We Deserve Monuments
By Jas Hammonds
4/5
()
About this ebook
"An absolute must read." —Buzzfeed
"A gripping portrayal of the South's inherent racism and a love story for queer Black girls." —Teen Vogue
Family secrets, a swoon-worthy romance, and a slow-burn mystery collide in We Deserve Monuments, the award-winning debut novel from Jas Hammonds exploring the ways racial violence can ripple down through generations.
What’s more important: Knowing the truth or keeping the peace?
Seventeen-year-old Avery Anderson is convinced her senior year is ruined when she's uprooted from her life in DC and forced into the hostile home of her terminally ill grandmother, Mama Letty. The tension between Avery’s mom and Mama Letty makes for a frosty arrival and unearths past drama they refuse to talk about. Every time Avery tries to look deeper, she’s turned away, leaving her desperate to learn the secrets that split her family in two.
While tempers flare in her avoidant family, Avery finds friendship in unexpected places: in Simone Cole, her captivating next-door neighbor, and Jade Oliver, daughter of the town’s most prominent family—whose mother’s murder remains unsolved.
As the three girls grow closer—Avery and Simone’s friendship blossoming into romance—the sharp-edged opinions of their small southern town begin to hint at something insidious underneath. The racist history of Bardell, Georgia is rooted in Avery’s family in ways she can’t even imagine. With Mama Letty's health dwindling every day, Avery must decide if digging for the truth is worth toppling the delicate relationships she's built in Bardell—or if some things are better left buried.
Jas Hammonds
Jas Hammonds was raised in many cities and between the pages of many books. They have received support for their writing from Lambda Literary, Baldwin for the Arts, and the Highlights Foundation. They are also a grateful recipient of the MacDowell James Baldwin Fellowship. Their debut novel, We Deserve Monuments, won the 2023 Coretta Scott King John Steptoe Award for New Talent, among many other accolades.
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Reviews for We Deserve Monuments
55 ratings10 reviews
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Avery is a senior in high school when she suddenly move to the small town in Georgia (from DC) where her grandmother is currently dying. She hasn't seen her Mama Letty or been back to Georgia since a family fight she can't remember when she was five or six. She meets her people Simone and Jade. But as she works to develop a relationship with Mama Letty she learns about the past and the pain, turning her world upside down. It's a coming of age story, it's a story of racism's impact on families, it's a story of identity and queerness. Beautiful and painful. On the Lincoln list for 2025.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Avery isn't thrilled to be relocating to Bardell, Georgia for her senior year of high school, but her grandmother is dying and it's Avery's last chance to make a connection with the cantankerous old woman. As a queer, mixed-race teen, Avery worries about how small town life will work for her, but she soon makes two close friends and starts learning about her own family history and how it's wound up in the history of the place. Mama Letty, her grandmother, is prickly and harsh, but Avery is willing to put the work into discovering what made her grandma the woman she is. However, the more she learns, the darker the secrets become...This book is well-written, with complex characters and a realistic plot. It took me a really long time to get into the book, and I spent some time being annoyed at teenagers being teenagers, but I think both of those problems were more about me than the book. If you enjoy YA lit that tackles big issues, this is definitely a book to look into.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5High school senior, Avery, moves mid-year with their mom and dad from D.C. to a small town in Georgia, where Avery's mother grew up, to be with Mama Letty, Avery's estranged, crotchety, ill grandmother in her final months. There are LOTS of secrets in this family and old murder mysteries in the town. The move is understandably hard on Avery, school issues aside. Avery is bi-racial and queer and doesn't feel comfortable in the town.The character for me which made the novel most interesting was Mama Letty. She has spunk and a devil-may-care attitude. Most characters seemed whiny to me and make choices which they know will have consequences, but still make them. The target audience of YA will likely enjoy the younger characters much more.The somewhat ambiguous but shocking ending confused me, but I don't want to say more.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Avery leaves Washington, DC with her parents to live in her mother's hometown in Georgia when her grandma, Mama Letty, receives a serious cancer diagnosis. There's tension between her mother and grandma that Avery doesn't understand, but she wants to get to know this prickly grandma of hers while she still can.This was such a phenomenal story. The characters are complex and their interactions are messy and real as they misunderstand each other, get mad, and - yes - love each other. Avery is the narrator through much of the story, but we also get the occasional chapter insert from an omniscient narrator about something else, both current and past. The family history that Avery discovers is a difficult one, as is the racism and homophobia in the community. She's starting to crush on Simone, the girl next door, and their friendship - and that with Jade, a white girl who's good friends with them but whose family is less than stellar - could get complicated as a result. This book made me cry, and that's saying something.