part of the article he disagreed with. But what she did know was that because of her dad constantly trying to improve their nabe, everybody in the Cove knew not to mess with her and her siblings, at least when it came to offering them drugs or asking them to join anything even closely resembling a gang. Mila was probably one of the safest people in their hood because people knew if her dad suspected someone was robbing, stealing, dealing, or vandalizing, he had no problem confronting them or even turning them. So when people saw her and her brothers, they mostly played it straight. Except people like Rock Jensen.

  She shuddered thinking about his two-finger salute. It was like he’d purposely saluted to make sure she saw him, low-key daring her to go back and tell her dad she’d seen him dealing drugs in broad daylight. For all the good her dad saw in the Cove, people like Rock were why she chose to stay in the house when she wasn’t at the rec’s Open Play nights or at dance. She wasn’t afraid of the neighborhood, really. She just hated drama, whether it was petty gossiping, constant instigating, or some random fight breaking out. Avoiding it was hard. She’d seen a girl get jumped for not saying thank you loud enough after Samyra said the girl’s shoes were cute. It got that bad sometimes.

  So she watched what she said and who she said it to. She was content to be in the house.

  Could she do that forever? Probably not. But she did have a plan. It was actually more of an idea, and as soon as JJ got up she wanted to see what he thought about it. He got on her nerves sometimes, but without Cinny he was her only hope when she needed advice. She prayed he wouldn’t sleep all day.

  Normally she’d want the boys to stay asleep as long as possible. Once they were up, the TV never went off. For now the large flat-screen, a Christmas gift from her dad to the whole family, was a blank black eye. She turned her head and watched her murky reflection in it.

  Her siblings shared their light brown skin with her dad. She was a dark-skinned beauty (no blemishes this month) who looked more like her mother than any of them. She hadn’t seen her mother in years. Tried not to think about her much. Braids escaped from the fat bun on top of her head. No matter how many bands she put on it, it was impossible to tame every braid. They were too skinny and too many. Her eyes were wide and brown, always curious but also quick to lower to avoid challenging or being challenged.

  “Good morning, Jamila,” she whispered to her image.

  “Bean, why you saying good morning to yourself?” Jeremy’s sleepy voice asked.

  “Nut, you scared me,” she said as her legs shot out in alarm. She scooped them in and sat cross-legged, making room for her brother. “I was just playing around.”

  Jeremy sat beside her close enough to be in her lap. Her heart swelled with love for him. Her younger brother was a sweetie. She wished he could stay that way. But being sweet and living in the Cove wasn’t a good match. She knew that too well. He stretched out and laid his head on her crossed ankles.

  He talked through a yawn. “Did Daddy leave any money so we can walk up to the Wa?”

  Mila scratched lightly at his scalp. Something she’d done when he was a baby to get him to sleep. “I’m not sure. I haven’t been in the kitchen yet.”

  Jeremy’s day was made whenever Daddy left them change for a chili dog or candy at the convenience store at the mouth of their neighborhood. All he thought about was food. Mila didn’t blame him. JJ was all about swiping food off his plate. No doubt it was some stupid test to toughen him up.

  “I’m glad you back home. JJ sleep too long and I don’t always want cereal,” Jeremy said. He lay looking up into Mila’s face. “Is it true that Daddy gon’ send you to live with Aunt Jacqs like he did Cinny?”

  Mila laid her hands on his warm cheeks and rubbed softly. “Who told you that? JJ?” She smiled at Jeremy’s eager head nod. “I’m not going nowhere. You know how JJ is.”

  Jeremy’s face brightened. “He said once you left I was gonna have to man up and stop being a baby.” He poked his lip out. “I ain’t no baby. It’s not my fault Daddy won’t let me use the stove yet.”

  Mila laughed. Of course it was about food.

  “It’s not. But I’mma teach you how to cook this year. You getting too old for everybody to have to cook for you.” She said it gently. He seemed to understand. She wiggled her ankle. “You putting my leg to sleep, boop.”

  He hopped up. “Sorry, Bean.” His eyes wandered to the kitchen. She waited on a meal request, willing to fulfill it. She hadn’t cooked for him in a while. “Can I go make myself some cereal?” he asked.

  “Um-huh,” she said, surprised. She rubbed at the prickling needles in her legs. “Hey, Jeremy, can you do me a favor?”

