Beach Day (Letter to My Mom)

Dear Mommy: I'm so sorry that I'm going to miss your beach day next weekend. Although I'm so grateful to have the opportunity to volunteer at New Heights Camp again this summer, it's at times like these that I wish I could teleport 😔.

I haven't been to the beach in a long time. Dishon and I sat on the beach a bit when we were in Puerto Rico, but sitting on the beach isn't the same as being at the beach. Not like how we used to when I was little. What I remember about those beach trips is feeling excited, like the sand was too hot for my toes, and finding out that I could take the heat, feeling like the water was too cold and the jellyfish were too scary, and finding out that my body adjusted to the ocean temperature just fine, and I could avoid the jellyfish. The beach means freedom, relaxation, warmth, fun, walking on a shifting and uncommon, sometimes hot, sometimes cold, sometimes sharp surfaces, and realize that you can adjust faster than you think . . . and experience a kind of timelessness where the sun seems to hang high in the sky forever. 

Mommy - my first home . . . my First Lady . . . You had just turned 24 when you gave birth to me. When I was that age, I had been married for a little less than a year and I was about to start graduate school at Boston College. I had decided to become a teacher, and I was also working at Boston College to pay for my tuition. Dishon and I were living on Commonwealth Avenue down the block from the school in a tiny, tiny apartment with a miniature stove and fridge . . . no closet in our bedroom, and our elevator had that old school gate that you had to pull closed before it would run. In your early 20s you are in the midst of deciding things, and becoming, and I wasn't really sure how the chapters of my story would unfold. Did you feel like that, too, then? Excited and terrified? Bold and scared at the same time? Life is like that, huh?

Some chapters of our lives have made me hold my breath without noticing at first. I was scared when Daddy called to tell us about your diagnosis. His voice didn't sound right. I've heard him sound like that before. You, too. Something like how it sounded when I found out that Ronnette was gone. It was a little too close to how I sounded when I called to tell yall that Dee Dee was gone. Too close to how the words of your text sounded in my head when you wrote that Benjeem was gone. He said you didn't want to talk. Your voice is like a trumpet - strong, certain, compelling - what am I supposed to do when that sound is muted? What do I hear then? What do I do then? Wait . . . keep listening . . . it'll come back. Not muted, really. Just paused so you could catch your breath. Moms have to put their oxygen masks on first. 

When I look back over our stories - individually, and where our lives have intersected - God has been so good! He has made everything beautiful in its time . . . All of our plot lines, valleys and mountains . . . the resolution has always been good, and it always will be.

I was so glad to hear about your prognosis. Felt like I could breathe again. In my heart, I know you'll be just fine. You are my Warrior Queen. Fearless Defender. As the date of your surgery approaches, I pray that your beach day is all that you want it to be - relaxing, full of stories and laughter, connecting and listening and sharing. I hope you have a wonderful, joyful beach day where you not only have fun, but remember that you're stronger than you even remember. Know that I will be there with you in spirit. I always am. As much as I enjoy creating word pictures, there aren't enough words or colors in all the world for me to let you know how much I love you, Mommy.

After I'm all done with camp, and you've recovered from your surgery and returned from your cruise, we need some major hang out time.  We have no where near enough pictures together! We must fix that with a bunch of selfies.  There's so much I want us to do together. Let's make plans. Let's write. Let's sing. Let's lay around, watch movies, eat cookies and just be.

Love always,
💖Baby Girl💋

Ode to Ron, Sandy, Janie and Roberta (Why I Teach)

Fifth Grade - P.S. 397 (Foster Laurie)

Today's post isn't about my novel, my writing, or what I'm wondering about the characters I'm creating. It's about my love for learning, and why I do what I do. I'll write about the novel again when it feels right. I'm getting ready to go to camp in a couple of weeks, so a hiatus will be in order from 8/4 - 8/12 anyway. I'll probably post next weekend and then take a break.

I think I was eight-years-old in this picture. I started school a year early, so everyone else was probably nine, and about to be ten. I spent a lot of my life being the youngest everywhere. In school, in my family. I didn't mind being Baby Girl. My mom still calls me Baby Girl, and I still don't mind. I never will. I love it, actually💖.

My parents tell me that I've always loved learning. My home was my first school. I can still see the bookshelves filled with books by W.E.B. DuBois, Alex Haley, and James Baldwin, and though I didn't understand the title back then, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow is Enuf. I don't remember a time when I didn't love Sesame Street, and when it was time for me to go to daycare/preschool, I didn't cry. I was excited. See me?

#3 Train Track Shadows Above Little Me

I remember fourth and fifth grades most vividly, and I think it's because I had two amazing teachers both years. Janie Miller and Roberta Kamler.  I remember our big open classroom - no walls, no desks, no chairs. We sat on the rug and we learned. We read Shakespeare - Julius Caesar, Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Hamlet, and MacBeth. We learned Latin. Tempus Fugit. Mater. Pater . . . and when our day was about to end we sang It's quarter to 3. There's no one in the place except you and me . . .  I loved school. Loved our art and musicals - The Pajama Game and Annie Get Your Gun. I loved our annual holiday show. School was like magic . . .

When it was time for me to choose a career, I knew I could go the civil servant route. I could take an exam (which I did when I finished school), wait to be called from the list and then I'd have the security of a steady salary, health benefits and a pension when it was time to retire. I tried. I worked for the Immigration and Naturalization Service for six weeks after college. I hated it, so I left. They were mad, too, because a good deal of money was spent on my background check, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't spend hours and hours day after day in a file room waiting for Washington to approve my login credentials (and no one could tell me when that would happen the whole six weeks I was there) just so I could spend hours and hours day after day in front of a computer. My soul needed to breathe. I know me, and I knew that if I just tried to suck it up, it would have been a constant challenge to stay connected to joy, and that is essential for me. Joyspirit. That's me.

I am so thankful for the generations of ancestors who came before me who never got to experience what it felt like to have choices because they were kidnapped, branded, starved, torn away from one another, drowned, physically shackled, enslaved, tormented, sold, used, lynched, shut out, denied opportunities, imprisoned, excluded . . . but through all of that madness, their dreams never died. They pressed on to survive through hell and brokenness and stored their hopes and dreams and creativity and song and dance and arms wide open deep breaths in the open fields of the future away in their DNA and passed it on to me.

It was scary to try to follow an unfamiliar path hoping that I could make a living doing something I loved. But what did I love? I loved writing, so I started out in a graduate creative writing program at Boston University. I was in a class with Susanna Kaysen (Girl, Interrupted), and I loved being her student just like I loved being in Janie and Roberta's class. She was so skilled at helping me to see the beauty in my word pictures and tell my best story. Susanna Kaysen was an amazing teacher. Teacher? Yes, Teacher. I wanted to be a teacher.

So I transferred to Boston College and became an upper elementary teacher, and then went on to teach teachers as a Literacy Coach, Teacher Developer and Curriculum and Instruction Director. What I have seen too often is that schools (not all schools, mind you, but many of the schools with students who are brown like me ) have become like those locked places my ancestors worked so hard and died to change. Incarcerated, joyless spaces where the laughter, curiosity and wonder all children come into life with is erased and replaced with despair. And some of the schools that allege to be better often try to convince students that in order to be successful, you have to be someone different than who you are, and different from those who raised you.

