DEJONAE
“I saw Sazuki drop you off again. You still expect us to believe there’s nothing going on between you two?” Taylor plops her bag in the seat next to mine.
Today, her hair is dyed red at the ends. Her eye makeup is more dramatic with wings at the tips and heavy mascara.
“I don’t recall inviting you to sit beside me,” I grumble.
“Free country,” she says with a smirk. Kicking up her feet on the chair in front of her, she settles in.
“Fine.” I get up and gather my books. “I’ll move.”
“Don’t be like that, Donna.”
“It’s Dee-jon-ae,” I bite out.
“Right. That’s what I said.”
With a roll of my eyes, I snap my backpack across my shoulder and storm to another row. Everyone in the lecture hall watches me like I’m some kind of animal in a zoo.
I grit my teeth. How do celebrities live like this? I’ve been semi-famous for less than forty-eight hours and I’m already sick of it.
Thankfully, Taylor doesn’t follow me to my new seat. The rest of the class seems content to stare and whisper from a distance.
I set my headphones over my ears to tune them out and then I text Yaya.
Dejonae: When are you coming home for a visit? I need you.
Then I text Hadyn.
Dejonae: Is everything okay with Vanya? She hasn’t been replying to my texts.
The door springs open and Mr. Howel enters briskly.
“Hello, class,” he says with a frown. His eyes flit to me and he zooms in. “Miss Williams.”
“Sir.” I sit up straight, thinking he’s going to scold me for being on my phone.
“How are you today? Feeling well?”
“Uh… I’m okay.”
His face shifts and he laughs loudly. “Wonderful. Wonderful!” He sets his books on the edge of the piano. “Mr. Sazuki didn’t… say anything about me, did he? He’s supposed to let me know when we can meet for a performance session.”
I squirm. “No, he didn’t say anything.”
“No problem at all. Let him know that I’m available any time.” Howel makes a telephone gesture and clicks his tongue. “When his schedule allows, of course.”
I sink into my seat as the lesson begins.
Everyone is staring and whispering all over again.
Why the hell did Sazuki have to show up at my school and make such a big splash? Now I’m marked for life.
My phone buzzes.
Yaya: I don’t think I’ll be able to come home, Didi.
Yaya: Is something wrong?
Where do I begin?
My cheating ex-boyfriend is now my co-worker.
My best friend has fallen off the face of the planet.
And my grumpy boss is…
Less grumpy than I expected.
Just the thought of Sazuki makes my heart speed up. If I close my eyes, I can see him. Standing in that sharp, princely way of his, legs longer than a tree, eyes boring into me with dangerous intensity.
When he gathered my hair in Adam Harrison’s lab, I had the unbearable urge to ask him to never stop touching me. To keep running his fingers through my hair, down my arms and anywhere else he wanted.
Dangerous thoughts.
Even more dangerous?
The connection I felt in the restaurant. I haven’t had that kind of chemistry with anyone. Ever. The fact that it’s with Sazuki of all people is unbelievably irritating.
Especially when I think about the phone call.
Niko’s mother.
His wife.
Or ex-wife.
Whatever the relationship is, she’s still in his life. Still in Niko’s life.
I’m the intruder.
I don’t know what I was thinking. That we could be more than just boss and employee? That we could be friends?
Ridiculous.
Sazuki is so powerful, so larger than life, that he briefly eclipsed reality. But the cold, hard truth is starting to pierce through the haze.
The connection between us is only in my head.
Sazuki doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t care about anything but his daughter.
He’s bossy.
Grouchy.
Reticent.
He barely sees me as worthy enough to touch his piano. To him, I’m just a flighty, naive, strong-willed college student he can push around at his convenience.
Well, screw him.
I’ll do my job, earn my credits for graduation and try to find a way to keep in touch with Niko while forgetting her dad exists.
My phone buzzes during the lecture.
Hadyn: Van’s not feeling too well right now. I’ve got an idea to cheer her up, but I’ll need your help.
Me: Anything.
Hadyn: I’ll discuss the details soon.
I turn the phone face-down, lost in my thoughts.
Hadyn’s been taking care of Vanya since they were kids. Although he’s never stated it outright, I pieced together that she’s his first love.
I wonder if Sazuki’s wife was his first love.
Was it love at first sight?
Was she his first everything?
At the direction of my thoughts, I sit up straight and shake my head.
Do not think about Sazuki or his wife.