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Yes, monuments are deserved, and kudos for the author. The characters, the setting, the issues, the love, the uncertainty, the humor, the dancing under the stars, and a lazy river witnessing life... pretty good way to send out a year.2022 read.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5In her senior year of high school, Avery must leave her DC home and friends to move to Georgia with her parents to care for her terminally ill and estranged grandmother. It's an unhappy situation, because not only does Avery dislike the idea of small town living, but her mother and grandmother have a toxic relationship with constant fighting. Told mostly from Avery's point of view, we are with her as she makes two good friends, one of whom becomes a serious romance, and as she persists in establishing a relationship with her curmudgeonly dying grandmother. Painful family secrets from the past are at the heart of the family discord as well as the stressors on Avery's relationship with Simone, but Avery persists in uncovering them. This novel reminds us of the tragedies of racism and violence, and the impact that they carry into the future. The narrative moves along quickly without being heavy-handed about issues, and the few post-pandemic references will not relegate this story to being dated.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Wow. I wasn't planning on reading a second book yesterday, but this one refused to let me put it down. Mix southern small town racism, friendship, very painful family history, and some fragile romance together and mix well. This is the result. Mama Letty is prickly and foul mouthed, but still sympathetic and oddly likable. Avery, Simone, and Jude grow on you as their friendship and convoluted histories reveal themselves. The horrible aspects behind everything are revealed in an understated way that is extremely effective and the surprise at the end is done perfectly.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I don't know if I can properly express how amazing this book was, but I will make the attempt.I received a free arc of this audiobook to listen to and review. I'm not sure if I read the full description for this book when I requested it from NetGalley, because if I had, I wouldn't have requested it, and that would have been a shame. I say that because I just lost my grandmother earlier this year, and this book had me ugly crying. I didn't cry just because of my loss, but because anyone would have empathized with what Avery was going through. I ran the whole gamut of emotions listening to this book!We follow Avery, a 17-year-old high school senior, who was uprooted from her home in D.C., and relocated to a small town in Georgia so the family could be with her terminally ill grandmother during her last months of life. Her grandmother, Mama Letty, is as mean and surly as they come, and there is a whole lot of tension between her and Avery's mother that the teen knew nothing about prior to their trip. Avery mad a plan to keep her head down, keep to herself, get through the school year, and then head off to college. That plan flew out the window when she met Simone and her best friend, Jade. The two girls befriend Avery and almost immediately have her questioning who Avery is as an individual, and whether her old friends from D.C. were actually her true friends. Avery suddenly became determined to get to know her grandmother while she still had time to do so.It took weeks of coaxing, prodding, and patience before she made any headway with Mama Letty, but eventually she did, and their true relationship begins to develop. Once that happened, a floodgate of family secrets and trauma was opened, and it threw the entirety of the family into chaos. Avery was then dealing with her mother and grandmother's anger and resentment toward one another, the fact that she was attracted to her (straight) new BFF, Simone, and coming to terms with the fact that her old friends had been hindering her from being who she wanted (and was meant) to be. Oh, and the fact that she now loved her grandmother, despite all that has passed between grandmother and mother, and she regretted all the time they didn't have together.This book was full of discovery, both amazing and terrible. The author dealt with intergenerational family trauma, coming of age, coming out, love, and resentment. There was so much sadness and hurt, but there was growth, sorrow, and forgiveness. It was absolutely beautifully written. The characters were so likeable, (even Mama Letty in her way), and relatable. This was one of the most beautiful books I've ever read.