Page 151 of The Right Sign

Niko is the first to approach me as I trudge up the steps, safe in my older sister’s grasp.

“Did you get lost?” my niece signs.

Lost in Dare Sullivan’s eyes.

“I’m fine.” I sign the words for her but my shaky smile is for my tribe of loved ones.

They don’t buy it because I’m immediately dragged into the house by Sunny.

Vanya, my supermodel idol and my fashion mentor, hands her baby over to her husband Hadyn like she was a pro football player in her previous life and joins us inside.

Kenya’s pregnant-woman waddle to the linen closet would be funny if she didn’t deliver a towel to Nova who’s trying to strangle me with it.

Dawn peels me out of my clothes in the firm, matter-of-fact way that she probably overhauls an engine.

“I’m okay,” I keep signing.

That doesn’t stop Island from staring at my hair like it broke her heart in the third grade and she never got over it. With a dismal head shake, she busts out a hairdryer from who knows where.

The women descend like an army of worker ants, and I’m absorbed into a cloud of chaos that smells like perfume, cocoa butter and natural hair creams.

By the time they’re finished with me, I’ve changed into dry clothes, my hair’s been restored, and I’m dressed in an embroidered Mayan shirt along with a pair of Sunny’s sweatpants.

“You arenevergetting this shirt back,” I sign, admiring the stitchwork on the collar.

Sunny smirks and makes a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

Deej walks up to me. Thanks to the humidity and the winds from outside, her hair is an even bigger afro than usual. The honey-tipped coils spring up to the ceiling like a halo.

I wish I could snap a picture. She looks stunning.

As if she can read my mind, Deej offers my phone.

Dare: Can you come out for a minute?

I glance up at the women. Sunny and Kenya are standing guard at the door, arms crossed and daring me to try them. I’m not getting out of here without a fight.

My eyes drop to Kenya’s belly.

And I’m not fighting a pregnant woman.

Yaya: I don’t think I can.

Dare: Talia wants to go home.

Yaya: Understandable. It’s past her bedtime.

Dare: I wanted to see you before I left. Make sure you’re okay.

I type out a response and then erase it and lift the phone high. Letting my fingers play in the hem of my shirt, I make my trademark bedroom eyes expression. Snapping a selfie, I send it to Dare with a cheeky grin.

Yaya: I’m okay.

His incoming text is instant.

Dare:You’re lucky Sazuki is guarding your bedroom door.

I laugh and then notice the lack of movement in my peripheral vision. Glancing up, I gulp when I see the farmhouse ladies staring at me like mad scientists before they inspect someone’s brain.

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