“You must have a considerable amount of upper-body strength,” Nena added. “You can’t just twist it like you see in movies. More of a one-two-three combination and a lot of luck.”
Georgia’s gulp was audible, and five whole seconds passed before she could speak again.
Nena scanned their surroundings. What was keeping Georgia’s father? Most of the students had dispersed. The car riders’ line had thinned, and a group of four girls was headed Georgia’s way. Nena made ready to leave; she’d kept Georgia from her friends long enough.
Georgia squinted against the sunlight. “Anyone ever told you, you kind of look like Yetide Badaki from American Gods? Maybe Lashana Lynch? She’s the new 007, you know. Was in Captain Marvel too. Love her.”
Nena frowned. The girls were nearly upon them. “You watch a lot of TV.”
“What else is there to do?” Georgia countered. “You sort of sound like her too.”
Nena’s lips pursed. “Because all British people sound alike?” She rather enjoyed watching Georgia squirm.
“No.” Georgia’s hand shot out, grasping Nena’s wrist, to both of their surprise. Nena looked down at the light-pink polished fingernails. The last person who’d touched her without invite was no longer of this world. Gently, she twisted her hand from Georgia’s grip.
“I-I just mean you sounded like there was something else too.”
Nena nodded slowly. “The ‘something else’ is my Ghanaian accent. I also come from around London.” Why was she telling Georgia this? It was like Nena was trying to impress her.
“I get that. My mom was Haitian Cuban, and Dad’s African and Haitian, although I’m not sure where in Africa. It’s down the line.”
Nena didn’t respond. She wasn’t looking at Georgia, her attention hijacked by the arrival of the quartet. She straightened, palming her key fob so she could really leave this time. One chattering teen was enough for one day. Five was a nightmare.
Georgia turned to where Nena gazed and let out a groan. “Great. Sasha.”
The first girl, Nena assumed, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, all-American girl who led the pack with the other three in tow. And from the way dread covered Georgia’s face like a death shroud, Nena could tell this Sasha was unwelcomed. The vibe emanating from her rubbed Nena the wrong way as well.
“Georgie, my driver’s here,” Sasha started, stopping nearly between them, forcing her way into the center of attention.
Right, kids here could afford fancy drivers, not Lyft or Uber, to drive them wherever they wanted to go.
Sasha asked, “Want a ride?”
Georgia pursed her lips. “My dad will be here soon.”
“Speaking of, what’s it like for your dad to have brains splattered all over his face?” Sasha asked, widening her sparkling blue eyes in faux concern. “Freaky, right? He’s okay?”
Nena didn’t like the way unease gnawed around her edges at the mention of the shooting.
Georgia’s tone grew uncomfortable and her face shuttered. “He’s good.”
“What happened with Georgia’s dad?” A second girl, Asian, looked alarmed. Her concern for Georgia, Nena noted, was genuine. Georgia should go home with this one, not the fake Barbie.
Sasha turned to her friends. “Apparently, her dad was, like, right next to the guy who got his head blown off, Kit.”
Georgia mumbled, looking down, “Wasn’t quite like that.”
Except it kind of was. Only Nena wasn’t going to share that with the group.
The one called Kit asked, “Is he okay?” She reached out to touch Georgia’s shoulder. Nena watched Georgia seem to melt at Kit’s touch, the authenticity cutting through her defensiveness.
Georgia nodded. “Yeah.”
The anguish on Georgia’s face made Nena uncomfortable. Knowing she was the cause of the trauma both Georgia and her father were going through brought on spasms of guilt. Another new feeling Nena had never had before and didn’t care for at all. She never thought twice about a mark or a kill.
Nena took a step to leave when the one called Sasha spoke. “’Kay, we’re out then. Catch you later, Curious George.”
There was a slight breeze in the air, and yet it was as if they’d been sucked into a vacuum. Nena, having experience with all sorts, expected insecure people like this girl to make other people feel as bad as they did. She let their insecurities roll off her back like beads of water, but she caught how Georgia dipped her head, shame covering her face like a mask. Rage bubbled up within Nena, a protective type she wanted to blanket over Georgia so she’d never have to feel like she was less than again. Nena knew that feeling, that loss of self-worth, the inability to call someone out for speaking untowardly. She knew how it felt to be at the mercy of others. And there was no way she’d let it happen here when she could put an end to it, unlike she’d been able to do before.