Page 28 of Mazywood

Her family had vowed to be patient with her after she decided to stop taking her ADHD medication, which she’d been taking since she was six. Her best friend at her old school, Milana, said she wanted to be medicated forever, but Imani had hated the way the meds made her feel like she was walking around with a blanket over her whole body, especially her head. And she lost weight on her meds because she was never hungry, which Milana thought was a plus. No thanks. But on the downside, Imani’s focus suffered without the chemicals, so she had changed schools and everyone in her family was supposed to give her three chances to start listening, especially if she was preoccupied. Like now.

“You’re gonna get bugs if you keep stuffing your food bags down here,” Sharise said. She was leaning back against the wall, staring at the graveyard of trash food bags from the past two weeks, maybe three, stashed between the mattress and the wall. “Pretty gross, Imani.”

“I clean it out when I can smell it,” Imani said, still rearranging her gear in her bag.

“Glad there’s a plan before the maggots show up…”

“Shut up,” Imani said. “Why are you here on my bed?”

Sharise’s phone dinged with a text, and she let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my God—Hunter said he’ll miss me. So cute.”

“Please tell me you’re not doing it with a dude named Hunter.”

Sharise shot her an evil eye. “Jump out of my business, please.”

“Wait—are you?” For the first time, Imani moved closer to Sharise to sit next to her on the bed in a cozier pose, like they were two girlfriends hanging out. “Go on.”

“Nice try,” Sharise said. “I’m not discussing this with a child. But no, for the record. I barely know him.”

“Would you tell me if you were?”

“Hell no.”

Imani gave up, jumping back down to the floor to triple-check her bag for the spare batteries for her video camera. Sharise could be lying. “Why are you here?” she says again.

Sharise sighed, such an adult heaving sound that it made Imani stare. Sharise’s face looked like it had aged ten years with her mouth turned down into such a severe frown.

“The trip’s canceled?” Imani asked. Tears were waiting: It had felt too good to be true.

“No,” Sharise said. “But I have to tell you something. I don’t want to upset you, but I think it’s better if you’re prepared.”

“I already know about Dad’s movie,” Imani said. “Mom told me. Stop being dramatic.”

“It’s not that—it’s the real reason for this trip.”

Imani was annoyed, but Sharise’s aged face had cast a spell on her, so she waited to hear.

Sharise drew in a long breath. Exhaled. “I think… Mom and Dad are getting a divorce.” She whispered the words.

“What?” Imani said. “That’s incredibly dumb.”

“Shhhh,” Sharise said, moving down to sit next to her on the floor—something she didn’t ordinarily do. Imani’s mind rejected what Sharise had said, but her heart sped like it was gospel. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me, but listen to me—”

“I’m not listening to you. You sound crazy right now.”

“Mom looks a mess every morning. You know it’s true. Like she’s not getting any sleep. And her eyes are all bloodshot, like she’s been crying. And what was up with Dad tonight? He was like a robot. And he keeps getting all these ‘headaches,’ so he has to go lie down. Something’s not right with them, Imani. And now all of a sudden we’re going up to that lodge out of nowhere? I asked Mom what’s going on and she looked all weird about it. She said, ‘We’ll tell you when we get there.’ ”

“Are you done?” Imani said.

Sharise looked at Imani with disbelief that she wasn’t as worried as she was. “Maybe you’ve been too lost in video game world, but I’m not making this up. You need to pay attention to the world around you.”

“Right,” Imani said. “That’s so funny coming from Miss ‘Oh Wait, I Got My One Hundredth Text Message Today.’ ” With perfect timing, Sharise’s phone dinged again from the bed, where she had left it.

Sharise didn’t rush to check her phone, her too-grown frown unchanged. She stood up, brushing off her jeans as if Imani’s floor was teeming with cooties. “This is what I get for thinking I can have a mature conversation with you,” she said.

“This was not a mature conversation. This was you being way too dramatic—as usual. Why can’t you ever relax and have fun? Why do you have to find a downside to everything?”

“That’s not true,” Sharise said, her voice soft because it was true. Sharise always expected the worst. Imani had overheard her tell a friend that her boyfriend broke up with her because he was tired of her expecting him to be a jerk. On-brand for Sharise.