Rogue oracle, p.24
As Long As We're Together, page 24
To Carmell, Antoine, and Alyssa—being your sister means everything to me
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
So, we’re going to Salinger’s right after the volleyball game? I’m just about to hit send in the group chat when I realize my bio teacher has paused midsentence to stare at me.
“All of you. Phones, now,” Mrs. Simion says, stalking toward the second row, where my three best friends and I sit. “You can get them back after class.”
“Has anyone ever told you that auburn’s for sure the hair color for you?” I say sweetly. This is the second time today Mrs. S has caught me texting, and I’m not above trying flattery if it means I can keep my phone.
“Novah’s right, Mrs. S,” Kedijah backs me up, trailing a hand over her maroon hijab. “That shade is giving … Met Gala 2015 Rihanna.”
Mrs. S is unmoved and takes the phone from my hand. I just have time to catch a glimpse of the text from my big sister:
Ariana: I need you to cover for me tomorrow night
I scoff at the request, then smile quickly at Mrs. Simion so she knows no disrespect was aimed at her.
“Yes, Novah, my wife tells me every day auburn’s my color. And thanks, Kedijah, that’s exactly what I was going for.” Mrs. Simion collects Kedijah’s, Oma’s, and Monae’s phones too, then takes a step toward Hailee, who was trying, oh so discreetly, to slide her phone into the pocket of her jeans.
“You too, Ms. Triplet. Phone.”
Hailee stares at Mrs. S with huge puppy-dog eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Mrs. Simion. This is the third time this week.”
“You really want to remind me of that right now?”
“But I promise I was listening.” She nods at the mitochondria graphic on the board. “You asked the five functions of the mitochondria, and I can tell you they are calcium homeostasis, programmed cell death, production of ATP, stem cell regulation, and, uh …” She trails off, looking stumped.
“Regulation of innate immunity,” I chime in, hoping that’s correct.
Hailee shoots me a grateful smile before turning back to Mrs. S. “See? We were both paying attention!”
Mrs. Simion shakes her head with exaggerated disappointment. “And here I was so close to letting you keep your phone. Welp, maybe next time,” she says, holding her hand out.
I chuckle at Hailee’s pout as she hands over the phone. But I’m rewarded with a smile from her and feel my insides rise. Mrs. S may not have thought that Hailee’s sad attempt to keep her phone was funny, but I do. Hailee’s only been at Hamer High for three months, and I’ve never had the confidence to say more than “Hey” outside of convos about class assignments. I find my eyes glued to the smirk on her full lips now, and I want to say something clever, but the sound of our phones landing in the confiscation drawer at the front of the room makes me cringe, and I snap out of the trance.
I turn forward, scooping my sisterlocks into a ponytail, and mouth “I’ll be there” to my friends. I can see the disbelief on their faces—it’s been ages since I’ve had time to hang out after school—but Mrs. Simion clears her throat, and all eyes turn forward.
“Now, class, please pull out your homework on reproduction and cell division and pass it down.”
I grab what’s supposed to be a finished three-page worksheet and scribble a quick “I’m sorry, please don’t fail me. I’ll have it completed tomorrow” apology out at the bottom.
I would’ve finished it last night if I hadn’t had to help Korey and Dante with their math homework before going over Bailey’s reading-comprehension assignment with her last minute. All Ariana had to do was what she said she would—come home after volleyball practice to give Miles a bath and put him and Bailey to bed. But she called Mama with some flimsy excuse and wiggled her way out of helping as usual.
“Honey, you got straight As, and you got your Howard acceptance last night. A full volleyball scholarship deserves a break,” I heard Mama say into the receiver in the kitchen as I watched, leaning on the doorframe. Ariana will be milking the full-scholarship thing for a while. And it’s not that I’m not happy for her too. With a family of nine and a “just making it” dog-grooming business, I know this scholarship was a dream come true for my parents. But why does it feel like I have to pay for all of Ari’s failures and successes? Why am I the only one ever upset that she constantly bails on us? Especially when Mama and Daddy drilled into us that “family comes first.” Somehow that rule applies to everyone but Ari? She gets great grades and a scholarship but fails at helping with the house, the shop, or the kids, and all of that slack falls on me.
But when Mama waved me over with that bright, hesitant smile and apologetic eyes, I already felt myself giving in. She still had bills to pay and lunches to make. And Daddy was still at Lively Pups, on cleaning duty. The least I could do was not be a huge brat about giving Miles, who’d hidden all his string beans in his underwear, a bath. Even if that meant staying up late to crank out a two-page paper on the three branches of government and complete my bio assignment.
Except I only finished one of those assignments before I woke up at 4:30 a.m., hunched over my desk, to hear Ariana’s fresh snores coming from across our room. At least one of us was well rested.
Thirty minutes after Mrs. S confiscates my phone, I’m stuffing my bio books in my locker when I hear “It’s detention if you’re late to my class again, Wilkinson” from Mr. Lane, my US History teacher, as he zips down the hall with a green coffee mug in hand. I fully roll my eyes, but he’s already turned to greet someone else. He breaks into a grin as Ariana bounds down the hall with half of her volleyball team.
