Crave

Prologue

July 2004

"Paris?! Get your behind up and come eat breakfast! You're gonna be crying when they eat it all up!"

Nana Gertie's voice rang through the house like a church bell.

Paris sighed, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. The sound of her little cousins stampeding toward the kitchen followed, bare feet, laughter, chairs scraping the floor. Breakfast was serious business at Nana's house. Miss it, and you missed out.

She hopped up and headed for the bathroom, urgency hitting her halfway down the hall. She twisted the knob.

Locked.

"Hey! Who's in there? Hurry up, I gotta pee!" Paris banged on the door.

"You better hold it. Nobody told you to sleep all day!" Maya shouted back.

"Uggghhh!" Paris groaned, crossing her legs and rocking slightly, silently begging her bladder to cooperate.

Maya was sixteen, two years older, and despite being sisters, they couldn't have been more different. Paris had inherited her father's deep, dark complexion. Maya was golden brown like their mother and never missed an opportunity to remind Paris of it, especially when there was an audience.

"Maya!" Paris knocked again, panic creeping in. "I'm serious!"

The door flew open. Maya stepped out with a full face of makeup, lip gloss shining.

"You happy now? Damn crybaby." She bumped Paris's shoulder as she passed.

Paris didn't respond, couldn't. She sprinted for the toilet, relief washing over her once she finally sat down. Afterward, she washed her hands, brushed her teeth, splashed her face, and headed into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Nana." Paris kissed her grandmother's cheek.

"Morning, sweet pea. Your plate's in the oven. Where your sister at?" Nana Gertie asked, hands on her hips.

"She was in the bathroom doing her face," Paris said. "Looks like she's going somewhere."

"The hell she is!" Nana snapped. "That girl gives me grief. Sit and eat, I'll handle her."

This was every weekend at Nana Gertie's. All ten grandchildren packed into a three-bedroom house, sleeping wherever we landed. It had been that way for as long as Paris could remember. But no matter how crowded it got, Nana made sure everyone ate three meals a day and felt loved.

Maya returned to the kitchen moments later, face freshly washed, arms crossed.

Paris snickered, picturing Nana snatching her up.

"What you laughing at, blackie?" Maya snapped.

Paris instantly regretted it.

"Watch your mouth!" Nana barked. "Paris, you are Black and beautiful. Don't you ever let anybody make you feel ashamed of your skin. You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Paris said softly.

The table fell quiet.

Most of the cousins were already outside playing. Maya and Paris lived differently from them. Their mother dropped them off every weekend to spend time with Nana, while their cousins practically lived there. Nana's house was the only stable home they had.

Nana Gertie, Gertrude, was Paris's father's mother. Her family came from Ghana. That was where the dark skin came from. Where Paris's pride came from too.

They got home around six that evening.

London Marie Stevenson, Paris's mother, wasted no time.

"Paris, Maya, wash up and help me get dinner started."

Business as usual.

"Maaaan," Maya whined, "I told you last week I'm going out with Chris tonight!"

Chris. The type of boy mothers warned you about, and daughters ignored.

London turned slowly, her face twisting like she'd smelled something rotten.

"Who do you think you're talking to? I am not one of your little friends. Go wash up and do what I said. You're starting to smell yourself, Maya."

Paris stayed quiet. When her mother got like this, invisibility was survival.

She washed her hands and started on her usual task, prepping the salad. Every meal had one. They ate at the table, like clockwork. Her dad, on the other hand, ordered takeout and watched movies in the living room. Paris preferred his way.

"Have you been reading, Paris?" her mother asked, seasoning steaks.

"Yes, ma'am. I finished a Dick Gregory book."

"That's my baby. You're going places, just like your mama."

Her mother was a journalist for the local news. She'd grown up with little but carried herself like she'd never known lack. Her father said the bit of fame went to her head. Paris figured that's what ended their twelve-year marriage.

"Mrs. Williams at the library said I should apply to Midlands Preparatory Academy," Paris said carefully. "She thinks it'd be good for me."

Her mother paused, studying her.

"It's very different from public school. The curriculum, the students, the expectations. You ready for that?"

"I can handle it."

"I'll look into it first thing tomorrow."

Paris smiled.

"Maya!" her mother yelled up the stairs. "Get your ass down here, now!"

Life with her mom was routine. Safe. Predictable.

They lived in a nice suburban neighborhood and had everything they needed. Paris was grateful, but Nana's neighborhood felt alive. Louder. Realer.

Her mother hated sending them there, but the court order made it mandatory. Paris didn't mind. The neighbors looked out for each other. Nobody cared about appearances. The food was better. And Keisha lived there.

Keisha was the sister Paris wished Maya would be.

"Paris, baby, wake up!"

Her mother shook her gently. The clock read 7:00 a.m.

During summer break.

"What is it, Mama?" Paris groaned.

"You got in! Midlands Prep accepted you. You start in two weeks."

"That's... wow." Paris blinked. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

Her mother laughed. "We'll celebrate later. Love you."

As the door closed, reality settled in.

She'd have to tell Keisha this weekend.

Freshman year was supposed to be theirs, together.

Now everything was changing.