Love Is a Revolution Page 6

  “I haven’t had braids since I was in elementary school. I like my hair to be straight—maybe I’ll just get a weave.”

  “Just trust me. I can do them a little bigger than medium and you can still style them. They won’t be too stiff or heavy, I promise. You like the way I did Imani’s hair, right?”

  “Yeah, okay. Will you come to the store with me so I know what to get?”

  “Of course. I can do it right after this meeting is over. Until then, just wear a wrap.”

  “I don’t know how to tie a wrap.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t—”

  “Sadie, can you just do it for me, please?”

  “I’ll show you how,” she says. And she picks up the fabric that I wore last night. “Okay, so first—you need to fold it like this . . . ,” and Sadie teaches me how to do a head wrap in three different ways, and I think she should do a tutorial for YouTube because she’s taught me how to do it and that is no small feat.

  “You’re missing your planning meeting,” I say.

  Sadie shrugs. “They’ll be fine,” she says. She sits on my bed. “So, since when does Nala Robertson want to go natural? Imani finally convinced you, huh?”

  “Just wanted to try something new.”

  “For who?” Sadie asks.

  All I can do is smile.

  “Oh my goodness! For who?”

  “No one,” I say. “You know I’m always switching it up.”

  “Nala—”

  “Just—what type of hair do I need to buy for you to braid my hair?”

  Before Sadie can answer, Imani is at the foot of the steps calling her. “We’re voting on something, and we need you to break this tie.”

  Sadie sighs. “To be continued,” she says to me. And then she mouths, “Is it Tye?” and smiles.

  I take a shower and put on some real clothes and go back downstairs ready to see Tye and redeem myself from the fashion fail that happened earlier, but when I go into the living room, he is not there. Everyone is gone except for Sadie and Imani. I go into the kitchen to grab a granola bar. “Your meeting is over?”

  “Yep,” Imani says. She is putting away the leftover snacks. Sadie is loading the used dishes in the dishwasher.

  “Sadie is going to braid my hair tonight. You want to come? Maybe we can start our Netflix binge-a-thon.”

  “I can’t. I have plans with Toya.”

  “More Inspire Harlem planning?”

  “I hope not,” Sadie says. “Two meetings in one day?”

  “No, it’s not for Inspire Harlem. We’re just going to hang at her place. Probably watch a movie or something,” Imani says.

  “Well, it’s not going to be one of the movies we planned on watching, is it?”

  “Of course not, Nala. Why would I do that?”

  “Why would you rather hang out with Toya than me and Sadie?”

  “So now I can only spend time with you two?”

  Sadie goes to the fridge and takes out a can of seltzer water. This house is her house. She opens the can. “Please don’t put me in the middle of this.”

  I go in the fridge and grab a can of seltzer too. “I mean, the plan for this summer was for us to spend time together.”

  “Whose plan?” Imani asks. And the way she says it is like she’s saying that being around me is the last thing she wants to do. Before I can even respond she takes it back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that—I just, sometimes I want—”

  “What? You want what?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.” Imani puts away the last of the snacks and starts walking back to the living room. “Why don’t we do movie night tomorrow night.” She takes out her phone, then says, “Oh, wait. Tomorrow won’t work. I forgot. Asher and I have plans.”

  “Okay,” I say, trying not to sound too disappointed.

  “We’ll find time,” Imani promises. “We’ve got all summer.”

  I know summer vacation just started, but still. Me accomplishing everything on my Summer To Do List is getting off to a shaky start. So far the only thing I’ve accomplished is finding a new hairstyle. And that wasn’t even on purpose. Who knew finding time and finding love would be so hard?

  7

  4 THINGS I MISS ABOUT IMANI

  1.The times we’d text each other full conversations even though we were just a room away.

  2.The times Imani would wake up in the middle of the night and stand at my bedroom door, whispering, You awake? You awake? until she woke me, how she’d come into my room and we’d stay up talking all night long.