“Can’t wait to see the team bring that championship trophy to Hamer tomorrow,” he exclaims, raising his hand.
Ari reaches up, meeting his high five, and then separates herself from her friends. I give her a side-eye when she leans on the locker beside mine.
“Can I help you?” I ask through my teeth. I have no clue how my sister became Hamer High royalty, but it’s annoying. Mr. Lane only hates me as a student because of how much he adored Ariana. It’s the same for a lot of our teachers and schoolmates. I simply don’t possess the ability to kiss ass like she does. And because of her, I don’t have the time to either.
“Why aren’t you answering my texts?”
“My phone got confiscated in bio. I just got it back.”
She shakes her head. “You got caught on it in class? Do better.”
“You were literally texting me in class when Mrs. Simion took it.”
That superior look I hate settles on her face as she sings, “Yeah, but I didn’t get caught.”
I’m about to walk away when I remember what she wants and smirk. She can find someone else to take her shift at Lively’s tomorrow. “I’m not covering for you.”
Ariana shakes her braids out of her face, giving me an exasperated look. “Novah, you and Zion are so selfish!” she starts. I’m happy to hear our brother refused her request too. Hearing two nos in a day must be driving her crazy. I like it. “This is my last senior game. You know how important that is to me.”
“And despite what Mama and Daddy and everyone else has made you believe, other people have things that are important to them too. For example, I’ll be with my friends after the game because I’ve covered shifts for you twice this week already and I’m not doing it again.”
Ari narrows her eyes at me, but I close my locker with a shrug and walk in the opposite direction. She’s at my side before I can blink, probably readying to beg, when I see Hailee walking my way with a textbook clutched to her chest and stop in my tracks.
“I hear everyone’s going to Salinger’s tomorrow night,” she says as she passes. Her voice is light and eager. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah, right after the game,” I say, nodding. I stare at her back as she walks away, my chest filling with the butterflies that were just in my stomach a moment ago.
“What was that?” Ari asks, looking confused, before shaking her head. “You know what? I don’t care. Novah, you have to cover for me! Please? I’ll give you—”
I raise a hand, cutting her off midsentence. Usually she’d wear me down … or use Mama to guilt me into things, but not this time. I watch Hailee turn a corner and then see Ari pouting. “It’s not happening.” I’d already intended not to let my friends down, but there is no way in hell I’m letting anything come between me and seeing Hailee tomorrow night at Salinger’s.
“Miles, please! Stop with the puddles,” I shout as I try to pry Bailey’s nails out of my arm. I pull Miles to my side in his yellow rubber duck jacket and rain boots just as he crouches to pounce in a puddle feet away. “It’s only a little rain, Bai. I promise the middle school bus will be here with Korey and Dante in a minute.”
&n bsp; On an ordinary day, I’d enjoy the walk to our shop from school. First there’s the quiet, seven minutes of bliss where I let my imagination run wild and practice lines I’d heard the news anchor deliver the night before. (I always watch the news before bed—there’s something about the assuredness in an anchor’s voice that warms me and lulls me to sleep.) Then I usually pick Bailey up from her speech therapist, right across the street from Miles’s kindergarten. And down the street is Dante and Korey’s bus stop at a four-way intersection. By then the peace and quiet’s gone, given way to conversations about school, superpowers, unheard-of dinosaurs, flowers, and other random topics. It’s a little chaotic but mostly nice.
But today I can’t seem to enjoy any of it. It’s raining, and I haven’t planned exactly how I’m gonna make sure Ari doesn’t get her way for once. How do I convince Mama and Daddy to pick my free time over hers? They’ve never sided with me before, but there’s a first time for everything. Maybe I’ll volunteer to clean cages, even though the mere thought makes me gag. Or stay late in the shop with Jason and Daddy tonight for closing duty. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I’m tempted to ignore it, thinking it’s Ari again, but my eyes slide to my screen against my will.
Zion: Can you cover for me tomorrow night? I wanna take Isabella out to Salinger’s
My blood boils, and I feel the urge to launch my phone into the puddle Miles just jumped in, but another buzz lights up the screen.
Oma: It’s not a big deal if you can’t come. We’ll plan something this weekend
I stuff my phone into my jean jacket pocket and blow out a slow, annoyed breath. I’m sick of my friends leaving me out all the time. I told them it wasn’t a big deal when I saw the picture of them at Six Flags two weekends ago, but it was.
“You told us you had to cover your brother’s shift,” Monae had said apologetically. “We didn’t want to make you feel like you were missing out.”
But it wasn’t just the trip to Six Flags. It was the pics of the three of them at Monae’s for brunch. And the three of them at the mall. And the three of them at the movie premiere we’d talked about for months.
“Bailey, that hurts.” I wince, yanking away from her nails again.
“Thunder and lightning,” she signs.
I look down at her big brown eyes against her dark skin and immediately soften. When Bailey was diagnosed with autism as a toddler, we didn’t know if she would ever speak, and even now she’s a person of few words, but lately she only signs when she’s upset or scared. Plus, who could stay mad at a seven-year-old with a baby-doll face like hers? I pull her close to my side, with Miles still stomping away at the puddles at his feet.