What I most want now is for every student to be free to love school and for schools to be places where teachers love to be, and for them to honor the places from which their students come. Notice I didn't say love test prep or recite learning objectives, and I didn't say that I want teachers to feel like they work for Kaplan or like they need to rescue students from their families and communities.  School should be a place to grow ideas, create, discover, read books, articles and poetry from all kinds of folks, write, wonder, learn, discuss, understand, be understood, be included, be honored, be inquisitive, be inquired about, dream, plan, reconsider, sing, dance, laugh, connect,  debate, advocate, go on field trips, transform, be transformed, and just be . . .

Not to be suspended for wearing braids.
Not to be yelled at.
Not to receive demerits because you didn't wear the uniform.
No to be ignored or merely tolerated.
Not to complete worksheets.
Not for test prep drills.
Not to rush through content to get it "covered."
Not to be told when they can go to the bathroom. 
Not to be punished.
Not to supply inmates for prisons.
Not to lose hope.
Not to hear about how deficient some people think they are.
Not to be judged and labeled because of demographics, socioeconomics and crime statistics.

Preach, Chris Emdin!
Preach, Clint Smith!

This Sunday as part of Dishon's sermon he asked what we think God put in our hands to do. I see it as a calling to help schools and teachers to transform. I feel passionately about culturally responsive/relevant/inclusive/affirmative/proficient/competent/empowering teaching and learning that helps schools to become the places kids love to be because when they go there, they can shake off all that weight loaded on them by those who can't /won't value who they are and just fly . . . What's stopping us? And why do we let it? Not me. Not on my watch.


 

Where is Subria?

My apologies, readers. I intended to post this last week, but last week was a hard week.  I meant to click save after I wrote the title, but I clicked publish instead, and only realized that I had done that after Dishon asked me what happened to my post. Where is Subria? That's it. That was appropriate, though. In a lot ways, Subria and I are two sides of the same coin, and I had a hard time finding my voice last week in the midst of all that was on my mind. Life is changing as it always does, and I needed some time to adjust to our new normal. I'm taking things a day at a time, and today I'm good, so here I go . . .

If you've been following these posts, you have a pretty good idea of the plot line. Subria and Shiloh meet as kids, they grow (I don't like saying fall) in love, there's baggage, and there are challenges to overcome as there are in any great love story. I just realized that things are going to need to go further between Subria and Kevin than I originally thought, and my mind is a bit blown right now 😩.

World Financial Center

If you're a newer reader, you might not know that I grew up in New York City, and that the World Trade Center was a significant part of my life. In addition to visiting the observation deck of the WTC on a field trip when I was in second grade, I also worked in 6 WTC for two summers - the summer after my freshman year at Brooklyn College I was an Administrative Assistant for the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission. Side note: That was a very interesting summer for me. I was 17, about to transfer to Ambassador College in Big Sandy, TX, and I attended a church with my family that was actually a cult. I did a lot of growing up that summer, because I was really starting to figure out who Afrika was apart from my family and church. I worked with four other young ladies who made that summer a lot of fun. My church taught that I should keep myself separate from "the world," but all of that Black Girl Magic in that office with Michelle, Sherry, Tanane, Tanya, and one other girl whose name escapes me was far too much to resist. I remember this one time that summer when I spent the night with all those young ladies (with the exception of the girl whose name I can't remember) at Michelle's house in the Bronx after work (her mom had passed away and left the house to her, and she was the oldest of all of us, but not by much). I couldn't believe my parents let me go. I had SO much fun. I felt like the female version of Pinocchio. I felt like a real girl.

The next summer wasn't nearly as fun. I worked in 6 WTC again, but this time it was for the Equal Employment Officer at Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF). I was the only one there and the EEO traveled frequently. He rarely left me with anything to do, so I made my own fun by doing a ton of creative writing, eating lunch down by the World Financial Center and hanging out in the mall under 1 and 2 WTC (mostly window shopping). Sometimes I would just ride the elevators in 2 WTC just to pass the time. My parents had moved from the Flatbush section of Brooklyn to Brooklyn Heights. Our apartment was right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, and I walked to work across the bridge almost every day.

I didn't work in the WTC the following summer. I worked nearby, though, for the Summer Youth Employment Program in the Manhattan Municipal Building on Centre Street (if you watch any TV shows based in NYC, you've probably seen the building), and I spent as much time as I could in the WTC plaza, since there were performances out near the fountain at lunch time. I loved sitting out there listening to jazz. One of my favorite memories.

What does all of this have to do with Subria and Shiloh? I'm glad you asked. When Shiloh graduates from college in the spring of 2001, he pursues a career in film. His office is in Tribeca not too far from the WTC. He and Subria are still working through the challenges in their relationship. Here's an excerpt from the Tomorrow Isn't Promised chapter of the novel.

Wait . . . before I go there, I'm going to ask a question of you readers after the excerpt, and it won't be rhetorical. I really want you to really answer the question, either as a comment here, or on FB since the comment feature on the blog can be a bit funky at times. I know you guys are reading - I see the reader count on the post, and I'd love to hear from you. Feedback keeps me going and motivates me to keep moving toward publication.

Also, the excerpt has Subria living with her older sister Song, her husband Josh and their children, Genesis and Gideon. I am seriously considering eliminating Song's character, so once I finish revising, that part of the book will most likely be different. Not sure how - I don't think I want her to live with her parents. Maybe I'll have her living with roommates. I'm still figuring that out. Just don't get too attached to Song 😉. I have some other things I'm wondering, too, like how realistic would the movie deal be, etc., but I'll figure it out.

Okay, here's the excerpt:

Summer, 2001

Subria was so thankful that Song and Josh had central air.  She was also thankful that Future Leaders had an extended year so she could work there during the summer.  Even though Song and Josh didn’t charge her anything to live with them, it was important to Subria to be able to help by buying her own groceries, and helping to pay for the water and electricity.

Mornings like this one, however, made it hard for her to leave the house.  The news report said that it was going to be the first of a three day heat wave.  This would definitely be a good day to take the kids at Future Leaders to the pool at the Harlem Y on West 135^th Street.  Subria needed to pick up a few things from the store before going to Future Leaders, so she ran out to Met Foods on Smith Street, and was about to go upstairs to give Genesis the animal crackers she picked up for her when her phone rang. 

"Hello," Subria said, while putting the ice cream in the freezer.

"Hey, Subria."  She nearly dropped the phone when she heard Shiloh’s voice on the phone.  She had called him a few months back, but he didn't want to accept her calls, so she just kept praying about it, and waiting to see what God would do. 

"Shiloh?  How are you?  It’s so good to hear from you."  Subria closed the freezer door, and sat on the counter.

"It’s good to hear your voice, too.  What have you been up to?"

"I’m working at the summer program at Future Leaders Institute.  I’ll be doing my pre-practicum there in the fall.  How about you?" Subria asked.

"Things are busy," Shiloh responded.