  3.The times we’d make french toast on Saturday mornings and watch classic cartoons till noon and promise each other no matter how old we get we’ll always make time for The Flintstones.

  4.The times we’d do our best to control our laughter at the dinner table, at church, at school, at any time when we are supposed to be serious and something funny happens. All the times she laughed when I laughed, cried when I cried.

  Imani disappears to her room, then comes back down and says, “So, I’m going with you when you get your hair braided.”

  I grab her and hug her and tell her thank you over and over—half playful, half serious.

  She just shakes her head at me. “When are we leaving?”

  “Ready when you two are,” Sadie says.

  The three of us go to a beauty supply store on 125th to buy the hair.

  “Let’s stop here first, though,” Sadie says. She stops in front of a corner store. “I need some chips in my life.”

  “I need a beef patty and some coco bread,” I say.

  “Me too.” Imani opens the door, and we all file in.

  We each go straight to the food we want. Sadie gets two small bags of chips and orders two patties—one beef, one chicken. No coco bread. “Not all of this is for right now,” she tells us.

  “Even if it was, this is a judgment-free zone,” Imani says.

  Imani and I order our beef patties and coco bread. As soon as we leave, I go into the bag and start eating. I sink my teeth into the golden dough. It is thick and flaky, and the savory filling has the perfect amount of spice. All this deliciousness is sandwiched between the sweet coco bread, making this the best decision of the day. My taste buds are so happy right now.

  We finish our food before entering the beauty supply store. The first thing I notice when I walk in is the Korean man sitting up high in a space that looks over us all. He is not smiling or frowning, just a plain-faced man watching shoppers sort through hair oils, shampoos, barrettes, blow-dryers, and combs. At the front of the store there are shelves of nail polish against the wall on the right. The colors are stacked in order of light to dark shades; some of the bottled liquid looks so similar, I have to look up close to see the different tint.

  “Hair is in the back,” Sadie says. She walks down the aisle of oils and shampoos. There are so many to choose from, and it seems like every shampoo and conditioner is mixed with something: shea butter, coconut oil, olive oil, argan oil. Aunt Ebony always laughs at us, saying she can’t believe that we’d spend so much money on something that she can make at home.

  When we get to the back, Sadie walks up to the counter and dings the bell. “I hope Ji Son is here.” As soon as she says it, a woman comes out and smiles when she sees Sadie.

  “Hello, my friend,” Ji Son says. “How can I help you today?”

  “Do you carry something similar to this?” Sadie holds her phone out, zooming in on a photo.

  “Yes, yes. Right over here.” Ji Son walks us over to the section where packs of hair are sold.

  “Perfect,” Sadie says. She browses through the options of color, holds a pack up to me, and says, “Yeah, I think you’re a 1B.” She grabs packets of hair, passing them to me and Imani so we can carry them.

  “What about adding some color?” I ask.

  “Oh yeah—you’d look good in any of these.” Sadie points to the shades of brown. I choose a color that’s close to what I wanted to do if I dyed my
hair.

  “Or, you can be bold and do this,” Imani says. She is holding up one pack of purple and one pack of blue. She is laughing because she knows I would never do that.

  Sadie, on the other hand, takes the packets from her and considers them. “These are actually nice colors. They’d work for highlights.”

  It makes sense that Sadie would want me to add color. She changes her hairstyle every few weeks—braids, twists, Afro—and she dyes it or adds extensions in color, blond, burgundy, dark green.

  Imani and I follow Sadie to the register. A woman is standing there cursing out the clerk because she can’t return her items. “Store credit only,” the woman behind the counter keeps repeating while pointing to the sign. After the manager comes out and calms the customer, I pay for the hair and the three of us leave.

  Once we are at Sadie’s, I take my head wrap off and sit down in a folding chair that isn’t all too comfortable, but at least the seat is padded. Sadie begins to braid my hair, strand by strand, as we watch the first movie. She braids pretty fast, but still, it’s going to take a while, so we’ll probably get through two and a half movies—depending on how many breaks we take.