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I enjoyed this novel--it's a nice, modern introduction to southern themes in literature. Until the south deals with its past, they can't move forward.Avery moves to Bardell, Georgia, because Avery's mother wants to be with her mother (Mama Letty) as she dies. Avery's mom and Mama Letty have never gotten along, and they argue most of the time. Mama Letty feels betrayed that anyone told her daughter that she was dying. Avery has a vague memory of visiting when she was small--and leaving very quickly after a fight. She also has snippets of other scenes, but they don't make sense. She finds a very angry grandma--Mama Letty but wants to have a good relationship despite being immediately nicknamed Fish for her nose ring. Avery also wants to achieve--she makes good grades and wants to attend a college, working on early admission essays and applications. Until Bardell. Avery meets the next door neighbor, Simone, who is the daughter of her mother's old best friend. Simone introduces Avery to her best friend Jade and the three become inseparable. Avery finds Bardell nice, as she discovers what friendship really is. She learns her friends back home aren't really friends--this, here in Bardell, is friendship. She's also attracted to Simone. What would two of them dating do to the threesome? Is Simone even a lesbian? The other relationship Avery is here to develop is with Mama Letty. Avery tries really hard, but Mama Letty is a tough woman; Avery breaks the ice. Mama Letty starts to tell Avery her story. It's a story of the south--racism, death, and revenge. These truths encroach upon the present, as Avery needs to discover who she is and how to "be" in this South that she feels at home in. How does her relationship and the secrets her mom have also contribute to her relationship with her? In the end, Avery is finding herself as she learns about the past. After all, the past shapes us. Our families matter in who we are.As the secrets unfold, truths come to light. As the reader, you feel so sad for the injustices and surprised by the truths discovered. It's a well done novel where Avery finds her path and can face the future knowing all of the truths.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Trigger Warnings: Generational trauma, racism, mentions of alcoholism and verbal abuse, homophobia, character deathAvery Anderson’s life is uprooted when her family moves from Washington DC to Bardell, Georgia her senior year of high school to look after her maternal grandmother, Mama Letty, who’s in her final stages of cancer. Avery only remembers one visit with her grandmother, cut short by an argument, when she was very young. Bardell is a small town with only two high schools - one public, and one private, the latter being founded by one of the town’s many racist forefathers. Avery quickly gets adopted into the friendship of two girls: Simone Cole, Mama Letty’s next door neighbor, and Jade Oliver, a descendent of one of Bardell’s oldest families.Avery’s relationship with her grandmother is far from easy. Mama Letty isn’t easy to get to know, especially when she only answers questions in grunts and gruffs. It also doesn’t help that the tension between her mother and grandmother is so thick you can cut it with a knife, but both of them are refusing to address it.Avery sets out on trying to mend the broken and split relationship but there are events many are refusing to talk about. It isn’t until Mama Letty begins to open up to Avery about her past, that Avery is able to piece together her family history that was shaped by the town’s racist history. As more events come out of the shadows, Avery must decide if finding out the truth is worth damaging the relationships she’s built in Bardell, or if some things are better left buried.I absolutely loved and adored this book very much. Jas Hammonds masterfully tells this layered story of a young woman finding out about her family’s past within a novel that’s about generational trauma and racism. The amount of trauma the three generations of women must peel back is constantly met with tension. The story is hard to read at times, especially when you’re reading about Mama Letty’s past and the town’s racism, but this book wrapped its arms around me and refused to let go until the Harding family’s story is told.Alongside Avery finding out about her family’s past, the relationship between Simone and Avery grows deeper and the way the two of them find their footing to their sexuality was well written. I wish I had grown up with a place like The Renaissance where you were accepted no matter what.Overall, this novel is going to be one I’m going to talk about for months to come. It was beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful, and captivating. Any readers who love reading about family and their dynamics, relationships, and hope will really enjoy this book.*Thank you Roaring Brook Press and NetGalley for an electronic version of this book in exchange for an honest review
Book preview
We Deserve Monuments - Jas Hammonds
1.
TEN.
That’s how many bullet holes I counted puncturing the rusted brown Bardell County highway sign. There were probably more, but I lost count when it blurred past us as Mom accelerated into town. I turned to look through the rear window, wondering if I imagined them, but they were as real as the seat belt digging into my neck. Dreary sunlight streamed through the holes like an erratic cheese grater, and I couldn’t think of a more fitting welcome to this wasteland.
Richest soil on Earth!
Dad said from the passenger seat. That’s not foreboding whatsoever.
I bit back a grin as Mom sighed for the thousandth time since we crossed the South Carolina–Georgia border.
