I consider that question for a while, cause I don’t think it’s that simple. Then again, Nia don’t know bout the headshot and Granny and the fights. I think bout telling her, but then I remember all the secrets Nia been keeping from me and wonder if it’s a good idea. “You remember that meat loaf and potatoes Daddy would make?” I ask. Daddy’s meat loaf used to be one of her favorites, too. We used to always complain when Momma made dinner instead of Daddy. That would make Daddy laugh and Momma frown, so then we would have to hug her and tickle her til she smiled again.
“I ain’t ever like that meat loaf,” Nia says, wrapping her hair like she ain’t just tell a big fat lie.
I take a deep breath, then start again. “Remember that time on Fourth of July, when Daddy sprayed us with the water hose?” Nia don’t say nothin’， so I keep going. “Then, when Momma tried to run in the house to get away from him, he followed her and sprayed the whole front room?” I’m starting to giggle as the memory comes: me and Nia laughing and laughing, watching Momma and Daddy running around the house and acting like kids. But Nia ain’t laughing now.
“He coulda messed up our whole house with that water hose,” Nia says, then adds under her breath, “Stupid.” I sit down on the edge of the bed closest to Nia at the mirror, feeling like the wind just got knocked outta me. Nia don’t speak again, just goes on wrapping her hair like she ain’t just trampled over my best memories.
I sit there for a while without saying nothin’。 I don’t know if there’s anything I can say that’s gon’ work. This is how it’s been since Daddy died, or even before that. Whenever I talk bout him to Nia, she just gets mad. I know we all miss him, but she won’t even talk bout the good stuff. Fill the hole with memories, like Granddaddy said. Instead, she wanna act like he was never here at all.
“Why you so mad at Daddy?” I ask, staring at the side of Nia’s unmoving face. I wait and wait, but she don’t say nothin’。 “You mad at him cause he died?” Now Nia finally turns and looks at me.
“I’m not mad he died! I’m mad at how he died! He had a choice and he ain’t choose us! And when I tried to stop him, he—” Nia is talking fast, then stops even faster. Her face in the mirror’s changing from angry to plain as I watch. “Really, I’m mad at you, cause you getting on my nerves with all these stupid questions.” Nia stands and walks to the dresser.
“I just wanted to talk,” I whisper, dropping my head low. Nia shuffles through clothes in her drawer, then pulls out a pair of tiny pink shorts and a beige tank top. Looks like she bout to take a shower. “Nia, wait!” I yell, more anxious than I mean to be.
Nia is already at the door but turns around, arms crossed. “What?” Her face is harder to read than ever. On the surface, it’s nothin’ but anger. But underneath, I feel like there’s something else.
“Who was that boy you was talking to today?” As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I know it’s the wrong one. Nia don’t ever like nobody all up in her business, especially not me.
“What you talking bout?” Nia asks, her voice a little louder than before.
“You know, at Pizza Land. The boy with all the—that tall boy you was talking to.”
“What, was you watching me or something?” Nia is in full attitude mode now, as Momma calls it. She got one hand on her hip and her neck moving from left to right with every word. I’ve seen this dance before, between Momma and Nia, so I know it ain’t gon’ end well.
“No, not like that. I mean, I did see you, but not cause I was watching.” I can feel my face flush as I stumble over my words. “It’s just, he was in front of me in line at that basketball game, then I saw you talking to him, so I was just wondering if you knew him.” It sounds stupid, even to me, but I ain’t got no better excuse in my head right now.
“It’s none of your business,” Nia snaps, “and don’t be telling Granddaddy nothing bout me and that boy, neither.” She gets real serious when she says that last part, but I don’t know if it’s cause she thinks I’m a tattletale, or cause she got something to hide.
“I ain’t tell him nothin’，” I mutter. Why don’t Nia know I would keep her secrets forever, from anybody? I never even told anyone bout that time she lost the special house key Momma gave her on the little plastic ring. We looked for it for days, and when we couldn’t find it nowhere, I helped Nia sneak Momma’s key so we could make a copy. She should know, I always got her back.
“Good.” Nia looks at me a second longer, then turns to leave, but pauses with her hand on the doorknob and a sunnier look on her face. “And KB?”
“Yeah?” I say, hoping she gon’ apologize.
Nia takes a couple steps toward me, close enough that I could reach out and grab her. Hug her. “Stay outta my business,” she says, then leaves with her fake sunny face turned to storming rain clouds.
Usually when Nia does stuff like that, it makes me cry. But for once, I don’t feel sad at all. She turns on the shower and the Nia noises pop in my head again, louder. I stuff my face into a pillow, thinking it’s my pillow, but it smells like her shampoo and body wash. I scream into it, long and hard, to drown out all the noise.
But I can’t. The noises get louder, Nia and Jesse touching and kissing and giggling in my mind. Then Nia and Pimple Boy running around like kids, laughing and chasing, and then it’s just Nia, teasing and calling me “Crybaby KB,” ripping up the memories in my head. Memories I work so hard to keep, but she rips and crumbles like trash. I see Nia making Momma cry and laughing at Granddaddy when he walks slow. Wearing them stupid headphones and them nasty dresses. In my head I just see Nia now. And I don’t like what I see.
I lay in the bed and count my fingers, over and over, while I wait for her to come back from the shower. When I hear her footsteps near the door, I pretend to be sleeping. Nia opens the door quiet, like she’s sneaking. I peek my eyes open and see that she ain’t get dressed in the bathroom. She has a fuzzy purple towel wrapped around her body like a cocoon. Her hair is still wrapped, and her face is scrubbed clean so that her skin glows.
First thing when she comes in the room, Nia looks to see if I’m watching. I squeeze my eyes shut, quick. She shuts the door behind her and starts to dry off with the towel. I wait til she turns her back to me, then I know it’s time.
I ain’t ever been in a fight before. One time, a group of girls circled around me at recess, tryna make me say a bad word. There was three of us in the middle of the circle, me and Chantelle and Rhonda. We was best friends, mostly cause none of the other girls in the class liked us. They found out we ain’t like to cuss. Which made us babies, cause everybody else in fourth grade was cussin’。
They yelled at us to say two bad words—the one with the D and the one with the F—or they was gon’ beat us up. Rhonda and Chantelle said the words right away. But not me. I had already said both them words at home, by myself. But I ain’t wanna say ’em then to prove no point to them mean girls. Momma been telling me since I was little that can’t nobody make me be a good or bad person, cept me. So I said no. And waited to get jumped, as the girls screamed, “Goody-Two-Shoes!” in my face.