  Sadie braids and we watch the first movie—pausing it once to take a bathroom break. When the movie is over, we stop so I can stretch my legs and so Sadie can rest her fingers. “Want to listen to music?” Sadie asks. She puts her music on shuffle so we are listening to all kinds of songs bouncing from genre to genre.

  “Have you heard Blue’s album?” I ask.

  “Who is Blue?”

  Imani laughs. “A new singer that Nala is obsessed with. She plays her every morning. Loud.”

  “I thought you liked Blue?” I say.

  “I do,” Imani says. “I like her. You love her.”

  “She’s right,” I admit. “I guess I’m a little obsessed, but she’s so good.”

  “All right, all right, I’m sold,” Sadie says. “Let’s listen to her.”

  I sync my phone to Sadie’s speaker. It’s hard to keep still because Blue’s music makes you want to dance. When we get to the end of the playlist, Sadie says, “Let’s listen to that again.”

  “See? Good, right?” I tell her.

  Imani rolls her eyes. “Are we really going to listen to the whole thing again?”

  I push play.

  We listen to the playlist one more time, and then we start the next movie. I sit back down in the chair so Sadie can finish my hair. Just as the opening credits roll, my phone buzzes. It’s Tye: Sorry I wasn’t able to say bye to you after our meeting. I had to rush out. What are you doing tomorrow?

  I type a response: Whatever you want me to do.

  No, that is way too forward.

  I delete that and type again: Why? What’s up?

  Hmm. Sounds too harsh. Truth is, I promised Grandma that I’d come over and help her on her puzzle.

  I write another text: I have to go to work.

  Tye texts me right back and says: Can we hang out after you get off work?

  Well, it’s good to know my jheri curl didn’t scare him away.

  “Nala, who are you talking to?” Imani says. “You’re not even paying attention to the movie.”

  I feel Sadie looking over my shoulder. “Probably texting the same guy she’s getting all cute for.”

  “Um, I’m always cute, thank you, and there is no guy.” I am laughing when I say this. And inside I am wondering if I should tell them about my crush on Tye.

  “Wait, there’s a guy?” Imani pauses the movie.

  “Why do you sound surprised?” I ask.

  “I—just, I didn’t know.”

  “There’s nothing to know . . . yet.”

  Sadie screams, “Yet? I knew it! See, told you, Imani.”

  “Um, you’re in my ear,” I remind her.

  “Okay, focus. Who is he?” Imani crosses her legs on the sofa and gets comfortable like she is getting ready for a long story.

  It feels like old times. Here we are hanging out and just talking about our lives. We haven’t done this in months. This is exactly what I wanted summer to be. I don’t know why I am hesitating to tell them I have feelings for Tye. We usually tell each other everything. “Okay,” I say. “Don’t make a big deal about this. We are not dating. I repeat. We. Are. Not. Dating. But I do kind of, sort of like Tye, and I think he kind of, sort of likes me.”

  There, I said it. I feel relieved actually.

  Sadie shouts—in my ear—“I knew it. I knew.”

  Imani scoots to the edge of the sofa. “Tye Brown?”

  “Um, do we know any other Tye?” I smile when I say this, but when I look at Imani, I realize her question wasn’t for clarification—it is the kind of question that asks, really? Imani’s face is all frowned up. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.

  “You don’t seem like his type.”

  “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Imani.”

  “To be fair, he doesn’t seem like your type either. You two are opposites.”

  Sadie says, “Well, they say opposites attract.”

  Imani leans back again, relaxes her face. “Right. Yeah—I mean, it’s just a little surprising.” Then she says, “I actually thought he liked Toya.”

  “Why would you say that?” I lean forward, and Sadie taps me on my shoulder, moving me back to the spot she needs me in as she braids my hair.

