Pride

by Ibi Zoboi

  And in that moment, I can’t believe this is happening. This kiss, this hold, never crossed my mind as something that would be real. I hated him. I hated everything about him. But this, this isn’t hate.

  Finally he pulls away. But he looks into my eyes and raises his eyebrows as if asking me if I’m okay. I smile a little. He kisses me on the cheek before we make it back to the car. He opens the door for me and I silently slide into the seat. I reach over to open the door for him. “Thank you,” he mouths. And every second of this moment is slowed down like dripping honey.

  My stomach is in knots when we make our way back to the city. I push on the radio to fill the quiet, to hush my own spinning thoughts. Slowly Darius inches his hand across the armrest and weaves his fingers through mine. And I don’t let go, even as my insides turn into gooey, sticky sweetness.

  Haikus

  I am that tall glass

  of lemonade where sugar

  sits at the bottom,

  Never rising to

  the top. Sweet and sour don’t

  mix to quench this thirst

  Wrapping around my

  throat where a bittersweet song is

  lodged. You serenade

  Me while I sip this

  honey lemonade potion,

  you are a love brew.

  Damn boy, you got me

  thirsty over you. Mouth dry,

  lips chapped, I’m dreaming

  Of quenching waters

  and all I wanna do is

  swim deep in this thing

  Called lemonade where

  bittersweet elixirs sooth

  the soul like moist lips

  Touching, bodies merged

  in this dance while sugar stirs

  to the top, whirling

  Like Ochún in her

  yellow dress swirling to the

  drums, making all this

  Sharp-tongued bitterness

  submit to the queen bee called

  my heart. You got me.

  —Thirsty

  Nineteen

  THERE’S SOMETHING HAPPENING to my body. But this isn’t love. It was just a kiss.

  Wasn’t it?

  I sit back in the car, feeling free. Darius is in full control, and I’m okay with it for now. We’re easing toward New Jersey with music I’ve never heard before blasting in the car. Darius bops his head, sings some of the lyrics, licks his lips a few times, and glances at me plenty of times. I start to smile. My lips are a half moon, but my whole body is smiling too.

  We’re almost at the toll booths and the traffic comes to a crawl. Darius turns down the music and asks if I’m feeling okay.

  I nod.

  “Are you feeling better than you did earlier?” he asks again.

  “What do you mean by ‘better’?” I ask.

  “Well, I know you weren’t feeling my grandmother, or her house, or me.”

  “Oh, so you wanna know if I’m feeling better about you?”

  He laughs. “Touché, Ms. Benitez. So how do you feel about me?”

  I laugh too. “You don’t waste any time, I see.”

  “I’ve already wasted too much time,” he says, easing the car up close behind the one ahead of us.

  “What do you mean by that?” I look directly at him this time because I want a direct answer.

  “I should’ve kissed you a long time ago.”

  “Um, no, you should not have. I would’ve hated you even more.”

  “Oh, really? Hate is a strong word.”

  “And it’s also a strong emotion.”

  “Emotions are feelings and feelings change. Is it safe to say that you don’t hate me anymore?” He’s now driving toward the E-ZPass lane, but the traffic is still slow.

  That’s not a question I’m ready to answer, not even for myself. And Darius knows this because I take too long to respond, so instead I ask, “Does your brother hate my sister?”

  “Why would you think Ainsley hates your sister?”

  “He broke up with her. Janae really liked him, and he dropped her like a sack of dirty laundry. So I see how you Darcy boys do,” I say, crossing my arms.

  He laughs a little. “Ainsley didn’t drop her. And we Darcy boys don’t do anything. You’re a little know-it-all, aren’t you, Ms. Benitez?”

  “I’m not a little anything, Mr. Darcy. And Ainsley dropped Janae. I saw the whole thing go down at that cocktail party of yours. Why did he break up with her just like that? Did he think he was too good for my sister?”

  “No. He didn’t think that at all,” Darius says as he drives through the E-ZPass toll. The traffic starts to speed up, and I want to end the conversation now so that he can focus on the road. But he keeps talking. “Ainsley wouldn’t do that. He just . . . when he falls for a girl, he falls hard.”

  “Okay. So clearly he didn’t fall for Janae. But still, that was really shady. He played her right in his own house in front of all those people.”

  “Zuri, I told Ainsley to break it off with Janae.”

  I just look at him. And he keeps his eyes on the road. “What?”

  He inhales, and the car sways a little bit. But he definitely needs to clarify that, so I ask again.

  “Darius, what did you just say?”

  “I told Ainsley that I didn’t think Janae was good for him.” He exhales. He switches to the right lane and slows down a little bit.

  “Okay.” I nod and purse my lips. “You told Ainsley that you didn’t think Janae was good for him.” I repeat every word he said, just to make sure I heard him correctly. This is the most I can do right now without calling him everything but a child of God, as Mama would say.

  “Zuri, I was wrong. I know that now,” he says. He keeps trying to look at me as he drives.

