It was Summer of 1971. School had let out just two days earlier, and already the group was bored. Kids were outside earlier, staying out later. The air smelled like cut grass and charcoal grills. Cars rolled down 4th Avenue with windows open and music drifting out—Marvin Gaye, the Chi-Lites, The Stylistics. Derrick, Tony, Marcus, Reggie, and Leon—sat on the front steps of Tony’s house on 41st & Portland, the unofficial meeting spot for the summer.
Yolanda and Terri sat a step above them, legs crossed, talking, teasing, and giving the boys that “you all aren’t as cool as you think” look. It was early afternoon, warm but not too hot, with a breeze cutting through the neighborhood just right. The kind of day that begged for an adventure. But for the moment—they were stuck in that early-summer lull.
“What we doing today?” Tony asked, glancing around.
“Something,” Marcus said. “We finally free.
We gotta do something.”
“Like what?” Reggie replied. “Ain’t nobody got money.”
Leon rubbed his chin dramatically.
“We could go hoop.”
“Already did that,” Derrick said.
“Go to Phelps?” Terri asked.
“Went yesterday,” Marcus groaned. “Everybody and they cousins was up there.”
“Y’all boring,” Yolanda said. They all laughed because she wasn’t wrong. That was when Cathy Washington turned the corner. And she wasn’t alone.
Cathy grinned the moment she spotted the crew. “You lazy people still sitting there?”
Tony stood up.
“We thinking, thank you very much.”
“Thinking slow,” Terri muttered. But Cathy waved them off, excitement all over her face.
“Y’all, this is my cousin Tasha. She just moved over here from St. Paul. She staying with us for a while.”
The crew shifted—some sitting up straighter, some suddenly adjusting shirts or brushing imaginary dirt off themselves. Tasha stood a few steps behind Cathy, shy but curious. She wore a simple light blue top, jean shorts, and white canvas sneakers. But the thing that stood out most was her hair: long, neat cornrows that ran down her back, shining in the sunlight. And her smile— quiet, warm, kind. She gave a small wave.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” the group said, almost in unison.
Derrick swallowed. Something flipped in his stomach. He tried to look casual, but he could feel heat creeping up his neck. Reggie leaned over and whispered,
“Boy, don’t even try to hide it.”
“Shut up,” Derrick whispered back.
Marcus caught the look on Tasha’s face as she glanced—quickly, shyly—at Derrick. He smirked.
“Ohhhhh… interesting…”
“Don’t start,” Derrick warned under his breath.
Cathy nudged her cousin forward.
“Tasha, this is the crew. That’s Tony, Marcus, Reggie, Leon, Yolanda, Terri, and—” She paused, pointing last at Derrick. “And that’s Derrick” she said with a teasing, knowing look.
Tasha smiled again—warm but shy.
“It’s nice to meet y’all.”
They all nodded, said hi, asked a few questions. But Derrick said nothing. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Couldn’t think at all, really. Until Tony elbowed him.
“Say something, man!”
Derrick cleared his throat.
“H-hey.”
Smooth. Very smooth. But Tasha didn’t seem to mind. She actually smiled bigger.
They talked for a few minutes—Cathy explaining where Tasha used to live in St. Paul, how she’d be going to Bryant next school year, how she didn’t know many people yet.
The boys tried to act normal, but everyone could see it: Tasha kept glancing at Derrick. And Derrick kept pretending not to notice. Terri leaned over to Yolanda.
“Ooooh, this is gonna be interesting.”
Yolanda grinned.
“You already know.”
Reggie muttered to Leon,
“This dude about to be useless for the rest of the day.”
Leon chuckled. “He already is.”
Derrick shot them a look, but he couldn’t hide the slight smile forming on his lips.
“So what we doing?” Cathy asked, hands on hips. “Tasha came to see the neighborhood. Don’t be boring.”
Yolanda pointed at the boys.
“That’s what I said!” Tony stood up. “Okay, fine. Let’s show her around.”
Reggie nodded.
“Walk to Phelps?” Leon said, “Or go get ice cream from on 38th. Street.” Marcus added, “Or both. It’s summer—we got time.”
Tasha looked at Derrick.
“What do you think?”
For a split second, everyone was quiet. Even the breeze paused. Derrick blinked, caught off guard by her looking directly at him. Then he cleared his throat.
“We… uh… we could do both. Phelps first, then ice cream.”
Tasha smiled softly.
“Sounds good.”
And that smile— quiet, a little shy, but full of something he couldn’t name yet— hit Derrick like a small earthquake. He stood up fast, dusting off his pants.
“Aight then,” he said, trying to play it cool. “Let’s roll.”
As they headed down the sidewalk in a loose group, the crew nudged Derrick from behind.
“Ohhh, look at you.”
“She likes you.”
“You tryna act smooth.”
“Don’t trip over your feet!”
Derrick hissed, “Shut up! All y’all!”
But even with the embarrassment—he couldn’t stop smiling. And Tasha kept sneaking glances his way. Summer 1971 had barely begun, but something new was already starting. Something warm. Something unexpected. Something that made Derrick’s heart feel like it was stepping into the sunshine for the first time.