Ace of Spades

by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

“You do this to yourself, Devon. You do this all to yourself. We studied, we got into this place, we both had the chance to be normal. To leave middle school habits in middle school—but nah. You come here, and you act as weird as Terrell. You deserve everything coming to you.” Jack moves back. “Have a nice life, Devon,” he spits. Then he leaves. I forget about trying to attempt the piece again, just stay seated on the ground and let my body do what it wants. I don’t hold back; I don’t shove things into corners or boxes. I can’t anymore. I think about Ma and how she’s struggling and how I’m so fucking helpless. How I need to do well and get a job and get a scholarship and get into college. I think about Dre and how he said he loved me, then dumped me, like love doesn’t mean anything. I think about how I love him so much it hurts, and how I can’t make him drop everything for me like I would for him. I think about Jack and how—despite the fact that we’ve been best friends for years, done everything together; despite the fact that I was there for him when he lost his parents, like so many of us do; despite the fact that he told me he’d always have my back when they took my dad away—as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s always hated this part of me. I remember when I first told Jack I liked guys, and the pained expression on his face. I remember the way he handed me his game controller and said he needed to go and check on the burgers in the oven. I remember feeling so s...