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I’m so mad. And when I get this mad, I cry. And if I let it get too far, I ugly cry. It’s truly, truly unfortunate.
THIS IS SO REAL GIRL
He nods, looking me over like he’s trying to commit me to memory.
I love when authors write this.
“Oh. Is she yo’ girl?” he asks, pointing his thumb at me. Carter looks at me. “Yeah, that’s my girl.”
HEHEHEHE
“Quinn, you’ve always been beautiful. You know that.”
Screaming
He smiles, squeezing my calf.
Screaming
Then it’s just us. He says, “For the record, I think all that you’ve said and done has been perfect,” and walks past me to the doorway. “Wouldn’t hurt if you said and did a little more.”
Yeah. Or, I could call you, and you could tell me right now. My pulse quickens. Call? As in talk with our voices?
She's real.
Then, reading my mind, he asks, “What are you wearing?”
SCREAMING
“You agree? So, what does that mean? What are you wearing, Jackson?”
Stop I love this
“That’s not the worst part. After they realized I was there, Destany, my best friend, said to them, ‘Don’t worry about Quinn. She’s practically white anyway.’”
Hell tf no
It still stings, reliving that moment, because just when I thought Destany would stand up for me, she dismissed me and my feelings. I wasn’t allowed to be offended. She assumed I wasn’t.
)):
Then, “Quinn,” he says in a breath, like an afterthought, like my name had been sitting on his tongue, and he didn’t even realize he’d let it roll off.
Carter texts back: Holy shit. What have you done to me?
I don’t respond, because what are you supposed to say when someone apologizes to you?
“Be here with me,” he says. Then he smiles and kisses my temple.
He's so supportive and caring.
“Home is not a place. Home is in here.” She pats her hand over her heart. She says, “Don’t you fear, I’m right here.”
I wasted so much time living in fear that I thought I was comfortable, but I was writhing in a cage that I didn’t know existed, making lists of all my worries with no intent to do anything about them.
Hit
She doesn’t understand that she can’t talk about Black people without talking about me too. She doesn’t understand that using the N-word in any context is never a joke. Not for me, it isn’t.
We turn in our papers, then Carter walks me to my car in silence. The silence between us is starting to feel comfortable. He opens my back door. I toss my stuff in the back seat. Then he opens the driver’s-side door, but I don’t get in.
I love that he doesn't press or yell.
Looking over his shoulder, he says, “Bye, Queen.”
Ughhhhhhh love
Maybe the only thing I need to remember is my name, who I love, and what I love about life. That’s all Hattie remembers. Maybe that’s all that matters.
I get to school and spot Carter waiting for me in the parking lot.
When hE waITS
REASONS I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU
UgGGGHHHHHH LOVE
After putting my backpack in, he opens the driver’s-side door for me.
What a gentleman
“Definitely call me tonight. Okay?” He nods, examining my face. “I will.” “And make sure you have time, because I have a lot to say.” He smiles, licking his lips. “Bring it. I got all the time in the world for you.”
Love
I turn my back to him, then look again over my shoulder. He’s looking back at me, too.
“What is your type?” “You.” He lets that word stir me up. Then he says, “Obviously.”
“I want you to be able to celebrate our differences. I need you to be aware that our differences will get us different outcomes in life. And I need you to know that just because I don’t fit into your stereotypes, that doesn’t mean I’m any less Black.”
Then he meets my gaze. “Queen Jackson, I am not worthy.”
I AM NOT WORTHY PLSSSS.
He holds both of my hands in his, making a sort of bridge between us. “I’m sorry, Quinn, for hurting you.”
When he apOLOGIZES UFFHJEKSJX
Kissing Carter feels like I’m right where I need to be. Like everything happened just so that I could end up here, free of lies and fear and guilt, with friends who understand and respect me, and a boy who isn’t perfect, but who’s patient and whose light shines over all my darkness. Like finally.