Sam, please,
she said. Lay off. Bardell is a—
Diamond in the rough,
Dad and I echoed. It was the same phrase she’d muttered the past few weeks as we packed suitcases and prepared for the trip down south. A diamond in the rough. Now, I pressed my forehead to the window to take in the flat fields and umber dirt. It was the same landscape I’d been staring at for what felt like years, and I saw no diamonds. Only rough.
Besides.
Mom shot me a terse glance in the rearview mirror. You said you’ve been eager for a change of scenery all summer.
I swallowed my protests. This wasn’t what anyone had in mind. Yes, I wanted a break from the DC nooks and crannies I’d known my entire life. I wanted an excuse to slip out of Kelsi and Hikari’s carefully arranged summer plans. But in my imagination, this getaway entailed an escape to a charming beach cottage or an unfamiliar metropolis filled with taxis and overpriced tourist traps. More skyscrapers and fewer silos.
We know, Z. Unsavory Avery and I are messing with you,
Dad said, dusting off my childhood nickname. His hand was a slow smear of warmth across Mom’s back, and her shoulders melted under his lanky fingers. I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to the window as Bardell, Georgia, unenthusiastically introduced itself.
At a red light, Mom studied her manicured nails against the steering wheel. An elderly woman in a sagging lawn chair on the corner motioned to the bulging basket of peaches by her feet and yelled something, but I couldn’t understand her over the roar of the car’s air-conditioning. Dad smiled his awkward white-dad smile and shook his head, and I sank against the leather back seat. All of our shoulders relaxed when the light flickered green and Mom cruised down Main Street.
It’s so different,
Mom muttered. Everything’s so different.
Downtown Bardell unfolded all at once. The library, post office, pharmacy, and fire station were contained to one essential block. Across the street, a group of older white men in sun-faded denim leaned against the wall of a one-stop shop. The drooping banner above the entrance promised amazing deals on everything from cell phones to guns to wedding dresses in bright red letters, as if the convenience was something to be admired. The bar next door had a Confederate flag proudly draped in the window. My family said nothing. I could only stare at Mom’s tight coils and wonder how in the world this place created her.
Holy mural,
Dad said. We slowed at a stop sign in front of an imposing brick building that towered over the street like a castle. A three-story-tall mural of a pale woman with a gleaming halo graced the side, staring serenely like the Mona Lisa.
That’s the Draper Hotel,
Mom replied. The three of us watched as a trio of slim women in matching yellow yoga pants slipped through the revolving front door.
Looks fancy,
I said, and Mom hummed.
As we continued down the street, Mom muttered like a confused tour guide about gas stations long gone and snorted at a chic bistro with a sign claiming to have the best fried chicken in town. At the next stop sign, she switched off the GPS, and I silently lost hope that maybe, perhaps, somehow we weren’t in the right place.
It’s so different,
she repeated, followed by vague, clipped stories about how Mrs. Robinson used to live over there and that clothing store used to be a pharmacy called Easy Does It Drugs. She kept skirting over the real reason we were in Bardell, the one that had hovered over our family like a rain-heavy cloud for the past month.
It’d been five weeks since the wrinkled letter slid through the mail slot of our Shaw Victorian row house that quiet July morning. Saturday mornings had always been a bonding time for me and Mom. We’d wake up early, pick up bagels and fresh flowers, and hurry home to slip back into our sweatpants. For hours, she’d grade papers or work on grant applications, the clacking of her keyboard our only music. I’d run SAT prep questions or study successful college essays while the coffeepot slowly emptied between us.
But that Saturday morning was different. I could still see Mom clutching the letter, her slender brown fingers curling over the return address. The peeling American flag stamp on the envelope waved as she read it over and over.
That morning, Mom retreated to her bedroom before finishing her bagel. She didn’t emerge until the late afternoon when the coffee was cold and stale and forgotten. At the time, she didn’t tell us who the letter was from. She didn’t elaborate on the cancer, didn’t explain why now. She simply leaned against our granite kitchen island, the sharp scent of gardenias hanging heavy around us, and said, I need to go home.
