Which was why I said to Lysha, “I’m not wearing anything to the party on Saturday.”
Nile laughed. “So you’re going naked?”
Rianne squared her elbow in his gut and I rolled my eyes. Since he started dating Rianne, our relationship had mutated into a weird, tentative frenemyship. I thought he wasn’t good enough for my girl and he thought I was stush. He insisted that my mum being sick had nothing to do with my stushness, that I was like that before （although this hadn’t previously stopped him from trying it on with me） and therefore this absolved him of being an insensitive prick who called a girl dealing with a sick parent stush.
I levelled a cool gaze at him. “Yeah, Nile. I’m going naked. Idiot.”
Rianne threw Nile a stern look before turning back to me. “Kiki, you haven’t gone to one party this term, which I get, but it isn’t healthy, man. You need to let loose. Lose control for one night. I can’t go because I’m at a family wedding. Go on my behalf. Please. You even said your mum doesn’t want you seeing her this weekend, after last time.”
Last time in question involved Kayefi bursting into hysterical sobs at the sight of our increasingly frail mother, and me having a panic attack the following Monday on the bus to school.
“I have to look after Kayefi.”
Lysha shrugged. “Look, my little sister is having a sleepover with her mates this weekend for her birthday. I know they go to different schools but your sister gets on with mine. Our parents have met, you used to sleep at mine all the time. I’m sure it’ll be cool. You can get ready with me. You can wear nipple tassles if you really do wanna go naked. Your body, your choice.”
Rianne grinned. “See! Problem solved with Lysha’s ho couture suggestion.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I don’t know you guys. I feel guilty. My dad’s going back and forth from the restaurant and hospital and—”
Yinda blew on her baby pink nails. “You’ve been doing that too, sis. Working at the restaurant, going to the hospital, and looking after your sister. You going to feel guilty for being young? Listen, you been kind of a drag lately, and I get why, but sometimes it’s really like we’re chilling with a ghost or something. It’s creepy—”
Lysha turned to Yinda sharply. “Are you dumb, Yinda?”
Yinda’s wide eyes widened further. “Sorry, man, you know what I mean, though, innit.”
Rianne rolled her eyes. “What Yinda is trying to say is that we miss you, we miss having a good time with you, and it ain’t been the same without you. Right, Nile?” Rianne’s glossy lips stretched in encouragement at her boyfriend, nodding so her contraband silver hoops jangled.
Nile nodded and gently nudged me with his elbow. “Yeah. We all do. Who’s gonna make fun of how I dress? I’ll look after you. Don’t worry.”
I shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 14
Whitewell College Radio, 9:30–11:00 p.m. slot, Wednesday
Brown Sugar Show: Gotta Hear Both Sides, Episode 2
“Look, I’m just saying that life would just be easier for everyone if people just said what they meant, that’s all! Why would a girl say she’s fine if she’s not fine? And why am I to blame when I take her word for it? How does that make me the villain? Like, the other day we’re in class—”
I rolled my eyes and said dryly into the mic, “He’s been itching to get this story off his chest. Here we go.”
Malakai had switched to my seminar this week due to a medical check-up appointment clash, which actually turned out to be perfect because it further cemented the idea of our inseparability as a couple. So cute that Malakai switched to my class this one time because we were too busy for our weekly lunch date and he missed me. Or so the rumor mill churned out, according to Tyla Williams, who I’d bumped into in the library as I was returning some books. Tyla Williams had never spoken to me before. Tyla Williams, who I saw had once called me a stush bitch who “thinks she’s too nice” on a leaked screenshot eight months ago. But when we met in the library, Tyla commented, “Michael would never do that for me, man. Once I texted him to keep me company while I took my braids out and he said, ‘What for? I ain’t need to see how the sausage is made.’ What does that even mean?”
We ended up going for a coffee. She was nice. Turned out we were both going to Lagos that Christmas. We made plans to link up.
Malakai continued, comfortable in front of the desk, elbow resting against it as he leaned closer to the mic. He had taken easily to his new position as temp cohost. He was charming, funny, easy—essentially, himself. Our first show had been an introduction, had been surprisingly fun, and now, in our second, we had found ourselves in a groove.