“Miss Williams?” Mr. Howel stops in the middle of his lecture. “Would you like to ask a question?”
“Uh, what? No, sorry.”
He gives me an accommodating smile. “No problem. You just let me know if there’s something you don’t understand.”
I duck my head while he continues droning on.
After class, Taylor and her friends walk past me.
“How does it feel to become the teacher’s pet overnight?”
I give her a withering stare. “Do you take your bullying lessons from Regina George? Come up with something original, Taylor.”
She laughs. “Funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be,” I murmur, gathering my books.
She leans forward. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get Sazuki’s attention.”
I try hard not to roll my eyes.
“You said it wasn’t drugs or sex. So what was it?”
“Bad karma?”
She gives me a funny look.
I sigh. “Taylor, I’d gladly trade places with you. Why don’t you go talk to the dean and work out your own internship? Let me know how it goes.”
She scoffs and storms out of the class.
Screw her.
And her little posse too.
I’m at the end of my patience when I leave the lecture hall. My fingers dig into my books like I’m choking someone’s neck.
Sazuki.
This is all his fault. My life was perfectly normal before he swooped in with his sharp cheekbones, dark eyes and sexy accent. He trapped me in his world, dropped a giant spotlight over my head and left me to pick up the pieces.
Now everyone sees him when they look at me.
It would be fine…
If I wasn’t trying to forget about him.
Eyes follow me down the path.
Students stare and point.
How long until things go back to normal and people like Taylor stay the hell out of my face?
I near the quad. Late evening sunshine bakes my head. The clouds are puffy and tinged with orange blushes. In the distance, I hear music. Low quality. Grainy. Like the kind that plays from old video recorders.
A little girl sings, ‘You shouldn’t be a bully like Xander. Because bullies don’t go to heaven!’
I freeze.
That’s the song I wrote for the talent show.
“Yaya?” I gasp.
Without thought, I fly across the quad and round the bend. There, on the sidewalk, is my sister holding up a boombox.
Her hair is long and straight with cute bangs cut bluntly over her forehead. Her skin is dark and so flawless it looks like God carefully poured a bucket of dusky brown paint over her before she was born.
Her eyes are big and expressive, her nose short and round, and her lips are fuller than mine.
The modeling world is crazy for ignoring her.
Yaya sees me and starts dancing off-beat to the music. Students pass her by, giving her weird looks. She grins at each of them and sets her eyes back on me.
“Yaya!” I squeal in happiness, crossing the distance between us at warp speed. When I get close, I attack her in a giant hug. The boom box nearly crashes out of her hands.
My sister lets me squeeze her to death before nudging me away.
I step back just an inch.
She sets the speaker down, still blasting music, and hugs me back properly.
We sway until I hear a man clear his throat.
“Excuse me, you girls shouldn’t be playing loud music. This is a school campus, not the neighborhood barbecue.”
I turn around.
The man’s eyes widen. “Are you Dejonae Williams?”
“That’s me.” I brush my hair out of my face.
He motions to me and Yaya. “Sorry. Go ahead and enjoy your music.”
“It’s okay. I’ll take it off.”
I could have lived without his ‘neighborhood barbecue’ comment, but we are, technically, in the wrong.
“No need.” He smooths a pasty hand over his sweater vest and lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m Professor Wayne, by the way. I teach Classical Russian Music History.”
“Oh.” I saw that class at the start of the semester, but it sounded tedious so I didn’t sign up for it.
He steps back. “I have a class now, but I’d love to chat some time.”
“With me?”
“And Sazuki.”
My lips drop flat.
He retreats, his eyes still on me. “If you, by chance, have an opportunity to speak to Sazuki, would you mention me. I—whoa.” He almost stumbles into a skater who’s wheeling past. He recovers quickly, though a flush spreads up his neck. “I’d love to do a collaboration if possible.”
“I’m not that close to Sazuki,” I say.
“That’s alright. Just mention it to him. That’ll be enough.”
“What was that about?” Yaya signs when the teacher bumbles away.
“Later,” I say. Leaning over, I take off the boombox.
Growing up, Yaya loved blasting her favorite songs. Because she could only ‘feel’ the music, having the volume turned up helped her experience the changing rhythms.
I wonder how much easier her life would have been if Sazuki and Adam’s technology had been available to her.
Should I ask Sazuki to save one of the prototypes for me?
Would he think I’m annoying for asking?
No more thinking about Sazuki. Off limits, remember?
