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“All I know is sometimes, if there’s too many white folks … I get nervous.”
“Actually, it’s Moll—
when girls know what they want and how they’re going to get it, they’re seen as cocky. But guys who know what they want? They’re confident or strong.
Can football players even be gay?
“Jamie, football players can be gay and drama kids can be straight. Don’t be that straight white guy who sticks his foot in his mouth,”
“Besides, Scotty coul...
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she loves her Bible
They won’t let you deal for them like before.”
I can’t have my brothers targeted.”
“I’m tired of you people thinking you can get away with this shit. Don’t come back here, you hear me?”
Someone must’ve put the licorice in my pocket.
“Well, we don’t want Chiamaka near those spare materials either—you know, since they’re so scarce. Wouldn’t want those to go missing too,”
He wipes his mouth. “Why’s there water in your hair?” I snort. “It’s coconut oil.”
Now it’s this: Jack hating me for something I can’t change. The both of us wishing things could go back to the way they were before I said those words.
I have to stop myself from apologizing—because what would I even be sorry for? Existing too loud?
mismatched plates.
She’s curled up in the plush black-and-white cinema seat, her neck elongated, rosy cheeks, long lashes, really pink lips—
Our fingers brush together and I release the blanket quickly.
My heartbeat switches from faint to strong and present.
they knew that they could never look down on me.
Jamie’s—1717.
It’s someone who really hates me, Devon, and Scotty.
For someone so big on No homo, he’s really making me wonder
Maybe you don’t know me that well.
Why is Belle acting like she suddenly cares about me?
can’t help but stare at her. Belle’s eyes burn angrily, as though Aces is attacking her and not me.
“I’m really good at picking locks. I learned one year at camp,”
“I’d love to talk,” I say as his arms slip around my waist, brushing over the bruises on my hip
My gaze drifts past Jamie, landing on Belle, sitting at one of the tables nearby. Her hair is falling over the side of her face while her chin rests on her manicured hand, face flushed. I notice she’s gripping the pencil so hard her knuckles are white.
I can’t help but notice his Spider-Man pajama bottoms. My brothers both own similar pairs.
There’s something about Terrell that feels so familiar.
He nods. “I remember you played the piano.”
We also kissed once, I guess, and … It was my first kiss, and you don’t really forget those
“Memory is weird like that,” he says again.
Maybe I don’t know myself like I thought I did.
Memory is weird like that.
Terrell’s face lights up as he digs into his hoodie for his phone.
He starts walking backward, and I watch him.
I shake my head, knowing we don’t have any frozen food bags in the freezer this week.