THE WORDS WHAT the hell is he doing here? play over and over in my mind. He’s just standing there in the back of the room with his hands in his tight pants pockets. The late-afternoon sunlight shines on the side of his face, making him almost glow. We both have lights shining down on us as if we’re the only ones in here.
Someone comes over to touch my arm, and I finally look away and step down from the stage. I almost don’t know where to go, but then I remember I left my bag on the chair and I have to head over to where Darius is standing. I recognize one of the girls he’s with. Carrie. This is not how I expected my afternoon to go. At all. And Darius just watched me perform? Oh, hell no.
“Small world, huh?” is the first thing Darius says.
“Too small,” I say as I grab my bag without looking directly at him. “Way too small.”
“So small, I’m starting to feel claustrophobic,” Carrie says while shifting in her seat. There’s an empty chair at their table that has Darius’s bag hanging over the back, but I don’t sit down.
“Wow, you all know each other?” the other girl asks. She looks familiar too, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her. Then I realize that she has the same square jawline as Darius. “Hi, I’m Georgia, and that poem was really good! Girls in the hood. I like that!”
“Zuri” is all I say, pretending to be uninterested because she really looks like Darius and I remember her name from when we were talking about that band at Maria Hernandez Park. She must be his little sister. The third Darcy kid.
Then Darius adds, “And guess what—Zuri lives across the street from us back in Bushwick.”
Georgia gasps. “Oh my god! Wow! What a coincidence! What are you doing in D.C.? You go to Howard?” She sounds like her brothers—not her voice, but her words. No New York twang, no slang, nothing. She pronounces her words perfectly. She enunciates.
“No, I don’t go to Howard. Yet. I’m a senior at Bushwick High. I’m just touring the campus for the day.”
“Cool,” she says.
Carrie doesn’t say a word to me. She just smiles a fake smile and messes with her iced latte or whatever she’s drinking. Another teen poet gets on the mic and yells so loud that I want to cover my ears.
“You’re the last person I expected to run into here.” Darius bends down a bit so that I can hear him. This is the first time I’m seeing him in jeans, I realize, but I don’t stare too long. Our bodies are almost touching, boxed in by the chairs.
I nod, thinking about what Warren just told me about the Darcys. How Darius is shady, and I’m sure his sister is the same. But why does this D.C. Darius seem nicer than the one back in Bushwick? He’s smiling more. His eyes are softer. His whole body language is more laid-back and chill.
“We’ve been wanting to get out of here to get some real food. Wanna come with?” he asks.
“Come with? No, thanks. I kinda wanna see the other poets,” I say.
“No you don’t. Trust me. You’re ten times better than they are,” he says, grinning.
“Totally. I can only take a little bit of that spoken-word stuff,” Georgia says. “But you . . . you were amazing!”
I only smile because I see Carrie rolling her eyes. She catches me watching her, then flips her long straight hair over her shoulder.
“Thank you,” I say to Georgia while keeping my eyes on Carrie.
“You still want those chili dogs, Darius?” Georgia asks.
“Heck yeah!” Darius says. He gently touches my arm. “I’m sure you didn’t get a chance to go to Ben’s Chili Bowl,” he says. “You should really try it. It’s good.”
And I laugh. “Heck yeah?” I repeat, laughing. No one else is. Clearly they don’t get how corny Darius sounds saying Heck yeah. “You eat chili dogs?”
“Let me guess,” Darius says. “You thought those hors d’oeuvres at our party are what we eat for dinner every night?”
I shake my head and try very hard not to laugh again. “No, I didn’t think that at all.”
“Yes, you did, Zuri,” he says. “And do you eat those fried pork chunks for dinner every night?”
“No, of course not,” I say, and let out another laugh because he’s right. And I was wrong. For the first time since meeting him, since hating him, I hear him laugh, too.
Georgia smiles while looking at her brother, then at me, then back at her brother. All the while, Carrie is dead serious.
We leave Busboys and Poets and walk around the corner to a place called Ben’s Chili Bowl. It looks like it’s been there since forever, but the surrounding buildings have been scrubbed clean and polished. It’s a short red-and-white building that has giant yellow signs with red lettering and pictures of a hot dog and a hamburger. Inside feels like my Brooklyn—the familiar black women behind the counter wearing hairnets, plastic gloves, and warm smiles; the smell of food feels like a big hug from Madrina; and smooth R&B playing in the background makes everything seem as if it’s swaying to the music. Whatever they serve here, both Papi and Mama would love this place. I imagine taking them here when they visit me on campus.