My sister slings an arm around my neck. With one hand, she signs, “What’s running through your pretty head?”
“Thoughts of you,” I gesture.
She lifts her chin as if to say ‘makes sense’.
Yaya has confidence in spades. It helps that she is, genuinely, one of the most beautiful women in the world. She’s tall, curvy, athletic and fearless. I know she’s going to make it big one day.
“Does dad know you’re here?” I sign.
She gestures, “I thought we could visit him together.”
“He’s going to freak.”
She drags a finger down her eye to her cheek. “Mom will cry.”
I snort. “She totally will.”
“I’m here to get you first,” she signs. “They’ll be less dramatic.”
I laugh.
Yaya slings her arm around my waist and hugs me to her. She smells like cocoa butter and sunshine.
I tuck my head against hers. After all the crap that’s been going on, seeing Yaya is the absolute best thing that could have happened to me.
Yaya bounces me with her hip and signs, “Let’s catch a taxi and go home. ”
We were wrong.
Dad is the one who cries.
Mom, shockingly, manages to keep her composure when Yaya jumps from behind me and signs, ‘Surprise!’
I stand back and watch my parents hug Yaya, knowing how much it means to have her home.
“What are you doing, Deej? Get over here.” Mom hooks an arm around my neck and drags me into the family huddle.
For a woman who’s an inch shy of five feet, she’s surprisingly strong.
I wrap one arm around my mother’s slim waist and another around my father’s happy paunch. They squeeze me in turn and we all take a collective breath together.
After dad releases me, he swipes under his eye. “It feels good to have both my girls home.”
“I haven’t been gone that long,” Yaya signs.
Dad gestures, “You never call.”
Yaya moves her dominant hand back and forth. “I’m busy.”
“Even if you’re busy, you should still remember to call.”
“Don’t scold her, Darius. She just got home.” Mom gives dad a little shove.
Yaya rolls her eyes, but a grin plays across her lips.
Mom wipes dark hands against her jeans. “Are you girls hungry? Let me make you something to eat.”
“I’m starving,” Yaya signs. She throws herself backward into the couch and extends one long, muscle-bound leg.
My sister used to run track in high school and the muscle definition remained long after she quit.
“I’m not hungry.” I follow mom into the kitchen to get some water. “I had a late lunch.”
“What did you have for lunch?” mom asks, eyeing me over her shoulder as she reaches for something in the cupboard.
“Miso soup.”
“Is that Nigerian?”
“It’s Japanese,” I mutter.
“I thought the only Japanese food you could stomach was sushi.”
“Apparently not. The soup I had today was incredible.”
“We should all try it out.” Mom’s smile lights up her face. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
I nod absently.
Dad stalks into the kitchen a hand on his stomach. His chubby cheeks bunch under his eyes when he sees me. “Hey, sugar, what’s the latest with you?”
“Everything’s the same.”
“What about that café you were working at? Are you still there?”
“The shop went bankrupt,” I say.
“Have you managed to find a new job?” Mom sets a loaf of bread and a jar of mayonnaise on the counter.
“Sort of. It’s only a temporary thing. I’ll probably be job-hunting again after graduation.”
“Don’t bother with that. Come back to work for me. I still haven’t found a secretary as good as you.” Dad walks over to me and kisses my temple.
“You mean you haven’t found another secretary who will work for free.”
“What are you talking about? I paid you by keeping a roof over your head and food in your stomach.” He booms out a laugh.
“Exactly. Do you know how many labor laws you broke?”
Mom sets a cutting board on the counter and poises a knife over sandwich meat. “Ignore him. Your father’s plan is to do all he can to get you girls home.”
Yaya’s footsteps make us all turn.
“Why did the party move into the kitchen without me?” she signs.
Mom sets the knife down. “Your father is on Dejonae’s case again.”
Yaya tilts her head and gives dad a warning look.
He throws up his hands as if to say ‘I’m innocent’.
“Deej is going to be a famous songwriter,” Yaya signs. “Don’t get in her way.”
“Thank you.” I toss her a knowing grin.
“I got your back,” she gestures.
“Have you worked on any new songs lately?” mom asks.
I shake my head. “I’ve been too busy with school and looking for a job, but now that I’m working again, I’ll get back to it.”
“How about you, Yaya?” Dad signs. “Any new gigs after that Macy’s catalogue?”
She scrunches her nose. “Not yet.”
“It’ll pick up,” I sign.