"You should be taking it easy, college graduate!" Subria said.  "Amira told Song about Crafting Freedom winning the Screenwriting and Directing Award at First Cut!  Congratulations!"

"Thank you, thank you," Shiloh said.  "Yeah, $10K never hurt anyone."

"That’s for sure.  Plus I know you always wanted more people to know about the Crafts' escape from slavery.  So, what are you planning to do with all that money?" Subria asked.

"Remember how I always wanted to live on Strivers’ Row?" Shiloh asked.

"Yeah . . ." Subria said, a bit surprised that the conversation was so similar to how it used to be before things became so complicated in their relationship.

"Well, I put a down payment on one of the renovated houses on W. 138^th between Adam Clayton Powell and Frederick Douglass." 

"Are you serious?" Subria asked.  "I thought you’d definitely put that money away for a rainy day.  That down payment probably wiped you out, huh?’

"Not really," Shiloh said.

"What do you mean?" Subria inquired.

"Subria, you’ll never believe the call I got last week," Shiloh said.

"What?" Subria asked.  "You’re killing me over here!"

"I got a call from a movie company.  They offered me a deal."

"Shiloh!!  Oh my gosh!  That’s wonderful news," Subria said, jumping down off the counter.  "Shy, I’m so proud of you."

"Thanks," Shiloh said.  "This is the stuff I always used to dream about."

"You be careful, though.  Do you have a lawyer?  Don’t sign over your rights or anything," Subria warned.

"I won’t sign over my rights, Subria," Shiloh said laughing.  "You’ve always been one of my biggest advocates.  I have a lawyer.  He’s a friend of my dad, and he’s really good." 

Things were quiet for a few seconds.  Subria’s eyes filled up with tears, and she felt an ache in her chest.  She tried to talk without revealing the lump in her throat.  "Well, we’ve been friends for a long time.  I wouldn’t want anyone to take advantage of you.  Anyway, I’m so happy for you.  God is definitely showing you favor."

"Yeah, He is," Shiloh said, surprised to hear Subria talking about God.

"I finally left IFG, Shy," Subria shared, knowing what he was thinking. 

"Really?"

"Yeah," Subria said, smiling.

"Where do you go?" Shiloh asked.

"I go to Chief Cornerstone.  Remember my Auntie Esther's church?" Subria asked.

"Yeah, I do," Shiloh responded.

"Well, when I came back from Charlotte, Song and Josh had joined, and you know Jazz and Nairobi have been going there for years.  I left IFG and started going with Song and Josh after I moved in with them."

"Oh," Shiloh responded.  "I didn't realize you weren't living with your parents."

"Yeah, and guess what else?" Subria asked.

"What?" Shiloh asked.

"My parents left IFG, too, and now they go to Chief Cornerstone with us.  Isn't that great?" Subria asked.

"Wow," Shiloh commented.  "That's really wonderful.  Well, listen, I know we really need to talk, so is it okay if I come over tomorrow?"

"I'd love it if you'd come over tomorrow," Subria said. 

"Okay, I'll email you later so we can set up a time, okay?" Shiloh asked.

"Sounds good," Subria said. 

Subria and Shiloh began to spend time together again, and although Subria could tell that Shiloh was still a bit tentative with her, she focused on being patient.  She believed that everything would work itself out eventually.  

Subria was encouraged when Shiloh took her over to see his new house. The kitchen and one of the bathrooms were almost complete, and Shiloh seemed at peace in his new home.  He even took her to the studio so she could see Crafting Freedom.  With every major thing Shiloh shared with her, Subria hoped that it would only be a matter of time before his heart would melt heart toward her completely, and they'd be dating again.

Sunday, September 9, 2001

"So, what does your week look like?" Shiloh asked, as they sat around his living room. 

"Well, I have classes and work tomorrow," Subria responded, "but my schedule is open on Tuesday.  I need to go down to Borders to pick up a Rites of Passage curriculum that came in for me.  It has some cool team building activities for the students, and I wanted to take them over to the school to meet with the teacher I’ll be working with.  My cooperating teacher has a free period at 11:00, so I was planning to go to Borders at around 8:30, and then head over to the school.  The rest of my week is just classes."

"Which Borders are you going to?" Shiloh asked.

"The one under 5 World Trade, "Subria responded.

"Isn't there one closer to your school?" Shiloh asked.

"Well, this one was the only one that had the curriculum I was looking for.  The rest of them would have to put it on special order.  Besides, it opens early, so I can go there before heading over to the school in the morning."

"Oh, okay," Shiloh responded.  "Let me drive you back over to your sister's house.  I have to go to the studio to help with some edits."

"Okay," Subria said, grabbing her bag and heading out the door with Shiloh.

Tuesday, September 11, 2001

Shiloh slowly stretched out his hand to shut off his alarm.  It was 5:30, and even though he didn’t have to be to the Givance Productions studio office in Tribeca until 9:00, he made it a practice to allow himself enough time to pray, study, shower, and make himself a good breakfast.  Shiloh always got into the office early, because he knew it made a good impression. 

Even though Subria had her own kitchen in the basement, she was glad that Song and Josh invited her to have breakfast with the family each morning, even during the week.  When she came upstairs, however, she didn’t smell anything cooking.  That was definitely not typical.  Song usually had breakfast done by 7:00.  It was already 7:15.  No one was even downstairs.

"Song?" Subria called, looking around downstairs.

"We’re upstairs, Bria."

When Subria went upstairs, Genesis was in Gideon’s room with Song. 

"What’s up, Song?" Subria asked.

"Giddy’s sick, Auntie" Genesis said.

"Oh no," Subria responded, grimacing at Giddy’s little sick face. 

"Josh had to leave early, so he doesn’t even know.  I really can’t miss school this early in the year."

"I can stay with him.  Don’t worry about it," Subria said, picking up her nephew.

"Are you sure, Subria?" Song asked.  "What about your classes?"

"I’m positive.  I don't have any classes today.  The only thing I was going to do was pick something up from Borders, and check-in with my cooperating teacher, but my practicum at the school doesn’t officially start until October.  Really, it’s no problem." 

"Subria, you’re an angel.  I’m going to run down and get Genesis some cereal before we go."

Shiloh got on the 2 train at 135^th and Lenox at 7:16 a.m., and transferred to the 1 at 14^th Street just like he did every day.  He got off at Franklin Street by around 7:45 a.m., and by the time he arrived at his office, he was relieved to see that the only other person in the office was Al Givance. 

"Good morning, Mr. Givance.  How are you?" Shiloh said, extending his hand and smiling.

"I keep telling you to call me Al, Shiloh," Mr. Givance responded, smiling and shaking Shiloh’s hand in return.

"I know," Shiloh responded.

"Getting an early start, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

"What are you working on?"

"Sending out letters to all these folks who sent queries for their screenplays."

"Do you ever read these screenplays?" Al asked, picking up a pile of letters, and flipping through them.

"Yes, sir," Shiloh responded.  "There’s some good stuff in there."

"Well, son, after seeing your work, I think I’d like you to do a little more than respond to queries.  Leave that to Edward."

