You act like you don’t know nobody ’cause you go to that school.” I put it on the coffee table and say, “Folks kill me, thinking they know what I think.” I knew there would be more than Hawaiian Punch in it, but this is way stronger than I’m used to. Or that people know me as anything other than “Big Mav’s daughter who works in the store.” “I didn’t know so many mind readers lived in Garden Heights.” “People already say you think you all that.” “Stop following me and go dance, Starr,” Kenya says. He always has it on the Friday of spring break because you need Saturday to recover and Sunday to repent. I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of them are conceived the night of Big D’s party. Spring in Garden Heights doesn’t always bring love, but it promises babies in the winter. My nana likes to say that spring brings love. Guys in their freshest kicks and sagging pants grind so close to girls they just about need condoms. Got me feeling basic as hell with my ponytail. Girls wear their hair colored, curled, laid, and slayed. I’ve always heard that everybody and their momma comes to his spring break parties-well, everybody except me-but damn, I didn’t know it would be this many people. Kenya holds up her cup and dances her way through the crowd.īetween the headache from the loud-ass music and the nausea from the weed odor, I’ll be amazed if I cross the room without spilling my drink. Some rapper calls out for everybody to Nae-Nae, followed by a bunch of “Heys” as people launch into their own versions. I squeeze through sweaty bodies and follow Kenya, her curls bouncing past her shoulders.Ī haze lingers over the room, smelling like weed, and music rattles the floor. There are just some places where it’s not enough to be me.īig D’s spring break party is one of those places. I’m not even sure I belong at this party.
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