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A Chorus Rises Page 14
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I don’t even know if I’m doing it right.
What if the donna could hear me, and she said I was wrong? That I didn’t know how to describe the predicament of being a Black girl because I didn’t know how to be one. Because I’d never really had to be one.
“Ny?” Priam is looking at me with borderline panic in his eyes.
Which is probably because of how quickly I’ve been breathing. Over the past few moments, I’ve been sucking in chestfuls of air, and I thought I was doing a pretty good job of having what I can only imagine is The Most Discreet Panic Attack. I’ve never had one before, but the fact that I’m simultaneously light-headed and feel like my head is filled to capacity, that my chest is burning so bad I feel like I could scream and am also unnervingly quiet—I’m relatively certain that’s what this is.
When the wind starts to swirl, it cyclones into a chorus.
This will pass.
This terrifying feeling—like I’m a fish outside the water—is not going to last.
I nod, as though the Ancestors are outside me and will see. Like they’re sitting with a worried Priam who’s clasping one of my hands in both of his, and looking like he’s gonna get a professional involved at any moment.
“It’s all right,” I say, but I’m echoing their voices. Luckily, it calms Priam as well. “It’s all right.”
“Should we go outside? Do you need some air?”
“I’m good now.” I take in a deep breath to prove to him I can. There’s still something I need to know. “I need you to tell me what you told Leona Fowl happened at prom. Between Tavia and me.”
“She asked me for the story between you and Tavia.”
“And you told her…”
“I told her you’ve never liked Tavia, that you guys have never been friends, because she thinks her thing is more, I don’t know, authentic than yours.”
“Oh my gawd.”
“Which, yeah, made a lot more sense after prom night, since you obviously knew what she was before the rest of us.”
Balls.
He did hear us.
“Priam.”
I want to curl up and die. Or throttle the boy sitting across from me. Of course Leona Fowl thought she had license to come out of her lane. She thinks she got some intimate insight from the person I’m closest to. Because she did.
“I didn’t think you’d have a problem with me telling her, she said you came to her, and you shared a bunch of stuff with her—”
“Yeah, prom videos!”
“And some new forum you’re part of since you left LOVE—”
“I’m not part—” I immediately lower my voice again, searching the facility for evidence that anyone is paying attention to us. They’re not, of course, nor could they possibly hear our conversation over the victorious bellows coming from Courtney and the cousins. “She obviously wanted to give you the impression I’d confide in her, and clearly she succeeded.”
His face falls, and he looks at the table between us.
“I didn’t wanna be another person who betrayed you, Naema. I swear.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me you were still in the courtyard?” I try to sound earnest instead of angry, and when the wind picks up in my chest momentarily, I take a calming breath and ask one more question: “Why were you?”
“I wasn’t gonna leave you.” Priam answers like the question makes zero sense.
“Even with Effie zipping around turning people to stone? It would’ve been understandable. It was chaos.”
“I just made sure not to look at her. That’s what set her off. I mean. Until you.”
I’m not abrupt about it, but I release his hands and withdraw.
“I’m sorry, Ny. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I saw her give Effie the command,” he says, careful now, like he doesn’t want to say her name, or like he’s not sure I can stand to hear it. “But I didn’t think I was keeping a secret. Why would I think you’d want to talk about it? She hurt you.”
It’s too bad I watched that stupid movie, and all those response videos and entertainment panels; I know exactly what everybody else would say.
“I deserved it, remember?”
“No, you didn’t.” His dark eyes are overshadowed when his brows crash down above them. “Not after you kept her secret that whole time. You wouldn’t even let me parade our relationship around school because of her, which I totally didn’t understand. But it made sense after that night. You were a good friend to her.”
“We weren’t friends,” I blurt. “We never were.”
“Okay, well. You were something, otherwise why protect her?”
I don’t know how to answer that, and not just to Priam. No one’s ever asked me why I shielded for Tavia. Even in the unspoken way it always seemed I was being treated like an outsider. No one questioned whether I was inside enough to do her that service.
“Because it was right. It was the right thing to do. No matter who she was.”
“Right. So maybe you weren’t friends, Ny, but you were still good to her.”
“As long as you don’t tell Gavin. I don’t want him thinking I’ve taken his instructions about being nice to heart.”
For a moment he just smiles, and I can almost see the relief seeping out of him. This is without question the most difficult conversation we’ve ever had. It goes against every tenet of our relationship and culture, and I don’t think I’m being dramatic. I think there’s no way he’ll ever want to have a serious and sustained conversation again—and then it’s Priam who starts it up again.
“Can I ask you something, Ny?” When I nod, he says, “Why didn’t you tell me about the nucleus thing? The … network?”
I freeze up. Even knowing he overheard Tavia and me talking in the courtyard that night, I still feel a slight panic at hearing someone outside the network bring it up.
“Because you broke up with me over me keeping a secret from you, right? And you made me feel really crappy about it. About being fixated on Tavia, but. Aren’t you? Haven’t you always been? Isn’t the network a whole Tavia-related secret you kept from me?”
“That’s…” I need an inoffensive way to say Totally Unrelated WTF Are You Talking About, but it doesn’t come.