  “Oh, you were dead wrong, Darius,” I say really loud. I put my neck and hands into every word so he knows that I’m pissed. He’s the only one who can hear and see me right now. And I’m that close to cursing him out too. “What? So you thought Janae wasn’t good enough for your brother? You don’t want no gold-diggin’ hood rats up in his pockets? Well, guess what—I’m a hood rat too, and sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t dig for gold. I dig for dreams, goals, and aspirations. And so does Janae. It was his loss, Darius. And yours too, for making such a dumb mistake and judging us like that!”

  “Zuri, I know,” he says, raising his voice too. “I didn’t think . . .” He pauses. A car passes us and he speeds up a bit. “I didn’t think I’d like you the way I do now.”

  “Excuse you?” I say, turning to looking at him again.

  “I like you, Zuri Benitez. I was wrong about Janae. And you. I’d like to get to know you better. Let me take you out. Make it a legit date.”

  I can’t help but laugh. It’s either because what he just said is hella funny or I don’t know how to respond and it makes me nervous. Or both. So I keep laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks.

  “You,” I say. “You are funny, Darius Darcy.”

  “I wasn’t joking, though.”

  “Yes, you were, because I can’t believe you would ask me out after what you did to both my sister and Warren. In fact, we shouldn’t’ve kissed at all. Now that was a mistake.”

  “So you think I’m a bad person?”

  “Yes! You judged them, and you turned your nose up at them. And me. I know what this is, Darius. You’re so used to girls throwing their panties at you that you’re trying to figure out why I’m not doing that too. You think you can kiss me and have me wrapped around your little finger like Carrie. Nope! Find some other impressionable chick on the block, because I am not the one.”

  “I don’t think like that, Zuri,” he says quietly as he places both hands at the top of the steering wheel.

  “You don’t have to think like that, Darius. You already are that. I saw your game from across the street,” I say, folding my arms and turning my whole body away from him.

  After a few long minutes and a long d
rive down a whole other highway, he says, “Zuri, I’m sorry I can’t be more like your boy in the hood, Warren.”

  “Oh, you can never be like Warren,” I say way too loudly.

  “I would never want to be like Warren. Not in a billion years,” he says.

  “I know you don’t like him just ’cause he’s from the projects and all. Me and Warren, we’re made of the same stuff. If you can’t stand him, then clearly you can’t stand me.”

  “You know, Zuri. Sometimes I’m baffled by how judgmental you are,” Darius says, taking one hand off the steering wheel.

  I side-eye him. “Baffled? I should be the one who’s baffled. And you, Darius Darcy, are the walking definition of judgmental.”

  “I’m not judgmental. I’m just an excellent judge of character. You fall short in that department.”

  “Character? So you judged my sister’s character?”

  “Yes, I did. And she’s cool,” he says. “If you need some tips on how to accurately judge a person’s character, just let me know.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I know how to read people just fine.”

  Darius inhales and says, “So you read that boyfriend of yours and decided to ignore the writing on the wall.”

  “That boyfriend of mine? Warren? I don’t judge a book by its cover.”

  He laughs a little. “So you’ve read a whole book called Warren from the Projects and you know everything about him.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I think you need to stay away from Warren,” he says flat out. We’re in the left lane now, and he’s driving slower than before.

  So I laugh. “Of course you would say that.”

  “You don’t know Warren like I do, Zuri.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. I know the real him.”

  “You know what? Fine. Have it your way.” Darius raises the volume on the music, and this is what takes up the widening silence between us. Every now and then, the recent memory of that kiss tries to creep into my thoughts, but I shut it down. I was fooled by my own emotions, by the distance from home. And as the lights of Manhattan appear on the horizon, it’s like everything I knew about Darius comes right back to slap me in the face.

  Twenty

  BOTH MAMA AND Papi are waiting up for me when I get back home. It’s a little past midnight, and that was the longest car ride of my life. We hit some traffic as we got into the city, and Darius was playing the most boring music ever. I’ve never been happier to see my block.

  “Are you okay, mija?” Papi asks as he gets up from the couch to examine my face and kiss me on the forehead.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say groggily. I’m bone tired, and I really don’t want to answer any of his questions right now.

  “So are you two seeing each other?” Mama says.

  “Ma!” I say. “Are you serious? Good night!”

  I make my way to the closed door of our bedroom. I can hear my sisters giggling even with the lights turned off.

  “Darius and Zuri sittin’ in a tree” is the very first thing I hear when I open the door.

  “What are you, like, five? Shut up, Layla!” I say as I turn on the lights.

  “K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Kayla finishes off.

  “First comes love,” Layla adds.

  “Then comes nothing!” I cut her off. “There was no kissing, there’s no love, there’s nothing. Now shut up and go to sleep!”

  “Are you boyfriend and girlfriend now?” Layla asks anyway.

  “No!” I almost yell.

  “You think he likes you?” Kayla asks, sliding down out of her bed to sit cross-legged on the floor, as if I’m about to tell them a bedtime story.

  “No. He hates me and I hate him. And that’s the end of that. I don’t wanna talk about those stupid boys. Why don’t you ask me about Howard instead?”

