“Hey, you remember that time we all went to Chicago?” I ask Nia, still stroking her hair. She nods, then settles back in my lap. The memory fills the room, but I don’t speak, so Nia don’t speak. We don’t have to use words to make it come alive, cause it lives in both our minds forever, the same.
Daddy said, Sometimes you gotta give up something you want to get something you need, and I finally know what he gave up that weekend in Chicago. And I know I gotta do the same, for me and for Nia. I clear my throat before I speak again.
“Something happened yesterday,” I begin, and then I tell Nia bout running away and Rondell and the dumpster. Halfway through, Nia lifts her head and holds my hand as I talk, guarding tears at the rim of her eyes. I tell Nia bout Rondell lying and pretending to be my friend, and then touching me again and again. Bout how somebody I thought I could count on betrayed me. Hurt me. As I talk, I know Nia’s thinking bout what happened between her and Daddy. She shared her secret with me, so I’m sharing my secret with her. This way, we ain’t gotta be alone. I confess and cry and rub Nia’s hair. Soon she’s crying and rubbing my hair, neither of us speaking. We lay there like that, both remembering and crying, til we can forget.
“I wanna apologize to you,” Nia says once we’re quiet again.
“For what?” I sniffle.
“Well, even though I ain’t mean for it to, I think you got the worse end of everything I’ve been dealing with.” Nia folds her hands and tucks them under her chin. “Honestly, it’s hard to talk to you sometimes, cause you always wanna talk about the past, and I just wanna forget it.” Nia sighs. “I mean, ain’t it hard for you to remember all that stuff? Even remembering good stuff about Daddy makes me feel like I’m ripping in half.” Nia’s voice cracks as she finishes.
I take some time to think before I answer, twisting my hair around my pinky finger. “It’s hard for me, too,” I eventually respond, “but it feels like I gotta do it. You and Momma don’t wanna talk bout Daddy, so it feels like if I don’t, then he’s really gon’ be gone forever. Even if he did some bad stuff, he was still our daddy. He still made you laugh harder than me or Momma ever could. And when he would dance with Momma”—I pause to imagine them there, dancing in the room beside us—“I never saw Momma happier than when she was in his arms.”
Nia smiles so big her teeth show. “Yeah,” she replies. “I remember.”
“I’m so scared I’m gon’ forget all that stuff. That I’m gon’ lose him.” I cry again, but this time it feels like it’s coming from somewhere deeper, somewhere I ain’t even know was there. Nia wraps her arms around me, and I sob into her chest. But instead of feeling sad, I feel safe.
Daddy’s gone. Momma’s gone. But Nia’s still here, with me. She lifts my head, offers me her version of an ice cream cone smile. I’m eleven years old and I’ve lost so much, but here with Nia, I know I still got some important stuff, too. It’s like I’m standing in a field full of fireflies, struggling to catch ’em all, when really, I just gotta slow down and catch one.
PART III
August 1995
10
Once we reach the middle of August, I’m almost positive Momma ain’t gon’ ever come back. It’s been three weeks since Nia’s birthday, since me and Nia finding our way back to each other. She still don’t play with me all the time, but sometimes she helps me find caterpillars or rocks. And last week, she even surprised me with a new book.
“What’s this?” I asked when she handed me the bag one night after dinner. Nia ain’t answer, just smiled. I looked over at Granddaddy and he was smiling, too. Weird.
I opened the bag and inside was a book with a girl on the cover who looked just like me. She was younger than me—missing two front teeth—but besides that, she was just like me. Same eyes and nose and smile. She even wore her hair in two ponytails with braids and bows, just like I used to wear, before I changed my hair to be like Nia.
“I know it’s below your reading level,” Nia said as I turned to the back cover, “but I thought it would be nice for you to read a book about a girl who’s just like you, for once.”
I read the title again, Amazing Grace. “What’s it bout?” I asked Nia.
Nia smiled. “Well, it’s about a girl named Grace, who loves to use her imagination.” I turned the page and found Grace dressed in battle gear, and on the next page, positioned like a spider. “Grace loves to pretend like she’s other people in other places, and she’s really good at it,” Nia continued. “But one day, one of Grace’s classmates tells her she can’t audition for the role of Peter Pan in the school play.”
“Why does he say that?” I asked, following along with the colorful illustrations.
“Well, he didn’t think Grace could be Peter Pan because she was Black.”
I looked up from the book and frowned. “Well, that’s not true. Right?” I peered at Nia, then Granddaddy. Granddaddy started to stand up, but Nia shook her head.
“Of course it’s not true,” Nia said, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Grace could do anything she wanted to do, be anybody she wanted to be. That was her gift.” Nia pulled me in closer. “It’s your gift, too.”
“Me?” I flipped to the end of the book, watched as Grace went from sad to triumphant.
“Yes, you. When Grace is told what she can’t do, who she can’t be, that’s what helps her discover who she really is. Grace realizes that she can do anything she sets her mind to. Just like you.” Nia turned my shoulder til I was facing her. “You can do anything, KB. You’re the smartest person I know.” Then Nia hugged me, tight.
I hug the book tight to my chest now from my spot on the porch. From the moment I said thank you to Nia for the book, I already knew it was gon’ be my new best book. Mostly cause I ain’t gotta learn no new words or talk no different. Grace is just like me, exactly as I am, and that’s what makes her special. I guess that’s what makes me special, too.
“KB!” Nia’s voice calls from inside the house.
I perch my book on the steps carefully before responding. “Yeah?” I answer, wondering if I’m gon’ have to go inside. I think it’s still too early for dinner, but maybe we gon’ eat early today.
Before I stand up, Nia is already outside and standing in front of me. “Granddaddy says we can go out for dinner tonight, if you want.”
I dip my head and smile. It feels good to have Nia check in on what I want, instead of just being bossy and mean all the time. “Yeah, I wanna go,” I reply coolly, not wanting to seem too anxious. “Where we gon’ go?”
Nia shrugs. “Granddaddy said we can pick.” I nod, then wait for her to pick. Even with us gettin’ along now, Nia’s still the one who makes decisions for us. I’m okay with it, though, cause I bet Nia gon’ pick something I like, too.
“Maybe we can talk to Granddaddy tonight,” I say, then whisper, “bout the plan.” After me and Nia made up, I told her everything I knew bout Momma and Granddaddy. Bout Granny dying when Momma was ten. Bout the headshot and the fight. Then I told Nia bout my plan to fix Momma and Granddaddy, so we could go back home. She ain’t seem as convinced as me that it could work, but she ain’t call it stupid, either.