Back to you, p.1
Back to You, page 1
Back to You
K. Anthony Wilson
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used factiously and part of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons is entirely coincidental.
First Edition
Book Cover design by Storm Thornicroft
Copyright © 2019 K. Anthony Wilson
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-7330161-0-0
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the person who introduced me to the wonderful world of books and the joy of writing.
Look Ma, I did it! I love you; I miss you and I can see you smiling down on me.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Golden Birthday
Star
Two Weeks Later
Twister
Roller Coasters
Walk It Out
Read Me
Versus Verses
Pierced
Fromage Grillé
He Loves Me Not
Honeysuckle Sweet
Poetic
Looking For A Hero
Resistance
T.G.I.F
House Party
Golden Hour
Karaoke
Liked Or Loved
The Test
Kiss Of Life
Strike One
Pride
Strike Two
You’re Out
Spring Renewal
Goliath
Forgiveness
Friend Or More
Out With The Truth
Blind Faith
Roll With It
Back To You
Epilouge
Mama’s Ginger Molases Cookies
JJ’s Sunrise Jam’s
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Golden Birthday
Whether you were born on the 1st or the 31st, you have a Golden birthday. Some people call them Grand birthdays or Star birthdays because it’s when you turn the age of your birth date. Today is Friday, February 17th and I’m finally seventeen years old. Mama said that since it’s the year 2017, it’s called a Triple Golden birthday. She’s made this a big deal since the day I was born and we even skipped my Sweet Sixteen party just so we could celebrate this one.
Tonight, is my birthday party and Mama has invited everyone she knows. She’s sent about 250 invitations out and more than half of them said they were coming. This party has gotten so big that I almost don’t even want to have it anymore. I just want to chill with my best friends JJ, Jessa, and Xavier.
I stare at the red numbers on the alarm clock. The minute switches to 5:02. Oh God, why must you keep waking me up this early? My Gram used to tell me that when God wakes you up like this, he’s trying to tell you something.
I lay still, not making a sound. Nothing. If God’s talking, I need for him to turn up the volume ‘cause all I hear is birds chirping. Gram also told me to seek and I shall find, but all I’m trying to find right now is slumber.
It’s still dark outside. There is no light coming from anywhere except for the bright redness of this stupid clock. If there was the smell of coffee wafting into my room, I could understand why I keep waking up so early, but Mama doesn’t have coffee until 5:15. That’s the time she gets up to read in her reading chair, talk with my dad after his run, or sometimes she’ll practice a new recipe for the bakery that she works for, Kate’s Cake and Coffee.
But Mama’s not scheduled to go there today. She’ll only go to the bakery to pick up the cake she made for me. I hadn’t been allowed into the bakery because she wanted my cake to be a surprise.
I didn’t give her much to go on as far as decorating it. I don’t like pink or anything girly. My interests include baking—like my mom, reading—like my mom, and skating—not like my mom. My guess is that Mama will design a cake that looks like a book or a roller skate. Or maybe a car ‘cause I like cars, too. Whatever she designs I’m sure it will be show-stopping because I have absolute faith in her baking skills.
Looking at the clock again makes me want to throw my pillow, but instead, I use it to cover my head. I shut my eyes and try to conjure up a dream that’ll put me back to sleep. Visions of Trevor Watkins pop into my mind. His smooth brown skin, his dark, curly hair, and his one gold tooth on the right side of his mouth. My eyes pop open. I’m not really feelin’ the gold. It’s not even cute.
There’s a light tap on my door. “Come in,” I say, removing the pillow from my face.
Mama peeks her head into the room and the nightlight from the hallway shows the silhouette of her petite frame with her hair pulled into a low bun like always.
“You still waking up early, Buttercup?” she asks, her voice all chipper.
I don’t know how she does it; she’s as perky as a cup of coffee every day of the week. She doesn’t even need caffeine. People in our town affectionately started to call her “Honey” because she’s so sweet, kind, and bubbly towards everyone. “Yes,” I reply. “I keep trying to go back to sleep but I can’t.”
My bed goes down some as Mama sits in front of me. She always smells like cinnamon and vanilla as if she has some sort of secret baker perfume.
Mama pats my back. “Maybe you’re just excited about your Golden Birthday party tonight?”
Nah. That can’t be it. Mama took it upon herself to invite everyone from our church and other people in my Junior class. Being that she’s lived here all of her life, minus the few years we lived in Atlanta, she knows everyone. I don’t mind, but I’m not excited. Not enough to keep waking up like this.
Mama continues to rub my back. “Maybe this means you need to spend more time with me.” I pull the covers back and turn on my bedside lamp. The light shines on her high cheekbones, bringing a smile to her eyes. People tell me I have her smile, but I think they just say that to be nice. When most people see me, their expressions show up before their words.
I’m a highly noticeable person and I’m not bragging. All people do is notice me. The first thing they see is this white jagged shape on my left cheek. I have a skin disease called vitiligo. When I was about nine years old, I made the mistake of calling it “Bity Ly Goat,” but I know better now. It’s Vi-tee-lie-go or depending on who you talk to, it may be Vi-tuh-li-go. Either way, it’s a condition where your skin pigment changes.