"But, Mr. Giv –"

"Don’t worry about it, Shiloh.  You’ve been responding to queries all summer, even though you won that big contest at your school.  I hear you got a movie deal."

"Winning that contest was a blessing, but I still have to pay my dues, sir."

"And that you have.  Edward is a senior in high school.  He should be responding to queries.  You’re ready to move on to reviewing scripts, son."

"Thank you so much, sir.  I don’t know what to say."

"We’ll have lunch later on so you’ll know what I’m looking for.  In the meantime, check out the Writers Guild of America website, and review what they rated as the top 101 screenplays.  I want you to be able to tell me what made five of these screenplays so great."

"Yes, sir!" Shiloh responded.

As Mr. Givance returned to his office, Shiloh sat down at the computer to look up the Writers Guild website, and he became so engrossed that he didn’t even notice when his co-workers came into the office.  He tried to focus on films he already owned, or wouldn’t mind renting.  There were many impressive titles on the list, and he wasn’t surprised by most of them – To Kill a Mockingbird, The Shawshank Redemption, and The Usual Suspects were a few of his favorite films, and his mother would watch Terms of Endearment every day, if she could.  He was saddened, however, by the lack of films by people of color.  The only producer he recognized was Spike Lee for Do the Right Thing.  Although he was proud to see the name of his former teacher, he knew there had to be more work by people of color out there worthy of acknowledgment on this list.  He seriously considered creating his own list and became determined to make quality movies and mentor other people of color who could, too, so that the field would be expanded as well. Shiloh’s concentration was broken by commotion coming from over by the windows. 

"What’s going on, yall?" Shiloh said, running over to the window.

"A plane hit one of the towers," Camille yelled, not making eye contact with Shiloh.  "Eddy heard it on the radio."

"What?" Shiloh said.

"Yeah.  Look out the window," Camille said.

Shiloh looked out the window, and he saw thick, black smoke billowing into the sky from lower Manhattan. 

"Was it an accident?" Shiloh asked.

"We don’t know," Camille said.  "This is bugged, huh?"

Shiloh picked up the phone and dialed Subria’s cell number.  It went straight to voicemail.  He hoped that it was because her phone was turned off.  She was constantly forgetting to turn it on.

"Hey, Subria," Shiloh said, trying unsuccessfully to hide the alarm in his voice.  "I just heard what happened, and I know you said you were going down to Five World Trade today.  I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.  I’ll call again in a minute.  If you get, this, though, call me.  Okay?  All right.  Bye."

As everyone in the office stood at the window mesmerized, Shiloh grabbed his bag, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going, Shiloh?" Edward asked.

"A friend of mine is down there," Shiloh yelled, as he ran down the stairs.

Shiloh left his office a little after 9:00, and was terrified when he looked up and saw that

another plane had hit the second tower.  He couldn’t be completely sure, but Shiloh thought he felt the ground shake under his feet.  The towers were only about 14 blocks away.  He tried Subria’s cell phone again, and it went through to voice mail again.  He ran for the first few blocks down West Broadway.  It was almost like watching a movie with what seemed like everyone from the surrounding office buildings pouring out into the street.  So many papers were falling from the offices in the tower that it almost seemed like a ticker-tape parade.  Almost.  Most people were staring up with their mouths agape.  Some were screaming.  Some were crying, shouting that they had loved ones who worked in the towers.  Others looked up shaking their heads as they shared theories about what they thought was happening. 

Shiloh stopped running when he got to Chambers Street.  Only seven more blocks to go.  He heard one woman say that she thought a misguided pilot hit the first tower, but now with the second tower being hit, she was sure we were under attack.  Another man said that he saw people jumping from the towers.  Shiloh wouldn’t allow himself to believe that.  He continued running, at this point having to dodge through thick crowds of people.  When he got to Vesey Street, the police already had the block sealed off.  He looked up at the towers, and to his horror, he realized that the man had been right.  People were jumping. 

By the time Shiloh left Vesey Street, it was around 9:40.  Firefighters and officers were escorting wounded people over to a makeshift triage area in front of St. Paul’s church yard.  There were even more people on the street, and several buses filled with transit police passed by him on their way to the towers.  Fire trucks raced down to West Street, and Shiloh wondered how they would get everyone out of the buildings.  It seemed as if the people who were above where the planes hit wouldn’t be able to get out at all, and thinking about that made Shiloh feel numb inside. 

He tucked himself into the corner, as many people were doing, and attempted to call his family, but all he could get was a busy signal.  The lines were down.  Everyone in New York was probably trying to call their family and friends. He dialed Subria's number again. No answer. Subria lived just over the Brooklyn Bridge, so Shiloh hoped that she was already heading home and figured he'd have better luck going to her house to make sure she was safe.

Shiloh followed the crowd up Park Row and got over to the bridge by around 9:50. He wanted to get across quickly, but too many people were leaving Manhattan. He just got on to the bridge when he felt the ground shake again.  Shiloh looked back toward the towers, and saw that the south tower was collapsing. Part of him wanted to stay and watch, because it was just so unbelievable, but he was carried along by the rush of the crowd running away from the cloud of smoke, ash, and debris that was overtaking lower Manhattan toward safety in Brooklyn.  Shiloh’s heart broke for all the people who didn’t have a chance to escape the tower before it fell, and even more for those who escaped, only to look up and see the tower descending upon them. 

Shiloh couldn’t tell if he was choking from the soot or from the lump in his throat, but he tried to block everything else out of his mind, and focus on getting to Brooklyn Heights.  

Selah.
I can't believe it has almost been 16 years . . .
Read on when you're ready.

The question: Should Shiloh find out whether or not Subria is safe the same day, or should he wonder for a while? He spent a long time being upset with her for her involvement with Kevin, and things are just starting to get better between them.  I don't want it to come across like I'm trying to exploit a national tragedy, or in any way disrespect those who died or suffered harm that day. I feel deeply connected to what happened that day, and although the impact on me differs substantially from those who lost so much that day, it is an event that I really want to explore in this novel.

I remember trying to contact my family from Massachusetts, and how relieved I was when I found out that every one was safe. I also remember not knowing the fate of friends who worked in the area until much later that day, which was terrifying. What say you, reader? Feel free to share any other questions/observations that came up for you as well. If you want to tell your September 11th story, I'm listening.

First Kiss - Subria and Shiloh

After talking with my beloved accountability partner about the last couple of posts, I realize that I made a huge error. Subria and Shiloh's love story is the focus of the book, but the posts over the past couple of weeks focused on Shiloh messing up, and her budding relationship with another guy. I didn't how Subria and Shiloh's relationship developed.

I am still figuring out if I want them to have grown up together, if they meet in church, or some combination of the two. Subria and Shiloh get to know each other better when they go away to the same overnight summer camp. I won't share that as part of this post, because that part of the book really focuses on the camp experience. I'll share that another time. Here are some excerpts that show how their relationship starts to blossom after camp. There are secondary characters here that I'm still figuring out (siblings and friends). I know there are a lot of names, but don't feel like you have to keep track of them, because I will be cutting out a lot of the secondary characters. Just focus on what's happening with Shiloh and Subria. Enjoy!