She gives me a grateful smile.
Mom slides a finished sandwich over to Yaya. Then she turns her pretty brown eyes on me.
Everyone says we get our good looks from her. Mom is one of those classic beauties with finely arching eyebrows, sultry brown eyes, and perfect, Cupid’s bow lips. Dad used to joke that she was drunk when she fell for him.
“Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want something?” mom insists.
“I’m okay.”
Dad opens a pack of chips and sets it on the counter between us. I nab one because I’m my father’s daughter and I can’t say no to cheese-dusted goodness.
Yaya fishes in her pocket and slides her phone over to me. I peer over the counter and nearly choke when I see a picture of me and Vanya.
It’s from the day I met Niko in the alley.
Vanya’s wearing her fancy blue dress and I look like a bum in my old sneakers, T-shirt and jeans.
“Have some water, sugar.” Dad cracks a can of root beer, his version of ‘water’ and shoves it at me.
I gulp it down, cringing when the acid burns the back of my throat.
Yaya gives me an excited look. “You’re still hanging out with Vanya Beckford?”
“We meet every now and then.”
“When are you going to introduce me?” She touches the tip of her lips with a finger and drags it down. “I want to ask her some questions.”
I cringe. “Now isn’t really a good time.”
“Why?”
“She just had a new baby,” I sign. “And something seems to be going on with her.”
Mom collapses into a bar stool. “Who? Vanya Beckford?”
I nod.
“That poor girl. People just won’t leave her alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was another article about her yesterday.”
Both Yaya and I tense up.
“What did it say?” Dad eats his chips casually.
“They say she’s getting rid of her baby weight too quickly. They even have scientific evidence saying she should be weighing a lot more after giving birth.” Mom gestures, “People think she’s extreme dieting.”
Yaya’s expression turns stormy. Her hands move at warp speed. “People always have things to say when they know nothing about someone. Why can’t they leave her alone?”
“Exactly!” I hiss.
“If being a celebrity means having people care so much about my weight, then I’m good.” Dad pats his belly. “I’d want these idiots to come and judge me. I’d tell them all about themselves.”
“Vanya can’t argue with them,” I sign. “Or it’ll hurt her business.”
Yaya chews thoughtfully. “Maybe now isn’t a good time to introduce me to her.”
“I’ll talk to her. I know she wants to meet you,” I sign. “She just hasn’t had the time.”
Satisfied, my sister returns her attention to the sandwich and takes a big chomp. She normally eats a ton when she comes home.
Mom signs, “Deej, is your new job with Vanya Beckford?”
“No, I’m working for the Sazukis.”
“Sazuki?” Dad pops another chip into his mouth. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”
Yaya signs, “Isn’t that a car?”
“You’re thinking Suzuki. These are the Sa-zukis. They’re a super famous family who’ve been making traditional music for decades.”
“I’ve never heard of them,” she signs.
“And you probably never will. They live in the shadows, but they’ve sold more albums than all the biggest pop stars combined. And they did it without touring or going on television.”
“Maybe it’s money laundering?” Yaya signs.
“Are they part of the mafia?” Dad adds.
“No, they’re not.” My eyebrows crash together. “They’re incredibly talented and shrewd business people.”
Mom tilts her head. “Sazuki. He’s a musician, right?”
“Pianist.” I run my fingers over invisible piano keys.
“Wasn’t there an article about how snobby he is? I read that he keeps to himself and doesn’t talk to anyone ‘beneath’ him.”
“Typical rich people,” Yaya signs.
“Selfish.” Dad tsks. “They have all that money and they don’t do anything to help the less fortunate.”
“That’s not true.” My voice climbs. “Sazuki built an entire foundation to give back to the deaf community. And I’m betting there’s a lot more he’s done that no one knows about because he hasn’t broadcasted it.” My shoulders go rigid. “Weren’t we just talking about how damaging gossip is? Why are we doing it to him?”
Mom’s jaw falls open softly.
Dad’s chip drops out of his mouth.
Yaya looks amused. She signs, “What’s with you?”
“I just think it’s unfair to judge people when you don’t know them. That’s all,” I mutter sheepishly.
My family continues to slant me weird looks. I grab a handful of chips and stuff it into my mouth to keep from talking.
Dad wisely changes the subject and there is no more mention of Sazuki or his foundation until later that night when Yaya sneaks into my bedroom.
“You’re still afraid of the dark?” I sign after rolling over and putting on the lamp.
