Aminah put the bottle of rosé between her legs and twisted it open to pour herself a glass. “Shame is a powerful tool. Anyway, people are just confused because you disappeared. It just doesn’t seem like you.”
Chioma shrugged. “Maybe she just needed to align herself.”
Aminah snorted. “If aligning herself was only running out the room to get pizza from the door.”
Something was bothering Aminah, I could tell; her chuckle was soft and sad, but before I could press, Shanti interjected with a point of the tube of eyeliner that she’d procured. It was then I realized that she was examining every piece of makeup I owned before tossing those she deemed unacceptable into my wastebin.
“There are some dickheads, but I think mostly people just wanna know what’s going on. We’ll all be pissed if Zit’s fuckery actually does manage to affect the election and permanently fuck with Brown Sugar’s ratings, but I don’t think it will. Before this, our campaign was going great, and the other candidates are really putting the work in with their social media campaigns, which is good for us because it means legitimate competition and enthusiasm for things to change. Also, I feel like the whole Blackwell setup had shifted. Like, you get to uni and you just gravitate to the people who are most like you on paper, right? But I’m more than just bundles and perfect brows.”
I laughed. “Your brows really are perfect though.”
“Thanks, babes. I’ll do a tutorial just for you.” Shanti took a sip of her wine as I tried to figure out the exact ratio of insult to kindness. I figured it was exactly equal. Equal meanness and kindness tipped friendship into sisterhood.
“But seriously,” Shanti continued, “you enter into these groups and they become cemented and you feel like you can’t leave them, and then you’re hanging out with people who you don’t even really like.”
Chioma shrugged. “Honestly I really don’t vibe with a lot of the vegan girls; one time I switched to regular deodorant because the natural shit made me smell like . . . well, shit, and they acted like I was single-handedly murdering the planet. Also, they’re not that fun. I realized that I have a lot more fun hanging with you lot. I love you guys.”
I smiled. “I love you too.” My smile faded and I exchanged a loaded look with Aminah that she instantly translated. She gravely nodded her agreement. “Which is why I have to tell you guys something.”
Shanti quirked a brow and Chioma froze. I inhaled deeply and proceeded to tell them the real origins of Malakai and me. When I was finally done, Shanti and Chioma stared at me in blank confusion while Aminah sipped her wine in a rare moment of silence.
“Um. Did you guys hear me?”
“We heard you,” Shanti said, with the eerie grin.
Chioma shrugged. “Yeah, babe. You and Malakai were in a fake relationship to help you boost ratings for Brown Sugar to help your summer program application in exchange for you collaborating with him on his film—”
“But then you were actually in a ting,” Shanti finished, with a glint in her eye.
“Uh, right. And I didn’t mean to lie to you guys, and I didn’t expect to become such good friends with you and—”
“Lie to us?” Shanti smirked wider. I repressed a shiver. “Oh, honey. Thank God you’re pretty.” She shot a look at Aminah. “Does she genuinely think she was in a fake relationship this entire time?”
Aminah released a confusing cackle. “Babe, I know. It’s mad.”
Chioma snorted and her hand flew to her mouth, her clinking bracelets and bangles adding percussion to Summer Walker’s crooning.
My brows furrowed. There was a joke being told that I wasn’t in on. “Know what?”
Aminah continued as if I hadn’t spoken, waving a manicured hand in the air, “She’ll come to it eventually.”
I blinked. “Okay, I have no idea what you guys are talking about but I’m trying to apologize.”
Shanti swatched lipstick at the back of her hand. “Babygirl, it’s fine. Thanks for telling us. I get why you didn’t, though.”
Chioma smiled. “Right. You didn’t know we’d become gang. We know you, sis. It wasn’t like, malicious.”
Shanti shrugged as she tossed a nail polish bottle. My relief at their grace was strong enough to refrain from pointing out that I loved that color. “We still love you or whatever.”
My heart filled with warmth, the comfort of being seen and known displacing anxiety. “You guys are pretty fucking amazing.”