Page 5 of Fractured


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“Hey, sweet girl,” Momma greets as she reaches my desk.

“Hi, Momma.” I smile, standing to give her a hug and kiss. It’s our ritual. Every time she comes home, we always greet each other properly. No matter what’s happened or even if we’ve had a disagreement. Being a teenager is hard, and being friends with a boy you love is even more difficult.

“How was your day?” Momma asks, settling on the chair at my vanity. She looks so pretty today in a red polka-dot dress. Momma sings at the local jazz club, and she’s been teaching me to sing as well. My natural talent comes from her, and I have a love of music, which only seems to make my voice stronger. I can’t explain it, but I know if I wasn’t into it, I wouldn’t be as good as I am.

“Momma,” I say, nerves tumbling in my stomach. “I wanted to ask you something. I mean . . .” My cheeks burn with embarrassment. We haven’t really spoken about boys before, mainly because I have never been interested in any of the boys at school.

Except one.

“What’s wrong, Autumn?” she asks, worry creasing her beautiful face. My momma is a stunner; that’s what Dad used to call her. It always made me giggle because I saw how she would blush.

“I don’t know. I mean, I do know, but I’m scared. Nervous.” I look at my mother, a softness in her gaze that seems to shine when she looks at me. Affection and love are two things I’ve never wanted for because my mother has given me both. I’m lucky and thankful.

“Autumn,” my mother says. “You can tell me anything. Are you hurt? Is someone hurting you or teasing you?” The worry on her face makes me feel bad.

“No, Momma,” I insist. “It’s . . .” I sigh, trying to find the courage to tell her. It’s strange telling my mother something I really should have a best friend for. And not the best friend it’s actually about. “I like JD.” The words tumble from my lips in a whoosh. When I first met him at eight years old, I never thought he would become such a big part of my life, and now, I have my first crush.

I look at her. My mother doesn’t seem at all shocked or worried. There’s a smile on her face, which makes me frown. I expected her to tell me I’m too young or to tell me that I shouldn’t like my best friend.

But she doesn’t do or say either of those things. Instead, my momma nods and responds, “I know, sweet girl. There are times when you look at him just the way I would look at your dad when I was young.”

There were so many times over the past few months that I would think about how my parents were when they met. I wondered if my mom and dad ever exchanged lunches. I haven’t asked her, but I used to see them smile at each other over the dinner table, and there were times when Dad gave Mom the last few French fries from his plate or even allowed her to steal his ice cream when we would sit watching a movie.

It was in those times I thought about the day I would meet someone who would be my person. And I knew when I grew up, I wanted a prince like Daddy was for Momma. And I’ll also smile when he kisses me on the forehead and wraps his arms around me to keep me safe from anything bad. And JD does that. He’s done that for years. It’s only now, at the tender age of thirteen, I realize he’s my person.

“You’re still young, sweet girl. And love comes in many forms,” Momma tells me. “Over time, you’ll find your feelings will change. JD is part of your life, a good part, and if he feels the same, then when you’re old enough, you can date.”

“When will I be old enough?”

“When you’re sixteen. But also, you have to remember, being careful when you’re around a boy is important. Don’t allow him to do anything you don’t want him to do. And you’re not allowed to be intimate with a boy until you’re at least eighteen.”

“Intimate?” My eyes are wide. I have a feeling I know where this is going, and even though I’m embarrassed, I can’t deny that the thought of kissing JD is about as far as my mind has gone.

“When you’re ready, we’ll talk about sex,” Momma says, and I can’t help but cringe.

“Eww.” I scrunch my nose. Momma laughs at my reaction while shaking her head. “No, Momma,” I tell her. “I just like him. I mean, he’s a nice person, and he makes me happy.”

“Then that’s all you need. Now do your homework,” she tells me. “And then we’ll see if JD wants to come over for dinner.”

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