The Heartbroke Club

16

I was avoiding everyone.

Quentin had pissed me off, André had pissed me off, Marcellus had pissed me off.

I'd thought all three of them were non-factors, but alas, we were here.

All of them had appeared in my life in a way that I couldn't really avoid, but I was sure as hell going to try to. I didn't go to school the last day before break, feigning game fatigue, but I had the week-long break to gather a long-term game plan.

I didn't want to believe that Quentin saw me that way. Ever since he tried to kiss me, I'd been eating with Marcellus. That wasn't an option, now, either, because Marcellus and I had actually kissed. For a long ass time.

My lower body throbbed thinking about it, so much to a point where it overshadowed the irritation and anger I was feeling. I hated it.

It was the day before Thanksgiving. My family always ate dinner the day before to acknowledge that it was a holiday that had been warped and screwed to trick people into thinking things were different than they actually were. However, they still wanted to gather and still wanted to acknowledge the things they are thankful for.

The Johnsons would be over, just as they'd been since I was born. This was the first year since then that I didn't know how to face them. I didn't want to face them.

However, I got dressed still. Did my hair still. André and I had been over for a long time now. There was nothing there to even be stressed about.

His demeanor after the game had me worried, though. He seemed eager to talk to me. He'd congratulated me on my game. He'd even asked a few personal questions. Of course, he asked about Marcellus.

"Marcellus is my friend from Alabama," I'd responded.

I'd complained about not knowing enough about Marcellus, but then, I'd felt like maybe I'd known a little too much.

I now knew how he tasted. How his scalp felt under the roots of his thick, coarse hair. I knew that he kissed like he'd done it a million times before. I knew how he felt in between my legs.

I shuddered, and my eyes darted over to where his jacket was slung across my desk chair. I'd never given it back.

A part of me wanted to put it on, to smell it, but I scorned myself into turning away to face my closet.

Our gatherings were just us and the Johnsons. The entirety of the Clark lineage had a Thanksgiving reunion the day of, but we never attended. My parents said it was because they liked to miss the first wave of holiday family drama.

I got myself together, took a deep breath of agony, and made my way downstairs.

The Johnsons were struggling their way in the door, trying to carry all of the ingredients they'd brought to cook with. André and I's parents always made everything together, and we were always left to our own devices as we waited. Today would be no different.

I hustled to the door to help Mrs. Johnson lighten her load. It looked like they were trying to get everything in, in one stop.

André and Mr. Johnson stepped in not long after her, carrying similar loads. "Happy Holidays y'all!" Mr. Johnson exclaimed. He was such a happy man.

"Welcome, neighbors!" my mother was all smiles, all around. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, except for me.

This guilted me into plastering a smile on my face and reproaching the crowd after I'd gotten the kitchen island together. "Hi, everyone."

"Is that Big Bree? We used to call you little Bree, but you ain't little no more. Long time no see!" Mrs. Johnson wasted no time.

I gave her the feeble excuse that I was trying to end my last basketball season with a bang and left it at that. We idly chatted for a while until the adults decided it was time to get cooking. I eyed the sweet potato pie that they'd brought, my stomach lurching for it, but I ignored the feeling, knowing I wasn't allowed until everyone had gathered together.