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“I’m sorry, you did what?” Amber hurries after me, her Mary Janes clacking on the sidewalk beneath our feet as I walk faster.
I let out a breath, “I told you, Amber, I’m helping Laura out with her campaign.”
“No, I heard you, and you’re supposed to be helping me with my campaign.” Amber says, face tinged with an angry pink.
“You asked me to help with your campaign posters,” I say, a breath escaping my lips. “I did that. I can make more if you want, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be someone else’s campaign manager. I’m your contractor, your poster-designer.”
“Okay, what about Mrs. Clark?” Leslie asks, speeding up to the two of us, eyebrow arched.
“Let’s be honest here,” I start, shrugging distractedly, “Mrs. Clark can’t help me with anything at this point. Yeah, you guys could’ve helped me get on her good side, and that would be great for college reference letters.”
I exhale at the cutting feeling in my ribs. That’s most definitely a loss.
“Exactly,” Olivia cuts in, waving her arms, “She could write you a good letter of recommendation that you wouldn’t otherwise have.”
“True, but, I can ask someone else,” I say, more for my own benefit that anything else, “I’ll find someone else.”
Leslie lets out an icy laugh. “I doubt that.”
“And by the way,” Amber says from next to me, “Mrs. Clark wanted us to take you in. We’re doing you a huge favor, and this is how you pay us back?” She lets out an incredulous scoff. “You should be grateful, Amina. We put a lot on the line just to help you out. We didn’t need to do that. We didn’t need to invite you to sit with us.”
I stop in my tracks, now completely done with giving placating replies. A sardonic laugh escapes my lips.
“I’m not your little project,” I say, watching Olivia’s face pale at the accusation. “I’m not a little chihuahua that you can stuff in your purse.” I pause. “I’m not your pet.” Leslie raises a finger, but I plow on. “I’m my own person.”
I shake my head. “We were working collaboratively, and if anything, Amber, I was doing you a favor by helping with your campaign posters for a few dollars.” I say, eyes carefully boring into them. “Things have gone too far. I mean, you literally dictated who I could sit with for the face of your campaign.”
Leslie rolls her eyes, subtly.
“Not to mention how Brett was acting throughout,” I say, fingers drumming at my sides. Implying that I was dirty, bringing up “black-on-black crime” around me at every opportunity he got.
“Alright,” Amber says, “I draw a line there. We didn’t say any of the things Brett said to you.”
I raise my hands in the air. “Well, you sure as hell didn’t stop him. I mean, you laughed, Amber.”
The pinkish tinge to Amber’s cheeks become a deep red, and I’m guessing it’s not from anger, not anymore.
The baggage in my chest is gone now that I’ve let everything out, and softness replaces it.
“I guess,” I start, slowly, “What I’m trying to say is that you say that we’re all friends, but you act differently. So, this is where I have to draw the line.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, sliding my fingers through the straps of my backpack. “I’m just not cool with that.”
Olivia opens her mouth before it closes again.
“You’re also not the nicest to other people, either.” I say, quietly. “Like, trolling Millie on Instagram? Not a super great look for a presidential candidate.”
Pink rises to Olivia’s cheeks, now matching Amber’s flushed face.
“Anyway, I think I have to leave,” I say with a wry nod. “Good luck on your campaign, Amber.”
With that, I continue on my way, the girls frozen into place as I adjust my backpack and continue to speed walk ahead of them, leaving what feels like weeks of problems behind me.
