Third Person Point of View

Megan woke to the sound of her grandmother's voice cutting through the morning quiet like a knife.

"Megan Jovon Pete! You better not still be in that bed when I come up there!"

Her head pounded, a dull reminder of the night before. She squinted against the sunlight streaming through the blinds and groaned, rolling over to bury her face in the pillow. The smell of weed still clung faintly to her hoodie, and her throat felt dry as sandpaper.

She glanced at the clock. 10:45 a.m.

"Aw, damn," she muttered. School had started hours ago, not that she cared much.

Before she could make a move to get up, her bedroom door flew open, and there stood her grandmother, hands on her hips, wearing a look that could set anyone straight.

"You ain't heard me callin' you? Get up right now, girl!" her grandmother barked, pointing toward the floor like it was an order from the heavens.

Megan rolled out of bed with a dramatic groan. "I'm up, I'm up. Dang, Granny, you act like the world 'bout to end."

Her grandmother's eyes narrowed. "The way you actin', it just might. Where was you last night, Megan? Huh? Out runnin' wild with them girls again?"

Megan grabbed a random T-shirt off the back of a chair and slipped it on. "I told you, I was at Alyssa's house studyin'."

Her grandmother snorted. "Studyin'? Girl, the only thing you studyin' is how to get on my last nerve. Mrs. Hawkins down the street said she saw you out by the park carryin' on, smellin' like trouble. What you got to say 'bout that?"

Megan shrugged, her tone casual. "Mrs. Hawkins need to mind her business."

Her grandmother stepped closer, her voice lowering. "This ain't no joke, Megan. You got folks talkin'. I done raised you better than this. You think you grown, but you ain't nothin' but a child playin' with fire. You keep this up, you gon' end up just like—"

"Don't," Megan cut in, her voice sharp. Her eyes darkened, and her posture stiffened. "Don't start with that. I'm not them."

The room fell silent for a beat. Her grandmother sighed, her shoulders sagging with the weight of disappointment.

"Megan, baby," she said softly, her tone shifting, "I just want better for you. You got so much in you—"

"Granny, I don't wanna hear this right now," Megan snapped, grabbing her sneakers. "I ain't doin' nothin' nobody else ain't doin'. Why you always ridin' me like this?"

"Because you my grandbaby!" her grandmother shot back. "And it's my job to keep you from runnin' yourself into the ground!"

Megan shoved her feet into her sneakers, grabbing her hoodie off the chair. "I'm out," she muttered, brushing past her grandmother and heading down the stairs.

"Where you goin'? You think you can just walk outta here after disrespectin' me like that?"

Megan paused at the front door, her hand on the knob. She didn't turn around, her voice coming out flat. "I'll be back later."

"Megan—"

But she was already out the door, letting it slam shut behind her.

As Megan walked aimlessly through the neighborhood, she pulled her hood over her head and shoved her hands in her pockets. The adrenaline from the argument still buzzed under her skin, but a pang of guilt sat heavy in her chest.

Her grandmother wasn't wrong, but admitting that would feel like losing. Megan didn't do losing.

She didn't have a plan for the day, just a desire to get away from the suffocating weight of expectations she felt she could never meet.

It was on this aimless trek that she saw the girl, struggling with heavy grocery bags, and her day took an unexpected turn.

∞∞∞

The sun heat hit Megan like a furnace, the sun beating down with an intensity that made the sidewalks shimmer. She didn't have anywhere to be. She just wanted to avoid going home as long as possible. The echoes of her grandma's lecture still buzzed in her ears. "You're always out here actin' reckless... What will people think?" Her grandma's disapproving face had stayed with her longer than she cared to admit.

Megan chewed on her gum, popping it loudly as she adjusted the snapback on her head, the brim shading her eyes. She strolled through the quieter streets, feeling the warmth radiate off the pavement. Her steps were slow, deliberate, but her eyes kept scanning—looking for anything to distract her, something to cut through the tension building inside her.

That's when she saw her.

A girl, maybe a year or two younger than her, struggling with bags of groceries. She was petite, and the weight of the bags seemed too much for her slight frame. Her wrists were red from the strain, and she was hunched over, trying to juggle everything as she moved, looking like she was moments away from dropping something. Megan's curiosity kicked in, and before she even realized it, her feet were moving toward her.

"Yo!" Megan called out, stepping closer. "You need a hand or somethin'? Them bags look like they 'bout to split any second."

The girl flinched and looked up, startled, her brown eyes wide with surprise and a touch of nervousness. "No, I'm fine," she muttered, her voice almost too soft to be heard.

Megan raised an eyebrow, chewing her gum with deliberate slowness. "Fine? Girl, you lookin' like you fightin' a heavyweight champ with all that. Where you headed? I'll help you out."