And somehow, I turned into we, and now the three of us crossed over the murky Bardell River, heading deeper into the city’s east side. We ended up in a neighborhood filled with scruffy houses and slumped trailers with tangles of weeds sprouting along their walkways. Old people lounged on front porches, fanning the August humidity away and staring curiously at our BMW. Bardell felt suffocatingly small, the complete opposite of DC. If I sank any lower, I’d be on the floor.
Home sweet home,
Mom said as she turned onto Sweetness Lane. The irony of the name wasn’t lost on any of us as we crept down the pothole-riddled street and stopped in front of a weathered brown house. In the cracked driveway sat a faded indigo hatchback with missing hubcaps that looked like it hadn’t transported anybody anywhere in a very long time. Mom cut the engine.
Ready?
You and Avery go ahead,
Dad said. I’ll grab some bags.
I unbuckled my seat belt and reluctantly followed Mom. Sweat dripped down my bare neck, and I wiped it away in disgust. I was tempted to strip off my jeans and run through the misty spray of the sprinkler next door but swallowed the urge with a grin. I could already hear Kelsi telling me a public indecency charge wouldn’t look good on my Georgetown application.
House looks the same,
Mom said. Do you remember it, Avery baby?
We climbed the splintered steps to the front porch. A dingy white rocking chair and a hanging swing—both in desperate need of a paint job—were frozen in the muggy heat. I took it all in, trying to conjure decade-old memories of the last time I was here. There was nothing but haze and Christmas lights.
Not really,
I said.
Mom rang the doorbell and started fiddling with her dangly earrings, her signature nervous tic. I guess it has been a while,
she said quietly.
After a full minute went by with no answer, Mom knocked on the barred screen door, angling her palm so her nails didn’t clip the rusted metal. Dad dragged a couple of suitcases down the sidewalk, his shoulder-length brown hair already damp with sweat.
Don’t tell me she’s already dead,
he said. We just got here.
Mom glared. Can you please refrain from making jokes about my elderly mother right now?
She continued to rattle the screen door, and I hid my smile by wandering over to the large picture window with a missing shutter. Through the cracked blinds, I made out a plaid sofa, wood-paneled walls, and a stack of newspapers piled high on a tasseled ottoman. But no Mama Letty.
I’m calling the cops. She really could be dead,
Mom said, pulling her phone from her leather handbag. Before she could dial, a booming voice echoed from the blue house next door.
Zora? I’ll be damned!
A Black woman with long braids made her way across the lawn. Dad and I glanced at each other, then at Mom, expecting some kind of introduction, but her mouth stayed clamped shut as the stranger joined us on the porch.
Can’t say hi?
the woman asked. Your family don’t speak?
Dad glanced at Mom, but she was frozen. He stuck his hand out. Nice to meet you. I’m Sam Anderson, Zora’s husband.
Finally, something flickered in Mom’s eyes. Carole … hi. I almost didn’t recognize you with the braids.
Gave up them perms a long time ago.
The woman’s gaze trailed Mom’s chiffon sundress. Nice to see you got my letter. How many years since you been home? Fifteen? Sixteen?
Not that long,
Mom said swiftly. She clapped her hand over my shoulder and thrust me forward like a carnival prize. Carole, you remember my daughter, Avery?
Hi,
I said.
She was a little thing the last time y’all were here.
Carole’s gaze lingered on my lip piercing, and my cheeks burned. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision I gifted myself in June, after Kelsi and Hikari vetoed me shaving my head. Think about how it’ll look, they urged, although I had and it was exactly why I wanted to do it. The tiny metal hoop was supposed to be a compromise, but Hikari and Kelsi had regarded it with as much disdain as Carole was serving now. It looks trashy, Kelsi had said with a disappointed frown. Now, I ran my tongue over the metal and stared at the dirt peeking between the porch slats.
Carole moved on from her examination, asking Mom again if she was sure it hadn’t been fifteen years since her last visit, surely it had to have been. Mom grinned and grunted, smiling in relief when Carole turned her attention to wondering why her daughter hadn’t come out to say hi.
Teenagers. Always on that damn phone.
Carole sighed. "Simone Josephine Cole!"
The screen door of the blue house flew open and a short, curvy girl with shoulder-length locs and a bright tie-dyed shirt emerged. I’m coming!
she yelled, yanking out a pair of earphones.