I stand back against the wall while Darius orders for his sister, then Carrie, and then he turns to me.
“No, thanks,” I quickly say.
“You sure?” Georgia asks. “’Cause nobody from New York turns down anything from Ben’s Chili Bowl.”
I shake my head no even though I’m hungry as hell. I don’t want to hang out with them longer than I have to. After a few minutes of waiting for the food, small talk, and watching Carrie try to shut me out by making sure she gets in between me and Darius every chance she gets, we end up sitting in a booth in the back. I sit next to Georgia while Carrie sits next to Darius, of course. I want to blurt out that I don’t want her man, but it would be a waste of my breath at this point.
“My brothers told me that our new neighborhood is really loud. Good thing we have central air to keep out all that noise,” Georgia says in between spoonfuls of her chili.
“It’s not noisy,” I say. “As a matter of fact, if it gets too quiet, I won’t be able to sleep.”
“’Cause you’re used to it, right?” Georgia asks.
I just stare at her and don’t say a word. Georgia is a smart girl, because she immediately knows that she just tried to play me. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you,” she says.
Both Darius and Carrie are staring at me as if I’m about to pop off at the mouth or something, so I just say in my very best voice, the one I use to impress my teachers, “I understand. Bushwick is an acquired taste. I’m surprised your family would want to move there.”
Carrie chuckles. “Why are you suddenly talking like that?”
“Talking like what?” I ask.
“Darius, you noticed how she just changed the way she talked, right?”
“No,” Darius says, shaking his head and looking dead at me. He’s biting into his second chili dog now, and somehow he eats that sloppy food like it’s gourmet.
“Zuri, you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. Just be yourself. Admissions counselors really like that. You know, keep it a hundred,” Carrie says with that annoying high-pitched voice of hers.
I raise both my eyebrows at this girl. “Keep it a hundred?”
“Yeah, keep it real.” She takes a sip from her soda.
I let it slide because this isn’t Bushwick and I’m on vacation. Sort of. But still, I entertain her nonsense because I have a few minutes to kill before I have to get back to the station. “So, Carrie, what are you doing in D.C.?” I ask, not because I want her to like me, but because it was her man who invited me over here and she’s eyeing me like I’m the one checking for him.
“Oh, just hanging out with Darius,” she says, cocking her head to the side and leaning against Darius a little bit.
But he gently shoves her away.
“Well, I think that’s my cue. It was nice running into all of you. See you back in Bushwick.” I grab my bag and start to slide out of the booth.
“Wait!” Darius says, as he finishes chewing his chili dog, wipes his mouth, then his hands, and looks up at me. “My father’s from around here. Well, Maryland. Carrie’s grandparents live down here, too. My grandparents live in Chevy Chase,” Darius says. “We drove down to chill with Georgia for a few days, and I was thinking of driving back up tonight. When are you heading back to Brooklyn?”
Carrie stares at him as if he’s just broken some unspoken rule.
“Driving back?” I say, wide-eyed. “By yourself?”
“Yeah, I’m eighteen,” he says. “I have my license and I’ve been driving since I was sixteen.”
“Not in Brooklyn, though,” Georgia adds. “It’s easier to learn in Martha’s Vineyard.”
“Do your parents have a car, Zuri?” Carrie butts in.
This time, I cock my head to the side. She’s a smart girl too, because she reads my answer all over my face. “So that’s how rich people get down? They let you drive on the highway between states when you’re only eighteen? Y’all are lucky.”
Both Darius and Georgia just stare at me with their matching tight jaws. Carrie is smirking.
“It’s not luck. It’s a necessity,” Darius says. “And practice for when I go to college next year. I’ll have to drive myself to and from campus when I visit Bushwick. I’m applying to Georgetown.”
“Yeah, me too. In a few years,” Georgia adds. “Because, obvi!”
“Yeah, obvi,” I say, while nodding slowly. “You all are really from a different planet.”
“No, we’re not,” Darius says. “In fact, now we’re from the same block. I can drive you back to Brooklyn. I’ve done it plenty of times. But we should head out now before it gets too late, ’cause I have to drop Georgia off and get my stuff.”
