The summer of lonely, the lonely summer,
she wasn't sure which one to call it.
The second that her best friend Mo had come to her,
excited about getting into something they call an intensive.
Why not just call it dance camp, for real?
Sheeda's summer was turned on its head.
But then Mila got in, too, and
Chrissy was going away to spend time with family in Virginia.
The entire squad was ghost for the summer.
That just left her.
Well, and Tay, Tay wasn't going anywhere.
Lowkey a summer with Tay, who had exactly one speed, bossy,
wasn't any better than a summer totally alone.
Rasheeda Tate hadn't had a lonely summer.
That sounded better, summer of lonely was too fancy.
Since her very first in the cove.
It was home now.
She almost, almost couldn't remember a time when it wasn't.
When she first left North Carolina to move in with her aunt, she mumbled to hide her
slow drawl to fit in with the cove kids, whose words streamed strung together.
Mo was the one who hadn't teased her.
Who had taught her the deadeye stare when grown men hollered,
hey, little Mama, what's your name?
Mo was the one who stood up to older girls who ordered them to do stupid stuff,
like fetch snacks from the Wah.
The last six summers were hanging together out at the basketball court,
even when it was scorching hot.
Go into the carnival together and
eating funnel cake until the powdered sugar gave them a headache.
Hanging out at the Rec's open gym nights with their squad.
Now what was she going to do?
Stupid question, because she was going to end up in church every day.
Just like she was at this moment, sitting lonely in the second pew, waiting until
Sister Butler made everyone stop all the foolishness and get up in the choir loft.
Sheeda knew she looked antisocial.
Good, cuz she felt that way.
For real,
it always took her a few minutes to be all right with being stuck at church.
Today she was feeling more standoffish than usual.
Yola and Keita, her two closest church friends, were used to it, and
let her be until she felt like dragging herself up the three tiny stairs
that led to where the choir sat staring out into the big sanctuary.
Sitting alone on the long pew that could hold 15 people while everybody
else bulled around, Sheeda might as well have been invisible.
Again, just like when she hadn't made it into tag, jealousy burned her chest.
She didn't want it to, but it did.
She danced too, not that anybody would know it.
Since she was the only one in their click who's dancing wasn't good enough outside
of church.
That's how it felt.
She'd been praise dancing for years, and was good.
Still, it hadn't gotten her into the school's talented and
gifted dance program.
Now Mila and Mo were going away for three weeks to dance,
and Sheeda was bursting with whys.
Why hadn't she been good enough to get into tag dance?
Why hadn't their dance teacher from the rec center at least recommended her for
the summer intensive thingy?
And why in the world had she been stupid enough to admit how she'd felt to
her aunt?
Auntie Dee wasn't having any of her whining.
She'd put her hands on her slim barely there hips and
said, Rasheeda Tate, listen to yourself.
The Bible says, but each person is tempted when they
are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed.
Sheeda had wiped her face of any expression.
Her aunt paused just enough to let the Bible verse sink in.
That's from James, first chapter, 14th verse.
If he wanted you in that school program for dance, you would have gotten in.
Nothing good is going to come from you wanting something that wasn't meant to be.
Usually after a lecture, Sheeda thought about doing better.
Not that time.
Evil desire, really?
She'd been dancing at church forever, and everybody swore she was good.
But now suddenly wanting to dance was evil?
She'd almost said as much to her aunt.
Instead she'd quietly muttered, yes, ma'am.
There was no point.
When Diandra Tate's mind was made up, it was a wrap.
With no alternatives for summer,
Auntie Dee would 100% fill any free second Sheeda had with church.
And Sheeda hated that she didn't have any choice in it.
Hated it like a chair scraping across the floor.
Hated it like when the teacher volunteers you to read something out loud because she
can sense you don't want to.
Hated everything about the never-ending schedule of choir and
praise dance rehearsals, youth activities, Bible study, repeat, repeat, repeat.
A stony pebble of annoyance lodged in her heart at the thought of being stuck
the whole summer inside the walls of First Bap, where the bright red carpet
made the pews and pulpit look like they floated on a river of blood.
And there was an elder around every corner wanting to ask how your grades were.
Like they were gonna tutor you on the spot if you said you were failing.
Sister Butler plunked away at the piano, warming up her fingers.
Squeals of laughter came from the back of the church, where the fifth graders were
playing some game that consisted of them racing up and down the pews.
Never mind that running in the sanctuary was forbidden,
ten year olds had a way of making the best of being in church.
First Baptist was her second home since she'd moved in with her aunt.
Six years ago, her, Yola, Kiera, and
Jaylen were the only kids in the whole church.
The First Bap pack, Sister Butler had named them.
They all knew what it was like to be the entire choir and youth ministry.
She should have felt closer to them.
Honestly, the four of them should hardcore be a click by now.
If five years at Bible study, youth nights, and
Vacation Bible School didn't make you close to somebody, what did?
Rasheeda was still trying to find out.
She liked the First Bap pack,
but calling them friends felt like an exaggeration, even a lie.
All total, there were 20 kids in the choir now, most were fifth graders.
Sheeda had loved choir and
running the then brand new church's halls when she was that age, too.
Now, at 13, it wasn't the same.
