Notes

“Come on, Mel. Do something.” Jada stares at me like I’m the one who should be doing the work here—like I’m the one who actually has a clue on what’s going on in class. I stare right back and keep rolling my pencil back at forth across the desk like it’s dough. The sharp curves puncture my palms and feel good in my hands.

“You’re the smart one,” She says.

“I’m not a mathematician, go look for a calculator and type in the numbers.”

“M-e-e-el… ” She drags out my name as if saying it longer will get me to see things her way.

Jada sinks lower into the chair. Her black skirt lifting slightly revealing tender skin. I guess the view would have been nice, considering I was gay.

She gave herself a minute to compose herself and slides back up so that she was sitting properly. “Remind me again why we are friends.” Jada pats her scalp lightly reminding me of the time when I asked her why she pats her head instead of itching. She said it was because sometimes her fingers can’t find the spot where it’s irritated and instead pats her head to soothe the itch. But after that, she told me never to mention it again.

Two minutes later, I mentioned it.

Then she struck me.

I deserved that.

“Let me stay the night,” She says. “We can catfish people on Instagram.” She brushes her fingers through her perfect ebony curls and smoothes through the knots. “So?”

“Alright.”