“I’m not trying to pick a fight, I just wanna know why your secrets are okay, but mine are worth breaking up over.”
“Because mine are about a community you’re not a part of that needs protecting, Priam,” I tell him. “You’re here because I needed to tell you that you can never speak about it again. Never.”
I don’t know how I’m expecting him to respond, but he’s quiet. It isn’t brooding, or sulking, which is actually a bit surprising. Instead there’s an expression that’s almost like recognition.
“My dad knew, too.” He’s looking off to the side, and then he runs his hand through his hair before leaning into his forearms on the table. “About what she is. I don’t know. I guess it makes me wonder what kind of person I am if my girlfriend, my ex, and my own dad didn’t trust me with that.”
“It’s not about you,” I tell him. “And the network isn’t just about me or Tavia. That’s why you can’t talk about it. To anyone. Not even another Eloko. For sure, never to Leona Fowl.”
He hesitates. “And that’s really the only reason I’m here? So you could tell me something you could’ve texted?”
“I mean. I’m not gonna write about it where it can be screenshot and shared,” I cluck, before realizing how it sounds. Priam doesn’t miss a beat.
“You mean that I might screenshot and share. Because it’s not just Leona Fowl or Portland you don’t trust anymore, it’s me, too.”
“If you’re dead set on being offended, Premium, I don’t know what to say. I trust me. That’s all anyone should expect for a while, and I don’t feel bad about that.”
He draws in a deep breath and looks away again, but when I think he’s going to pout, instead he stands.
“Do you want something to drink?” he
asks, before rephrasing. “Can I get you something to drink?” And then he sort of smiles. “Only so many hours to feel like your boyfriend again.”
“I’ll come with you,” I tell him, and when he offers me his hand, I take it. I let myself enjoy that he’s here, regardless of why, and I don’t hesitate to wrap my other hand around his forearm like I used to.
* * *
I hadn’t noticed what my cousin wore today until now. I’m sitting between Priam’s legs, him on a tabletop, and me on a bench in front of him, watching my cousins enjoy a free play after their lesson. Priam’s been alternating between petting my hair and rubbing my shoulders, occasionally laughing at something one of the kids does.
I must’ve seen the siren synthesizer masking the bottom half of Little Bit’s face, and I must’ve heard the autotuned version of her voice every time she speaks. There’s music blaring through the facility, and a sea of kid voices, but I realize my gaze has been trained on her for some time.
And then I realize that I’m not the only one.
A little white girl has been absorbed into a cluster of my little cousins, the group of them taking turns flipping off of a trampoline platform into a basin of chunky foam blocks. The non-Babcock tween is completely comfortable, egging on Little Bit with the rest of them when she makes her dying call during another dramatic, acrobatic descent.
The tween’s mom is another story. I know who she is because she’s been standing with another parent, speaking behind cupped hands like lip-readers are a concern, and taking indecisive steps toward her daughter, and then turning back. Finally the other adult goads her enough that she quicksteps to the trampoline area and reaches toward her child, careful to withdraw her hand whenever one of my excitable cousins almost makes accidental contact.
“Corey,” the mom finally shouts over the noise, and her daughter whirls around. Instead of interrupting her play, the tween starts bouncing around like a cartoon bomb with a lit fuse. She’s demanding her mother watch her flip and despite the fact that it looks very possible the kid is gonna explode otherwise, the mom reaches through the throng of children and yanks Corey away.
Kids are thankfully just kids sometimes, and my cousins make space for the little girl to be retrieved before recongealing. They don’t know or worry over why she’s been taken away; sometimes parents just do that.
But I’ve been watching the mom, and the way she scared-scowls at Little Bit in particular. Like she doesn’t get that a synthesizer’s just a toy, and wearing one basically ensures that the little Black girl beneath it is not a siren—otherwise she wouldn’t need it.
Finally the woman feels my gaze, and looks over at me.
“Little Bit,” I call while we’re still watching each other, and I put my trill in my voice to make sure it catches my cousin’s attention.
She barrels into me, trailed by a couple of others, and the smell of kid sweat almost makes me wave them off.
“Lemme hold your synthesizer while you play,” I say.
“Okay!”
Easy. She yanks it indelicately, wrenching it around her face the way kids do with things they didn’t personally pay money for, mussing her ponytail made of braids.
“Here,” she chirps, gives me a very sweaty kiss on the cheek, and then bounds off.
Across the room, Corey’s mom and her friend still watch while trying to act like they aren’t. The mom puts her hand over her heart and shakes her head, like she’s relieved but still shaken up, and the other parent gives her a quick hug.
Give me a break, and then take a seat.
“Did you hear that little girl’s name?” Courtney asks when he drops on the table next to Priam, greeting him with a series of hand slaps they clearly have not discussed beforehand.
“Yep.” I can’t stop watching Corey’s mom, especially now that it’s obvious she’s avoiding my eyes. For what. What does she think I am? “There’s a lesson in there, I swear.”
“In a little girl named Corey?” Priam asks. “What’s wrong with that? Names don’t have a gender.”
“That’s what I’m always telling her, man,” Courtney says, and I almost laugh.