  “Okay,” Layla says. “So did you see a lot of fine boys at Howard?”

  “Oh, come on, Layla!”

  “Is his grandmother’s house even bigger than the one across the street?” Marisol asks.

  “Yes, and she’s even snootier than those boys across the street. And their parents. She’s the worst!” I say as I climb out of my clothes. I can’t help but notice the smell of Darius’s car on my shirt.

  “Was that his car? And is he making payments, or is it leased?” Marisol asks.

  “I don’t care!”

  “Then what did y’all talk about for four hours, though?” Janae finally asks. But I know deep down inside she’s curious about something else.

  “School, college, stuff,” I lie.

  I shut out my sisters’ voices as they keep giggling and guessing at what we talked about.

  When I’m finally in bed and the lights are turned off again, Janae slides in with me. I scoot over, knowing exactly why she’s here. She won’t sleep until she finds out. So I speak first.

  “No, I didn’t see Ainsley,” I say. “But Howard was lit!”

  She wraps me in a hug, and she slides back out of my bed. I wish I could make Janae hate Ainsley as much as I hate Darius.

  The next afternoon, while my sisters are out of the room and it’s just me and my notebook, I notice a missed text from Warren last night. I text back a quick Hey before I start typing a long response. Another text comes in with a simple Hey. I immediately notice that it’s not from Warren after all. It’s from a number I had called earlier, and immediately my insides twist.

  It’s Darius. I don’t know how to respond, but before I even think of something, my phone rings.

  “Hello?” I say nervously.

  “Can you come outside?” Darius asks, with his voice sounding much deeper than in person.

  At the same moment, another call comes in. It’s Warren. I tell Darius to hold.

  “What up, Z?” Warren sounds way too cheerful for so early in the morning. “I’m working out over here at the Irving Square playground. You good to shoot some ball?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, that’ll be cool. Just hold on a minute. I gotta get rid of somebody.”

  I switch over to Darius. “I can’t. I gotta meet Warren in a few,” I say without hesitation.

  “Warren?” I can feel him bristle. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. You caught me off guard last night, but Warr—”

  “You know what, I really don’t want to hear it. I’m good. I’ll see you around the way, Darius. And thanks for getting me home safe.”

  With that, I switch over to Warren and tell him to meet me out front in a few minutes. I can’t wait to see him and tell him about Howard.

  The minute I step outside my door, Warren shows up on my stoop with that smooth smile of his. But even as I sit, listening to Warren crack jokes about the guys on the courts and other people we know from around our way, I can feel something tugging at me across the street. It’s a soft pull, like someone touching the bottom of my shirt, or a light tap on my shoulder.

  I glance up at one of the Darcy house windows, and I spot Darius looking at us. I quickly look away. Warren has his back to the house, and while he checks his phone, I look back up at the window. I stare at Darius for a moment, and he stares back.

  “Zuri Benitez,” Warren says. “I wanted to see you again.”

  At the same moment a text comes through my phone. It’s Darius, again.

  Then another text comes in. “What does he want?” I say out loud.

  Warren glances at the windows across the street.

  “He wants you, Zuri,” Warren says with a smirk. “Just ignore him.”

  My phone keeps buzzing, and I watch Darius type quickly. I can’t ignore him, because his texts keep flooding my phone.

  I’m sorry

  But I really need to tell you something

  Warren isn’t a stand-up guy

  I would never lie to you

  Please believe me

  “Why don’t you just tell him to come over here,” Warren says, and I almost jump. He’s trying to look over my shoulder,
and I shift away.

  Believe you about what? I respond. Just tell me what’s going on.

  I watch Darius pause and read my texts. It’s like I can see his jaw tighten from across the street. Then he begins typing again.

  Gigi is in boarding school because Warren took sexy pictures of her

  He sent them to his friends

  “What the fuck?” I gasp.

  Then they got around to the whole school

  That’s why she’s staying with our grandmother

  He fucked up her reputation

  But please keep this a secret

  I really don’t want anyone to know

  I look up over at Darius, and our eyes lock. I try to process all this information about Warren, the boy who’s sitting right next to me. Has Warren been lying about everything? Is this the reason he almost got expelled? I can’t believe it. But then I think about Georgia. She’s mad sweet. Photos getting around isn’t something you just make up. My stomach stirs. If anything like that happened to one of my sisters . . . I can’t even finish the thought. I’d hate Warren too, if I was Darius.

  I see him typing. The three dots hover.

  Zuri? he writes.

  I pause.

  I promise not to tell, I write back.

  “Yo, Zuri. What. Is. Going. On?” Warren says.

  I turn toward him, but I can barely look him in the face. My blood is boiling.

  “Is it true?” I ask Warren point-blank. I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Zuri, is what true? What just happened?”

  “What you did to Darius’s sister.”

  “Damn, is that what he just told you? Seriously, I can explain.”

  I get up from the stoop and start pacing, my mind buzzing. “The only thing you need to explain is how you were nasty enough to take pics of a fifteen-year-old girl. What the fuck, Warren?”