The walk to Phelps Park only took a few minutes, but with this big group—and with Cathy and Yolanda talking a mile a minute—it felt like a parade. Tasha stayed close to Cathy at first, still taking everything in. The neighborhood. The faces. The blocks full of familiar-but-new energy. Kids she didn’t know yet. And Derrick… whom she definitely kept glancing at when she thought he wasn’t watching. And Derrick? He tried to stay cool, nodding at people they passed, hands in his pockets. But the crew knew. Oh, they knew. Tony whispered to Marcus,
“Look at lover boy.”
“Shut up,” Derrick muttered without looking at them.
Reggie and Leon just smirked. When they reached Phelps, the summer scene was fully alive. Kids were flying off swings. A group played half-court basketball, shirts skins. Little kids chased each other through the grass with water guns. Teens leaned on the picnic tables, working on handshake routines. Music from a small radio carried across the field— The Jackson 5. “Maybe Tomorrow.” Tasha stopped for a moment, taking in the sight, the sound, the feeling. “This is nice,” she said softly. Cathy grinned. “Girl, this is Phelps! You gonna be up here every day pretty soon.” Yolanda nudged her. “You gonna love it.”
Almost as soon as they stepped into the park, a group of girls waved Cathy over.
“Cathy! Who’s that girl with you?”
Cathy perked up.
“Oh! This is my cousin, Tasha. She just moved here from St. Paul.”
The girls swarmed gently—curious smiles, friendly nods.
“This is Denise…that’s Carla…over there is Janelle…and that’s Monica…”
Tasha waved shyly, her cornrows swaying.
“Hi…”
The girls immediately leaned in, checking her out the way teenage girls do—complimenting her hair, asking her what school she was going to, what music she liked, how long she was staying.
“You going to Bryant this year?” Carla asked.
“Yeah,” Tasha said.
“Oh, you’ll fit right in,” Denise nodded.
“We got some cool people up there.”
“And some fools,” Monica added. Everybody laughed—including Tasha. The girls liked her instantly. And she liked them back. The guys stood a few feet away pretending not to watch. Tony stretched.
“Man, girls got their own world.”
“Yep,” Marcus said.
“You can’t get into it unless they invite you.” Leon grinned.
“Look at Derrick. He stressed.”
“I ain’t stressed,” Derrick said. “I’m fine.”
Reggie smirked.
“Sure, brother. Sure.”
After a few minutes, Cathy brought Tasha back toward the guys.
“You gotta meet everybody,” Cathy said. “Come on.”
They headed to the basketball court where some older guys were playing like every game was the championship. Tasha stood near the sideline with Cathy, Yolanda, and Terri.
“Those are the best players,” Cathy told her. “A couple of them go to Central. They be up here every day.”
Tasha nodded, watching them cross over defenders, slide across the asphalt, toss up smooth layups.
“This is cool,” she murmured.
Derrick heard her from a few feet away.
“Yeah. Phelps is always like this. Summer just makes it bigger.”
Tasha looked at him. “You come here all the time?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Pretty much since I was little.”
“That’s nice,” she said. “Feels like everybody knows each other.”
He nodded.
“They do… or close to it.”
She smiled—the soft, quiet kind that made him feel warm. After a while, they left the court and walked around the rest of the park. The field. The old wooden picnic tables. The swings. The small jungle gym. The baseball diamond where little kids practiced earlier in the afternoon.
Cathy nudged Tasha.
“See? I told you it’s better than St. Paul.”
“Uh-Uh. We have the same thing. Oxford Park baby” Tasha said, laughing.
The others wandered ahead toward the water fountain, but Derrick and Tasha slowed near the swings. She sat first, gently rocking, the chains rattling softly. Derrick stood beside her, hands still in his pockets.
“You like the neighborhood so far?” he asked.
Tasha nodded, kicking lightly off the ground.
“Yeah. I was nervous at first. Didn’t know anybody. But it seems nice.”
“It is,” Derrick said. “It’s home.”
She looked up at him. “I can tell you like it here.”
He shrugged slightly. “Yeah, I like our neighborhood. It’s got… good people.”
Tasha smiled.
“I can see that too.”
For a moment, neither said anything. Just the warm breeze. The laughter of kids in the distance. The soft thump of a basketball. The radio at the courts shifting to Smokey Robinson. Derrick realized he wasn’t nervous anymore. He was… comfortable. And he liked that feeling.
Tony shouted from across the field. “WE GETTING ICE CREAM!” “COME ON!” Marcus added.
Leon waved dramatically.
“Let’s go, lovebirds!”
Derrick glared at him.
Tasha just laughed.
“Your friends are funny,” she said.
“They think they funny,” Derrick replied.
She hopped off the swing.
“Come on. I want to see what kind of ice cream y’all get around here.”
They walked to catch up with everybody else—side by side, close enough for their arms to almost touch. And when Tasha smiled at him again, Derrick knew: Summer 1971 was going to be different. A good different. A new different. Something was starting. Something warm. Something hopeful. Something he wasn’t sure how to name yet. But he could feel it. And he liked it.