Page 65 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

“Go talk to your fans,” I lean in and whisper in her ear. “We’ll coordinate catfish celebrations after.”

Her eyes go all big, and a tiny grin creeps across her face, telegraphing,Is this real?

It’s real, I send back with an enthusiastic nod.

And after a couple false starts, she finally makes her way over in a daze.

Delilah

They start giggling when I walk over, and it’s contagious. I find myself giggling too.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

And then there’s a long pause, as they both stare at me expectantly. I’m clearly supposed to be in the lead here, which feels very... new.

“Um, thank you so much for coming!” I say, pointing toward the stage. As if they need the reminder why they’re here.

That seems to be all the permission they need.

“You are the best!” the taller girl squeals, revealing bright purple rubber bands on her braces.

“The best!” her friend echoes. She has a dramatic, stick-straight bang over her right eye, which is a sharp contrast to her bright smile.

“Oh, wow! That’s so kind. Thank you.” I’ve gotten compliments before online and at shows, but this feels different. Overwhelming. The back of my throat is getting tight and scratchy, like I might cry. Which doesn’t even make sense, because this is a good thing, a happy thing.

“We came all the way from Mission Viejo to see you!”

“Wow, was traffic—” I start.

“We are obsessed. With. You!”

“Obsessed!”

“Ever since we saw you on TikTok!” The taller girl barely takes a breath, like she thinks I’m going to run away if she doesn’t get it all out now. “It’s just, like, so hard to find this kind of music played by girls that look like us. Well, I don’t have to tellyouthat. You know what I mean. So when we saw you, we freaked out!”

“Oh my god, wow. Thank you. What are your names?”

“My name is Jamilah, and this is my best friend, Nola.” Nola flashes another huge smile and waves, and Jamilah’s voice gets quieter, suddenly shy again. “And we... well. We want to start our own band. Just like you. And, like, you—you—” She takes a deep breath. “You make us feel like it’s possible!”

Okay, I’m definitely crying now. I sneak my fingers under both eyes fast, hoping they don’t notice. But even if they do—how else am I supposed to respond to this?

Since I joined Fun Gi, I’ve been focused on myself, trying to convince myself that I belong. And since we’ve started to get bigger, I’ve been so worried about how others are perceiving my Blackness or using it for their own gain. I didn’t even consider whatme being in this space could mean to others. Like what finding that first video of Poly Styrene meant to me—proof that I deserved to be here because it was so clear she deserved to be there, too.

“This just means everything to me,” I say, clasping my hands in front of me. I wish I could say something wiser, something more profound. But this is all I’ve got in me right now.

It seems to be enough because they look at each other and squeal, eyes wide.

“Okay, we’ll, like, leave you and your boyfriend alone now,” Jamilah says, and she’s talking so quickly I can’t even correct her. “Thank you for, like, making our whole life!”

“Our! Whole! Life!”

They bound toward the door, a storm of energy, and I can hear snippets of their giddy conversation. “So cool!” “The coolest!”

I know whatever I just gave to them, they gave me back tenfold. Because that was easily the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. I have listeners—fans—who see me exactly as I want to be seen. I didn’t realize what a missing piece that was.

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