She stands in the doorway and sticks her tongue out at me.
When we were little, Yaya would often come running into my room after a bad dream. ‘I can’t hear if a monster’s coming,’ she would say. I promised to let her know if I heard any monsters.
“Some traditions should stay alive,” she signs.
I laugh softly.
Yaya’s changed into an oversized Beethoven’s Nightmare graphic T-shirt. Her hair’s wrapped in a cheetah-print silk bonnet. Silver moonlight caresses her prominent cheekbones.
She climbs into the bed. I scoot over to make room for her and prop pillows against the headboard so I can sit up.
“Is there something between you and your boss?” she signs.
“Something like what?” I ask out loud.
She makes a gesture that, to anyone who didn’t understand sign language, would look suggestive.
Heat blazes in my cheeks. I repeat the gesture and then signal an ‘x’. “It’s not like that.”
“Then why did you get so worked up?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
She slants me a disbelieving look.
I arrange my feet so I’m sitting cross-legged. “Because I know the truth.”
“Why do you care so much about his truth?” she challenges.
“It’s not about him. It’s about his daughter,” I gesture. “Sazuki’s daughter is deaf. That’s how we connected.”
My sister raises both eyebrows.
“He invested millions to create a space for his daughter to learn and produce music. Rather than keep that space to himself, he’s sharing it with the city. For free. Not only that, but there’s this device…” My hands drop when I remember the NDA I signed. “My point is, he might be arrogant, rude, and obnoxious,” I think about the lengths he went to get me to work with him, “but he’s not too bad underneath it all.”
“You like him,” my sister signs.
“No, I don’t.”
“Why deny it?”
“I’m not denying anything.”
She smirks. “Does he like you too?”
“Drop the ‘too’. And to answer your question, he hates me.”
“Why?” she signs.
“The first time we met, I was playing his super expensive piano without his permission. He thought I lacked ‘honor’ and made it clear what he thought of me.”
“So? First impressions aren’t everything.”
“They are when the second impression is even worse,” I sign.
“Why don’t you give him a chance? Is it because he has a child? Are you afraid of becoming a stepmother?”
“Of course not.” I sit straight up. “I love Niko. She’s the smartest, sweetest, most intelligent little girl I’ve ever met. I’m half-certain that she’s cooler than me.”
Yaya’s eyes sparkle. “I want to meet her.”
I purse my lips. “Not going to happen.”
“You said she was deaf, right?” Yaya wiggles her eyebrows as she signs, “What’s wrong with two deaf girls hanging out and having fun?”
“She’s Sazuki’s daughter.”
“So?”
“So he’s not going to just… let her hang out with us.”
“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “No.”
“Are you afraid he’s going to find out you like him if you call him first?” Yaya gestures.
“I don’t like him,” I stress. “This has nothing to do with that.”
“So call,” she insists.
“I can’t just pick up the phone and call him up. He’s my boss.”
She tilts her head, clearly not buying it.
“It’s almost midnight, Yaya. That would be inappropriate.”
“Ask him tomorrow then,” she signs.
I scowl.
Yaya rolls across my body and fishes for my phone.
I yelp when her weight almost smothers me. “Ah! What are you doing?”
She grabs my phone and, with an evil smile, scrolls through my contacts.
My eyes widen. I try to wrestle her for the phone but years of running track and lifting weights means she’s much stronger than I am.
My sister easily pins me down with her legs.
I struggle beneath her. “Don’t you dare, Yaya.”
The phone starts ringing.
I twist my head around to pin her with a dark look.
“Hang. Up,” I sign.
She smirks and then drops her attention back to the phone.
The light turns green.
Yaya shoves the device at me.
“Miss Williams?” Sazuki sounds annoyed already.
I grimace.
Yaya pushes the phone at my mouth.
“Miss Williams,” Sazuki repeats sternly, “why did you call me this late at night?”
I gesture frantically for Yaya to hang up.
She shakes her head.
Sazuki is going to kill me tomorrow.
“Uh, hi. Sorry to bother you. I’m calling because my sister and I are… we wanted to invite Niko to…”
Invite her to do what?
I give Yaya a desperate look.
“Bowling,” Yaya signs.
“We’re going bowling tomorrow night, and I was wondering if Niko would be interested in joining us.”
There’s a long silence on Sazuki’s end.
He’s going to reject me.
Humiliation makes my skin feel like it’s on fire.
He thinks I’m an idiot.