I’m African American and my brown skin is very brown, but from my knees up to my thighs I’m white. Not like a tanned white, but more like the color of milk. Throughout my mid-section, I’m a map of the world with white continents and seas of cocoa. The stream of white decreases as it travels up my neck and then takes on the shape of what looks like the continent of Africa on my face.
No one has to tell me I’m hideous, I feel it. At first, I thought it was because we moved from Atlanta to Tennessee. I thought maybe there was a change happening in the atmosphere, but that didn’t make sense. It only happened to me. Not my parents.
The first day of third grade, dead in the hot heat of August, everyone was wearing uniform shorts but I was wearing pants. Instantly, I made enemies and not friends until I met JJ. He didn’t care what I looked like and befriended me immediately. And then I met Jessa the following year. She has vitiligo too, but hers is slightly less noticeable against her pale skin.
I was the one who got called all kinds of names, pushed in the mud, and laughed at. No one called me by my name. I wasn’t Clove anymore, I was Cracked Oreo, Cow, Casper, Ghost Whisperer, and because my dad has become a well-known youth minister throughout the city, I was later called PK for Preacher’s Kid. Unfortunately, PK stuck and got slurred to “Pink-ay” and later “Pinky.” I hate that name, but thankfully none of my friends have ever called me that.
I look at Mama, sitting on my bed. Her skin is all one, smooth, brown color and her smile is so big that it could make the heavens open up. She stops rubbing my back. “I have an idea. How about we make breakfast together? We could do cinnamon rolls or butter croissants?”
Oh gosh, cinnamon rolls take forever. The dough has to rise, then you have to roll them out, make the cinnamon mixture, spread the mixture, roll, cut, then they need to rise again. Followed by making the icing. It’s too much. But then, what else am I doing except lying here wondering why I’m awake? Some time with mom might be good.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Fine. Just let me put on some pants.”
Mama claps her hands in anticipation. “I’ll go get the ingredients ready. We can make ‘em with extra cinnamon like you like and do any icing you want.”
She is spoiling me, but I love it. Being an only child has its perks sometimes. I grab her hand before she gets up and she waits.
“Yes?” she smiles.
I hug her. “Thanks, for all that you’re doing. I love you.”
Mama holds on to me for a while and kisses the top of my head. “Don’t mention it. C’mon, let’s roll!”
I shake my head at her corny bakery joke.
Star
JJ always says skating rinks smell like feet and popcorn. He’s right. Out of the many times we’ve been here, that’s exactly what it reminds me of as we walk in. We’d come here almost every day for the past couple of weeks so that we could teach JJ to skate, and so Jessa and I could make up skate routines.
My party is 90’s themed and Jessa and I both wear red tights. Our hair is in a half-up, half down hairstyle. The difference in our clothes is that Jessa wears a shimmering iridescent unitard over her tights and I wear
Jessa and I arrive 30 minutes late for more of a dramatic entrance. My parents got here early to get things set up and make sure the rink is ready for my Golden Birthday celebration. The lights in the rink are dim with swirls of color from a disco ball that hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Everything seems perfect.
JJ’s mom had helped with the table décor and she did an amazing job. There are these giant clear balloons with gold confetti inside of them on each table. The balloons are tied at the base with white tulle and gold ribbon. In addition to the balloons, every table has bouquets of tulips in glittering gold Mason jars. There’s a table with red tulips, a table with orange tulips, yellow, green and it repeats the pattern of the rainbow. It’s like a fancy box of Lucky Charms up in here. Mama and Mrs. Jourdan have really outdone themselves.
Jessa nudges me. “Dang, gurl. Your Mama was not playin’ about this party. Everythang is glitterin’ gold and rainbows.”
I continue scanning around the room. “You ain’t never lied.”
Jessa grins at me. “You like it though, don’t you?”
“Yep.” For as long as I can remember I’ve always said the rainbow is my favorite color. And that’s just how Mama and JJ’s mom have decorated this place.
Jessa tugs on my elbow. “C’mon let’s get our skates on.”
That’s when it hits me that I forgot the most important thing to have at a skating party. I bring my palm to my forehead. “Shoot Jess, I forgot the new skates Mama just got me.”
Jessa gapes at me like I’m crazy and she has every right to. Mama gave me the skates earlier today. They were white with red laces, each wheel was a different color of the rainbow, with the eighth one being pink. I wasn’t crazy about the pink, but Mama had them custom made. She even had my name engraved on the outer right side and “Skate Queen” engraved on the outer left.
Jessa clicks her tongue. “Shoot! Now we gotta go alla way back to your house.”
“Chill out Jess, our neighborhood is like three minutes away. It won’t take that long.”
Mama briskly walks over to where Jessa and I stand. If she smiled any bigger, she’d be a Cheshire cat. They hug each other. “Hey Miss Honey,” Jessa says to my mom.
Mama releases her and then puts her fist on her hip. “Jessa, I told you to stop calling me Miss. You’re still family, I don’t care what my sister says.”