I don’t know who you talking to in that tone,
Carole chided as Simone joined us on the porch. Have you lost your mind?
Simone sighed. No, ma’am.
You probably don’t remember Ms. Zora since she ain’t been home in about fifteen years. She Letty’s girl. Y’all, this my youngest, Simone.
Simone shook Mom’s hand. Nice to meet you slash see you again.
Her warm voice sounded like honey dripping off the comb. She shook Dad’s hand before sliding her palm in mine. Like her mother, her gaze lingered on my lip piercing, and I heard Kelsi’s voice again, calling it trashy.
Lord, you know I wouldn’t have written,
Carole said, if Letty’s cancer wasn’t eating her away. It’s worse as I ever seen it.
Mom swallowed. Well, that’s why we’re here. But she’s not answering the door.
Carole waved her hand. Poor thing probably taking a nap. She usually lay down around three.
She pulled keys from the pocket of her frayed shorts and opened the screen door. Mom fiddled with her earring again.
The stench of old socks and stale grease greeted us in the living room. Simone left to wake Mama Letty, and I took in the piles of notebooks and faded newspapers crowding the ottoman and side tables. Flashes of my first and only visit to Bardell came to me slowly as I made a quiet lap around the room, surveying a stack of wrinkled catalogues on the floor and foggy glasses of water on the coffee table. There was an oversized floral armchair in the corner, and I had vague memories of my small fingers tracing one of the roses and wondering why the furniture was covered in plastic. I remembered a stack of gold-foil-wrapped presents in a pile near the rabbit-eared television. When I looked up and saw Mom’s tear-rimmed eyes, I heard echoes of screams. But it was fleeting and faint, vanishing like a dream dissipating with sunrise.
I should’ve come sooner,
Mom said. This is…
She bit her lip. Dad and I stepped forward to rub her back, and she shot us grateful smiles.
Bless your heart, Zora.
Carole clucked her tongue. You ain’t know how bad it was? After everything?
Mom stayed quiet. A fierce protectiveness burned red-hot in my stomach.
Shame that job of yours keeps you too busy to come home,
Carole went on. What is it you do again?
I teach,
Mom said, swatting away her three degrees, her Georgetown tenure, her bestselling nonfiction book, and her superstar status as a nationally renowned astrophysicist as if they were yesterday’s weather report. Dr. Zora Anderson enraptured auditoriums full of pensive students and eager journalists full of questions. She was able to make science sound interesting to even the most reluctant learner. She could describe the process of how a stellar black hole was formed and you’d swear you were floating among the stars, watching it happen for yourself. She was not the type of woman to wilt under anyone’s words. Which is why Dad and I gaped when she turned away from Carole’s taunting gaze and started flipping through a creased book of crossword puzzles.
Well, good for you,
Carole said. Nice of you to make time to come home.
Those felt like fighting words, so I stepped forward. I’d had enough. But before I could say anything, Simone reappeared.
Look who I woke up,
she sang. The warped hardwood floor creaked behind her, followed by a series of low grumbles.
Mama Letty had arrived.
She wore a rumpled pink nightgown and a pair of ratty house slippers that might’ve been white ten years ago. She and Mom shared the same rich mahogany skin and high cheekbones, but Mama Letty’s were more pronounced because of how thin she was. She blinked away crust as her eyes traveled over everyone in the living room. Pissed was the only word to describe her expression.
Hey, Mama.
Mom set the crossword book down. She met Mama Letty and wrapped her in the most awkward hug of all time. Mama Letty’s arms hung limply at her sides before she patted Mom on the back twice. Mom peeled away, her face a mixture of hurt and confusion.
Sorry we woke you,
Mom said, tenderly giving Mama Letty’s short gray curls a fluff.
Mama Letty waved her hand away. No matter. I’m up now.
We locked eyes, and her chilly gaze sent another memory ricocheting back.
I was six. Or five? Was it Christmas when Mom and I visited? Or New Year’s? I only remembered the presents. I had a vision of Mama Letty throwing one of those shiny gold-wrapped boxes against the wall, fast as a shooting star. I heard the echoes of screams again. I saw a vast field of clouds outside of an airplane window.