***

Subria loved Saturdays.  It was so wonderful to sleep late and not have to wake up to the sound of the alarm clock.  Subria got out of bed, stretched slowly, and walked over to her window to open the shutters.  One of the things she enjoyed most about the view from her window was how the leaves in the oak tree mimicked a kaleidoscope, filtering the sun and making a shimmering pattern on the grass in the backyard.  She opened her window a little wider so she could enjoy the breeze. 

Subria turned on the radio, and although she knew her mother would kill her if she knew how much water she was using, Subria stayed in the shower for about twenty minutes listening to the sounds of Luther, Chaka Khan, and Loose Ends.  Something about R&B music soothed Subria deeply – the blends of vocal runs, saxophones, and bass solos awakened her, and made her feel like she was flying sometimes.  Although she had a beautiful alto voice, the shower was the only place she felt truly free to sing out loud, practice harmonies, and even laugh at her cracking voice as she tried to hit notes that were a little out of her range.  It helped that no one else was in the house.  She didn’t feel like being judged for whether she could hit each note on key, or with perfect pitch.  That was Nairobi’s thing.  It felt nice to be able to mess up and not worry about performing perfectly for once.

Just as she dried off and got getting dressed, the phone rang.  Subria answered it, hoping it was April or Robin inviting her to do something with them.  She had spent the last few weekends preparing for and taking the PSAT and SAT, and she definitely wanted a break. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, Subria."  She almost dropped the phone, but she played it cool.

"Who’s speaking?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"It’s me – Shiloh." 

"Oh, hi, Shiloh.  How are you?"  It was a good thing that her heart rate couldn’t register over the phone. 

"I’m good.  What are you up to?"

"Not much.  What about you?"

"Well, I’m over my uncle’s house," Shiloh said, "and he lives around the corner from you.  I was wondering if you wanted to hang out or something."

"What made you think of me?" Subria asked, grinning, and leaning against the kitchen counter.

Shiloh paused.  He wasn’t prepared for this question, even though he should’ve been.  "I don’t know.  I got some bad news, and you’re the first person who came to mind when I thought of who might cheer me up."

"Oh," Subria said, genuinely surprised.  "What happened?"

"I don't really want to talk about it over the phone.  I just want to do something fun to take my mind off of things."

"Well, what did you have in mind?"

"We could go to the movies," Shiloh suggested.

"We could do that," Subria said, coyly.

"What’s the last movie you saw?" Shiloh asked. 

"Promise you won’t tell my parents?" Subria asked, nervously.

"Promise," Shiloh responded, his curiosity piqued.

"Love Jones," Subria responded, covering her face, embarrassed, even though he couldn't see her.  Although the movie was rated R, Subria really enjoyed love stories, and it was rare to see a positive depiction of a budding relationship between a Black couple in the movies. 

"Really?" Shiloh asked, quite surprised, considering that Pastor Pitts had specifically mentioned that movie as a "secular influence that she be avoided."

"You promised you wouldn’t tell!"

"I won’t, but I’m just surprised.  It's a little . . . worldly," Shiloh said, smirking. 

"Yeah, I know," Subria said, laughing at how much he sounded like Pastor Pitts.  "Well, what’s the last movie you saw?"

"My class went on a field trip to see Rosewood.  It was good, but I left feeling really angry."

"So, if we go to the movies, we should go see something lighter.  The new Jurassic Park movie came out last week.  Do you want to go see that?"

"Sure.  Where do you usually go to the movies?"

"At the Kings Plaza Mall on Flatbush Avenue.  You know where that is?"

"Yeah.  Far," Shiloh responded.

"It’s not that bad.  All we have to do is go downtown, and we can catch a dollar van from there.  We’ll get there in no time."

"You ride those dollar vans?  You know they’re illegal . . . and dangerous!" Shiloh responded.  Although he was surprised that she would do something so risky, it piqued his interest in her even further.

"Yeah, but it’s cheaper," Subria said, defensively.  "If New York City Transit was so concerned about keeping people from taking dollar vans instead of riding trains and buses, then they should stop increasing the cost of tokens every year."

"Still – it is kind of far."

"Well, the Brooklyn Academy of Music is having their Dance Africa festival.  We could go to that.  That way, we would be able to talk."

"Have you ever gone before?" Shiloh asked

"Absolutely," Subria said.  "I usually go with my family every year.  It’s really fun.  Lots of vendors, and music, and food."

"Okay.  Let’s do that," Shiloh said.  "I’ll come pick you up in ten minutes?"

"Can you give me 30?" Subria asked.  She didn’t really need 30 minutes, but she wasn’t ready to see him in ten minutes, either. 

"Okay," Shiloh responded, sounding slightly disappointed.  "I’ll see you in 30 minutes."

In exactly thirty minutes, Subria's doorbell rang.  She checked herself out in the hallway mirror just outside of the living room, and walked quickly over toward the door.  She looked out of the kitchen window just to be sure it was Shiloh before she undid the locks.

"Hi," Subria said, pulling the door open, and standing slightly behind it.

"Hey," Shiloh responded, walking into the house and standing by the door. 

Subria wasn't sure what to do.  She knew that shaking hands would be too formal, but they had never hugged before either, so she just kind of stood there until he surprised her by leaning in, kissing her on the cheek and hugging her quickly around her right shoulder with his right hand.  She blushed, despite herself. 

"Do you want something to drink before we go?" Subria asked.

"No, I'm okay," Shiloh responded. 

"We should probably get going then," Subria said.  "I'll just go grab my bag."

Subria jogged over to the dining room table, grabbed her back pack and headed to the refrigerator to grab a bottled water before joining Shiloh at the door.  "I'm ready."

"Sorry I couldn't invite you inside, Shiloh," Subria said as they walked over to Halsey Street to catch the B26.

"It's okay," Shiloh said, smiling.

"It's just that my parents don't like me to be alone with boys in the house," Subria said, looking slightly embarrassed.

"It's okay – really.  My parents are the same way."

"So, do you want to tell me what happened?" Subria asked, sitting down on a bench at the bus stop.

"Remember when I got accepted to the High School film program at NYU last summer?" Shiloh asked, sitting next to her.

"Yeah, how could I forget?  That was amazing.  I was so impressed that you got in!  And I can't believe you had Spike Lee as a teacher."

"Yeah, that was cool," Shiloh said, remembering how much he learned particularly from Spike Lee.  "You know, you were one of few people who have actually been interested in my work.  I mean, really interested.  You’re always asking me about it, and really happy for me.  It’s so funny, sometimes," Shiloh said, staring out across the street.  "You think you know who your friends are until something really great happens, and the people you thought would care don’t even seem to care that much."

"Yeah," Subria said, frowning.  "I think your work is amazing."

"That’s what I mean.  You’re always so encouraging.  When your family first came to IFG, I thought of you as one of the little kids, but that’s not really true about you.  You’re different.  I started to see that at camp.  You're more mature, or wise or something.  I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this," Shiloh said, shaking his head and looking away from her.

Subria wasn’t sure what to say, but she was dying to hear where this was going.  "So, what happened?" Subria asked, as the bus pulled up. 

