Page 116 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

Storm hums behind me. “You know that’s some made-up bullshit, right?”

I scoff, my eyebrows dropping as I frown at him.

“You don’t know what it’s like to pull yourself up from the bottom. To have your intelligence questioned because you went to public school and don’t have a pedigree behind your name. My father sacrificed everything, built our lives brick by brick, so I could succeed. It’s my responsibility to make sure my family’s legacy is the brightest it can be, and I don’t want to fail. Iwon’tfail. But that doesn’t mean the shit isn’t going to be hard.”

Storm is silent for a long moment, but I refuse to face him.

I know I’m likely being unfair, but it’s also true. Storm grew up witheverythingthe material world has to offer. The best schools, more money than my parents would earn in a hundred lifetimes, people waiting on his every need to make his life easy—his wealth and privilege allowing him to experience life in a completely different reality from mine.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to be judged? To be the only brown face in a sea of whiteness and to be talked about like I’m sub-human just because I have more melanin in my skin than them? Shae, be so for real right now.”

My shoulders rise and his words cause me to spin around to face him. Storm sits on the bed in the spot I vacated. He looks relaxed with his hands dangling between his bent knees, but the fire in his emotions is plain to see.

“I’m not saying you haven’t experienced prejudice, Storm. I can only imagine how completely fucked it must have been to be surrounded by people who wanted to ignore or erase your Blackness. But you can’t sit here and tell me you haven’t benefited from the systems of oppression you decry and your relative position to whiteness.”

He stares at me hard, and I realize this is the conversation wedefinitelyneed to have.

“I don’t deny any of that. In fact, the reality of my circumstances has been a slap to the face virtually every day of my life, Shae.”

Well, that makes me feel a bit like an ass.

“I’ll ask again, Shae. Do you want to go to Harvard? Because it really seems like you don’t.”

That bubbling feeling in my stomach shoots to my toes, then back up to my throat. I feel like I’m going to hurl everywhere.

“You remember when we were stuck in that elevator?” he asks suddenly, and I tilt my chin down in a sharp affirming jerk. Of course I remember, how could I forget?

“We talked about a lot of things, but once you started telling me about mPOWER, it was like you didn’t want to stop. And that’s not me saying that I minded, but more to show you a very blatant fact: You’re an entrepreneur, Shae. It’s your vocation to build businesses, to create something out of nothing. Theory doesn’t light you up. Getting your hands dirty and beinginit does.”

I take a step back, shaking my head as I wrap my arms around myself. Maybe if I get far enough away from him, I won’t have to listen to his world-exploding declarations.

He continues, despite my retreat.

“You’ve never spoken about economics with the same energy you do when talking about the companies you’ve helped. Hell, you were like a supernova when working on our presentation. Sure, I did a lot of the number crunching and data validation, but the concept for BronzeLight? The premise that got us an A when Hansennevergives As? That was all you. You lovethatworld, Shae, and in the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you excited, truly excited, about the idea of Harvard. So why are you denying yourself? Why are you following a path that you obviously don’t want to take?”

I side-step the question.

“Who do I look like to turn downHarvard?It’s Harvard!”

Storm blinks at me as if he can’t believe I’m completely ignoring the harsh truth he’s thrown out.

“I know some real idiot assholes that go there,” he says, his words stiff. “And, I have to point out that you’re not answering my question. Not with words, at least.”

Enough. This is enough of this argument.

“Goddamn it, why are you making this so hard?” I snap. My teeth click together when I finish the sentence, and I resist grinding them.

He blinks a few times with a strange expression before he looks down at the floor, his jaw tensing.

“You know what, it’s fine. I…sorry,” I say.

Smile.

I hope it doesn’t look like I’m baring my teeth.

“Shae, c’mon, let’s not let this ruin the nig?—”

“Don’t worry about it, Storm,” I press. I give him one hard look, noting how his shoulders slump as he runs a hand over his face, then I turn away.

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