I know this ain’t Avery,
Mama Letty said now. She followed Carole and Simone’s lead and zeroed in on my lip ring. Out here looking like a fish caught on a hook. She a lesbian now, too?
It was a thousand degrees in the living room, but a cold sweat gathered on the nape of my neck. I found the floor again, defenses hardening in my stomach. Any minuscule hope I had of this move being a good thing vanished. Mama Letty was nothing but a rude, grumpy woman. She was nothing like Dad’s late mom, Grandma Jean, who would’ve baked me a cake if I’d come out when she’d been alive.
Mama Letty,
Dad started, maybe a discussion about Avery’s sexuality isn’t appro—
No one asked your white hippie ass,
Mama Letty snapped, not even looking at him.
Always the good sport, Dad ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. We had to be thinking the same thing: No wonder Mom left Bardell as soon as she could.
Mom’s smile wavered. Mama, what has gotten into you?
Oh, I’m sorry, Zora, would you prefer a little dance number to welcome you back?
Mama Letty shuffled over to the couch, dust pluming when she sat.
Carole chuckled in the corner, and I glared at her. No one ganged up on my mom. Not so-called family, and especially not people she hadn’t seen in years.
Mom, Dad, did you want to go grab the rest of the bags?
I asked. Maybe outside of the scrutinizing gaze of Mama Letty and Carole, I could convince them that maybe this was all a mistake. Clearly, we weren’t wanted.
Make Simone go with you,
Mama Letty said. She need to work off all that cornbread.
Simone scoffed and pulled my arm before I could respond. Humidity slapped us in the face when we stepped outside.
Come on, DC,
Simone called as she sauntered down the sidewalk. My anger faded slightly when my gaze landed on her thick thighs; they filled every inch of her jean shorts. Of course I followed her.
Um, sorry about that,
I said to her back.
Sorry about what?
My grandma. She’s…
I searched for the right word, but I couldn’t think of anything that could explain Mama Letty’s rude comments. How do you apologize for someone you don’t even know? In the Anderson family, shit was talked behind backs and closed doors. Mama Letty’s snipes were as wide and outside as the sun. Then again, she wasn’t an Anderson.
She’s what?
Simone prodded. Stunningly beautiful? A grumpy old kook? A wolf in a pink nightgown? Take your pick.
I smiled, shook my head. You don’t need to work off any cornbread.
She laughed and it was all dimples. Aw, she was basically telling me she loved me. Don’t mind Mama Letty.
My grandmother’s name rolled off her tongue in one languid swoop.
I popped the trunk and hauled a duffel bag out. Simone leaned to grab a suitcase, and our arms accidentally brushed. She jerked away; I tried not to take it personally.
Do you know what school you’ll be at?
she asked.
Whichever one requires a uniform.
Mom ordered the atrocious red plaid skirt and sad white polo before we left DC.
Nice. You’ll be at Beckwith. The more, the merrier!
More of … what?
She tapped the brown skin of her fist. Black people. African Americans. People of color. Y’all got a better term up in DC?
Shame pinched my chest at the easy way she included me in the tally for Black people. It brought back the horrible, ugly fight that ultimately led to my breakup with Kelsi. I could still see her puckered pink mouth forming the words, You’re barely Black. How I’d carried them for almost two months now, like a set of keys in my back pocket. Trying to brush the memory away, I joked, What is this, 1955?
It’s Beckwith.
She said it as if it needed no further explanation and rolled the suitcase down the cracked walkway. I followed, actively ignoring her thighs this time. Instead, I focused on her locs. They were shoulder-length, black with electric-blue tips, and adorned with gold charms and shells. I was staring so hard, I nearly ran into her when she stopped and turned around.
What’s your sun?
My what?
Your astrological sun sign,
she said impatiently.
Uhhh … Capricorn?
She hummed. Good to know. Did that hurt?
Did what hurt?
She ran her index finger over her plump bottom lip. The piercing. Did it hurt?
My tongue slid over it self-consciously. Oh. Yeah. I guess.
I braced myself for another reaction like Hikari’s and Kelsi’s, but then Simone smiled and told me she liked it. I momentarily forgot I’d been forced to this crappy town to reside with my cranky grandmother who hated everything that moved.
As we set the bags on the porch, Carole stepped outside and told Simone to go finish the dishes.
