D o e S Y O u R d A D S t i L L m a K E B e A t s ?
My throat. Did I eat the plate without knowing? Did the pointy fingers of the fork break off? Did I swallow them, so now plastic nails were poking the inside of my neck? I never, ever, ever talked about my father in public. Not because I didn’t want to, but because it just never came up. I was more used to talking about my mother. My mothers. The mom situation always became a conversation about why I have two, but never about why I don’t have a dad. If anything, most people just assume Uncle Tony’s my pops, which is cool, but it just never hit me that I don’t really talk about my actual dad. Not even to Cotton. Not to nobody. And so this simple question about whether or not my dad still makes beats tightened the skin around my bones.
“Patina?” Becca’s voice wah-wah’d in my head. “You okay? You look sick.” I had no idea how long I was sitting there, stuck.
“No . . . um, sorry,” I tried to answer. “My father . . . yeah, he, um . . . he’s . . .”
Gone.
But before I could actually say it, the bell rang and it was off to history class, where I had to sit with it all. Had to let the thought of my dad splash around my stomach with whatever a short rib was, while my regular-size ribs felt like they were being bent. A tiny hammer, the one that always knocks on the back of my throat whenever I need to cry, knocking away! And usually, whenever I feel this stuff, it’s soothed by the thought of track practice. By running. But since it was now thundering out—causing Becca to almost jump out of her skin every five minutes in Ms. Lanford’s class, which, along with me struggling to get myself together, kept “Group Frida” from getting any work done—Coach sent out a text saying practice was canceled. The world was proving it hated me. It was like the ultimate hair flip. Like the Earth’s ha-ha-ha.
TO DO: Think about aliens in big fancy houses (and posers)
NOT ONLY DOES rain mean no practice, but rain on Wednesday means Thursday’s practice—the last practice before the meet on Saturday—was gonna suck. Too bad to even think about. And I had no time to think about it anyway, because no practice also meant I didn’t have an excuse not to go straight to Becca’s after school.
I met Maddy in the north wing, walked her to the car as usual. Well, it was more like a run to the car, because the rain was coming down hard. Maddy climbed in and I jumped in the passenger seat.
“Practice is canceled,” I blurted at Momly, wiping water from my arms.
“I figured,” she replied, smirking. I kicked something on the floor. A plastic bag. Fresh clothes and stuff that she’d packed for me anyway. Just in case.
“So, if it’s okay with you, I think I’m just gonna go over the girl, Becca’s, house to work on the group project now. That way I don’t have to stay long.” Momly didn’t say nothing to that, just nodded. “Can you please, please, please come get me in two hours.”
“Two hours, got it,” she confirmed. “But do you know where she lives?” I just pointed from the window. The big house directly across the street. Momly looked, let her mouth hang open for a second before catching herself. “Wow. Um . . . well, I guess I’ll just drive you on over there.”
And just then Becca, Taylor, and TeeTee appeared in the doorway of the school, but because of the rain, they didn’t come out. And if they were planning to wait the storm out, they would never get to Becca’s house, which meant there was no reason for me to go. Plus, we’d never get any work done.
“There go the other girls in my group right there,” I said, the words like glue on my tongue, only because I knew what Momly would say next. But, like I said, it was raining. Hard. And we all had to get to the same place.
“Oh, well then, I’ll just take all of you!”
Momly beeped the horn and waved Becca, Taylor, and TeeTee over. They didn’t come. Not at first. Momly’s sweet face can definitely come across as stranger-danger if you don’t know her. But then she cracked the window enough to be heard and shouted, “I’m Patina’s auntie!” and the girls came running to the car.
Maddy got up front with me, something that Momly would never, ever allow any other time, but it was only, and I do mean only, because we were going right across the street that Momly let it slide. Didn’t matter to Maddy. She was in the front seat, and she was happy. Smashed in the back was basically my worst nightmare. I’m kidding. But seriously, it was wild to know that Becca, Taylor, and TeeTee were crammed into Momly’s car, which is basically like my car!
“Seat belts, everyone,” Momly sang. I yanked the seat belt around Maddy and me, strapping her tight to my chest. I couldn’t even turn around to look at Becca and them. Not because the seat belt was too tight, but because it was all just too weird. I wasn’t embarrassed or nothing. I take that back. I was a little embarrassed, only because Momly was playing her talk radio, and Maddy decided to try out some small talk by asking if any of them gave their dogs massages or kissed them on their mouths.
“Maddy,” I snapped as she turned halfway around to get a good look at the girls.
“What? I’m just askin’.”
“I don’t have a dog,” Becca said, cheery.
“Neither do we,” TeeTee said for her and Taylor.
“Well, y’all got mothers?” Maddy followed up.
“Oh, that’s enough, Madison,” Momly tsked, putting an arm across both me and Maddy as she came to a red light.
“I’m just asking,” Maddy repeated.
“Of course we all have moms. Why?” Taylor asked, which stung me a little. Because we all don’t have everything. Some people have mothers, some don’t. Some have dads, some don’t. Some got two moms. Shoot, some even have to be moms before they actually are moms. The light changed and Momly rolled across the street so slowly that cars were honking their horns and zooming around us.
“Oh, okay. I just thought maybe you didn’t because you got all that makeup on, and my mother says that if—”
“Okay, I think we’re almost there, right, Becca?” I cut Maddy off before she got me cut off. Even more cut off.
Becca laughed. T-N-T, not so much.
“Yep, this is me right here on the left. The one with the open gate.” Becca pointed to the most giant-est house I ever seen up close. Momly pulled in, pulled up around this big fountain, to the front door.
As everybody got out, I leaned back in and reminded Momly, “Two hours. Please. Just two hours.”
“Two hours,” she repeated slowly, putting two fingers up. And Maddy, who had now climbed back in the backseat, also put two fingers up, but held them up to the window at Becca and the girls—a peace sign.
INSIDE BECCA’S HOUSE:
(1) A whole lot of space.
(2) A big piano Becca called “that old piece of crap.”
(3) A chandelier that looked like the ceiling was raining diamonds.
(4) Paintings. Pictures of paintings. Paintings of pictures. And pictures. Of Becca. Looking goofy.