"I'm fine, really," the girl repeated, her tone a little firmer, but it was clear she was still struggling.

Megan didn't back off. She just smirked and took another step closer, her eyes scanning the girl's form, noticing how she moved—shy, careful, like she didn't want to make a fuss. "Alright, alright," Megan said, shrugging. "Just tryna help. You look like you 'bout to fold like them bags."

The girl seemed to ignore her, adjusting the groceries once again. Then, just as Megan had predicted, one of the paper bags gave way, sending cans rolling across the pavement. The girl cursed softly under her breath and dropped to her knees, quickly scrambling to gather the cans before they could roll into the street.

Without thinking, Megan stepped forward, swooping in to grab a few of the runaway cans. "See? Told you," she said, placing them back into the bag with an amused smirk.

The girl sighed in defeat, her shoulders slumping. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice quieter than before, as if admitting she needed help was somehow a loss.

Megan felt a flicker of satisfaction at the soft gratitude in the girl's voice. She wasn't used to being thanked for things like this, and yet, it felt good. Like she was actually making a difference, even if just for a second.

"No problem, ma," Megan said, lifting the bag effortlessly. "Where you stay at?"

The girl hesitated for a moment, then gestured down the block. "Just down there," she said quietly, her eyes briefly meeting Megan's before darting away again.

Megan gave a casual nod and fell into step beside her. The walk was mostly silent. Megan couldn't help but glance at the girl out of the corner of her eye, feeling an odd pull she couldn't quite explain. This girl wasn't like the others. She wasn't loud or brash or trying to impress anyone. She was just... there, existing in the world with a quiet strength that intrigued Megan.

As they reached Normani's porch, Megan set the heavy bags down, trying to make it seem effortless even though she could feel the weight in her shoulders. She grinned at Normani, the usual swagger back in her step.

"You good now? That wasn't too bad, was it?" Megan teased.

Normani gave a small nod, the corners of her lips curling into the faintest of smiles, almost like she was trying not to be embarrassed.

Megan paused, then leaned against the porch railing, the smirk never leaving her face. "So, you got a number or somethin'? I could, you know, check up on you next time you end up in a grocery bag war."

The question hung in the air between them, and for a moment, it seemed like Normani might actually answer. But just as Megan was about to pull her phone out, the front door of the house flew open with a bang. A deep voice boomed out.

"Normani! What the hell you doin' out here takin' so long?"

Normani froze, her posture stiffening as she turned toward the door. The harshness of the voice made Megan's stomach tighten. Something didn't feel right. She instinctively took a step back, her smile faltering. She'd seen this kind of thing before—the way people reacted to authority, the way they shrank in the face of it.

Her hand instinctively raised, though it was more of a gesture to show she meant no harm. "She was just carryin' some heavy bags, sir," Megan said, keeping her tone light, but her jaw was tight.

"I didn't ask you!" The man's voice was loud, commanding. He ignored Megan entirely, focusing all his attention on Normani. "Normani, get inside now!"

Normani shot Megan a glance, her eyes filled with something like apology. Without another word, she hurried inside, her shoulders slumping as she passed through the door, which slammed shut behind her with a finality that sent a chill through Megan.

Megan stood there for a moment, staring at the door that had just closed between them. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and uncomfortable. She didn't know what it was, but something about that whole exchange left a bad taste in her mouth.

She shook it off and turned on her heel, walking back down the street, her mind buzzing. She wasn't going to let some stranger's drama mess with her. She had enough of her own problems.

But as she walked away, she couldn't help but glance back once. Just once. And when she did, she felt a strange pang in her chest.

∞∞∞

Megan's feet hit the pavement as she walked through the heat, her mind still on the girl with the heavy grocery bags. She couldn't shake the image of her: quiet, graceful, but with a weight in her eyes that Megan couldn't place. She'd never met anyone quite like her before. Something about the way she carried herself, how she seemed so unaware of her own beauty, tugged at Megan in a way she didn't expect.

As she walked, her mind replayed the moment over and over, trying to put the pieces together. Was the girl just shy? Or was there something more? Megan had heard her dad yell her name when she was leaving—the name "Normani" had floated through the air, and it stuck. It wasn't a name Megan would easily forget.

She was almost back home when she spotted Beyoncé sitting on a nearby bench, staring out into the street with an absent look. Beyoncé was always like that—cool, collected, and always surrounded by an air of mystery. Megan couldn't help but gravitate toward her, mostly because she knew Beyoncé was always in the loop about everyone in town.

"Yo," Megan called out as she approached, hands in her pockets, feeling a little lighter despite the confusion she still carried with her. "What's good?"

