I raised my chin. “Then I guess Howard and Mount Holyoke go back on my list.”
“What? That’s two schools I can’t go to.”
“You don’t have to be Black to go to an HBCU.”
Alec gave me a look.
“What? It’s true. And anyway, I’m Black and a woman, so, yes. I get two schools catered to me to make up for that racist mess you can’t let go of.”
“Maybe we should talk about this another time,” he said. “When we’re not so…”
So what? Sure of what we wanted? Alec knew as well as I did that I’d never be okay with him applying there. And I knew he’d never have the nerve or desire to apply to an HBCU. The conversation was over, whether or not we wanted to admit it.
Next to me, Duke guffaws, bringing me back to the present. The backed-up traffic around us, the drumsticks resting on his lap, and his smell filling my car. Not a bad smell, but it’s just…him. A soap or deodorant I don’t know. Different from Alec.
“What are you looking at?” I ask, glad to take my mind away from my boyfriend.
“Do you know this internet cat?”
My whole body tenses. “Aren’t there, like, a million internet cats?”
“I don’t even like cats and I know this one. Her name is Eartha Kitty and she’s…Well, I don’t really know what she’s famous for. But my sister is obsessed with her and keeps sending me posts.” He shakes his head, holding out his phone. “I mean, how ridiculous is this? Who takes the time to do all these photo shoots with a cat?”
Thank god for stalled traffic because I’m pretty sure I’d crash my car otherwise, with him shoving a picture of Selma in my face.
“Totally ridiculous,” I say, plastering on a smile. And trying not to look at the number of likes the picture has amassed since I posted. “Do you have any pets?”
“Nah, my dad was allergic, and Ma isn’t really an animal person.”
“What? I thought it was, like, mandatory for white people to like dogs.”
I wait for his laugh, but when the silence stretches, I look over. He’s frowning.
“What?”
“That’s kinda low-hanging fruit.”
“Joking about white people and dogs?”
“Yeah, it’s like the same as joking about white people not seasoning their food. It’s kinda tired, you know? And weren’t you the one who didn’t want me to judge your boyfriend because he’s white?”
“Are you serious?” Now I’m frowning, too. “It was a general joke. Not like I was actually picking on your mom.”
“But you were, kinda.”
And, by extension, that means I’m picking on him, too. Half of him.
I sigh. “Fine. Sorry. But please don’t tell me Black people can be racist against white people. I’m not up for that right now.”
“O-kay, but only if you promise not to school me on power structures and the difference between prejudice and racism.”
I press my lips together, put my foot on the gas, and decide that doesn’t even warrant a response. Even if that’s exactly what I was about to do.
We drive the rest of the way to the elementary school in silence.
ALL RIGHT, MAYBE I CAME AT HER A LITTLE WRONG.
Not gonna lie, I do get kinda hot when it feels like people are talking shit about Ma. It’s like they think her being white wipes out the fact that she’s still my mom.
But I don’t really think that’s what Marva was doing, even before I said what I said. Maybe I wanted to get her back for thinking I was judging her dude because he’s white. And anyway, white, Black, whatever—what kind of dude doesn’t get how dope she is? She’s…a lot, but not in a bad way. She cares about things the way most people don’t. Or are too embarrassed to show. Which is funny, because in the non-grossest way possible, she kinda reminds me of Ma.
We roll up in front of Flores Hills Elementary.
Ma.
My heart bangs against my rib cage like it’s hitting a snare drum.
“Ready?” Marva says when she shuts off the car, her door already open.
“Not really.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare try to tell me you’re not voting now either.”
I bust out laughing. “No, but I totally would’ve if I’d thought of it first.”
“Oh my god,” she huffs as she gets out and starts walking toward the school.
But I know I saw a flash of a smile in her eyes.
The first time I went back to my elementary after I’d moved on to middle school, I couldn’t believe how tiny it looked. Like the halls were too small and the ceilings were too low, and even the doors didn’t look wide enough for me to fit through. I didn’t go to Flores Hills Elementary, but it looks small as hell.
As we pass by the office, I see a couple of kids sitting on chairs across from the secretary’s desk. They’re so little their feet don’t even touch the floor.
Marva walks fast to the parent center. I wonder if it’s because she’s ready for me to vote so she can get the hell away from me or if she can’t wait to finish up with this so she can go drive people to the polls, like she was talking about. I tell myself it doesn’t really matter if it’s the first one. We’re not friends—just associates, like Anthony would say. Never seen her before in my life, probably won’t see her again after today.
But now that I know her…Well. I guess you could say I don’t want to un-know her.
“Duke?”
My head snaps over at the sound of my name. Man, this school really is too small.
Ms. Amster pulls me into a hug before I can say anything. Except she’s so much shorter than me that she’s hugging my waist, so I just stand there kind of patting her back like a weirdo until she lets go. I see Marva watching from the corner of my eye, but I don’t even think about looking at her.
“What are you doing here? Your mother will be so glad to see you!” Ms. Amster is the music teacher, and also my mom’s best friend here in Flores Hills. She’s cool, I guess, but she’s the last person I want to see right now.
“Uh, actually, I’m not here to talk to her,” I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “This is where I vote.”
Her eyes move from my face to a point behind me, then to her hands and the floor. I want to ask her what she’s looking at. Finally, she catches my eye again and says, “You’re missing school for that?”
“It’s a long story.”
Marva clears her throat. It’s small, but it digs right into my ear like a siren.
“But, uh.” I scratch my arm. “Don’t you think voting is a good reason to miss a couple of classes? It’s kind of a big day.”
Oh boy. Why’d I have to say a couple of classes? Ms. Amster eyes me in a way that I know means she’s going to run right to Ma and tell her I’m here.
“Well, I’d better get going. Good to see you, Duke,” she says before she heads toward the office. Her heels click a rhythm on the floor as she walks away. Sounds like the countdown to my inevitable lecture from Ma.
When I finally look over at Marva, she’s smiling.