So Done

by Paula Chase

  A day really did make a difference.

  It was one of those things her dad said to them whenever one of them didn’t get their way. Sometimes he acted like he was giving them some kind of prize by letting them be mad or pout as he predicted, “You’ll be all right tomorrow. Watch what a difference a day makes.”

  JJ usually outright disagreed with their dad. Mila always kept quiet. She couldn’t remember the last time any of them had ever changed their dad’s mind once it was made up. Besides, he was usually right.

  In twenty-four hours she’d gone from feeling hopeless to believing that if she kept to her new plan, everything would work out—she wouldn’t go over to Tai’s when Mr. Bryant was home. She almost laughed at the simplicity of the plan. Like, duh!

  She still wasn’t totally sure how she was going to find out if Mr. Bryant was home every single time, or if she’d still go over as long as Ms. Sophia was there. She was leaning toward yes on that second one. But like her dad always said—cross that road when you get to it.

  There was also the fact Tai could beat you down with every reason in the book to get you to do things her way. But it had worked with Operation Stop Calling Me That and faster than Mila had expected.

  She wasn’t blind. It was obvious Tai hated having to remember to call her by her real name. Every time she corrected herself, her mouth would purse like she’d tasted a lemon. But it seemed like she was trying and that was a lot coming from Tai. There was no reason Mission Stick Up for Yourself couldn’t work, too.

  If anybody knew about all her missions and operations, they’d think she was crazy. Good thing nobody was peeking into her head.

  She sat on her bed, head bopping to the music, swiping the cotton ball over her fingernails. Wearing polish on her nails to dance was like being out of uniform. She might as well show up to ballet in jazz shoes—Mademoiselle would be just as annoyed.

  Tai sat across from her on the desk, her feet on the back of the chair, toes wiggling as she painted them.

  The entire room was smothered in fumes.

  “I can’t believe it but I’m ready for school to start,” Tai said, talking loud instead of turning down the music that was right beside her.

  Mila scrubbed at the stubborn purple stain on her thumb a few more seconds before giving up. Her own feelings about school’s pending start were mixed. She liked school. Not loved but liked. It had a familiar and comfortable rhythm that she understood. More importantly, it left only a few hours a day for things to pop off in the hood. Was she ready? Yes. Was she excited? Not about school, really. But she’d awakened with a new thirst for things to be different, and the only change out there was TAG, which, of course, she had zero control over. But again—she’d cross that road when she got to it.

  “I guess I am, too,” she admitted begrudgingly.

  Tai squinted over at her. “You guess? Shoot, usually you have your notebooks, folders, and everything ready.” She clasped her hands together and fake begged, “Don’t tell me you turning in your teacher’s pet card. Don’t say it.”

  Mila threw a cotton ball. Tai batted at it like it could actually reach her from across her room.

  Tai could joke all she wanted, but she was closer to the truth than she knew. If Mila could help it, this year was going to be about change. It was their last year in middle school; they weren’t kids anymore.

  She tested her theory carefully. “I asked my dad if I could move to the Woods for high school—”

  “I knew it,” Tai declared. Her head shook in disappointment. “I knew you staying over there all summer was just a way to stay in bougie town forever.”

  Mila snapped back. “Calm down, Tai. He said no.” She took a deep breath, hating that she felt like bawling again. She waved her hand in front of her nose, pretending to clear the fumes as she pushed on, trying to sound like none of it mattered. “I’m tired of the Cove. It’s the same thing all the time.” She glanced up. “Don’t you ever wish you could live somewhere else?”

  “Hello, have you met my father?” Tai asked, her laugh fake. “When he home, yeah, I wish I lived anywhere else.” The nail brush hung over her toe. There was something like sympathy in her eyes, then she blinked and it was gone. “But this our last year at Woodbury, girl. We be in high school soon. That’s why I’m excited.”

  “True,” Mila said neutrally.

  The nail polish clacked softly as Tai shook the bottle. “The Cove really ain’t that bad. Why you so pressed to leave?”

  Mila’s mind pictured the answer her mouth would never say: “Your father.”