"Okay, so you already know I got accepted to the film program at NYU, right?" Shiloh responded as they paid their fares.  Thankfully, the bus was pretty empty.  Subria stood back and let Shiloh get on the bus first, and he walked about three rows back and stood back so Subria could sit next to the window.

"Yeah, the Tisch School, right?  I’m not surprised.  You’ll do great there."  Subria was also happy that he was staying in New York, but she kept that part to herself.

"Well, it costs a lot, and librarians and community newspaper reporters don't make that much money."

"Yeah, I’m hoping for a scholarship, too."

"For track?"

"Yeah."

"I'd love to see you run again some time," Shiloh said.

"I told you at camp that you're welcome to come any time," Subria said.

"So, what were you saying about school?" Subria asked. 

"My school gives out a $10,000 scholarship to one student each year.  I applied for it, but I just found out that I didn't get it." 

"Oh no!  I'm sorry, Shiloh" Subria said, turning to face him a little more.  She didn't care that their legs touched.  "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure yet," Shiloh said, frowning.  "I was hoping not to have to work this summer, but I guess I'll have to.  My uncle is going to try to help.  I was hoping to avoid taking out loans, but I may have to."

"It'll work out, Shiloh," Subria said.  "You can't not go, right?  This is your dream!"

"I  know," Shiloh said.

"Well, God will make a way for you.  Don't worry," Subria said, as she rang the bell to get off the bus.

When Subria and Shiloh arrived at the festival, they just walked around for a while, looking at wooden beads, and cowrie shell bracelets and necklaces.  Shiloh was very interested in the tables featuring resources from local bookstores, while Subria was more attracted to the booths with incense, oils, and Afrocentric paintings and figurines. 

"Are you going to buy something?" Shiloh asked.

"No," Subria said.  "I can't afford that stuff, but I did get business cards for their shops.  The only problem is some of them are from out of state.  Some are on Fulton Street, though.  How about you?"

"I want to buy some books from that table over there," Shiloh said.

"Okay," Subria said, heading toward that table.  "You can put them in my back pack."

"Ah, and I was wondering why you carried a back pack instead of a purse," Shiloh commented.

"Please," Subria said, wrinkling her nose.  "I hate purses."

"If I put my books in your bag, will you let me carry it for you?" Shiloh asked.

"Sure.  But would you carry it even if I were the type of girl who liked pink bags covered with flowers and butterflies?" Subria said, smiling.

"Uh, no," Shiloh said, grinning. "I would just carry my own books and let you hold on to your little frilly bag."

"That's messed up, Shiloh," Subria said, nudging him. 

"Do me a favor?" Shiloh asked.

"What's that?" Subria inquired.

"Will you please call me Shy?"

"Okay," Subria said.

Subria and Shiloh ended up spending most of their free time together that summer.  They went to the African Street Festival at Boys and Girls’ High on the Fourth of July, and down to the Brooklyn Bridge to watch the fireworks afterward.  They held hands for the first time as they skated together at Empire Roller Rink, and they spent the day together at the festival at Grant’s Tomb during Harlem Week in August.  Shiloh even taught Subria how to drive. 

"How are you feeling about IFG, Subria?" Shiloh asked, as they headed for the train station after bowling at Chelsea Piers and stopping for ice cream. 

"I don't know," Subria commented, putting a spoonful of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream in her mouth.  "I never really liked it much.  You know my aunt is the praise and worship leader at her church, right?"

"Yeah," Shiloh responded, skillfully scooping chocolate syrup and whipped cream off of his hot fudge sundae. 

"Sometimes I think about what it would be like to go to her church.  Jazz and Nairobi have been going to both churches ever since we joined."

"Really?" Shiloh asked.

"Yeah," Subria said.  "They never miss a service unless they're sick.  Jazz plays the drums, and Nairobi is one of the lead singers in the children's choir."

"How come you don't go with them?" Shiloh asked.

"Going to both services would make it impossible to do anything else on Sundays.  And sometimes I'm traveling with the Engineers, or going to some other track event."

"Sometimes I think about leaving IFG and going to another church," Shiloh admitted.  "I met this guy back when I first started going to Hayden.  You remember me talking about Sam?"

"Uh huh," Subria said, finishing the last of her ice cream. 

"His family goes to the Harlem Christian Church, and it's not too far from me.  I've visited a couple of times, and I really like it."

"How would your parents feel about you leaving?" Subria asked.

"I don’t they would care," Shiloh said.  "They might be looking for another church home, too.  I've been catching them watching sermons on BET in the morning, and the preachers don't sound anything like Pastor Pitts.  I think they especially want Nadira to have a different church experience than what Amira and I had."

"Remember Athena and Namibia from camp?" Subria asked.

"How could I forget them?" Shiloh asked, smiling.

"I've kept in touch with them.  Even when I met them at camp, they talked about God in a way that was so unfamiliar to me.  But at the same time, it made me think.  I felt kind of jealous of their understanding of God.  I still do.  They talk about loving God.  I don’t know what that feels like.  I fear God, but unfortunately, I can't say that I love Him."

"I know what you mean," Shiloh said.  "I want to experience God like Sam and Athena and Bia do."

"Me too," Subria said, admitting her spiritual longing to someone else for the first time.

***

As Subria got closer to her graduation from high school, she wanted to be more excited about her future.  She had applied for and been accepted to Sinai University in Charlotte, North Carolina.  Subria remembered Sinai from stories her counselor had told her about the school back when she went to Camp Saranac.  Subria had been accepted to numerous Ivy League schools closer to home, and she'd miss Shiloh and her family, but Subria believed that a private Christian college would be a good place for her.  

Subria couldn't entirely enjoy this new stage of her life, however.  Subria's relationship with her father had grown closer now that he had been spending more time at home, but although she was maturing, and about to move away from home, Steven still had a hard time treating her more like the woman she was becoming.  Subria felt like the part of her life he really understood and accepted was her involvement on the track team, and while she appreciated his support, there was so much more to her than that.  Renee protested, but Steven wouldn't let Subria have a boyfriend, so although she and Shiloh were developing a closer relationship, the only reason Steven allowed them to continue to spend so much time together was because he saw Subria and Shiloh as more like brother and sister.  Thankfully, Renee had faithfully kept the promise that she made to Subria years ago.  She never let on that Subria had feelings for Shiloh, and the feelings were now quite mutual.  

"What’s wrong?" Shiloh asked Subria as he walked her to the train station from his dorm.

"Nothing," Subria said, pouting.

"Come on.  I know you better than that.  What’s up?"

"I don't know if my father is going to let me go to the prom!"

"Oh," Shiloh said.

"It’s not fair.  This is one of the most important days of my life.  I don't think he understands how important this is to me!"

"I’m sure he does care.  He's not like that," Shiloh said, dismissing his personal frustration with Steven's unwillingness to allow Subria to date.

"Yes he is, Shy.  Did your parents let you go to your prom?"

"Yeah, but it wasn’t that big of a deal," Shiloh said.  "People make more out of it than they really should."

"That’s easy for you to say.  You got to go," Subria said.

"True," Shiloh said, conceding the point.  "My parents were cool about me going, but they just didn’t say much to anyone at church about it."