Simone cast me a sideways glance. See you later?
Apparently.
She started for her house, leaving soft footprints in the wet summer grass.
So,
Carole said as we watched Simone head inside, Avery. What you think of Bardell so far? You like it?
It’s okay,
I said stiffly. Saying as little as possible around her seemed like the safest option.
It’s been a long time since your mama been home.
My annoyance flared again. Well, we’re just here to help.
Here to help.
She rested her hands on her hips. Her fingers were empty of jewelry and full of scars, nails cut to the quick. She walked off with a laugh, mumbling to herself, Here to help. Well, it’s about time.
THE GHOST
THERE WERE APPROXIMATELY fifty people who resided in the sixteen homes that dotted Sweetness Lane, and all of them had heard the joke at one point or another. Out-of-town relatives, visiting friends, and mail carriers would examine the gaping potholes and pale patchwork lawns and homes that seemed to sag into the earth and ask, Sweetness? Where? Residents would laugh or roll their eyes or, if you dared to utter these comments in the presence of Letty June Harding, tell you to shut the fuck up. It didn’t matter what Sweetness Lane looked like. Sweetness Lane was home. And home was always sweet.
Carole Cole had lived on Sweetness Lane since she was Carole Thompson. The blue brick ranch with the dogwood tree in the side yard was the only home she’d ever known. Darryl Cole had grumbled when he moved in after their wedding, complaining that grown men had no business moving into their mother-in-law’s house. He promised one day they’d leave. But since the house was there and Darryl’s funds were not, they stayed. They stayed after their first two babies were born, even though the eight hundred square feet became bloated with toddler screams. They stayed after Martha Thompson passed and left them the home in her will. They stayed even when the third baby took them by surprise. It wasn’t until their three children became two that Darryl finally made good on his promise and left.
Through it all, Carole remained tethered to Sweetness Lane like a life raft. Seasons changed. People came and went. Her youngest daughter braided flower crowns under the dogwood tree. Usually, Carole would gaze upon the lane and think, This is fine. This is good enough. Occasionally, she thought about the girl who used to live next door and wondered what she was up to. Sometimes she thought about writing her. It wasn’t until Letty’s third round of cancer that she finally did.
By the time Carole devised a letter she was proud of, she’d burned through four days and half a notebook. After several weeks with no reply, she’d almost given up hope. On a particularly steamy August afternoon, Carole was sweeping her kitchen and minding her business when a fancy silver car arrived on Sweetness Lane. Fancy cars on this block were not a common occurrence, so Carole stopped mid-sweep. She paid attention. And when a ghost from her childhood emerged from the driver’s side, she nearly dropped her broom.
2.
BY THE TIME I hauled the last bag inside, Mama Letty had retreated to her bedroom. I followed my parents’ voices into the small, sun-drenched kitchen, mind still swimming from Simone’s and Carole’s comments.
Mom was leaning against the chipped tile counter, eyes trained on the peeling yellow diamond wallpaper. Dad sat at a circular Formica table shoved up against the window, drumming his fingers along a glass of water. Above his head was a creepy black cat-shaped clock, hands stuck at midnight.
I didn’t know,
Mom said. She scrubbed a hand over her face and took deep, labored breaths. It was the same technique she always used before a big speech, the one she taught me when I was losing sleep over a public speaking assignment in eighth grade: inhale on the one, exhale on the two, continue to ten, lather, rinse, repeat. I cleared my throat, and my parents looked up with fake, stretched smiles.
Hey, Avery baby,
Mom said, too chipper. Thanks for grabbing the rest of the bags.
Don’t mention it.
I took a step closer. You okay?
She nodded. I haven’t seen your Mama Letty in a while, and it’s hard. I’m sorry.
You don’t have to apologize,
I said, but it was no use. She was already composing herself, wiping the emotions from her face like Windex on glass. Soon, she was Dr. Zora Anderson again—calm, collected, close to perfect.
You’re in luck,
she said, pulling at one of my spiral curls. You’re getting my old bedroom. Best room in the house.
She brushed past me before I could say anything and busied herself with the suitcases in the living room.
I looked at Dad. What’s going on?
What’s going on,
Dad said, "is that we lovingly agreed to take the luxurious pull-out couch in the back den to give you some