Page 17 of As You Walk On

I’m destined to “break the cycle,” according to him.

“Real food.” Dad sets a plate of eggs and bacon plus a steaming bowl of grits—melting butter oozing in the center—down in front of me before flopping back into his chair. “Eat up.”

When did he make all of this? I must’ve spaced out, staring at The Plan. I mumble a “thanks,” already halfway into my eggs.

“Any plans today?” he asks.

I peek at my phone. The lie comes effortlessly. “We’re having a big game night at Jay’s later. Maybe sleep over?”

Dad frowns, chin on his knuckles. “I thought we’d watchThe Last Knight.”

Any given Saturday night, you can find us slouching on the couch, marathoning the Transformers movies. They’re the kind of awful CGI disaster you just laugh through the entire time. It’s replaced the way we used to spend Saturday evenings: watching films with Mario and Aleah.

I swallow down a spoonful of grits.

Should I give Dad a heads-up about Mario?

No. Then he might ask about Aleah. I’m not ready to face that conversation.

“Well...” My eyes drift from Dad to The Plan. “It’s our only chance to hang out before spring break. After this weekend, I won’t have any time.”

Dad and I made a deal: spring break isn’t a vacation from Brook-Oak. I’m doing a free response for Mr.London’s class. An extra take-home quiz for Algebra 2. Catching up on readings. Anything to increase my 3.6 GPA. Better my chances of getting into Duke, or at least our second and third choices.

Dad folds his arms, studying me.

I wonder if he sees right through my lie.

It’s not as if he’ll be mad that I’m going to a party. Dad went to his fair share of kickbacks in high school. But my grandparents enforced a strict curfew—home before midnight, a tradition Dad’s continued with me. I can’t have a Cinderella-esque restriction killing my vibes with Christian. What am I supposed to say if he wants to hang out after the party?

Sorry, I gotta bounce! These Jordans are about to turn into a pair of Crocs.

“TJ,” Dad starts to say.

“Just tonight,” I plead. “I’ll be at the Scotts’. No foolishness. Promise.”

He rubs his chin. I know that face. It’s the same one I get every Christmas Eve when I beg to open gifts early before he finally gives in.

“Phone charged and on at all times. Be polite. No spontaneous trips around the city because y’all got bored,” Dad warns. “Sleep in the living room, not Jay’s bedroom. No sleeping nude—”

“Dad!”

Since I came out, he’s implemented a few revisions to The Talk:

I know what it’s like to be a teen, he’d said.Hormones are real. Things happen. Sexuality is fluid. Who we think we are today might not be who we are tomorrow. I want you and your partner safe. Everything should be consensual.

Darren and Jay might be like brothers, but Dad insists that could change one day.

He’s not done with his speech yet. “I’m serious, TJ. If you feel like something’s about to happen, check for consent. Verbally give your own consent too. If you’re not ready to do anything, you don’t have to. Condoms.Plural. Do we need to rewatch the video on how to...?”

He pauses to reach for his phone.

“Dad! No! They’re my best friends.”

“You think nothing happened between me and my ‘friends’?”

“I don’t actually want to know, thanks.”

God, if he ever says he and Jay’s mom hooked up, I’ll perish right then and there.

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