“Here,” and I chuck the sweaty, twisted synthesizer into his lap. “Maybe don’t let Little Bit wear this out in public. Those parents almost had a heart attack.”
“And I’m supposed to care why.”
“Because you don’t want people looking at your little sister the way they did. Just take it, Courtney.”
“They don’t need to see a synthesizer to act a fool,” he scoffs.
“You can think whatever you want, but maybe remember she’s a little girl and just do what I ask.”
“Dang, calm down, Sheba.” He balls up the contraption and shoves it into his pocket.
“Pro tip: telling people to calm down almost never results in them calming down, or you keeping your hairline,” I say as I shove out of my seat and go keep a closer eye on my little cousins.
* * *
The day fades too quickly. I try to dig my nails into it and keep the hours from ticking by, but with Priam around, and the constant eventfulness of Family Reunion Week, time slips away from me.
We’re back at the airport, and I told Little Bit I wanted to go alone this time. I don’t want to share our goodbye, and after Priam and I park so I can walk him in, at first all I want to do is hug him. But there’s something else.
“This is gonna sound weird,” I start, and while I pause to decide whether I really want to ask at all, he moves my hair behind my ear.
“Okay. Be weird.”
“Do you ever hear … voices? Not like that. Familial voices.”
“Familial…”
“Your Ancestors. It’s an Eloko thing.”
“Well, I’m an Eloko,” he says through a laugh.
“That’s why I’m asking you, butthead.”
“I mean. I don’t think so? Why?”
But instead of answering, I just shake my head, and pull him into me.
“Don’t forget,” I say into his neck, and then pull back and watch his brows relax with acknowledgment. “You can’t ever mention it. Not even to other Eloko.”
“I get it, Ny. I won’t.” He rubs my arms, and then wraps me up in his again. “But I already told her you knew Tavia was a siren. What do I tell her if she brings it up again?”
“Tell her you can’t be sure. You were eavesdropping, in a high school courtyard, with a gorgon on the loose. You were scared of Effie.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Great.” I roll my eyes. “She’ll believe you were. Or tell her I dumped you, and you were mad at me. You were trying to get back at me.”
His hold on me loosens.
“I really don’t care what you tell her, Priam, as long as it isn’t true. You could always just never speak to her again, but that’s not really up to me, is it.”
“I don’t have a reason to. Do you still? What are you gonna say?”
I straighten, lift my chin so I am looking squarely into his dark eyes. “I’m gonna tell her that Tavia Philips made her sister turn me to stone.”
“Ny—”
“Yes?” I wait. I could cross my arms or cock my eyebrow, but my unflinching gaze is enough.
“I watched the movie.” He shakes his head, like that’s not what he meant to say. “I mean, I know that doesn’t matter, it’s just. She didn’t tell anyone. About homecoming.”
I don’t answer him. I already know that.
“The thing I was afraid would make the world afraid of me. Of us. When I accidentally hurt her … she didn’t tell.”
“Isn’t that darling,” I say through a sigh, and before he can go on, “but what she did to me wasn’t an accident, Priam. You know that as well as I do.”
He glances down, and I touch his chin so he’ll look me in the eye.
“I’m going to tell Leona Fowl what Tavia did to me, Priam. Do you have a problem with that?”
I’m sure someone would say it isn�
��t fair, asking him that question when I know how much he wants us back together. But this should be an easy choice, relationship in the balance or not. He knows what happened, and he knows what I’ve gone through for her. He knows about the network and that I refuse to expose it. I have a right to my own story, and this is the safest story I can tell. And if it takes Tavia down a few pegs, I fail to see how that’s unfair. Her being a siren doesn’t give her carte blanche on terrorizing someone else.
Victims can have victims, and the world needs to be reminded.
“No,” he tells me. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
“Good. Because it’s only really up to me.”
Chapter XVI
Knights of Naema—Members Only
SilverSchalem [gold/45]: #Justice4Naema
SilverSchalem: I didn’t take these, but I am posting them with permission. I know a lot of us won’t want to see these, which is why I’ve tagged them NSFW—but we SHOULD see them. Because we should never forget what was done to our girl. [upvotes: 115]
Anon [no shield]: Just as a point of clarification: permission from the photographer? Or are you in contact with Naema herself?? [upvotes: 5]
SilverSchalem: ETA: Permission from the photographer. Thanks for pointing that out. I’m not in contact with Naema herself. I wish. [upvotes: 1]
Anon: Understood. I’m actually glad you didn’t mean her. As important as this documentation is, I wouldn’t want her having to see herself Stoned. She’s been through more than enough. [upvotes: 60]
NaemasNobleman [silver/39]: #Justice4Naema
HelmedDefender [bronze/15]: #Justice4Naema
Lancelot [bronze/9]: Even in gray, she’s still beautiful … [downvotes: 125]
SilverSchalem: Downvoting.
Greaves [silver/40]: I get what you’re saying, but we’re not celebrating an attack.
Lancelot: Not my intention, I just meant the way you can still see her through the stone, she’s still an Eloko goddess no matter what that snake did to her. [upvotes: 4; downvotes: 25]