Jumped by Rita Williams-Garcia

Trina: “Hey,” I say, though I don’t really know them. The boyed-up basketball girl barely moves. The others, her girls, step aside. It’s okay if they don’t speak. I know how it is. They can’t all be Trina.

Dominique: Some stupid little flit cuts right in between us and is like, “Hey.” Like she don’t see I’m here and all the space around me is mines. I slam my fist into my other hand because she’s good as jumped.

Leticia: Why would I get involved in Trina’s life when I don’t know for sure if I saw what I thought I saw? Who is to say I wasn’t seeing it from the wrong angle?