  She saw Tai’s backyard in her mind. The two of them outside, playing. Laughing. Tai’s father on the step. Shirtless. He was on the phone, eyes staring past them. Or Mila had thought.

  She slammed brakes on the images before they went any further. Even before it happened, there wasn’t any love for Mr. Bryant in her house. Whenever her dad saw him, he went off like Tai’s father’s failures were his fault.

  Grown man still living at home (sort of).

  Irresponsible.

  Lazy.

  Everything that was wrong with the Cove.

  Tai didn’t have much love for her father, but how do you tell your best friend her father is the reason you wish you lived somewhere else?

  The only other answer Mila could come up with wasn’t much better, that getting out of the Cove was normal and staying forever wasn’t. Her and Tai saw that differently, for sure. Shoot, Tai still expected her to come over her house as if nothing had happened that day. Hadn’t she seen what went down?

  Mila was too scared to ask now. Worst, she was afraid if she did, Tai would accuse her of imagining it.

  Her arms goose bumped in the warm room. “I figured he’d send me since he sent Cinny.” She ended the conversation before hurt could crawl into her voice. “I know it’s dumb. Like getting upset when you don’t get what you want for Christmas.”

  It was her turn to fake laugh. She was relieved when Tai ran with it, talking about the year she’d asked for a trip to Disney World and got a gift card to the Disney store. It wasn’t funny at the time, but the memory had them rolling. She gladly switched subjects, relieved to talk about something else.

  “Isn’t it crazy that Chris and Christol came all the way here for TAG? If they really doing cuts, I guess we already know at least two people who gonna make it, huh?”

  Tai shrugged, sullen. “I guess. Still stupid to me. It would be a trip if they didn’t make it.”

  “Nah, I can’t see that. If anybody getting in, it’s them,” Mila said, feeling it in her bones. “Maybe they know something we don’t, like a secret password or something.”

  Tai’s eyes rolled. “Or maybe it’s fixed anyway. To me if they came all this way acting like they have it on lock, it probably is.”

  “I was only joking,” Mila said, confused by Tai’s mood change. She was glad when both their phones vibrated, distracting them.

  Tai read the Mini Chat message first. She sucked her teeth. “Mo trying get us go to the mall with her.”

  Mila hopped off the bed and parked herself on the desk next to Tai. She peeked over her shoulder at the Mini Chat. Mo’s plans were simple: hit the mall that afternoon to window-shop for school and grab some pizza. It sounded perfect to Mila. She grabbed her own phone and poised her fingers to message back.

  “What’s wrong with going to the mall? We not doing anything else today,” Mila said.

  “Mo snap her fingers and we just jump and go?” Tai asked. Her mouth was a stubborn pout. “Besides, Nona said I gotta be back home by four. So—” She typed back: yall gonna have to roll w/o us. Have fun

  “Really?” Mila asked, reading the message in disgust.

  Tai’s face was innocent curiosity. “What?”

  Mila thrust her phone at Tai. “A smiley face? Like you really care if they have fun.”

  Tai snickered with a shrug. “Nobody ever mean the emojis they put. What you want me put, the crying one like I care
we can’t go?”

  We. The word felt like a handcuff.

  Mila tried sounding normal despite her growing irritation. “What if I wanted to go to the mall?”

  “Why you ain’t say something then?” Tai asked.

  Mila sighed, waiting until there was no breath coming out of her nose before answering calmly. “You didn’t give me the chance to. By the time I got my phone, you were texting back.”

  “Okay. But I can’t go to the mall.” She folded her arms. “See how Mo be causing drama, though. She never asked, she was just all—ay, let’s hit up the mall. If she had asked, then I could have told her I couldn’t go.”

  Mila was ashamed to feel relief that Tai was taking her anger out on Mo. The two of them were constantly trying to be in charge. Some days Mila felt like her and Sheeda needed an award for putting up with their bossy friends. She took the exit Tai gave her and let the argument rest. It wasn’t until much later that she realized Tai had set her up.