Beyoncé glanced up at her, then smiled faintly. "Nothing, just thinking." She stretched her legs out, letting them dangle from the bench. "What about you? You look like you're up to something."

Megan chuckled. "You know me, just out here keeping my distance from all the drama back home."

Beyoncé raised an eyebrow. "Drama? What happened?"

Megan paused, feeling the weight of her grandmother's angry words still lingering in her chest. "Same ol', same ol'. Granny's on my ass for everything. But nah, that's not what's got me trippin' today. I met someone."

Beyoncé tilted her head, a curious glint in her eyes. "Oh? Someone new?"

Megan nodded, tapping her fingers on her leg. "Yeah. This girl—she was walkin' around with these heavy-ass grocery bags, right? She could barely keep it together, like the bags were gonna rip any second."

"Did you help her out or what?" Beyoncé asked, her voice light but teasing.

"Hell yeah. She was real shy about it, but I could tell she wasn't about to ask for help. I stepped in, though. Told her she looked like she was gonna fold under the weight of those bags."

Beyoncé laughed lightly. "I can see you doing that. You don't seem like the type to let someone struggle."

Megan smirked. "You know me. Anyway, she wasn't having it at first. Didn't even want me to help, but I did anyway. Took 'em all the way to her house."

Beyoncé's eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. "Her house? Where's she from?"

Megan shrugged. "I didn't even get her full name. She looked... different, though. Real quiet. I could tell she wasn't from around here, not like us." She paused for a moment, thinking. "Her eyes though, Bey... they were heavy with somethin'. Like she's got a whole story she's not tellin'."

Beyoncé exhaled, her mind clearly working through something. "Yeah, well, there's a lot of people like that. Life gets heavy, and some folks just don't know how to let it out."

"Yeah, but... I don't know. She wasn't like anyone I've met." Megan frowned, tapping her fingers on her thigh. "I feel like she's going through somethin'—something serious, you know? And it doesn't help that her dad was all up in her space. It was like he was demandin' she get inside, like she couldn't breathe out here for a second. That vibe got me shook."

Beyoncé seemed to pick up on Megan's unease. "You got a bad feeling about it?"

Megan bit her lip, unsure of how to express what she was feeling. "Yeah. It's like... like she's trapped in her own life. And I don't like that. But I didn't wanna push too much. She looked like she needed space."

Beyoncé nodded in understanding. "Sounds like she's got a lot goin' on. People like that... you can't rush 'em. But, if you ever get the chance to talk to her again, don't be afraid to reach out. You're good at that, helping people, even when they don't want it."

Megan smiled faintly. "Yeah, but I don't know if I'll see her again."

"You might," Beyoncé said with a cryptic smile. "People cross paths for a reason."

Megan stood up, feeling a bit lighter. There was something in the way Beyoncé spoke that made her think maybe she had a point. Maybe she would run into Normani again. And if she did, maybe she could help her out.

"But hold up," Megan added, stopping in her tracks. "I know her name now. When her dad was yellin' at her to get inside, he called her 'Normani.'"

Beyoncé's eyes flickered with recognition. "Normani, huh? I know that name. She's one of those quiet ones around town, right? Chloe might've mentioned her once or twice... not sure if she's still around school, though."

Megan raised an eyebrow. "You know her?"

Beyoncé shrugged. "Not personally. But Chloe's been stressed lately, talkin' about how her best friend's been actin' different—like she's pullin' away from everything. I think she might've been talkin' about Normani."

Megan's curiosity spiked. "So, she's quit school? What's goin' on with her?"

Beyoncé sighed, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "I don't know all the details. Chloe's been worried about her, though. I think Normani's been dealin' with some stuff. Might explain why she seems so distant."

Megan nodded slowly, digesting what she'd just learned. "That's wild. I knew something was off about her. It's like there's this whole other side to her that no one knows about."

Beyoncé stood up, stretching her legs. "Yeah, well, if you want to help her, just be patient. People don't always open up right away. And sometimes, they don't want to."

Megan wasn't sure why, but the thought of Normani was gnawing at her. There was something about her that Megan couldn't ignore, a quiet sadness wrapped in beauty. Maybe it was the challenge. Or maybe it was the fact that for once, she felt like she actually wanted to help someone who didn't seem to want it.

As she walked away, she glanced back toward Beyoncé, still feeling the weight of what she had just learned. There was something about Normani—her name, her story, the way she was struggling with something that Megan didn't quite understand—that left her with a deep sense of curiosity. She wasn't sure when she'd see her again, but Megan knew one thing for sure: she was going to figure her out.

Hey, hope y'all like it!

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Megan? 

Normani? 

Grandma?

Beyoncé?