On the Come Up

by Angie Thomas

I mean, it’s one thing to wanna do something. It’s another to think it’s possible.

She props her foot on the car bumper. “High school ain’t the end or the beginning. It ain’t even in the middle. You ’bout to do big things, whether they see it or not. I see it. Everybody last night saw it. Long as you see it, that’s all that matters.” Sometimes she’s my personal Yoda. If Yoda was a woman and had a gold grill. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know who Yoda is. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Damn, Bri. He talked to you like a human being, now all of a sudden you’re thirsty for him? What kind of heterosexual bullshit is that?”

I’m more of a “yes, people exist, but that doesn’t mean I need to talk to them” person.

“You shouldn’t have to,” I say. “But I want to.” That makes this harder. Having to is a responsibility. Wanting to is love.