Operation Sisterhood: Chapters 18–22

After the pool, everyone was subdued on the walk home; even a stop at Lee Lee's didn't bring on the usual cheers, and another stop at FairMarket “to pick up a few things” didn't prompt the usual grumbles.

Her sisters had seen Lita too and tried to cheer Bo up by commenting on Lita's “waaay stupid attire.”
“Like what was that fabric even,” scoffed Lil.

“Fast fashion garbage! Totally unsustainable!”

She made a mental note to ask Lil if she could design them something like Sheila E.'s vintage “Holly Rock” look.

Pebbles crunched under Bo's purple Chuck Taylors, and she could feel her heart lift a little as she breathed in the scents of the lush foliage.

She took comfort in the fact that the garden was as new to her sisters as it was to her; they told her it had been locked and mostly obscured by a wooden fence since they’d moved in.

A group of women formed a coalition—you know I love a good coalition, Bo—and highlighted the history of this garden.

There were remnants of the garden's glory days—a rusty watering can lay against the shed, yellow dandelion plants stood defiant, and an abandoned plastic toy truck was sticking up out of the soil.

There were remnants of the garden's glory days—a rusty watering can lay against the shed, yellow dandelion plants stood defiant, and an abandoned plastic toy truck was sticking up out of the soil.

She knew the Parents spent long hours talking about budgets and “frugal but fun” living when they thought the girls were asleep.

“She says we go on all day long, and she can't hear herself think,” said Lee.
“Which is probably a good thing, old, evil crone,” muttered Lil.

Sunday was using her magnifying glass to closely examine and make up names for the foliage, and Lee was singing an old Afrobeat song called “Jerusalema” while Lil made up a dance.

I bet they’d help us get a hydroponic garden going, some workshops.

“The way I see it, the way we all see it, is that this could be a wonderful learning opportunity—the perfect summer project. It will allow us to contribute to the family...coffers in a creative way, since we can't really go out and get jobs, and it's community oriented, which are words that you guys love. We kind of have to do the Block Party here.”

“The way I see it, the way we all see it, is that this could be a wonderful learning opportunity—the perfect summer project. It will allow us to contribute to the family...coffers in a creative way, since we can't really go out and get jobs, and it's community oriented, which are words that you guys love. We kind of have to do the Block Party here.”

“We'd just like to remind the happy couple that there's this great opportunity to spread the cheer....”
“We can create, not consume, and have a wedding party right here,” continued Bo with an impromptu rhyme to back Sunday up.

They made a unanimous decision to get Harlem Sweeties cones, and Bo and her sisters kept working and singing.

They were so close to being out the door, but the Parents were droning on and on, repeating the long list of instructions they'd gone over the night before, and that morning at breakfast.

Since they were all wearing the Say Her Name shirts that Auntie Sunflower had gifted them with a few days earlier, Lil had embellished hers with sequins at the collar and seams.

Though it was ten-thirty in the morning, officially after rush hour, the Times Square subway platform was bustling and pretty crowded.

The shaggy carpets were temptingly plush.

“And I can't hear myself think when you're going wild on the guitar, Lil.”
“Oh, so your ragtime interludes aren't disruptive when I’m learning Prince?” retorted Lil.

Solidarity, she thought. Sisters and Community.

What if she was the reason for the bickering? What if they realized they were trying to add a square peg to a set of round holes and it was just throwing everything off? They probably never argued before she came.

Two minutes later, she almost smiled when Mr. Bultitude rubbed against her stockinged-in-the-summer leg, and she left with a sizable hunk of bun wrapped in aluminum foil.

“I can design us some gold shorts and halter tops.”

Rubia barked again from the other side of the fence, and the boys looked her way warily.

“I'm there, even if I have to endure the caterwauling you're calling music. Ha, get it—CATerwauling. All those animals in your band too?”

“I'm auditioning for the Middle School Jazz Academy at Lincoln Center. And I'm in Jazz Power Initiative up in Washington Heights. We sing and stuff.”

“Oh, I was just talking,'' said Lil airily, waving her hand.

“See if there's any Truffle Shuffle left."
“We will so get in trouble if we get ice cream before dinner," said Lee.

They silently lifted their cups to the bronze statue that seemed to be in perpetual, determined motion forward, then they began their meeting.

She patted her hair, reminding herself of the pretty flat twists Lil had stayed up late to do for her the night before, even incorporating shiny beads in an intricate pattern in the front.

She patted her hair, reminding herself of the pretty flat twists Lil had stayed up late to do for her the night before, even incorporating shiny beads in an intricate pattern in the front.

Then Lil suggested they hand out flyers, so they did, offering one to everyone except the increasingly sour-faced mom, who walked by them multiple times muttering something about “solicitation laws.”