Page 4 of Pieces of Us

“I can’t say this is on record, but from the looks on their faces, I believe those scouts will be giving you all a call soon,” Mr. Lewis assured.

“I don’t doubt it. Thank you, Mr. Lewis,” Justin said, shaking his hand.

“No problem. See you at school on Monday, Megan.”

“Okay. Bye!”

Mr. Lewis walked away as Megan and I squealed.

“You are truly the dopest kid. I’m sure when your sister gets your age, she’s going to be just as dope,” I told Megan.

She side-eyed me. “Mom, you know as well as I do that Mariah is stubborn. All she’s going to want is her Cheerios and stuffed animals for the rest of her life.”

I guffawed at her statement. My little honey beewasstubborn. At three-years-old, she wanted what she wanted and would throw a fit if she couldn’t get it. She had been under the weather for the past two days, so she couldn’t attend. My sistercame over to keep watch over her while I attended Megan’s showcase.

“Don’t do my baby, little girl,” I said, pinching her sides.

“Let’s go get some food, shall we? I’m starving,” Justin suggested.

“Yesss. I’m starved!” I exclaimed.

“Ooh! Daddy, can we go to Fixin’s?”

“We sure can, baby.”

“Yes!” I smiled as we all filed out of the auditorium, heading to get some grub.

Nehemiah Newson

May

The Past

The sound of Jodeci’s “Cry For You” serenaded us through my alpine speakers at a comfortable volume. I sat with my back against the door of my 1976 Chrysler Cordoba, listening to the pretty PK with the long hair and dreamy eyes talk about how much she hated church camp and running track. I could listen to her talk all damn day and never get bored with the conversation. Morgan and I started dating in ninth grade. Well, she was a freshman, and I was a sophomore.

She wanted to keep our relationship a secret because her father didn’t approve of her dating yet. She was now a junior, and I was a senior at Churchill High Academy. While my background was a little jaded, hers was the epitome of silver spoon, but I loved her. She was smart and knew a hell of a lot to be a preacher’s kid. And even though she came from money, she was humble and down to earth. It was one of the things I loved the most about her.

Although her father was a preacher, she didn’t act like a PK. She rarely cursed, but she had that around the way girl persona down pact. When I first met her, I thought she was fronting, but when I had dinner with her family at their home, I could tell her pops used to be from the streets. He didn’t sugarcoat shit.

He forbade us from being together because he knew my pops supplied the hood with drugs. He saw my car, nice clothes, and the money I gave his daughter, and automatically stamped me as a statistic, a lost cause, even though I worked at Footlocker to make my own money. It was how my father raised us to be—independent hard workers that didn’t have to depend on him for things that we needed or wanted.

I wasn’t my father, though.

Cole Newson might have sold drugs, but he made sure to keep me and my two sisters away from his lifestyle and always pushed us to be better than him. His money kept us living good and eating, but he refused for us to follow in his footsteps.

That didn’t mean shit to Mr. Prescott, though. He didn’t want us around each other at all, so we snuck around any chance we got. Right now, she was supposed to be at a track meet in Clinton Township, yet she had her friend, Silvia, lie for her so she could spend the two days she was supposed to be away with me. And I was enjoying it. We were currently sitting at the lookout, eating snacks and talking about what we wanted to do after college.

“I’ve been sitting here rambling for the past thirty minutes, and you haven’t said a word yet. What’s on your mind, Booby?” she asked, flashing me her perfect grin.

I smirked at her calling me that corny nickname, but my mood was solemn.

“I’m just listening, baby. I love to hear you talk.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been talking since you picked me up. You’re not your usual happy self. What’s going on?”

I sighed as I took her hand, interlocking our fingers. As much as I loved her, I knew our time together was coming to an end.

“You know I graduate next month.”

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