"Do you think they could talk my parents into letting me go?" Subria asked, hopefully.

"Maybe.  Is there someone you want to go with?" Shiloh asked, sounding more jealous than he meant to. 

"Of course not!" Subria said, blushing.  "It’s nothing like that.  I just want to go.  He’s just concerned that I’m going to do something inappropriate, even though I never do." 

"Well, maybe I have a solution," Shiloh said.

"What?" Subria asked.  "I’m open to anything, at this point."

"I could go with you," Shiloh suggested.

"Are you serious?"

"Well, I know you’re saying that you don’t mind going without a date, but speaking from experience, you have more fun when you go with someone."

"I don’t know if I want to hear about this," Subria said, frowning. 

"No, really.  If you don't go with a date, all the shady guys just keep asking you to dance, and it’s hard to say no when you’re not there with someone." 

"Well," Subria asked, hesitantly, "did you go with Arisleyda?"

"We were supposed to go together, but we broke up before the prom."

"So you were one of the shady guys asking the stag girls to dance?" Subria teased.

"Forget you, Subria.  I’m just trying to do you a favor."  Shiloh noticed the hurt look on Subria’s face, and decided to be more honest.  "I shouldn’t have said that.  What I meant to say was it would be nice to go together.  My prom experience wasn’t so great.  I don’t want you to have the same experience, and I think it would be fun to hang out with you.  Besides, your father trusts me, so he'll probably say yes." 

"Well, I'd love to go to the prom with you, Shy," Subria responded, smiling, "but you have to be the one to ask him."

"Just tell me when," Shiloh said, confidently.

Subria was awakened on the morning of her prom by the loudest boom she had ever heard.  She jumped up from her bed and pulled open the shutters only to discover huge drops of rain slamming against her window.  She pressed her face against the window and groaned. 

Subria walked slowly over to her closet and pulled out the prom dress that she and her mother so carefully selected from Bloomingdale's on 59^th and Lexington.  Initially, Subria's mom tried to talk Subria into wearing Song or Nyasia's old prom dresses, but Subria had been wearing their second hand clothes for years, and she talked her mom into finally letting her get something special of her own.

Subria and Renee had gone shopping for the dress in early March so that they wouldn't have to compete with the hundreds of other girls who would be shopping for prom dresses in the spring.  Subria knew what dress she wanted as soon as she saw it.  It was a black, backless, flowing Ralph Lauren dress – simple, and sophisticated.  Now, despite the excitement Subria felt when her father agreed to let Shiloh escort Subria to the prom, she was concerned about the dress being ruined by the rain before she could even get there. 

Subria flicked on the television, and turned to the news to see when the rain was supposed to end.  To her chagrin, the meteorologist forecasted rain throughout the day.  She turned the TV off, threw the remote down on her bed and went upstairs to her mom's room and knocked.

"Come in," Renee said, yawning.

"Hey, Mommy," Subria said, sulking, and flopping down next to her mom on her parents' bed. 

"Rainy day, huh?" Renee said, frowning at Subria.

"It's supposed to rain all day," Subria said, near tears.  She put her head in her mother's lap, and Renee rubbed her back like she used to when Subria was younger. 

"Where's Daddy?"

"At an early meeting," Renee replied.

"Jazz and Nai are still asleep?"

"Probably," Renee replied.  "Don't worry, Bria.  I'm sure it'll stop raining."

Renee was right.  At around 2:00 that afternoon, the clouds rolled away, and the sun was shining through the kitchen window as Subria sat in front of the stove, so her mom could straighten her hair.  Subria had finally come to embrace her hair.  She had gone through a lot of drama in her early years about her light complexion and what some other Black girls called her "good hair," because her hair was so long.  Subria was brought up to believe that everyone's hair was beautiful, and it troubled her that so many other people didn't believe the same thing.  She kept her hair in cornrows most of the time primarily because it was more convenient, especially for track, but also because she loved the connection to her African heritage.  For this occasion, however, she didn't mind having her mother press and curl it for her.  Subria wanted to have a more sophisticated look.  

Subria heard the doorbell ring at 7:00 on the dot.  Although she was very nervous about going downstairs and seeing Shiloh, she was delighted that he was so punctual.  Her stomach dropped when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.  Subria knew it couldn't be Shiloh, but the whole occasion had her on edge.

"It's me, Subria," Nairobi called from outside the door.  "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Subria responded.

Nairobi opened the door slowly, and her mouth dropped open when she saw Subria.  "You look so pretty, Bria!"

"Thanks," Subria said, smiling and blushing slightly. 

"Did you see him?" Subria asked.

"Yes I did," Nairobi said mischievously.

"Well?"

"He looks really handsome . . . and nervous.  Just like you," Nairobi said, teasingly.  "You should go downstairs."

"You go down first.  Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes."

"What are you waiting for?" Nairobi asked.

"I'm just not ready to see him yet," Subria said, defensively.

"So why did you tell him to get here at 7:00, then?"

"I thought it would take him longer, coming from Harlem."

"Come on, Subria!  You know he likes you!" Nairobi said, moving a few loose hairs away from Subria's eyes.  "Why else would a guy who's about to be a sophomore in college ask you to your prom?"

"Just go down and tell him for me, Nai.  Please?"

"Okay, but if you're not downstairs in three minutes, I'm sending him up here."

"Nairobi!"

"I'm so not joking, Subria!"

By around ten after seven, Subria finally mustered up the courage to go downstairs.  She rounded the corner into the living room, and Shiloh was sitting on the couch with Jazz.  Shiloh stood up as soon as he saw Subria.

"Wow," Shiloh said, walking over to her slowly.

"Okay, yall," Jazz said.  "I'm out.  You kids have fun.  Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said, putting his arms around both their shoulders before jogging out of the living room. 

"You look gorgeous, Subria," Shiloh said.

"Thanks, Shy," Subria responded, smiling and checking out his tuxedo.  "You look really good, too."  She could tell that he had just had a hair cut.  He had a few stray hairs around his ears, but Subria didn't know how he'd feel about her bringing that up or wiping the hairs from his skin.  One of Subria's favorite things from the time she spent at Joonyaz was seeing guys right after their haircuts.  Her uncle was a master at giving sharp fades and tight line ups.  Shiloh had that clean look about him. 

Thankfully, the doorbell rang, so there wasn't too much uncomfortable silence between the two of them. 

"The limo's here," Renee called from the kitchen.

"Shall we go?" Shiloh asked, extending his arm.

"Sure," Subria said, interlocking her arm with his.  

Subria enjoyed riding with Shiloh down the Grand Central Parkway in a limousine.  They shared the limo with Jameela and India and their dates, but Subria found herself wishing that they had rented their own limo instead.  She didn't feel as nervous around Shiloh anymore, and although splitting the cost of the limo made it more affordable, she actually started to find Jameela and India's dates annoying. 

"So, your name is Shiloh," Jameela's date asked.

"Yeah," Shiloh responded.  "How about you?"

"I'm Fella."

"Fella?" Shiloh asked.

"Well, my real name is Shawn, but everybody calls me Fella."

"Okay," Shiloh said, stifling a laugh.  "It's nice to meet you."