He doesn’t wait to hear what I say. He doesn’t even check in with Carrie, who’s sitting there with her mouth open as if she can’t believe what just went down. Darius is out of the booth already with his tray. He dumps his paper plate into the trash and starts heading out of the restaurant without looking back.
“Wait a second,” Carrie says, grabbing her purse and running after him. “We were supposed to go back tomorrow. Why are you rushing, D?”
Darius pauses at the door, a surprised look on his face. “I thought you’d already booked a train ticket home. You complained about how carsick you were the whole way down.”
“I didn’t actually buy it!” Carrie says, pushing past him and out onto the sidewalk. Georgia and I quickly follow.
“Hold up,” I interrupt. “I didn’t agree to drive home with you just yet.” Although if I do catch a ride home with Darius, Janae can get a refund for the bus ticket.
“You know what, forget it,” Carrie says. “I’ll figure something else out.” She pulls out her phone and starts texting. “Whitney and Sam are going to Dodge City tonight anyway. I can hang with them.”
Darius doesn’t even try to stop her. “Cool, tell them I say hi,” he says.
“Tell them yourself,” Carrie replies, her voice icy cold. “I’m gonna get a cab.” She flips her hair again and shakes her little narrow behind as she walks away.
I laugh under my breath.
Darius steps closer to me, putting his hands in his jean pockets. “Zuri, really. I can take you home. I’m a good driver—don’t listen to Carrie.” His voice is low.
“He really is!” Georgia chimes in.
I look up at Darius, then down at my phone, and see that I’m now running late for my bus. If I say no to Darius and then miss my ride, my parents will never let me out of the house again. I can say goodbye to Howard forever.
“I mean, I guess,” I say, slowly. “But I get to deejay.”
“Deal,” Darius says, and his smile is wider than I’ve ever seen it. My stomach drops and I realize what I just agreed to. Four hours alone, in a car, with Darius Darcy. What would Warren say to that?
A cab pulls up to the curb and honks at Carrie.
Georgia runs over to give Carrie a hug goodbye, and Darius waves politely to her. “I’ll text you,” he calls out.
“Bye, Carrie!” I shout. “See you back in Brooklyn!” I wave extra hard while grinning wide.
We wait until Carrie is out of sight and then begin walking down U Street toward the car.
“Are they going out?” I ask Georgia quietly.
“Carrie? No way,” she says. Then she calls out to Darius, who is a few steps ahead of us. “Hey, bro! Zuri thought Carrie was your girlfriend!”
“Not in a million years,” he says.
And in that moment, something stirs deep in my belly. I’m not supposed to care. But part of me is relieved that Darius isn’t into someone so shallow and insecure.
“Is that a smile on your face?” Georgia asks, and I realize this girl is growing on me. I could see us being friends. Maybe.
“Yeah, ’cause you’re kinda cool, Georgia,” I say. “I can’t wait for you to meet my sisters.”
“Oh my god!” she squeals. “I can’t wait either. We’ll have to hang out before I head back to boarding school.”
“Boarding school?” I ask, just as Darius holds open the shiny black front passenger door for me. It’s a nice car, and it’s not the one I usually see parked in front of their house back in Bushwick, but I don’t ask any questions. For some reason, the polite gesture makes me nervous. Darius closes the door gently.
“Yeah,” Georgia says as she slides into the back seat. “And now you get to meet my grandmother!”
“Wait, what?” I say, turning to Darius as he gets into the driver’s seat.
“Uh, yeah, did I forget to mention that?” Darius says, and gives me a shy smile. He starts the car.
“Your grandmother? Seriously?” Suddenly I’m not sure this free ride is worth it. I need to call my parents and tell them about the change of plans, but maybe there’s still time for Darius to drive me to the bus, and I won’t need to tell them anything.
“She’s harmless! I promise,” Georgia says. “I’ve been living with her all summer.”
“Really?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. I check the time and see that it’s already almost seven. It’s too late.
“Yeah, harmless,” Darius promises.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” I mumble. But I click my seat belt closed.
As we drive out to the D.C. suburbs, I’m still stuck on the fact that I’m sitting in the front seat of a car that belongs to a boy I can’t stand. And we’re headed to his grandmother’s house, of all places. Plus he’s driving me two hundred miles back home. So I’m basically trusting Darius with my life right now. And an hour ago, I didn’t even want to look at his face.