Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(10)

“You mean a LSBPB?”

Jennifer breezed past his snark. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Have you ever been unfairly targeted by police officers?”

“Me? Nah, I’ve got a clean record.”

“Clean record,” she repeated, nodding. “Well, you’re one of the lucky ones. Being a Black man in America is a death sentence. I’d love you to volunteer with me sometime. You could connect with the kids far better than I.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Sometimes I feel pointless. All talking points but no real authenticity. Like a white savior.”

Bash squeezed his eyes shut, quietly losing his mind. There was so much he could say to this. But even though he barely knew her, she was his mother. And he didn’t believe in being mean to moms. Or women in general. Or anyone, for that matter.

But Jennifer must’ve read his expression. “Your silence speaks volumes, Bash.”

“What do you mean?”

She huffed out a sigh. “I wish you’d be nicer to me. I’m trying here. There’s no guidebook on how to talk to your almost-adult son who showed up in your life out of the clear blue.” Jennifer’s voice broke, and her lip trembled. But her eyes were suspiciously dry. “Give me grace, my dear son. Give me grace. I’m doing the best I can.”

It was quite a performance. To his left, Clio pretended to applaud.

“Okay, um, please don’t cry. Grace is given,” said Bash, deeply uncomfortable. “Listen, I gotta go. But have a good time, uh, uplifting Philadelphia’s disadvantaged youth.”

She beamed. All better. “Thank you. Goodbye!”

Bash dropped his phone in the pocket of his old-man pants. Jennifer was so melodramatic. So self-centered. And unable to see the irony of working with abandoned children—when she’d abandoned one of her own.

Bash felt the pull of darkness, of depression, on the outskirts of his brain. It pierced through the haze of his weed high, threatening to overtake him.

Blankly, he stared across the street at the park entrance. Prospect Park was a sprawling Brooklyn oasis with a zoo, lakes, a skating rink, playgrounds, concert stages, and tons of places to just… disappear. (It was like Central Park’s less-crowded cousin.) And he had an idea.

“Wanna go for a jog?” asked Bash.

Clio looked at him like he was nuts. “You have an apartment full of people upstairs.”

“I need to get outta here,” he said.





Chapter 5


I need to get outta here, thought Audre.

The conversation with her dad had left her shell-shocked. Both of her families had replaced her with a newer model. A baby sister in Brooklyn, a baby brother in California. And now her summer was ruined.

Too stunned to cry, she zombie-walked back through the apartment, mumbling something to Eva and Shane about running an errand. And then she walked out the door.

It was that magical hour right before the sun set on the city. There was a zingy buzz in the air and the block was bustling with foot traffic from cafés and shops. Summer was here. But Audre was miserable. Aimlessly, she just followed one brownstone-lined street after another—until she reached the Prospect Park entrance.

Suddenly, Audre knew exactly where to go.

Inside the park, she wove through a volleyball game and some kid’s sixth birthday party until she found her favorite spot—an old, gnarled tree set up on a small hill. Shoulders slumped in defeat, she sat down, hard, in the grass. For a while, she contorted her face and squeezed her eyes shut. Crying would’ve been a relief, but for some reason, the tears wouldn’t come. Maybe she was in emotional shock.

She’d be stuck in Brooklyn all summer. Audre had never spent the summer in Brooklyn. What was that even like? Most of her Cheshire friends would be traveling, or “summering” at their fancy Hamptons houses (as Eva had once told Audre, her school tuition was their Hamptons house). And what about her summer job in Malibu? She’d volunteered sixty hours at a bleak suicide call center to gain the experience needed to land that gig!

And forget about her book. There was no way she could finish her manuscript by the end of summer. How could she, living in the wilds of that apartment?

Surely, Eva and Shane didn’t want her here. She’d be an afterthought… an annoyance who was supposed to leave for the summer. To make room for the real family.

No one wanted her in Dadifornia, either.

Both of Audre’s families had replaced her. She didn’t belong anywhere.





The sun was finally starting to set. Feeling wrung-out, she leaned her head back against the tree and tried to just zone out. Life was happening all around her. Dads throwing Frisbees with toddlers, kids climbing trees. Tweens shooting TikToks. Dogs frolicking. Lovers reclining on Mexican serape blankets. And Audre was on the outside of it all. It was like that at the party, too. Always watching, assessing, observing—rarely joining in. But that required spontaneity, didn’t it? Audre wasn’t a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants girl. She was a planner.

That’s the thing, though. She’d had a plan for her summer. And now it had gone awry, and she didn’t know what the hell to do with herself.

Don’t think about the disappointment, she thought. Eye on the prize. Just write. If Eva and Shane can write in that house, you can, too.