Jessa shakes her head. “No, ma’am. I can’t do that. My daddy’ll slap the taste out my mouth if he hears me call another adult by their first name.”
Mama chuckles. “Well, speaking of your dad, is he coming tonight?”
“Um...no ma’am. He said he wasn’t going to come if your sister was here.”
Jessa’s dad used to be married to my aunt so I guess that kind of makes us more cousins than friends. I don’t know. Aunt Didi hasn’t stayed married to any of her husbands long. Mama says it because she’s too “mouthy.”
Mama laughs. “Well, that’s fine. Y’all two come on and skate.” Mama searches me and then behind my back. “Buttercup, where are your skates?”
I purse my lips together. I don’t wanna tell her that I left them at home by accident. But she knows me all too well.
Her shoulders fall and so does her smile, but then she plasters it back on not wanting to show her disappointment. “I’ll go back and get them. Be back in a flash. Go enjoy your party. This is all for you!”
I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m glad she’s not mad.
“Whaddup, Clove?” a voice I recognize speaks from behind me. Trevor Watkins. I didn’t know if he was coming because Mama said he never RSVP’d. Trevor’s tall, dark and handsome. He’s sort of like Xavier except for the handsome part. I can’t see Xavier as handsome because he’s like a brother to me. And then Xavier has dreads and Trevor has a curly high fade. Most girls think his gold tooth is hot but I’m on the fence about it.
“Hey Trevor,” I finally say.
“Thanks for the invite.”
“No problem.”
Jessa elbows me. “Let’s go get some skates.”
“Nah, I’ll wait for Mama to come back with mine. They’ll go better with my outfit.” Plus, I wanna stay here and talk to Trevor. He looks good in his skinny jeans, crisp white t-shirt, and gold Jesus-piece chain around his neck. It’s a nice change from seeing him in the school uniform we have to wear every day.
Jessa pinches my arm.
“Ow,” I cry.
This time she raises her eyebrows. I know she wants me to come with her so I excuse myself from Trevor and follow Jessa to the skate attendant.
“What’d you pinch me for?” I ask Jessa.
“Trevor’s trouble. You need to be careful.”
“How do you know?”
Jessa tells the attendant she needs a size eight. “I just...heard things that’s all.”
I’d heard some things too but they weren’t necessarily bad, just rumors. And you can’t believe everything you hear. For example, I don’t believe any of the rumors I’ve heard about Jessa.
Jessa takes the skates off the counter. “You sure you don’t wanna just get some skates til your mama comes back?”
I’m pretty sure. Why wear those ugly brown skates when I can wear my own brand-new ones? I stand and wait for Jessa to get laced up. There are a lot of people here and many of them come over to tell me happy birthday.
Jessa finishes her laces. “Ok, well. I guess I’mma skate. See you on the floor in a lil bit.”
IT’S ALMOST TEN O’CLOCK and Mama’s still not back. Jessa, JJ, and Xavier roll over to me. Xavier and Jessa stop but poor JJ keeps rolling. His arms flail in the air before he falls to the ground.
“You ok?” Jessa asks.
JJ puts a thumb in the air and pushes himself back up.
Xavier puts his hand on my shoulder. “Clove, when are we going to cut the cake? I’m dying to see it.”
I look at the cake table where my dad and Gram are talking to JJ’s parents. It shouldn’t have taken this long for Mama to get my skates. She’s been gone for over half an hour. I know she said this was all for me, but some of this was for her. She’s missing out.
Jessa smacks Xavier playfully in the stomach. “Forget cake. Clove, just put on some skates so we can at least do our routine. I think the DJ is gonna play our song soon.”
I hold up a finger. “Wait a sec.” I walk over to my dad and ask if he’s talked to Mama.
Dad lifts up his baseball cap and scratches his head. He then puts the cap back on and smooths his hand over his goatee. “I called her but... she’s not answering her phone.” He digs his hands in his pocket to reach for his phone.
Gram adjusts one of my overall straps. “Go enjoy yourself baby and skate with your friends. If she’s not back in a few minutes, we’ll go ahead and cut the cake.”
I’m worried but maybe I shouldn’t be. Mama probably just got distracted or something. I ask the attendant for a size ten and sit down to lace the skates up quickly. The song Jessa and I requested begins to play.
I step onto the skate floor and Jessa and I begin to skate to the rhythm of the beat. We skate backward, putting one foot over the other. We dance, dropping it down, and picking it back up. I can tell people are slowing down on the floor to watch us. It feels great to be admired for once.
We skate by JJ and Xavier who are talking to some girls from our Church. I try not to pay attention to the way Hannah Hopper is giggling and touching her chest as she talks to JJ. JJ and I met in third grade when he moved here from France. My family and his family have become very close and we’ve always been really good friends, but lately, he’s been, I don’t know, sort of different. He looks different and—
The DJ abruptly stops the music and announces that we’ll be cutting my cake exactly in ten minutes. As Jessa and I skate around, I hear murmurings from people nearby. Traffic for miles...bad car accident and one of the cars was squished. The word accident echoes in my head.
I get off the skate floor and go back to where I last saw my dad, but he isn’t here. Gram puts more chips in a bowl.
