The building has three wooden steps, then a flat level platform. On one side is a door that says men’s and on the other a sign that says women’s. Now that I’m closer I can see that this ain’t no regular building. It’s more like a porta potty, but a little bit nicer. I study both doors and try to pick. Jesse and Javon are both boys, so it makes more sense that they went in the men’s room. But I bet Nia still made them go in the women’s room, even though it was just one girl and two boys. I tiptoe over to the door of the women’s room and swing it open, quiet.
The inside is even more tiny than I thought it might be from the outside. Ain’t nothin’ in there but a single toilet, an empty roll of toilet paper, and a small sink in the corner that drips and drips. No Nia, no Jesse, no Javon.
I head back out to the platform and creep toward the other stall. I wanna sneak up on them, maybe even scare them. I reach the door, wrap my hand around the tiny silver handle, then slowly pull it open. A sliver of light comes in the room with me. The wider I open the door, the bigger the sliver grows. It starts in the corner of the room, then touches the sink, the toilet, then the other corner of the room, closest to the door.
Where I can see Nia and Jesse. No Javon. Just Nia and Jesse, with the straps of Nia’s dress pulling down so I can see the soft blue of the grown-up bra she begged Momma for.
Nia and Jesse, with Jesse’s hands on Nia’s waist and Nia’s hands on Jesse’s shoulders. Nia and Jesse, kissing like I’ve only seen in movies.
The first tongue kiss I’m gon’ ever see up close is this one, between my sister and our cousin. With too much spit and not enough light. Maybe with more light, they might see me. But they just keep kissing, like they forgot bout hide-and-seek and forgot bout me.
Jesse’s hand leaves Nia’s waist. Finds the top of her dress, pulls it down. Finds the bottom of her dress, pulls it up. Tiny sounds like squeaks escape from Nia’s kissing mouth. I don’t know what happens next, not even in the movies. This is the part where Momma always covers my eyes.
I run out from the bathroom, hot tears blurring my path. I trip down the steps and land in the soft grass. I wanna stay there forever. Beg my eyes and mind to forget what I saw. But it’s stuck there now. I see it again and again, even with my eyes clenched tight.
“KB!” Javon runs towards me and I remember where I am. Hide-and-seek, Fourth of July, Lansing. I feel so different, but ain’t nothin’ changed. “You ain’t find me!” Javon is still smiling and still innocent. He don’t know all that I know, so he can still play and laugh. My whole mind is nothin’ but kissing, touching cousins in bathroom stalls.
“You’re it.” I tag Javon and run away, before anyone can stop me.
7
We been in Lansing for a month now. Four and a half weeks. Thirty-two days. Granddaddy talks more, mostly to me. He tells me stories bout growing up in the South, bout playing sports and marching in protests and falling in love with Granny. My favorite stories are when he tells me bout Momma as a little girl. Nia don’t listen to Granddaddy’s stories. Instead, she gets to leave the house whenever she wants, to hang out with Brittany, and even some of her new friends from the pool. I play with Bobby and Charlotte sometimes, when Granddaddy ain’t watching. Me and Bobby like to play catch with his Frisbee and search for rocks near the curb. Me and Charlotte like to play hopscotch that we draw on the sidewalk and read together in the shaded path beside her house. We took turns reading The Secret Garden chapter by chapter til we finished the whole book in a week and a half. Luckily, I ain’t seen they momma again since that first time, which I think is less bout luck and more bout them making sure I ain’t ever around when she’s around. Luckily, too, we ain’t ever talked no more bout none of that stuff that happened on the playground. Which is just fine by me.
Missing Momma don’t hurt so bad no more. I go some days without even thinking bout our life in Detroit. I try to forget the special soup Momma would cook when any of us was sick, or the way Momma would rub my hair when I woke up from a bad dream. It’s not that I don’t miss that stuff, but I got new stuff to think bout now, too, and a new life in Lansing. I’ve read six books from Granddaddy’s bookshelf, found seventeen caterpillars and seven rocks, and climbed my tree enough times to know the way by heart.
Most days, Lansing feels like home. Cept tomorrow, I bet. Tomorrow is my eleventh birthday and I ain’t ever spent my birthday without Momma.
All my birthdays that I can remember went bad, one way or another. The first one I remember is when I turned seven. I ain’t get no presents that year, or no party. I cried and cried cause I ain’t understand, especially since when Nia’s birthday came the next week, she got a sleepover with her friends from school and lip gloss. I don’t much remember my eighth birthday, but when I turned nine, Momma and Daddy got in a big fight and he left the house without telling me happy birthday. And when I turned ten, Nia forgot it was my birthday.
The only good thing I’ve ever had on my birthday was Momma. Even with no presents and no parties, even with Daddy and Nia forgetting, Momma always made sure I felt special. Ever since I can remember, she been singing me a special birthday song—the same words as regular “Happy Birthday” but with her own rhythms and notes—which she would sing to me first thing in the morning. Then she would bake me a cake from scratch and let me eat from the whole thing with a fork. I don’t know what a birthday is like for other people, but for me, a birthday is a sad day that only Momma can make just a little better. Cept this year, Momma ain’t here.
“KB, you in there?” Nia’s on the other side of the bathroom door. I been sittin’ on the seat of the toilet for a while now, doin’ nothin’ besides thinking. I ain’t sure if I wanna confront Nia or stay away from her for good after what I saw at the Fourth of July picnic. We was s’posed to be playing together, but as usual, Nia had other plans that I ain’t know nothin’ bout. Plans that involved kissing a boy. But not just any boy. Nia kissed a boy in our family, the new family I was so excited to meet. Even if Jesse got a different daddy, he’s still family to me. But I guess not to Nia. Lately, Nia care more bout friends and boys than family, and it makes me wonder if I even matter to her anymore.
I unravel a wad of toilet paper and pretend to wipe, then flush. I was already mad at Nia for being mean to me all the time, but now I feel more than mad. Like a mix between wanting to scream at Nia and wanting to hold on to her so tight she can’t never get away, can’t never do nothin’ like what she did that day, again.
“Gimme a minute,” I finally say. Nia ain’t even mentioned my birthday tomorrow, so I bet she forgot again. And I bet Granddaddy don’t even know bout it. My birthday gon’ probably go by with nothin’ from nobody. I wonder if Momma gon’ even call.
“Hurry up!” Nia’s knocks on the door are gettin’ louder and closer together. I laugh, quiet so she can’t hear. Then make noise with the toilet paper roll and flush the toilet again, pretending to hurry but really going as slow as possible. I wash my hands one, two, three, four times. Then, finally, when I’ve heard Nia suck her teeth six times straight, I open the door and come out.