The Good Enough Friend (YA)

Chapter One - July 03, 2019 [✔]

Lying calmed me. I couldn't recall when it began, but its grip was tight around me. When I lied I was safe. I was comfortable. I was protected. Who didn't want to be safe, comfortable, and protected?

The Kalsart basket dangled in my hand. Clive Organic Pads were $15 for a box of 7; I grabbed three packs. The basket dipped with the added weight, the handle pressed into my wrist.

The lines were longer than the distance from the Earth to the Sun. I clasped and unclasped my hands in annoyance, joining line four.

MILO!

His forest green crew neck was tucked into black slacks. In Autumn, his tan would fade and reveal his white cheddar popcorn skin tone. I loved white cheddar popcorn. Unlike Milo, my skin was a dark amber shade year round. I was no chameleon.

"$71.53," he read the total.

I stared at the card doohickey for longer than intended. I was used to paying with cash. Cash didn't leave a trace.

"Insert the side with the chip," he tapped the bottom of the machine.

"Thanks, I was confused," my words trailed off.

I ignored the way his fingers brushed mine as he handed me the receipt. It was nothing. He was working.

"Have a good one, Jada," his mouth curved into a smile. Fluorescent light flickered off of his skull earrings.

My pulse quickened, "You too!"

Jada????

I texted Henry—my chauffeur.

Text Messages

Me: All done!

Henry 🚛: 👍🏻

Henry loaded the bags in the trunk of his car. I hopped in the backseat, massaging my tender wrist. Next time, I'll use a cart.

***

We arrived at the house within 10 minutes due to his friendliness with the gas pedal. On average, the drive from Clifton Park to Lune Park was half an hour.

The salmon-pink house was in the outskirts of the city. The neighborhood was safe and quiet. It had 3 floors : a basement, an upstairs, and the ground floor.

I pressed my thumb against the fingerprint gate lock. Henry carried the bags into the dining room, the paper bag crinkling as he set them down. Kicking off my shoes, I reached into my jacket pocket and gave Jodie—my sandstone—a squeeze.

"Thank you Henry," Mom slid him a fifty dollar bill.

He remained quiet, a sign of dissatisfaction. He should've driven slower. I couldn't fall asleep in the car. I was still wondering who Jada was.

Two years of attending the same school and Milo didn't know my name. It was disappointing. Our grade level was roughly 300 students, it wasn't that difficult to account for all of them. At least it wasn't difficult for me.

Mom closed the front door, not bothering to lock it. Her 4C coils were pulled back into a low bun. She took in the sight of me. Droplets of sweat formed at my hairline. The humidity shrunk my afro.

Her expression hardened, "You missed today's weigh-in, Zaydence."

I hadn't perfected the art of lying but holding eye contact made it easier. Somehow peering into her soul made her believe the nonsense I was spewing.

She couldn't be bothered to ask me how my trip to the store was. Not a sliver of curiosity in her eyes. All she wanted to know was why I missed the fucking weigh-in.