  He nodded before even knowing what it was. It made Mila happy and sad at the same time. He was too trusting. It made her want to protect him even more.

  “Can you stop calling me ‘Bean’?” She explained quickly. “I’m just getting too old for it. I want to be called Mila. And if you want, I can stop calling you ‘Nut.’”

  His mouth hung open. Then his eyebrows furrowed. His head shook furiously. “No, you can call me that. But, okay.” He started to walk away then turned back to her. “Don’t get mad if I forget sometimes, okay?”

  “I won’t,” she promised. She tugged gently at his finger. He was getting too old for sappy hugs from her. At least that was one less person calling her “Bean.” But now she had a new problem.

  Stupid JJ. He had to stop always teasing Jeremy like that, getting him all worked up. It wasn’t right. Worse, she had been planning to ask JJ if he thought Daddy would ever send her to live with Aunt Jacqs. It was the only way she would ever get away from the endless drama of the Cove and more importantly, going over to Tai’s. But she couldn’t ask now after promising Jeremy she wasn’t going anywhere. She was back at one, without a plan.

  Chapter

  5

  The only other place, besides home, Mila felt okay being 100 percent herself was La Maison de la Danse. It was a fancy name for a single room in the rec center walled with mirrors, with a dance bar and an MP3 player dock. The studio was the brainchild of a few parents—her dad one of them—determined to show the Cove’s young girls that there was more to dancing than booty popping and gyrating. When it started, there had been twenty girls. Now it was down to nine. The older girls had lost interest when they realized La May didn’t teach “video” dancing.

  Mila had picked up ballet moves quickly as though someone had taught her in a dream, and she’d awakened at La May ready to go. Jazz was a different story. All the shaking and shimmying made her feel like everybody was staring at her. Which was why Tai liked it, in Mila’s opinion. They had only been dancing for two years. It was a fact she was both proud and ashamed of. Proud because Mademoiselle Remy made it clear that for only two years, Mila was very good. Ashamed because she felt like a baby giraffe taking its first steps whenever Mademoiselle pushed her to do something that any other thirteen-year-old dancer would do effortlessly. But it only made her work harder.

  She couldn’t wait for dance to start. She loved it. And she kept that to herself, thank you very much. She had never admitted that dancing made her feel like she was breathing easier, even to her dad, because he had a habit of taking any small thing her and her brothers liked and blowing it up.

  One year she asked to run track. Sprinting looked fun. Only from a distance, as it turned out. But her dad got so excited he bought Mila a pair of sixty-dollar running shoes. He had never
bought them any one thing that cost that much. Even her brothers’ basketball shoes. Track was cool until her first meet. The thing lasted six hours under the blazing sun and she was only in two events, one at the beginning of the meet, the other at the end. It was instant hate but she didn’t have the heart to tell her dad. She finished the season hoping to never sign up again. Then he mentioned coaching the team the next year, forcing her to admit the truth. Cinny ended up sporting the purple and black track shoes for fashion. So it wasn’t a total loss.

  The prospect of returning to class made her feel like doing pirouettes. She weeded out her dingy, holey, or too-small leotards and tights and texted Mo—the only other person she knew who loved dance as much.

  JahMeeLah: can’t believe how many leos I have. Six so far . . . that fit.

  Mo’Betta: no more cakes?

  JahMeeLah:

  The stupid nickname made her smile. Even if it hadn’t been funny at the time she got it.

  After her first year in dance she’d grown three inches, and by the time classes started in August every single leo rode up her butt. It was so embarrassing. Tai had called her “Cakes” for a week. No way she was letting that happen this year.

  Mo’Betta: what r u doing for the jazz part of the TAG audition?

  Mila sat on her bed with a thump. She’d barely given the new talented and gifted program a thought. Track had been the first time she’d tried out for anything. But it wasn’t like anybody got cut. Everybody got at least one event. She assumed TAG would be the same. Wouldn’t they all get placed somewhere just for trying out?

  Now Mo’s text made her doubt that. And she couldn’t ask any questions because her dad had been on the committee that reviewed the program and recommended it to the school board. Nobody believed that Mila didn’t know every single detail. Luckily Mo talked on, so she wouldn’t have to admit how little she knew.