The bus screeches to a stop and three kids step off before Korey and Dante tumble out.
“Korey, Korey, Korey,” Bailey squeals excitedly, reaching for him as I raise Dante’s hood against the rain.
“Look left and right …” I say as the bus pulls away.
“And you’ll be all right!” my siblings sound off.
“Do it twice …”
“And hold a hand tight!”
We step into the street, with Bailey in Korey’s arms and Dante barely keeping Miles’s wriggling hand in his. The biggest puddle of our entire walk sits waiting on the opposite sidewalk, and just before I can yell, Miles grins back and shoots off like a bullet.
I run behind him as Korey barely misses the tail of his yellow jacket. But before I can grab him, the deafening screech from a car sounds and headlights shine bright on Dante. He stands frozen in the street just as the car stops inches from him.
Enraged, I kick the bumper of the station wagon. “We have the right of way, idiot!” I ignore the frantic man shouting apologies from his window and pull Dante to the sidewalk. “I’m fine,” he says over and over as I check for injuries.
“Is there anything I can do?” the man calls, standing halfway out of his car as rain falls down his face.
I crouch so Miles can ride piggyback this time and pretend not to see when Korey flips the man off. The tension’s broken when Bailey mimics Korey with just as much gusto.
“C’mon, y’all,” I laugh. “We’re gonna be late.”
The bell rings as we step into Lively Pups, where doggy toys, snacks, and costumes fill the bright yellow walls of the waiting room. The sound of pups from the back day care rooms seems louder than normal. My dad, Ezekiel, walks out from behind the crescent-shaped reception desk and crouches his tall frame, gracefully imitating a panther as Miles shoots webs at him. Great, he’s in a good mood. Most days, the stress of raising seven kids and running a business barely shows on his face, but then there are other days when I can clearly see the wrinkles bordering his tired eyes, and I know we’re all the reason for the sprinkle of gray touching the top of his head and goatee.
Dante and Korey head into the puppy holding room as Antoinette walks out with a broom. “Welcome, welcome, Wilkinson children,” she says, over the sounds of dogs barking in the back. Antoinette has worked at the shop for as long as I can remember. Though now she’s only part-time since she’s in business school and mostly helps Daddy with the books.
Antoinette gathers her long, wavy hair in a ponytail and smiles at me, saying, “Oooh! Someone wants something.”
My hopeful eyes narrow at Antoinette, but she just chuckles. Mama always says I’m easy to read, but I hate how every emotion I have plays plain as day across my face. Avoiding Daddy’s gaze, I hang my coat on the rack before bending to pick up the jacket Miles left on the floor.
Daddy cocks his head to the side, smiling at me. “Someone wants something like what?”
I ignore the feel of my heart pounding in my chest and tuck a loc behind my ear. Why is this so hard? “I just wanted to ask if it’s okay if I—”
“I finished cleaning the cages,” Ari loudly announces, cutting me off midsentence. She strips off her gloves, dropping them in the wastebasket before standing directly in front of me, like I don’t exist.
When we were younger, people would sometimes mistake us for fraternal twins even though we’re two years apart. I used to love the comparison back when it felt like she was my best friend. But now, at sixteen, I resent the fact that seeing her is like looking in a mirror. Yeah, we have the same five-foot-five frame and build, same wide nose and mouth, same carob-brown skin. It’s just that one of us is ridiculously selfish.
I roll my eyes, readying to push her out of the way, but Daddy gently moves her to the side. “Hold up, Ari,” Daddy says, smiling down at us. “Novah was just about to ask something.”
I assume her smug look, resisting the urge to stick out my tongue, but when I open my mouth, I’m interrupted again. The bell rings as the front door bangs open and my big brother comes in wearing his olive-green Acosta’s Groceries work shirt under his North Face. Rain drips from the tight coils atop his head onto his face as he pushes his way between Ari and me with the biggest grin.
“Just the man I wanted to see,” Zion says, clapping Daddy on the back. “Hey, is it cool if Ari and Novah cover my shift after the game? I have a date with Isabella.”
“Absolutely not,” Ari says, stomping her foot on the checkered floor. “I’m going out to celebrate with my friends after the last volleyball game of my high school career, and you two are covering for me.”
“No, I’m not,” I shout over her. “And who says you guys are gonna win anyways? There may be nothing to celebrate.” I ignore her outraged expression and turn to Daddy with clasped hands. “Can I please go to Salinger’s with my friends after the game? I’ve covered for both of them three times this week already.”
“Yeah, because unlike you, I have real commitments,” Ari snaps.
“Why don’t you try thinking about someone other than yourself for a change?” Zion retorts in my defense.
“Hold up!” Daddy says with raised hands, though his request falls on unwilling ears.
“I already do everything around here!” My arms fly in the air at Ari’s audacity, but before I can say more, the sound of Mama’s door draws my eyes. She emerges from her office and gives us a pointed look in her long cheetah-print caftan, silencing us all. “I know that can’t be the three of you yellin’ like that. Didn’t y’all just get here?” She kisses Bailey’s forehead and raises Miles on her hip. “What are we arguing about?” she asks, riffling through papers at reception.
