Needy Little Things(31)
He presses his lips together and moves on. “You bringing Malcolm down again this summer? If so, I might really see about getting that rental cleaned up.”
“Actually, that’s a project I wouldn’t mind helping with.” I think about my conversation with Philly before things got weird and figure it’s time I’m straight with at least one of my parents about what I want to do with my life. “I’ve been thinking I might like to be a contractor or something one day.”
“Contractor, huh? I can see you in a hard hat. What’s Mom think about it?”
“She wants me to enroll in one of the local community colleges in the fall and transfer to a bigger school later. But I don’t think all that is for me. I’ll be lucky to make it out of high school.” With Tessa, and Casey, and now Deja, I can’t say things like that without hearing another, darker, meaning.
“Have your grades gotten that bad? Is it old Izzy the Intuition giving you trouble?” Izzy the Intuition is what he calls my ability.
“Yeah, that’s a big part of it. It’s hard to stay focused.”
He frowns. He gets really down on himself sometimes. Like he was supposed to anticipate that I’d be like Grandma and unearth some useful clue about how to deal with it before she passed. But I don’t need all that from him. I just need him to answer the phone when I call, and he always does.
“Put your mother on. Trade school is an option more of you young folks should consider. Little debt. Good job security. Maybe I can warm her up to the idea. Lots of opportunities down here for you to get some hands-on experience.”
“Mama’s not feeling too good. She took the night off to get some rest.” I glance at Jojo, then back at Dad, hoping he’ll pick up what I’m putting down without me having to be too direct.
He nods. “I’ll give her a call later on.”
“What’s new down there?” I ask, eager to pull the conversation in a different direction. “How’s Auntie Cheryl?”
“Good, good. Everybody’s doing well. Cheryl’s got her hands full with your little cousins.” He snaps his fingers. “You know who’s back in town?”
“Who?” I ask, not expecting to recognize the name. He stays talking about people I met once when I was three, like I’m supposed to remember who they are.
“Fitzgerald Davis. Kenny’s boy. He’s taking a little break from college.”
I can’t resist the grin that springs to my face. “Fitz?”
Dad grimaces. “Yeah, but don’t smile so hard. He was too old for you when you were eleven and he’s too old for you now.”
I scrunch up my nose. “First of all, he’s only a year and a half older than me. Second, ain’t nobody trying to date him, Daddy. He’s my friend.” His sister Ella, on the other hand, was my first crush.
“Good, because he’s fixing to propose to his high school sweetheart. What’s her name—Crystelle.”
I never met her, but I heard stories. “Didn’t she cheat on him and dump him at their prom?”
“Hell if I know. I don’t be in young folks’ business like that. Ran into him and his buddy Jed at the grocery store. Told him I’d tell you he said hello.”
Fitz is what I like to call a seasonal friend. The only communication we have between the months of September and May is a check-in via text around Christmastime. When I’d asked Fitz what he wanted for Christmas, he’d said he wanted to be happy. I assumed that meant he was still struggling with the breakup, and maybe I should have asked, but I guess they worked it out. Or Dad’s got something mixed up. Especially if Fitz is hanging around Jed. He couldn’t stand Crystelle and it almost ruined their friendship.
“Hey, Dad, did you know Sariyah’s friend Deja is missing?” Josiah asks, casual as ever.
He runs his hand over his beard. “Yes, son. I did.”
“Did Sariyah tell you, or did you hear it on the news?”
“Your mother told me first. Then your sister. Hasn’t made the news down here yet.”
I frown. “Of course it hasn’t.”
“Why do you say that?” Jojo asks. “Everybody’s talking about Deja. Everybody! Her pictures are all over the neighborhood. Her mama was on TV today!”
Dad catches my eye, silently telling me that Josiah is too young. Too young to understand that the people talking about Deja in our neighborhood will never have the same reach as the people who talked about Casey in hers.
“That’s good, Josiah. You keep talking until we find her,” Dad says to him. “And you.” He pauses until I look at the screen. “You know how it is. You know how things go. Email the information and a copy of the flyer, and I’ll spread word down here.”
Chefly’s a small, close-knit, mostly Black town. The people there are good for gathering behind things like this. But Dad will need help. It might be time to upgrade my seasonal friend to a full-timer.
CHAPTER 13
Tuesday morning I lie in bed and draft a DM to Afro Alt. I include a few pictures of Deja from the festival, along with a strong plea to share. After that I get to work creating social media posts about the rally. I tag them all with #FindDeja, desperately hoping I’ll have to update them later to announce that she’s back home, and the rally has been canceled. My notifications pile up right away. I’m clearing them when my door smacks against the doorstop with a loud thwong. I sit up just enough to see Josiah flying through the air, lips curved into the evilest grin. I open my mouth to scream, but the weight of his body landing on my chest knocks the air out of me before I can get it out. He laughs hysterically as I attempt to fight my way from beneath the blankets. He tries to run for it when I break free, but I grab his ankle and tickle the bottom of his foot. It’s a dangerous move. He kicks at me violently, but I dip and dodge and don’t let up until he hollers for mercy.