Being Amani , livre ebook

Hashtag Press - Annabelle Steele

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115 pages

English

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Description

It's been over a year since that night and Amani hopes that starting all over again will help her move on from the past. So, when she moves to a new city, Amani wants to focus on her new life, her best friends and the boy she's been crushing on but everything is falling apart and Amani finds herself looking for happiness in all the wrong places. Can Amani confront the ghosts of her pasts so she can become the girl she's always wanted to be?*Contains sensitive issues that some may find triggering. Being Amani by Annabelle Steele is the first book to be published by Hashtag BLAK, a new imprint, supported by an Arts Council National Lottery Project Grant, publishing diverse & inclusive books. Hashtag BLAK committed to first publishing two Black British authors and has signed three books for release in 2021. For more information: www.hashtagblak.co.uk

Informations

Publié par	Hashtag Press
Date de parution	20 mai 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781913835057
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Published in Great Britain by Hashtag BLAK an imprint of Hashtag Press 2021
Text Annabelle Steele 2021
Cover Illustration Joi Washington 2021
Cover Design Anne Glenn 2021
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-1-9138350-4-0 eBook ISBN 978-1-9138350-5-7
Typeset in Garamond Classic 11.25/14 by Blaze Typesetting
Printed in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

HASHTAG BLAK
Hashtag Press Ltd
Kent, England, United Kingdom
www.hashtagblak.co.uk
Twitter: @hashtag_blak
Hashtag BLAK is an imprint of Hashtag Press Ltd
Website: www.hashtagpress.co.uk
This book is dedicated to every girl, every young woman and every Queen who has ever found herself looking for happiness in all the wrong places.
Contents
Acknowledgements
That Night
August
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
September
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
October
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
November
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
December
Thirty-Three
About the Author
Reading Group Questions
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To the women
There are so many women to thank, so many women who have believed in me and so many women who have encouraged me to keep going over the years. From teachers to friends to family members and colleagues, I am so incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such amazing women!
Of course, I would like to thank my mum for believing in me and inspiring me in everything that I do. For cheering me on and for encouraging me to follow my heart at all times. Through you I have learned to be strong and graceful. Through you I have learned to be me. You ve taught me to always have faith, to look for the positives and to find the silver lining in every situation. I am forever grateful!
Thank you to all of my friends and family, with special thanks to these ladies: Cherelle Ekepe, Katy Burton, Tina Steele, Aunty Corine, Louise Rosario-Tulloch, Aunty Mel, Stephanie Woodworth, Sarah Brazier, Katie Neil, Faye Preston, Jess Heaney, Rachel Shaw, Rosie Hegarty, Janine Ojinnaka, Maryrose Ojinnaka, Daisy Pointing, Dionne Anderson, Chanel Spooner, Afiya Chocollo, Lucette Henderson and Yousra Imran for constantly reminding me that I am Queen in the presence of Queens! I would like to thank you all for continually talking me up! For the constant encouraging messages! For the support! For the pep talks and the kicks up the bum! Thank you for listening to me moan, for hyping me up and for all of your kind words! This one is for all of you! (Hopefully I haven t missed anyone.)
Thank you to Helen, Luisa and Abiola at Hashtag Blak for sharing Amani s story, for believing in me and for helping me see it through to the end. I am forever grateful for all of your patience and hard work! Thank you for creating Hashtag Blak and for being dedicated to sharing the stories of underrepresented voices. Thanks for just being the Boss Babes that you are!
I would like to thank everyone who has entertained Ezra while I have been planning, writing and editing. Without you all, it literally would not have been possible!
And finally although this is about the women in my life, I would like to thank my husband for listening to me moan about everything and anything. For sitting with me and discussing plotlines until midnight (on more than one occasion). For getting excited about my writing when I had lost all faith. For not allowing me to give up when I wanted to throw the whole book away! Thank you for allowing me to follow my dreams and for holding my hand along the way. Eternally grateful!
THAT NIGHT
I lay in bed scrolling endlessly through Instagram and saving images of Black girls with big smiles and long, beautiful braids as inspiration for my next hairstyle. Nao s latest single plays on repeat in my earphones. My eyes feel heavy and I know that sleep will come soon.
