Page 19 of Juliet's Echo

Kind of fucked up, if I do say so myself. Letting your child struggle just to maintain an image among people who weregoing to talk badly about you anyway? I would've said that it was rich people shit — but I've come to learn that's just people shit.

Yahya, now the very sought-after party curator with well over thirteen million followers across social media platforms, took it upon herself to get developmental testing done as an adult. It turns out my girl has dyslexia and attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).

"Ain't nothing sexy about hearing and smelling something that instantly puts you in the mind of Biz Markie — may God rest his beautiful soul," Yahya said, signing the last part.

"Well, you instantly put me in the mind of Labubu," Mega responded.

"Oh yeah? In what sense — expensive, hot commodity, limited edition?" Yahya asked. She turned to the side and flicked her hair behind her ear, presumably ready to receive one of those compliments.

"Nah, your big-faced, hairy ass looks like you bite," Mega said.

I could not help but spit out my smoothie. Nowthiswas worthy of me turning on my hearing aids. Yahya and Mega would argue all day if you let them. Yahya and I had been locked in since kindergarten, but I met Mega when he transferred to our school in eighth grade. His father had won a lawsuit settlement after his job let him go — and not for any good reason. The man was the longest-serving employee at the sanitation department, the oldest by both age and tenure, and they had the nerve to tell him they could benefit from paying someone younger and use his salary to hire at least two people. Just like that, an ageist lawsuit earned him early retirement and $12.6 million dollars. Doing right by his family, his father made smart investments and moved them to the beauty of Havenbrook.

"She ugly as hell, right Ju-Money?" Mega said, half verbal, half signed. He wasn't as fluent with signing as Yahya — hell, I think she knew more signs than me — but he could hold hisown. I found it priceless that my friends had learned to sign, just so they could always communicate with me. To the naked eye, Yahya and Mega looked like arch nemeses, but I knew better. Those fools were in love.

"No, she is not ugly — and nothing about you resembles Biz Markie," I smiled.

"Whatever," Yahya waved. "How's pledging going, Ju?"

I let out a heavy sigh of grief. Member intake for Alpha Rose Society carried more thorns than petals. The community service aspect was cool—I loved being assigned to give free ASL lessons—but the challenges were fucking ridiculous. One time, they gave us a challenge to get dressed in five minutes, all because line sister number six, nicknamed Pressure, told her big sister that her outfit was uncoordinated because she wasn’t allowed the extra five minutes to iron her shirt. Pressure was the one who was late, she was the one out of uniform, and she was the one who had the attitude — yet somehow we all got punished. They gave us five minutes to get dressed, and whatever we assembled would be what we wore for the next 24 hours.

Normally, five minutes would give me enough time to throw on some Nike sweats, a fitted T-shirt, and cotton socks paired with either some kicks or slides. The remaining three minutes I'd use for jewelry, fragrance, and Summer Fridays Butter Lip Gloss. Comfy and sexy — what could go wrong?

Well, when your big sister hands you one left sneaker and one right high heel, pants with one leg cut in half, and a shirt that reads "I smelt it and dealt it" — a lot could go wrong. It took me three hours to convince my mother and the family therapist that I wasn't having a mental breakdown and that it was all a part of my journey to become a Rose.

"It's trying at times, but the sacrifice is worth the reward. I really want this."

"And you are going to get it, Ms. Line Sister Number One — aka Sugar and Spice," Mega encouraged. "Being number one on the line is major, sis. They felt the leader’s energy."

"Ain't often I agree with little ugly, but he's right, Ju. And I'm not surprised — besides the fact that you're my best friend, your polished, mean ass fits right in with those bougie bitches. You were destined to be number one," Yahya added.

"I am not mean," I signed forcefully.

Mega and Yahya looked at each other and erupted in laughter. I, on the other hand, sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes. I ain't find nothing funny.

"You see —" Yahya pointed at me, enunciating slowly — "at-ti-tude."

Our conversation drifted into gossip — who was dating who, cheaters, athletes getting cut from the team for steroid usage, and my all-time favorite: family secrets being exposed. There was something about the way wealth and secrecy coexisted that made the eventual unraveling so satisfying. Rich people and southern folks — I still hadn't decided which camp spilled more tea. What I did know was that it only ever took one drunk black sheep at the wrong event, or one person who justhadto say something at a funeral, and suddenly everything buried came flooding into the light.

The latest scandal involved Ava Lennox, a sophomore here at the University. Ava was tall, slim, and well-put-together. Her hazel eyes settled miraculously against honey-brown skin; her long chestnut waves — streaked with blonde highlights — were currently styled in a half-up, half-down style, with a messy bun as the obvious focal point. She was known as the catwalk assassin. The bitch could strut. She always had the latest, was extremely popular, and I, for one, could not stand that girl. Because Chanel aside, she was a mean girl — and she didn't bother hiding it. Popular, yes, but not out of love or admiration.Out of fear. Ava was a bully, not a fighter. She had social capital, and one rumor from her could have you ready to join the nunnery. One time she made fun of Professor Anderson's Old Navy flip flops — said she was rocking the early 2000s buy-one-get-one — and the next thing I knew, Professor Anderson had transferred to a completely different college in a completely different state. Word was the other professors in the dining hall had started avoiding her too. All because the Black Regina George decided to be a witch.

"Aight, so look — you know how she's been hanging around campus a lot more lately, preferably in the bookstore?" Yahya signed.

"Yeah," Mega and I signed back.

"Well, she's been saying it's for service hours, but come to find out that's a lie. Ms. High and Mighty is working off a work-study stipend. She had to get financial aid because her family lost all their money—"

"Slow down," Mega signed.

"Nigga, keep up," she responded.

Yahya, who could not whisper for shit, always signed her gossip — and because her messy ass got overly excited, she sometimes moved too fast for Mega to follow.

"So. Mr. Lennox put everything into some pharmaceutical venture — a pill that was supposed to correct your vision. Full 20/20, no surgery, no laser, just a pill a day." She let that sit for a second. "Baby. That man made thousands of people go cross-eyed."

"Bitch," I gasped.

Mega just shook his head slowly, the way he did when something was too much even for him.