  “What? I’m just saying—him and Toya seem to be good friends, and I thought maybe there was something there. Toya is into community organizing, and so is Tye, Toya is a vegetarian, and so is Tye. Toya—”

  “Okay, Imani. I get it. I am not the recycling, Heal-the-World-Make-It-a-Better-Place social justice warrior like Toya. But you act like there’s nothing about me Tye could like.”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “She definitely didn’t say that,” Sadie says.

  Imani gets up and goes into the kitchen to get more soda. “Look, Toya is my friend. And she really likes him.”

  “I’m your cousin.” Your cousin-sister-friend to be exact. “And I like him too. And he’s giving me vibes like the feeling is mutual,” I say. I don’t even know if it’s true, but I need to say it, want to believe it.

  “That’s fine,” Imani says. “I wasn’t saying he shouldn’t; I just said it was surprising.”

  I shouldn’t have said anything.

  Sadie’s fingers dance with my hair, twirling and twisting. “But wait—are you two together or—”

  “We’re just friends, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Can you turn the movie back on?”

  Imani picks up the control, turns the movie on. She mumbles a sorry. But I don’t acknowledge it. I just try to focus on the movie. But I can’t.

  You don’t seem like his type rings in my head over and over. And of course, the reason why I’m so irritated is because Imani is right. She knows the real me, and she knows the real Toya. And the real Tye. And so what she’s saying is, Tye wouldn’t fall in love with the real me and having a new hairstyle isn’t going to change that.

  Imani pauses the movie again and says, “And speaking of friends who are more than friends. Sadie, what’s up with you and Jackson?”

  “Nothing. We really are friends. I know that’s hard to believe, but for real. We’re more like brother-sister.”

  “You’ve never kissed?” I ask.

  “Nope.”

  “You’ve never thought about it?” Imani asks.

  “Nope.”

  At the same time Imani and I say, “I don’t believe you.”

  And we all start laughing.

  Sadie says, “You know it really is possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends. I love him. But it’s not like that. He’s a good friend to me. And our parents have known each other all our lives. Our families are just close. I promise. I have nothing to hide. If I liked him, I’d tell you.”

  We let it go, watch the movie. When Sadie finishes my hair she wiggles her fingers, sha
king out the cramps in her hands. Then, she picks up a mirror. “You like?”

  “I love,” I say.

  Imani agrees. “That style looks good on you.”

  We experiment for a while on different hairstyles I can do, but for the rest of the night, I just wear the braids down. When Imani and I get home, Aunt Ebony says, “Wow, you look so elegant with your hair like that. It’s beautiful.”

  My hair is beautiful.

  Well, according to Aunt Ebony. I wonder what Tye will say. I’m going to see him tomorrow, and I will look much better than I did this morning. I wonder what kind of response Tye will give me. There are so many ways people react to a Black girl changing up her hairstyle. Of course, there’s the most ridiculous can I touch it? questions from white people, then there’s the how long did it take? question from people who know better than to ask if they can touch it but are still so curious. There are the Black girls who have been wanting the style or just had the style and want to talk to you about it to compare notes on the experience. And then the people who totally ignore you, act like your hair has always been that way—which means either they hate the new style and would rather not say anything or they really like it but don’t want to say it (out of fear or jealousy). Of course, the best response is a simple I like your hair. Why is that response the hardest?

  Before I go to bed, I stand in the mirror, play around with the different styles Sadie and Imani showed me. I think about Tye and wonder if he’s standing in the mirror thinking about what I’ll think of his hair . . . ​probably not.

  10 BLACK GIRL HAIRSTYLES THAT LOOK GOOD ON ME

  1.Box Braids

  2.Marley Twists

  3.Sister Locs

  4. Micro Braids

  5.Two-Strand Twists

  6.Goddess Locs

  7.Bantu Knots

  8.Halo Braid

  9.Flat Ironed, Bone Straight

  10.Any way I like it

  8

  BLUE PLAYLIST, TRACK 5

  big & brown & beautiful

  Chorus

  if beauty is in the eye of the beholder

  then look at yourself, take in your whole body

  if beauty is in the eye of the beholder

  then look at yourself, take in your whole body