Keith frowns and sits on the edge of Kayla’s desk. “I knew a Serena Washington.”
“For real?” I ask. “Who?”
“Remember Mrs. Washington?” Keith asks.
“Our old nosy neighbor?” Kayla’s face lights with recognition. “That old lady caught me in so many compromising positions.”
“All of high school was a compromising position for you, Zee.” I laugh, ducking when she throws a paper clip at me. “You know it’s true. Mama didn’t call you fast tail for nothing.”
“So fast,” Mama says from the door. “Thought your daddy would lose his mind from all those boys coming to the house.”
“I was not that bad,” Kayla says, trying to fake outrage because she knows she was.
“You were,” Keith, Mama and I say in harmony.
The four of us laugh, and it reminds me of all the good times we had growing up. Feels like the Saturday mornings when the work was done and we’d stop for lunch in the kitchen. Laughter, macaroni and cheese, and chicken nuggets while I waited for the sun to go down, for Shabbat to end so Ezra and I could play.
Ezra.
I pull my phone out, not surprised to see two new messages from him. I haven’t responded, but he won’t stop if I don’t.
Me: Give me some space.
Ezra: Call me.
Me: Have you asked your mom about the charm?
Ezra: Not yet. Just a few things going on here, as I’m sure you remember.
Ezra: I miss you.
Damn heart. Skipping beats and shit.
Me: It’s only been a day.
Ezra: A day of you ignoring my messages.
Me: After this meeting, I’ll call you.
Ezra: If you don’t call, I’ll come to your mother’s house.
That is a scene I want to avoid at all costs. I heave a sigh and slip the phone back into my purse. The preternatural quiet from my typically boisterous family makes me realize they’re all staring at me.
“What?” I ask, giving them each a piece of my frown. “What are you looking at?”
“Who you texting?” Kayla aims her chin at my phone.
“Is it that Stern boy?” Mama asks with a smile. “Nose been wide open for you since he was old enough to know.”
“What does that even mean, Mama?” I ask. “Old enough to know what?”
“What girls are for,” Keith drawls.
“Focus, fam,” I say, trying to keep my voice light when my heart is Titanic in my chest, overburdened and sinking. “Less talk about my love life and more about this damn biography. Piers got me a number for the author, this Serena Washington, so I’ll try to find her today.”
“Yeah, like I was saying,” Keith interjects. “I knew a Serena Washington. She was Mrs. Washington’s niece. Lived across town, but bussed in one year. She was in my class.”
“That would be quite a coincidence,” Kayla says. “Though Washington isn’t exactly a unique name.”