It's Elementary

You just looks so young!" ....I barely belong here at these school events, single and Black, so every time I hear this, it's like they're confirming that, too. It makes me want to roll out my whole resume to justify my place, Like, I have a master's degree from UCLA, lady! I was eight month's pregnant with Pearl at the ceremony, but still! I'm grown, just like you! I use Sensodyne, and I have enough white hairs that I can't keep casually plucking them without looking like a "before" in one of those women's hair loss Instagram ads I keep getting, and I am pretty sure my back hurts more than it doesn't hurt now....

..."Like -- there's that whole think they tell you on planes, about putting on your own mask first. Well, l've been putting on everyone's mask -- multitasking, all at the same time -- so none of these goddamn things are secured properly and we're all passing out in the aisles.

..."I'll have the IPA. Thank you, Carl." "No problem," Carl mutters, his tone revealing that he thinks we're all of the problems.

Sorry for the holdup, folks." His voice is surprisingly deep and low, like Lance Bass's, whenever NSYNC let him sing a line.

Ruth Gentry at six o'clock," I whisper. His head starts twisting around, which also really isn't helping with the totally chill and not at all suspicious vibe. "Six o'clock? Where is six o'clock?" "Actually...I'm not even sure why I said that, because I don't know where six o'clock is either. But it sounded like the right thing to say -- just --behind you. Ruth Gentry is behind you, and she's watching us.

...I almost don't recognize her walking up to the stage. Her face is free of all makeup, and she's wearing a simple dress in a color that can best be described as dirty dishwater. With her bleached hair pulled back into a limp braid and sickly pale skin, she looks like some weird Instagram filter sucked all the color out of her.

Oh, um...thank you, Trisha." I choke out. "That's really nice of you." See, no big deal. She's just being nice and normal and not creepy at all. I need to get, like, whatever is the opposite of a venti latte on the way to work today and chill the fuck out.

Nice to meet you, too. And thank you for ruining your pants for me." His cheeks flush a deeper pink, and he runs his hand over his face. "Uh, yeah. Anytime." "Oh, no. I didn't mean it like -- not that you were even saying..." I cover my face, too, which I'm 99 percent sure might actually be engulfed in flames.

My friend Jasmine says I have resting bitch face." "Nothing wrong with that. Keeps away the annoying people.

The still-rising sun is behind him, outlining his broad shoulders and tall, sturdy frame in golden light. As he gets closer, stepping through the rainbow of mist reflecting off the sprinkler's spray, I take in the rest of him.....I can almost see how a smile would spread across his face, the lift of his full lips... Which I realize are moving right now. Oh shit. He's talking and may have been talking for a long time while I gawked and had a whole R & B slow jam going in my head.

...it was so hard for Pearl to find something with a character who looked like her..." And after thirty minutes of watching her flip through all the books with white kids or animals, only to spend a small fortune on erasers and light-up gel pens, I may have made a snarky comment to the mom at the register.

I fix my face into a tight, plastic smile so my resting expression can't be misread as unfriendly -- or, even worse, aggressive.

Her voice is like a tinkling bell, bright and beguiling, but if you don't know better, it'll suck you in, like those sirens making a snack out of Odysseus's homeboys.

I’m sweaty. I’m exhausted. I’m trying to figure out how many more cups of coffee I’ll need to drink to make it through the eight hours of work before me when it’s only 7: 56 a.m. and I’ve already lived an entire day.

all self-righteous like, You didn’t hold up your end of the social contract. What did you expect me to do?

I use Sensodyne, and I have enough white hairs that I can’t keep casually plucking them without looking like a “before” in one of those women’s hair loss Instagram ads I keep getting, and I’m pretty sure my back hurts more than it doesn’t hurt now, and I’m wearing Old Navy Pixie pants. There is nothing more grown than Old Navy Pixie pants!

God, of course it’s important work. But it’s also work—exhausting work—trying to prove to everyone else that you and your kids belong. That you deserve respect, deserve everything. There doesn’t have to be a special committee to make this happen for the white kids.

Yes, I know what DEI stands for.” As does every Black woman in the workforce since 2020, when seemingly every industry discovered this magic combination of words. DEI means diversity, equity, and inclusion, sure. But it also means free labor to be given willingly to fix problems that we didn’t create. It means a box checked with no real change made.

blond woman with bony shoulders and a uniform of Lululemon shouts excitedly,

He’s so beautiful that he looks like a new, evolved version of one of those Chris actors,

You don’t tell them when they’re being ignorant. You just tell me and then we make fun of them.

Lord knows I could use some pointers at work, because I keep walking out of my performance review meetings with new responsibilities and zero new money.

I have been yoo-hoo’d.

The guy next to him has dark brown hair down to his chin and striking blue eyes, like a real-life Shawn Hunter.