  What else could she call it when Tai “suddenly” suggested they head over to her empty house to get her phone charger and not even two minutes after they’d walked through the door, Simp and Roland showed up?

  Set up. All day.

  Mila sat in the living room, mad, one eye on the door. Even though Tai announced that no one was home, Mila couldn’t help feeling Mr. Bryant was going to come down the stairs any second, looking half drowsy, as always. She sat on the floor. Her back was against a velvety rocker chair so she could see the entire room—the front door to her left and the stairs to her right. Eventually, being able to see everything calmed her down. She scrolled through her playlist.

  Roland and Tai were on the sofa. Simp was kneeled behind it, his elbows on the back like he was at an altar ready to pray. His big head hovered between Roland and Tai. His dreads looked like they were trying to squirm down the couch and onto Tai.

  His voice boomed. “Ay, Bean, you playing something today or what?”

  “I got it,” Mila said. She didn’t have the heart to snap at Simp, but that didn’t mean she had to answer to him, either.

  “Go help her, Simp,” Tai said in a sweet voice. “She might even let you if you call her Mila.” Mila fussed Tai out with her eyes, but it only encouraged her. “You better check her before she put on some gray music they listening to in the Woods.”

  The possibility of Mila playing “white” music pushed Simp into action. He walked over, saving the day in his mind, and plopped next to Mila. “Man, don’t nobody want hear that white boy stuff.”

  “I’m good, Simp,” Mila said with practiced patience. But he was on a mission to please Tai.

  “You got that new Whirl?” he asked.

  His arm moved in tiny tics from his wrist until it reached his neck, popping to its own beat. The isolations were precise and clean like there was a slow current of electricity making each part of his arm come alive one second at a time. He was good. Probably good enough to audition for TAG if he could have. He completed his animation by tapping Mila on the shoulder like he was passing the beat on to her. He grinned at her. “Whirl’s new jawns is hot.”

  “Oh my God, jawns is not hot,” Tai said. Her scorn was real. “You sound so country. Please don’t use that word again.”

  Simp withered a little but he returned to snooping over Mila’s shoulder as if Tai hadn’t just reprimanded him like he was a two-year-old. “So you got it?” His breath was warm on her neck.

  Mila resisted the urge to wipe off his spittle. She shook her head no, then clicked “Walls Bangin” to get some music on. As it thumped from the speakers, she lowered her voice, so only Simp could hear. “Why do you let Tai talk to you any kind of way, Simp?”

  She had her reasons for letting Tai do stuff. But she didn’t get why other people did. For a second she thought he might put her question on blast, but he laughed, then imitated her casual low talk. “Shorty don’t fade me. Tai all mouth anyway.” He pointed to a song on her screen and raised his voice. “Ay, play that. It look like it might be hittin’.”

  He pushed himself off the floor and went back to his spot behind the couch.

  “That drum line is sway,” Roland said. “Who dat, Bea . . . Mila?”

  Mila smiled. She checked her player. “It’s the new one by the Rowdy Boys.”

  Roland’s eyes grew wide. “The new album out?”

  Mila shook her head. “No. This is an advance copy. You know, so people can review it or whatever.”

  Tai scooted closer to Roland. She pressed her leg against his. “Her Aunt Jacqi work for Mad Shout-out magazine. She be lacing Jamila with new music all the time.”

  “Really, Tai? Jamila?” Mila gave her a raised eyebrow.

  “Now you see how it feels,” Tai said playfully. “But I’m kind of liking how that sounds. I think I’m rolling with the government name from now on.”

  Even if Tai was only joking, the gesture made Mila happy inside like someone had inflated her with helium. She wasn’t used to Tai going along with anything she suggested, but she liked how it felt.

  She lined up more songs, purposely picking several more Rowdy Boys songs. The music had a grip on Roland. His foot stomped out the song’s beat—boom, tap, boom tap tap—his head nodded and his arms tapped at an invisible drum. Dance did the same thing to her.

  “That’s fire right there,” he said. He sat up, legs wide, elbows on his knees, and talked over the music. “Auditions in two days. Y’all ready?”