I jolt up to the sound of smashing and crashing coming from downstairs. Without thinking, I look in the direction of my bedroom door. I pause the music, pull out my left earphone and freeze. I wait, hoping that it was just my imagination. I lean up on my forearm and tilt my head, as though it s going to help me hear better. I keep my eyes fixed on the door. The room is in complete darkness apart from the blue light coming from my phone, which is casting long shadows on the walls.
I realise I ve been holding my breath and the bedsheets are sticking to my clammy body while I wait for the inevitable. Another smash, louder than the first, but this time I jolt so violently that my phone slips out of my hand and falls on the bed. My heart s racing and my body begins to shake. Most people would call the police and report that an intruder had entered their home, but I know it s not an intruder. I know that they live here and I know what s coming next.
I can t just sit and listen to them arguing again. I ball my hands into fists as my fingertips fizz and tingle with anger, but I m rooted to the spot. The quilt shackles me to the bed.
Come on Amani, get up!
Nothing. I take a deep breath and exhale as I force the quilt of my body. I climb silently out of my bed and creep across the room towards the door, being careful not to step anywhere the floorboards creak.
I open my bedroom door, just a crack, and the light from the hallway floods my room. There s mumbling and another smash, but this time I don t jump. I m numb. Their voices gets louder and clearer as they move into the hallway. The footsteps give away the exact location of my parents. I know this house well and I know that they are directly below my room.
I squeeze my lips together and close my eyes, praying that it stops me from crying. I shake my head in disbelief. I can t believe this is happening again.
A shrill scream pierces through the house and I immediately clasp my hands across my mouth. I want to run downstairs and see if Mum is okay, but I m scared. Scared of making things worse, and of what I ll see, but mostly I m scared that Dad will turn on me.
I glance at my wrist and wince, remembering the pain from the last time. It only happened once, but once was enough.
My heart races as the blood pumps around my ears. It s making it difficult for me to hear anything else. I take my hands off my mouth and hold on to the doorframe to steady myself.
Mum and Dad have argued a lot recently; it s got worse since she lost the baby but I thought things were finally looking up. They were fine this weekend, but Dad s been drinking tonight. Is that what they re arguing about? Mum hates it when he drinks-we both do. He gets braver and meaner and more well, more like this.
I creep out of my room to the top of the stairs and look up at the clock in the hallway. It s 2:13am. I wish I was still in bed, drifting off to sleep as Nao serenades me. My chest hurts and I finally exhale. I didn t realise I was holding my breath again. They re still shouting at each other. I crouch down on the top step and I just about make out some of their words.
Kill.
Trust.
STOP!
I use the back of my hand to wipe my eyes. When did I start crying?
The living room door swings open and ricochets against the wall with a loud bang. I jump back so that I m definitely out of sight. I don t even know what I m doing.
Mum runs along the hallway, her boots pounding on the wooden floorboards. I m relieved when I see her. I feared she was slumped on the floor injured. She grabs a couple of bags from the hallway and violently yanks open the front door and storms out into the darkness. Where is she going?
I run back to my room and race over to the window. It s pouring with rain and the trees are blowing violently in the wind, casting spindly shadows all over the front garden. This is weird weather for the middle of July in London, and I can t help but think that the way I m feeling is somehow affecting the weather tonight.
All the other houses on the street are in complete darkness. I can see Mum across the street putting the bags into the car and closing the boot. Is she packing his things or hers? She wouldn t leave without me, would she?
She frantically fights against the wind. She runs back towards the house and I sigh, relieved. I hear her coming up the stairs, her boots beating on the carpeted steps. She would never normally wear wet boots on the carpet. She speeds up and slows down, missing steps along the way.
Scared that she ll clock that I ve been spying, I quickly jump back into bed and try to slow my breathing. I don t want her to know that the arguing woke me up. I push my earphones back into my ears, press play and wait.
Mum pushes open the door and quickly crosses the room to my bed. She kneels on the floor and holds my hand. Her touch instantly calms my breathing and although I m still panicking, I feel slightly better having her here with me. She gently shakes me and pulls out my earphones.
Amani, wake up. We have to go now, Mum whispers.
I slowly open my eyes pretending that I ve just woke up. Mum? What s going on?
Come on baby, just put these on. She hands me my beat-up, black and white, high-top Converse, khaki green trench and pair of joggers from the pile of clothes that I threw over the chair earlier.
I m half expecting her to tell me that I need to cl