I'm Not Dying with You Tonight

by Kimberly Jones

“Listen, this big-top circus crew might look shady, but don’t worry,” I say. “They’re all soft as gummy bears. That one over there—the big guy? Look at his arm when we get up close. He got a Hufflepuff tattoo.” She snorts. “Seriously?” “You’ll see.” I smile.

“Are you guys close?” she asks. “I wouldn’t say that, but he’s known me my whole life. His mom is tight with my pops. We grew up in the same church.” “She was your pops’s sister?” “No.” “Oh. But then, how are you related?” “We’re not.” “Oh. Sorry. I thought—” she hesitates. “You called him your cousin.” “Yeah, he’s my play cousin.” “Play cousin? What’s that?” How am I gonna explain that to this girl? “People just be havin’ play cousins where I’m from.” After I say that, I realize it ain’t quite right. Marcus is more than that. His mom and Pops ain’t blood, but they are family, and that means me and Marcus is too. Why else would I let him call me NaNa when only him and LaShunda get that privilege? “We got a bond. I guess that does make us close.”

My dad’s place is next. I run past the alley between the pharmacy and his store, glancing briefly into it. Normally, my dad parks his truck there, but of course, he’s at the cabin. His truck isn’t there. A faded-blue sedan sits in that spot instead, and all I can think is how annoyed my dad gets when someone takes his space. If he were here, he’d have that old beater towed in a hot minute. And then, I hear the burglar alarm yelping futilely.

She looks crazy to me—reminds me of that meme of the little dog sitting in the burning house saying, “This is fine.”

This is the original comic strip: http://gunshowcomic.com/648

I don’t know how he feels. It never occurred to me to ask. Lena’s right—I haven’t tried to understand this place at all. The shout that had been winding up inside me dies.