  “Here we go,” Simp said with a vicious eye roll. “I be glad when these things over, yo.”

  “It’s messed up that you can’t try out, B, but don’t knock my hustle,” Roland said with a sincerity that made Mila envy his honesty. She had never been able to disagree with Tai like that without it turning into an argument.

  Simp put his hand out and slid it across Roland’s. They gripped at the fingers in a shake. “I ain’t hating,” Simp said. He sat himself on the back of the sofa and mimed shooting a ball. “The block gon’ miss you, though. I’mma ball hard for both of us this season.”

  Tai looked from Simp to Roland. “Can’t you still play basketball even if you do TAG?”

  Simp’s lip was lifted in a sneer as he quietly shot his imaginary ball. Mila didn’t know what it was about, but something changed. Roland looked upset. He gave Simp a look, then shook his head. “I don’t know if I can do both. Didn’t you read the paper? It’s a lot of events, field trips, and stuff you gotta do if you get into TAG.”

  “Do Martinez know you might not play?” Tai asked, concern in her voice.

  “I ain’t worried about all that right now,” Roland said, clearly agitated.

  Tai pressed. “I thought y’all signed contracts and everything.”

  “People always dipping and diving trying find out stuff that ain’t their business,” Simp said, scowling, then seemed to realize his sharp tone. “Just saying, there ain’t no contract. But if you was recruited, Tez assuming you staying till high school. He definitely gon’ be low-key pissed if Rollie quit.”

  This time Roland didn’t hold back. He balled his fist and punched Simp in the thigh hard enough for Simp to yowl “ouch.” “Come on, yo, you don’t need put my business out there like that.”

  Simp rubbed at his thigh but remained quiet.

  Mila didn’t think much of it. Hood basketball was competitive. It was why her dad wouldn’t let JJ play for Martinez. He said being that focused on basketball made people forget that there was other stuff more important. She tried to blow away the weird storm cloud.

  “Do you have your drum solo ready for the audition?”

  At the mention of drumming, Roland’s fingers tapped. “Almost. You?”

  “I’m just going to do part of the dance we learned for our recital last year,” Mila said. Mademoiselle’s words about bringing her “A game” replayed. She had practiced once. The reality sent a nervous prick down her back.

  Tai broke in. “I’m not even sure I want to do it now. I hate these
stupid charity programs. It’s just like Girls Up and Brother to Brother. They always trying tell you what to do. How to act.” She frowned. “Nona do that just fine.”

  Simp was quick to agree. “Brother to Brother was wack. I did it for, like, two weeks and was, like . . . get outta here wit’ that.”

  If he had expected Tai to be Team Him, he was disappointed. She elbowed him. “Get off the couch like that. My grandmother would have a fit.”

  “My bad.” He kneeled at the back of the couch and became a giant talking head again. “But for real I’m with Tai. They come up with a new thing every year.” His eyes cut Tai’s way for approval. When she didn’t diss him, he kept on. “If it was for balling that be different.” His wrist flicked as he shot his imaginary ball.

  “I mean I’m doing it,” Tai said, switching sides once more. “I’m just not as pressed as Rollie.”

  A tiny smile broke across both their faces before Roland corrected her. “Going for what you know ain’t the same as being pressed.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Tai said. She laughed hysterically as Roland tickled her.

  Just then, the door crashed open. Mr. Bryant stood just inside the living room, his eyes glazed, taking in the four of them. His body leaned slightly to the left, swaying from an invisible breeze. “Metai, who told you you could have a bunch of hardheads over?” he hollered over the music.

  Mila jumped to her feet. She stood, trapped, eyes skating around the room to see what everyone else would do.

  Simp popped up. He looked at Roland then Tai, like he was waiting for one of them to do the talking. Roland stood up slow, like he didn’t want to make any sudden movements. His hand ran over his shirt, pressing out invisible wrinkles.

  Tai was the only one unfazed. “Nona knows Simp and Rollie,” she said, not bothering to get up.

  Her father’s face darkened. He eyed Simp up and down. “I don’t care if she do know ’em. Ain’t nobody said nothing about you having company.”