"My name is Zaquise," India's date said, "but people call me Zaq."

"Hey, Zaq," Shiloh responded.

"Sorry for not introducing yall," Subria said, halfheartedly.

"It's all good," Fella responded.  "We'll have a lot of time to get to know each other tonight, right Meela?"

Jameela smiled uncomfortably as Fella grabbed her around her waist and kissed her neck.

"What is he talking about, Jameela?" Subria asked, sounding a lot like her mom.

Zaq looked at India sheepishly, and India blushed, suddenly finding the view from the window more engaging than the conversation taking place.

"Yall didn't know?" Fella asked.  "We're going to a hotel after the prom is over."

"We never talked about doing anything like that!" Subria said, directing her deadliest gaze at Jameela.

"I know," Jameela said, "but I didn’t think yall would mind."

"Of course we would mind, Jameela!" Subria said, almost yelling.  "Did you know about this, India?"

India shrugged, continuing to look out of the window. Subria hated how India allowed Jameela to talk her into things, even if it made India uncomfortable. 

"What?  Yall are not down?" Fella asked.

"No, we're not," Shiloh responded.  "It's not a problem, though.  We can just have the limo drop us back off by Subria's house after the prom.  We'll split the cost of the limo for the time we shared with yall, and then yall can go where you want."

"I'm cool with that," Fella responded, smiling. 

Subria was so thankful both to hear Shiloh's solution, and to see that he didn't seem to be offended by what her friends and their dates were planning.  She looked over at him and mouthed, "Thank you."

"Let's listen to some music," India chimed in, ever the one to end uncomfortable silences.  She turned on the radio, but the tension in the limo only dissipated a little.  Each couple focused on one another, and there was no more group conversation for the remainder of the ride.

When they arrived at Terrace on the Park in the Flushing Meadow Park section of Queens, there was a huge blue and white banner hanging over the entrance that said, This Is How We Do It - the theme of the Brooklyn Tech's class of '98.  Fortunately, Jameela, Fella, India, and Zaq stayed near the entrance to talk with some friends.  Before Subria and Shiloh left to go upstairs, she agreed to hook up with the girls in the lobby at around 10:00.

They walked into the hall, and surprisingly there were a lot of kids there already dancing to Destiny's Child and Janet Jackson.  As soon as the DJ put on Spice Girls, however, everyone on the dance floor returned to their seats.  The DJ noticed, and he played Déjà Vu - Uptown Baby by Lord Tariq and Peter Gunz to get the crowd moving.  By the time he put on Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Could See by Busta Rhymes, there was virtually no room on the dance floor.  Thankfully, Subria had Nairobi teach her some of the latest dance moves so she could impress Shiloh.  He had some moves of his own, too, though, and at one point was in the middle of a circle being cheered on by the crowd.  Everyone asked Subria who he was afterward, but she didn't know how to introduce him.  Although she would've loved to say he was her boyfriend, she simply introduced him as her friend. 

When the slow songs came on, Subria took a deep breath and tried to squash the tension building inside of her.  She remembered back to how nice it was to dance with him at the final banquet at camp a couple of years before, however, and she felt more at ease.  Unfortunately, Raphael came over and asked if he could cut in while Subria and Shiloh were dancing to the next slow song.  Subria could tell that Shiloh didn't want to stop dancing with her at that moment.  She didn't want to stop dancing with him, either, but she also didn't want to be rude to her friend.

The DJ played Show Me Love by Robin S., and Subria politely thanked Raphael and went back over to where Shiloh was sitting.  She took his hand and led him back to the dance floor.  They danced once last time to We Trying to Stay Alive by Wyclef Jean and John Forte, and by around 10:00, Shiloh and Subria were ready to leave. 

Jameela, India and their dates were not ready to leave so early, so they talked the limo driver into taking Subria and Shiloh back to her house, and then coming back to pick up the rest of them.  Subria went upstairs to her house to change, and since Shiloh planned to spend the night over his uncle's house in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn near Subria's house after the prom anyway, he went over to change his clothes, too.  Shiloh was back over to Subria's house in about twenty minutes.  Shiloh explained to Steven why he and Subria came back early from the prom, and much to Subria and Shiloh's surprise, he offered to let them borrow the car so they could go back out if they wanted. 

Shiloh and Subria decided to go to spend the rest of the evening at Astroland Park in Coney Island.  They were both starving, so they went to Nathan's to get hot dogs and french fries.  Shiloh thought about trying the frog legs, but then thought better of it.  Shiloh wanted to take Subria on the Cyclone, but she didn't think it would be a good idea right after eating.  They decided to ride on the ferris wheel, and then take a walk on the beach instead.

"I had a good time with you at the prom tonight, Shy," Subria said, taking off her shoes. 

"I enjoyed myself, too," Shiloh said.

"Thanks for asking me."

"It was my pleasure," Shiloh said, stopping and sitting on one of the benches.  "So, how are you feeling about leaving for college?"

"I'm excited," Subria said.  "But I'm a little scared, too."

"That's understandable," Shiloh said.  "I thought about going away, but I think New York is one of the best places to study film."

"That's true," Subria said.

"Have you decided what you're going to major in yet?"

"Sinai has a five year program where you can get a B.S. and M.Ed. in Physical Education.  I really want to teach Phys. Ed. in middle school, and I want to be a track coach."

"That doesn’t surprise me," Shiloh said.  "You'll make a great teacher, and an amazing coach."

"Thanks," Subria responded.

"What types of courses do you have to take for that major?" Shiloh inquired.

"Kinesiology, Health and Wellness, uh . . . Exercise Physiology and other P.E. and Health Methods classes."

"Sounds interesting," Shiloh said, stretching his head back, looking up at the sky and sighing.

"What's wrong," Subria asked.

"I don't want you to leave," Shiloh finally admitted. Subria wasn't sure how to respond.

"I'm going to miss you, too," Subria responded. 

"I want to ask you something," Shiloh continued, "and I don't want you to think it's just because you're leaving."

"What is it?" Subria asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me," Shiloh asked, biting his lip.

"I was hoping you'd ask me that," Subria said, grinning from ear to ear, and embracing him as hard as she could.  He returned her embrace.  "I would love to be your girlfriend."  Subria wasn't so concerned about what her father would think.  The place that Shiloh occupied in her heart crowded out all those worries. 

"May I hold you?" Shiloh asked.  He smelled like the Egyptian Musk oils she usually smelled when emanating from the table of the incense seller near the train station by her house.  Subria gazed at Shiloh as he silently looked out on to the water, and then she laid her head on his shoulder.  She heard Shiloh call her, but she was too scared to answer him. 

"Subria . . ."

She couldn't ignore it this time.  Subria was sure he would ask, but what would her answer be?  The sound of her racing heart was almost deafening, but she focused on reading his lips so that she wouldn't have to look into his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" Shiloh asked.

She couldn't lie.  Subria wanted him to kiss her more than anything.  She wasn't sure whether she mouthed the answer, or simply communicated with body language, but Subria definitely said yes.  The background city noises were barely audible.  The promenade was completely empty.  Subria felt like melting into his arms.