shirt? Run! Run away! But the dream Kyara sat, just as she had in real life.
A black sedan came around the corner. It would have been like a hundred other cars – solid, boring, and anonymous – if Kyara hadn't noticed the bright yellow chicken hanging from the rear-view mirror. She'd seen it a hundred times, and never failed to ask him to take it down.
That stupid, terrible toy chicken. If not for it, I would never have known.
The thought cut off abruptly as the windows facing her father and Keisha's rolled down and the muzzle of guns appeared.
* * * * *
Kyara sat straight up in the dark, her heart racing.
The clock glared at her from the nightstand, bathing her in harsh, red light.
I'll have to be up in an hour anyway , Kyara told herself, and I don't think I'm getting back to sleep any time soon.
Kyara got out of bed and went to stare at herself in the mirror.
The time working outside has made me even darker , she realized. I thought I'd hate it, but it actually looks pretty good. It did, too. The light gleamed off the dark sheen of her skin, making her eyes seem whiter and larger. Her straightened hair encircled her face like an ebony halo, drawing attention to the red in her lips and cheeks. Damn. I wish I could tell thirteen-year-old me about this. I wasted a lot of sunlight trying to stay light skinned.
Kyara sobered, looking at herself again in the mirror.
Is that when it started? All this chasing after men, trying to be what they want? Never thinking too closely about who they really are?
Kyara studied herself, eyes dark and reflective.
What am I doing? After Devante, I swore I wouldn't do this again. I need to stand on my own, not get tangled up with some guy. Especially, s he scolded herself, some guy I've barely spent any time with. I mean, what do I even know about him?
Well, I know that he volunteers, both on the trail and at Crystal's school. I know that he stood up for me. I know he brought people here to eat. I know that he looks great in jeans. And... that's it. I don't even know his last name.
That's not enough. That's not even what I knew about Devante.
I'm making the same mistakes all over again.
I have to cancel.
Kyara nodded to herself, her jaw firming, and turned away to shower.
That morning, Kyara rehearsed what she would say. She couldn't call right away, given how early she was up. That gave her hours to obsess. She almost changed her mind again and again. Each time she reconsidered, she ran her litany of failed boyfriends through her mind, always ending with the worst.
This is my penance , she found herself thinking. I can't ever make up for it, but that doesn't mean I can't try.
Given the early start, Kyara started some extra food, just for herself. While she tried to serve food in the restaurant which seemed like New England food, Kyara always prepared soul food for herself. It was a small part of home she allowed herself to keep. It was a small piece of happiness she was still allowed to have.
So while she readied the ingredients for salads and turkey sandwiches for the lunch crowd on one side of the kitchen, on the other she filled the air with the smell of ham hocks and prepared the makings for fried green tomatoes.
Lunchtime came, but no customers. With the restaurant empty, she couldn't put it off any longer. She took his number from her pocket, walked to the restaurant phone, and dialed.
The ringing of the phone waiting for him to pick up seemed to go on forever. Finally, it clicked over to voicemail.
"If you called me, you know who it is. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you" his voice said into her ear, sounding vaguely fake.
See? I hate stupid messages like that. What if I just had a wrong number? Clearly we weren't meant to be.
"Hey, Jason, it's Kyara. I don't think I can make it tomorrow after all. Sorry to cancel on you, I just ... don't think
A black sedan came around the corner. It would have been like a hundred other cars – solid, boring, and anonymous – if Kyara hadn't noticed the bright yellow chicken hanging from the rear-view mirror. She'd seen it a hundred times, and never failed to ask him to take it down.
That stupid, terrible toy chicken. If not for it, I would never have known.
The thought cut off abruptly as the windows facing her father and Keisha's rolled down and the muzzle of guns appeared.
* * * * *
Kyara sat straight up in the dark, her heart racing.
The clock glared at her from the nightstand, bathing her in harsh, red light.
I'll have to be up in an hour anyway , Kyara told herself, and I don't think I'm getting back to sleep any time soon.
Kyara got out of bed and went to stare at herself in the mirror.
The time working outside has made me even darker , she realized. I thought I'd hate it, but it actually looks pretty good. It did, too. The light gleamed off the dark sheen of her skin, making her eyes seem whiter and larger. Her straightened hair encircled her face like an ebony halo, drawing attention to the red in her lips and cheeks. Damn. I wish I could tell thirteen-year-old me about this. I wasted a lot of sunlight trying to stay light skinned.
Kyara sobered, looking at herself again in the mirror.
Is that when it started? All this chasing after men, trying to be what they want? Never thinking too closely about who they really are?
Kyara studied herself, eyes dark and reflective.
What am I doing? After Devante, I swore I wouldn't do this again. I need to stand on my own, not get tangled up with some guy. Especially, s he scolded herself, some guy I've barely spent any time with. I mean, what do I even know about him?
Well, I know that he volunteers, both on the trail and at Crystal's school. I know that he stood up for me. I know he brought people here to eat. I know that he looks great in jeans. And... that's it. I don't even know his last name.
That's not enough. That's not even what I knew about Devante.
I'm making the same mistakes all over again.
I have to cancel.
Kyara nodded to herself, her jaw firming, and turned away to shower.
That morning, Kyara rehearsed what she would say. She couldn't call right away, given how early she was up. That gave her hours to obsess. She almost changed her mind again and again. Each time she reconsidered, she ran her litany of failed boyfriends through her mind, always ending with the worst.
This is my penance , she found herself thinking. I can't ever make up for it, but that doesn't mean I can't try.
Given the early start, Kyara started some extra food, just for herself. While she tried to serve food in the restaurant which seemed like New England food, Kyara always prepared soul food for herself. It was a small part of home she allowed herself to keep. It was a small piece of happiness she was still allowed to have.
So while she readied the ingredients for salads and turkey sandwiches for the lunch crowd on one side of the kitchen, on the other she filled the air with the smell of ham hocks and prepared the makings for fried green tomatoes.
Lunchtime came, but no customers. With the restaurant empty, she couldn't put it off any longer. She took his number from her pocket, walked to the restaurant phone, and dialed.
The ringing of the phone waiting for him to pick up seemed to go on forever. Finally, it clicked over to voicemail.
"If you called me, you know who it is. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you" his voice said into her ear, sounding vaguely fake.
See? I hate stupid messages like that. What if I just had a wrong number? Clearly we weren't meant to be.
"Hey, Jason, it's Kyara. I don't think I can make it tomorrow after all. Sorry to cancel on you, I just ... don't think
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