“No. Matthew 19:19 and John 8:7. Read it right now. And you think about that ’fore you think about twisting your lips to say one thing wrong to that young girl ain’t got nowhere to go.”

NOW, TINY’S PRESENCE simply unnerved me. Her light skin became more than a complexion and more of a pallor, her thin frame looked too much like a skeleton’s. As she moved about and around us, her aura had faded to something almost ethereal in my eyes; whether the glow fringing her silhouette was from life or death remained to be seen. There was no way Janice could know what was up with Tiny; matter of fact, Janice acted like she was sweet on Tiny—always offering to do things for the baby, sharing anything sweet, fixing flyaways in her hair. Just like a butch for a femme.

“Damn this shit is good,” Janice squealed one night as she passed a carton of corner-store Neapolitan back between her and Tiny, something me and Nakesha would have done. They were only using one spoon—Janice, Tiny, and that baby. There was no way Janice could have known. But we didn’t have any drama in our room. We all respected each other’s privacy and bedtimes. We made casual conversation about music and the weather. I didn’t plan on being here forever, so there was no need in me causing any drama in the short time I was here.

“No thank you,” I said, as cheerfully as I could while I slathered Palmer’s cocoa butter on my feet before I went to bed.

“Mmm mmm,” Janice said, scooping out her last spoonful before passing it along to Tiny. “Damn, what was we supposed to read for Bible study? I don’t never do that shit on time …” She scratched her scalp between her cornrows and lazily flipped through the leather-bound Bible bearing her name.

There was no way I could forget the assignment, since I was positive it had been handed down by the powers that be because of me.

“Matthew 19:19 and John 8:7,” I told them before shutting my eyes for the night, finally accepting that maybe Tiny wasn’t so bad and maybe the sisters were right.