i believe in u & me. | 𝐌𝐉.

𝐈𝐕.

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I BELIEVE IN U & ME.

( chapter four • candy girl. )

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(tw ; brief usage + mention of homophobic terms and language.)

"I can't believe you would do something so stupid! Sneaking out of the church in the dead of night to go hang out at pretty boy LaFontaine's mansion to do what? Listen to that blasphemous heathen music! You know we don't approve of no—excuse me, Lord—no goddamn TLC! Anything could've happened to you!" Cissy's voice trembled with anger and worry. "I mean, what would drive you to do that?"

"I would like to know, too." John agreed, folding his arms and glaring at his daughter with a stern expression.

Esther sighed and shook her head, her shoulders drooping under the weight of their scrutiny. "I... I don't know," she stammered. Esther had never been to a concert in her life. When she was presented the opportunity to see her favorite band perform live, she seized it, feeling it wasn't as serious as her parents made it out to be.

"I was fine, Mom. Nothing happened to me."

"But something could've, girl!" John interrupted, his voice rising. "After you repent for what you did, you need to be thanking God for protecting you."

Esther took a deep breath, summoning the courage to voice her thoughts. She knew what she was about to say would likely land her in serious trouble, but she was tired of being silenced. "You know what, Mom? Dad? I'm not sorry. You guys have treated me like I'm some sheltered kid since I was a baby, and I'm so sick of it. I went up the street to hang out with my friends, and that's it. I was good. Calm down."

Her parents were silent for a moment, their faces reflecting a mix of shock and disappointment. Cissy finally broke the silence. "Who are those other two friends you're so desperate to be around?"

"Diavian and Cyrus. The only people I talk to in that class other than Michael."

Cissy's face twisted with disapproval as she recalled the mental images of Esther's friends from the first day of school. Diavian, the pixie-cut, loudmouthed Chicana girl. Cyrus, the curly-haired, freckle-faced, glasses-wearing boy with effeminate mannerisms. And of course, Michael, the brown-skinned, Afro-haired, wealthy kid.

A no-no, a huge no-no, and a keep-your-spoiled-ass-away-from-my-baby-girl no-no.

"Stay away from them," Cissy demanded, her voice cold.

Esther shook her head, defiant. "No. Those are my friends, Mom. You were the main one encouraging me to make friends on the first day of school, and now that I have them, you want me to drop them. Why can't I be around them?"

"For starters, one of those 'friends' is a sissy. That little White boy. I saw the way he was flipping his hands and twitching those hips—I don't like it. Your father and I have told you that you are not to associate with those people. And then there you go, befriending a boy filled with the Devil himself."

"And you wanna be all up on that little rich bratty boy like you were last time I came to pick you up. Hugging all on his little nasty ass. I raised you better than that!" Cissy's anger flared. "And that little girl with the haircut? Please, she is loud. And I don't like it."