A minute passes.
Did he hang up?
“It’s okay if you’re not interested,” I say, trying to check if he’s still there. “Yaya has this thing about making friends with every deaf person she meets. It was really her idea…”
Am I throwing my baby sister under the bus?
Yes.
Yes I am.
And shamelessly too.
Yaya scrunches her nose at me.
“I think Niko would enjoy that,” Sazuki says finally. “As long as Akira can accompany her—”
“Of course. Yeah. Akira’s more than welcome.”
“Ask him to come too,” a robotic voice chimes.
Horror fills me like a swirling tsunami when I look back and see my sister.
With her phone out.
Using her evil text-to-speech app.
“Was that your sister?” Sazuki asks, sounding amused.
“Yes, she’s…” I push Yaya off me and smack her phone away. It lands at the foot of the bed. “She’s very friendly.”
“Tell her I said hello.”
My eyes bug. “What?”
“Did you tell her?”
“Why do you want to tell my sister hello?” I screech.
“It is called being polite, Miss Williams.”
“You? Polite?”
He chuckles and the sound rolls over me in waves.
“I am the definition of cordiality.”
I snort. “That hasn’t been my experience.”
“Your definition of politeness is clearly flawed then. I have no recollection of you being cordial either.”
“Well, I’m not nice to you,” I allow. “But in all fairness, you were rude to me first, so I think that’s only right.”
Yaya signs, “What is he saying?”
“He says hello,” I speak and sign at the same time.
Her grin nearly splits her face in half.
“She said hello back,” I translate as I watch my sisters hands. “And that I’m—” My heart stops. “Yaya, I’m not saying that.”
“Saying what?” Sazuki asks.
“Nothing.” I smack my sister’s shoulder. “Sorry to take up so much of your time, Mr. Sazuki. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Miss Williams.”
“Goodnight.” I slam the ‘end’ button and toss the phone face-down on the bed.
My sister cackles loudly and clutches her stomach.
I glare at her. “Really? You wanted me to tell him I’m single?” I emphasize the gesture for ‘single’. “He’s married.”
“Says who?” Yaya signs.
“Where do you think Niko comes from?” I argue. “Thin air?”
She signs, “They could be divorced.”
“And they could be together or it could be complicated or they could have an open relationship. Whatever it is, it’s none of my business.”
“If you really don’t care, then why not ask him?”
“Ask him yourself,” I counter.
“I’m not the one who likes him,” she signs.
“For the last time, I do not like him.” My voice shakes and I’m glad, for once, that my sister can’t hear it. “Sazuki’s not my type. Even if he was, I can’t stand him. He’s rude and bossy and a know-it-all. Not to mention he’s grumpier than the Grinch.”
“You care too much. It’s all over your face,” she gestures.
“I don’t care at all.”
“Admit you have feelings for him,” Yaya insists.
“I’m not admitting that.”
“Then admit you want to…” She makes a circle and thrusts her finger through it.
I grab her hands and shove them down. “You better not do that in front of Niko tomorrow. If she starts signing about sex, her dad is going to kill me.”
“Killing is excessive.”
I freeze.
Yaya blinks innocently.
Chills run down my spine.
Please tell me that’s a ghost.
“And in all fairness, Miss Williams, I believe the Grinch would out-grump me any day.”
Oh, crud.
The voice is coming from my phone.
I inch forward and face the cell phone like it’s a possessed doll in a rocking chair.
Yaya watches me intently.
I’m trying my best not to throw up, but I don’t think I’ll be able to hold it in. Moving so slowly anyone would think I’d turned geriatric, I reach for the cell and turn it over.
“Ah!” I gasp when I see what’s on it.
The screen is completely green.
The little timer at the top is faithfully adding up the seconds.
I didn’t hang up.
Yaya sees the screen. Her eyes widen when she realizes what it means.
“What are you going to do?” she gestures.
“I don’t know!” I flail.
“Do something!”
I toss the phone at her. “You do something.”
She throws it back.
“Miss Williams?”
I cover my mouth to make sure Sazuki can’t hear my harried breath and smack the ‘end’ button. Then I smack it again, making sure the phone cuts off this time.
My sister gives me a terrified look.
I stare into her eyes. My insides are twisting and folding into themselves.
Please let this be a horrible dream. I’ll wake up tomorrow and none of this was real.
But Yaya’s hand on mine and the concern in her brown eyes is all the evidence I need.
Sazuki heard everything.
