“What are the big questions you ponder when you’re here?” I ask, forcing myself to look away and break the spell.

“Pam is fine as hell. Why was Martin always dog’n her out? Was the Dr. King episode on Boondocks too far or not far enough? New Aunt Viv or original Aunt Viv?”

“They dogged Pam out because . . . colorism. The Dr. King episode was out of pocket, and original Aunt Viv wins, always. Anything else on your mind?” I ask.

“Actually, yeah, there is . . .”

He gently pushes my mug aside and leans in. His scent is warm and intoxicating, like summer and chocolate. Devonte has always been beauty walking. But after tonight, he’s more than just a sight to behold. He’s a thief who’s stolen stars from galaxies far away and placed them in his eyes, making it impossible to look away. He’s a silver-tongued trickster who’s convinced Father Time to stand still, just for us. He’s a voodoo priest peddling home-brewed oils and herbs that promise to soothe and heal all the anger I felt today.

The thief, the trickster, and the priest lean in even closer. They converge and become one as our lips touch. His kiss is gentle and giving. It consumes all of my thoughts. I’m falling into a glittering black hole of wonder . . .

Chapter Nine

Black Girl Magic

The next morning, I stand in front of the mirror and wonder why it’s lying to me. It keeps telling me that I am the same girl. But the mirror is wrong. I’m different now. I’m changed. It may take the mirror some time to reflect those changes, but trust, there’s been a change. There’s an arch in my back, a sway in my hips, and a stride in my step that wasn’t there before.

The biggest difference in me is joy. I have an abundance of it. It’s so strong and seeks to block out anything that challenges it. It even blocks out the words my mom is speaking into the phone inside her office. All I hear is white noise that I’m certain is related to the march.

The march . . .

I don’t want to even think about it because it’s a joy killer. I call out a quick “Bye, Mom!” at the closed office door, grab my stuff, and bounce down the stairs.

“Ayo, hang on,” she shouts down to me.

Damn . . .

I was lucky; last night when I came in, I managed to make it to my room without waking up my mom. I was hoping my luck would hold and this would be one of the mornings where she had to go in early. But it seems my luck has run out.

“I’m trying to get to school early. I told Nai I’d meet up with her before class,” I explain.

“Be right down,” she says.