Page 26 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

“Support Leela supporting Ryan? Seems sort of unnecessary, bro.”

“I don’t know. It might be fun. That place was sorta cool.” I shrug. “And where would we even play tonight? My house is out.”

“We can go to Greg’s place. I know his mom is kindahelicoptery, but there’s the cookies. Also”—Yobani grabs the book from me, and flips a few more pages forward—“there are almirajes in this one. Fucking unicorn. Bunnies. Unicorn bunnies! Like, how can we not play that immediately?!”

I’m about to make another case for seeing the show instead when I feel something wet and slimy swipe across my cheek.

I jump back and see Eric’s friend Tyrell standing there, a wide, wicked smile on his face.

“Hold up, I’m just trying to see...” He licks his thumb and then reaches for my cheek with it again, but I dodge him this time. “Now come here, I’m trying to see if the black comes off, because there’s no way you can be here reading about fairies and elves and actually be Black.”

“Tyrell, what the fuck?” I say, weaving around another attempt.

“Chill, I’m just playing with you, baby bro,” Tyrell says, cackling and clapping his hand on my shoulder. “But for real, though, you need to put that shit away. You can’t be prancing around here with that!”

I’m so mad that I can’t speak. My chest feels full of fire, the flames curling at the back of my throat. I know I should just brush off the joke; it’s the same one Eric’s always making about how I’m not really Black. Of course Tyrell, with his unoriginal ass, is repeating the same thing. But this feels like a violation. To get in my space, to put his fucking spit on me, here in front of everyone. I want to kick him in the balls. I want to smack the smirk off his stupid face.

All I manage to get out, though, is “I’m not your bro.”

Yobani steps to him. “Man, what is your problem?”

“Oh shut up, Mr. They’re Magically Delicious,” Tyrell scoffs, his smile turning into a sneer. He points at Yobani’s rings. “Is that all the gold at the end of your rainbow? Get out of here with your leprechaun ass.”

Nah—I can make fun of Yo’s rings, but fuck anyone else that tries. My fists clench at my sides... but that would be stupid. He’d win. And it would be just another chance for everyone to laugh at me. I can feel all the eyes in the hallway starting to migrate our way, waiting for a show.

“What’s going on here, y’all?” I feel a hand on my shoulder and Eric appears next to me. Did he see what just happened? His eyes are narrowed, looking between Tyrell and me. Maybe he’s about to set him straight, kick his ass, like I can’t.

Who am I kidding, though? Even if Eric did see that shit Tyrell just pulled, my brother makes fun of me all the time. So why would he see this as going too far? Why would he stand up for me now? He’s probably going to start laughing along with his buddy any second.

I don’t want to stand here and be disappointed and look even stupider than I already do. I shrug Eric’s hand off.

“We’re gonna go,” I say, nodding to Yobani. I start walking down the hallway, keeping my eyes down, but I can feel Yobani behind me. If Eric protests at all, I don’t hear it.

Man, I’m so sick of feeling this way: that I’m not Black the way I’m supposed to be. That I don’t like the things I’m supposedto like. That there’s something wrong with me the way I am—so wrong that even my own family can’t defend me.

The only time I didn’t feel like that (outside of the make-believe worlds of being online or at the table) was with Delilah. Sure, that was its own kind of make-believe... but it’s different. It’s me being who I want to be, who I wish I was. I need that escape right now.

“He’s such a dick,” Yobani says when we’re outside. “I don’t see how your brother is friends with him. Man, let’s Saran wrap his car. Or, no, fill his locker with glitter! I’ve got a funnel at home. And, like, what’s wrong with leprechauns, anyway? You seen those movies? Those dudes are vicious as—”

I interrupt him. “I’m going to that show tonight.”

His eyebrows press together, questions clearly brewing in his mind, but after a beat, he just nods. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Yo.” I gesture back at the school building. “For that.”

“Of course.”

“Also, I’m coming around to the rings.”

He rolls his eyes and then smiles. “I knew you would.”

Delilah

I walk through life holding everything in.

Every thought that’s too hard or too much. Every comment that may make someone uncomfortable or look at me differently. I push everything deep, secure the lid, and then sand down all my edges, too, until they’re smooth. Presentable.

And I guess I didn’t realize how much pressure that was building up, how much I needed an emergency release valve until I set foot on stage.

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