Maybe because they couldn't be all wild like the fifth graders anymore.
Or, she stopped herself from even thinking it,
because she was ready to think hate again.
And if she didn't know anything else,
she knew sitting in church thinking about hating was wrong.
She mentally blinked the word away and focused on Yola, and Kiera,
pretending to be going over the lyrics for today's songs.
Sheeda knew they were really looking at the text Jaylen had sent to Yola.
Jaylen stood on the alto side by himself.
Eventually she, Carlos, and Anthony would join him.
First it bothered her to be the only girl alto.
But whenever she tried singing in a higher voice,
Sister Butler smiled and said, all right now, altos gotta alto.
Jaylen had his lyric sheet in his hand, lips moving as he read the words,
no doubt trying to impress Sister Butler.
Sheeda had no idea what Yola saw in him.
He had a thick head of wavy hair and
skin the shade of coffee that had too much cream in it.
It wasn't that he wasn't cute, but he thought he was all that because he got
all the leads and the songs in the Christmas play, pastor's favorite.
All the women in the church acted like he was a prize.
To them he was a nice young man.
Outside of the view of grownups, he was mad cocky.
It erased his cuteness.
Sheeda stared past him to the back of the pulpit, at the big gold cross.
There was a glint to it.
Like the cross knew she was dreading a summer inside First Baptist and
was shining itself on her spirit.
She wanted to duck from its presence.
Her Auntie Dee's voice played like a sermon on demand.
God knows your heart, lovey, can't hide from that.
The nickname usually had a way of taking the bite off her aunt's constant scripture
quotes and sermons.
But lately, there were two Auntie Dees.
The one who saw that Sheeda meant well.
And the one giving side-eye, as if every little wrong was the world's worst sin.
Sheeda never knew which Diandra Tate was going to show up.
For sure the Auntie Dee who called her lovey with affection wasn't around
as much.
If she was keeping it a buck,
the only time Auntie Dee was truly happy was when they were at church, shocker.
She leaned her head back inside toward the ceiling.
Her thick rope Marley twists slid on the pew's glossy wood.
She adjusted until her neck laid flat.
Her phone suddenly glowed beside her.
Sheeda glanced at the message.
What you doing?
Just as Sister Butler clapped her hands.
Okay, let's get started.
Ugh, of course, she couldn't torture the keyboard for three more minutes?
Sheeda made her way into the choir loft.
She debated if she had time to answer that boy L back.
His profile picture, eyes piercing the camera and
throwing not one but two middle fingers, made her face even hotter.
Middle finger pic shots in church was most definitely wrong.
She didn't need her Aunt to tell her that.
His pic wasn't the only thing wrong, though.
And since God didn't like a liar,
she admitted to herself that her church friendships, a little jealousy, and
how she felt about church weren't the only things complicated these days.
That boy L was Lenny Jenkins, Mo's older brother.
She'd known Lenny since she was eight years old and he was ten.
Then he spent so much time being punished for one thing or
another that Rasheeda had been afraid of him,
afraid that merely being in his presence might get her in trouble.
Especially since Mo's other three brothers were locked up.
It took her a while to realize that Lenny only had a big mouth, and
mainly got in trouble for talking back at school.
That felt forever ago.
He was 15 now, and had never gotten in trouble like his brothers.
Him and Mo were the good ones, according to her aunt.
Actually she'd said, their mother finally caught a break,
I guess they're the good ones.
Auntie Dee stayed waiting on people to go wrong.
Any time her aunt threw shade at Mo and her family, Rasheeda felt two-faced.
The only thing that comforted her was her aunt threw shade to pretty much
anybody who didn't go to First Bap.
She definitely would have never approved of the message Lenny sent,
commenting on a picture on Rasheeda's Friend Me page.
All growed up like, and a GIF of a nearly naked
model slow mo walking down the runway with wind in her weave.
It made Sheeda take a closer look at the picture he was talking about.
In it she wore a white sun dress with pink and green flowers.
The dress had ruffled straps three fingers wide, no more,
no less; fitted her waist tight, then flowed over her wideish hips.
She guessed Lenny was referred to the length of the dress.
It stopped a few inches above her knee, which was new.
Until she'd turned 13, every dress she owned came to the middle of her calves.
Sheeda thought it made her look fat.
She didn't need help looking thick, but Lenny had liked it.
Well, not liked it on her page, but at least privately.
And the only person in the world she would have shared it with, she couldn't tell.
That had been a few weeks ago.
He'd been texting her ever since.
A few times she almost admitted it to Mo.
Felt like she should, and let Mo say whatever she was going to say.
Because Mo was forever honest.
Then that would be that.
Only she still hadn't.
She wasn't worried about Mo getting angry and dramatic.
Well, at least not dramatic.
Mo was one of the realest people Rasheeda knew.
And that was it, Mo could be too honest,
like pointing out your flaws to the world honest.
Sheeda wasn't sure what truth Mo would tell her once she found out about Lenny,
but she knew with all her heart it was one she didn't want to hear.
She glanced at the message, tempted to answer,
then shut the screen down and placed the phone in her back pocket.
Sister Butler hit the first note for the song, and
Sheeda sang out with all her energy.
Yes, I'm a believer, hiding behind the lyrics.