“Zoya, it’s just a stupid dance… you don’t have to take everything seriously.” Braylen, my best friend, complained.
Kora had bought me a dress a week ago. Maverick had given her the money to make sure I had a dress for tonight’s dance. I stared at the pink sparkly dress that Kora said I would look adorable in.
Adorable was the problem.
I didn’t want to look adorable. I wanted to look cute so one of the boys could have asked me to the dance.
“Fine.” I sulked, and she smiled, turning back to apply makeup on at her vanity.
Braylen was black, but at times, you would have thought she was a little white girl from Tottenville.
Instead, she was a black girl that lived in West Brighton.
At times, I missed our home on the other side of Staten Island. I wondered if my room remained the same, or if somestinky boy had moved into it and made it ugly. The room I shared with Jeffie was cool.
She slept between different rooms. One day she was in my room, then the next she was in her mom’s room, or Kora’s room.
I enjoyed when she slept in her mother’s room. When Jeffie didn’t sleep in the room with me, I was able to cry. Anytime she heard me cry, she would ask what was wrong and try to fix it.
Jeffie was a fixer.
She wanted to fix everything and be there for everyone. If there was a problem, she was going to figure out a way to solve it.
This problem… she couldn’t fix.
She couldn’t bring back my parents.
The school was only three blocks from Braylen’s house, so her mother allowed us to walk. Not before she took a dozen pictures before sending us on our way. As always, we walked the three blocks to the school, running into other kids from our school.
“Why are there so many adu?—”
“Daddy!” Braylen screamed, running full force in her kitten heels and ball gown.
Her father stood there in his work uniform, smiling from ear to ear. She leaped into his arms, and he kissed her. Braylen’s parents divorced two years ago, so she only saw her father every other weekend.
If her weekend fell on his workday, then she had to wait two more weeks to see him. She complained about not being able to spend time with her father, and I felt for her. Then again, the only way I could see my father was if I walked across a bunch of other dead people and put a stone on top of his headstone.
Braylen was lucky.
“Bray-Bray, I missed you.”
She nuzzled her face in her father’s neck as he struggled to hold her. “What are you doing here, daddy?”
“It’s the father and daughter dance. You didn’t think I would miss this, huh?”
She squealed, even more excited. He put her down, while that pain resurfaced. I felt it right in my chest, as I stood near Braylen and her father.
“This is my friend, Zoya,” she quickly introduced us.
“Hi Zoya, nice to meet you… is your dad coming?”
The pain became sharper. “Yes.”
I didn’t know what else to say and panicked. The words refused to come out of my mouth. “Zoya, your father is dead.” Braylen quickly reminded me.
Braylen’s father looked away and then looked down at his daughter. “I’m sorry, Zoya.”
“She gets confused sometimes.” Braylen rubbed my back.
