Her skin color is the reason we met. We were in first grade and a boy was teasing her about her being dark-skinned. I walked up to the kid and dumped my tray of food on him. Everyone laughed at him. I think that was my first and last act of badassness.

After that day, we became best friends. My mom would tell her about different parts of the world where her dark skin tone was worshipped and adored. That helped her self-esteem—maybe too much.

“Hello? Is my hair everything or what?” she asks.

“I love it!”

“Thank you. Now, what’s your plan to talk to your mom?”

Before I can reply, the guys make their way toward us. The short kid with deep-set eyes is Dell Rogers. He always wears long, dark jackets and shades. He plays the saxophone and lives for three things: food, girls, and Miles Davis.

The guy walking next to him is Shawn Anderson. He’s a tall, muscular basketball player, and all the girls want him. The thing is that he’s not into girls. Last year, we were all at my house, playing video games and stuffing our faces, and out of nowhere, Shawn blurted out, “I’m gay.”

The words sucked all the air out of the room. The first person to recover was Dell. “You gay? For real?” he asked.

Shawn looked over at his best friend and nodded. “Yeah, I am. I knew for a while, but I didn’t want to say anything.” He shrugged.

Dell nodded. “I get it, yo. You didn’t want to say anything, but now you have to ’cause . . . you have feelings for me.”

“Feelings? For you? Nah,” Shawn replied.

“Well, damn, you ain’t had to say it like that,” Dell replied, clearly offended.

Shawn said, “I just meant that—”

“No, I know what you meant. And I’ma tell you something—I’m a catch. You hear me?” Dell informed us.

Shawn walked over to his friend. “So you don’t care that I’m gay. You only care that I’m not feel’n you like that?”

“I’m say’n, look at me. I’m fire, baby!” Dell said as he checked himself out in the mirror across the room.

Shawn laughed and then looked over at the rest of us to gauge where we were with his announcement. “What y’all think?” he asked nervously.

“So the thing about gay people having fashion sense, that’s all a lie?” Naija teased.

Shawn threw the nearest pillow at her head. I went over and hugged him. The last thing I remember about that night was us gossiping about which guy would be a good match for Shawn, while Dell stood in the background making kissing faces at himself in the mirror.