by Dream Jordan
Naleejah had jokes.
I had enough.
I sat down heavy next to Naleejah, looked her dead in the eye, and asked, “Listen, do you have a problem with me?”
Naleejah jerked her head back, her hazel eyeballs popped wide open. “But … why would you ask that?”
“Because you always got something smart to say.”
Naleejah started twitching in her seat. “No, I don’t have a problem with you. I told you … you’re my best friend.”
“But those are just words,” I said. “I have to deal with a whole lot in my life. So I don’t need to be dealing with my own friend dissing me all the time. If you have a problem with me, just say so, and word is bond, I’ll leave you the hell alone.”
“Kate, please don’t be like that,” said Naleejah, grabbing my arm. “You know I’m only playing with you.”
I yanked my arm away. “Nah, but the joke is always on me, and I’m getting tired of the bull.”
“Dang, girl, I’m sorry.”
“But you don’t sound sorry.”
“What? Do I have to get down on my knees?”
Nah, that would be too easy for a slut like you.
“Listen, I’m ready to go,” I said, getting up, and brushing off my backside.
“Me too.” Naleejah got up, and I wondered if she had any splinters in her butt. Her shorts were crazy Daisies, and come to think of it, she’d be turning mad heads on our way back home. Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to hear no grimy hollering. I was wishing I had a spaceship to beam me back to Bainbridge Street.
Naleejah tugged at my arm and asked, “Are you going to dump me as soon as your homegirl gets back?”
I purposely left her question dangling in the air.
Chapter 19
Riding any train anywhere in New York City, nine times out of ten—boom—the train door bangs opens and a homeless person walks through with the following speech: “Excuse me ladies and gentlemen … I’m homeless and I’m hungry.…” The situation is so common that I don’t even blink twice when it happens. But while Naleejah and I sat on the number 3—not speaking to each other—the train door banged open, and my eyes popped wide open once I looked up and recognized the voice and the face coming through. She recognized me too.
“Kate!”
“Roberta…” I hoped she couldn’t hear the shock in my voice. “Hey, girl—”
I was about to add, What’s good? But I already knew the answer to that. Roberta’s brown face was ashy, her hair sticking up on all sides, her oversized T-shirt no longer white, and her sneakers were dirty and unlaced; her whole appearance was far from the fly girl I remembered when we had shared a room in my very first group home.
It hurt my heart to see Roberta like this. I had always looked up to her—she was older, always looking fabulous, and always looking out for me. I’ve had homegirls who’ve been to jail, even had a couple of distant acquaintances die on me, but the sight of Roberta had me shook.
I scooted over to give Roberta room. She sat down, placed her coffee cup chock-full of change on the dirty floor, and reached over to give me a hug.
I could feel Naleejah’s eyes on me; I could feel all the train’s passengers’ eyes on me, but I paid these people no mind. I introduced Roberta to Naleejah. Naleejah cracked a fake smile, looking all fidgety in the face.
“Kate, so good to see you,” said Roberta.
“For sure,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. Roberta was probably used to the stunned look I was giving her, so she volunteered her story: She had a baby at seventeen by a dealer named Cisco. He had promised to take care of her forever, but when he found out she was pregnant—poof—he was gone. She didn’t get to finish high school, she couldn’t find a good job, her baby was taken away, she went a little crazy, lived in a residential home until she turned twenty-one, and on her twenty-first birthday she received a small discharge check and was shown the front door. The group home was a revolving door. I saw younger girls come in who reminded me of me, and older girls who showed me what I could turn out to be. But I never once believed Roberta could turn out like this. It was so scary to see.
Roberta nudged me in the arm and said, “Anyway, how are you doing?”
“Oh … I’m cool.”
“Yeah, I can see that. You look cool too … seems like you calmed down a lot.” Roberta leaned over to address Naleejah. “Homegirl used to be a wild child for real.”
Naleejah flashed … was it a smirk or a smile?
“Well, I’ve been staying out of trouble for a while now,” I said. “My homegirl Felicia holds me down … but she’s away right now, so wish me luck in the meanwhile.”
Yeah, I said this on purpose. I wanted to hurt Naleejah’s feelings, remind her that I had a real homegirl who was coming back for me.
Roberta reached out to touch my ponytail. “Kate … I didn’t know you had this much hair! I’ve never seen you with your hair done. Girl, you’re full of surprises!”
“Thanks,” I said. “Naleejah gave me a perm.”
I knew Naleejah heard her name being called, but she kept her head jacked to the right like she didn’t want to be associated with us, like she was too busy caring about the rude people on the train eyeballing us. But if she was a real friend, she would’ve said bump these idiots, and hold me down for once, jump into the conversation and say something, anything. But she couldn’t even be bothered to help me keep up appearances. I was trying so hard not to cry.
Naleejah’s nonchalance didn’t matter for long, though. As soon as we pulled into the next station, Kingston Street, Roberta sighed and said, “Well, let me get back to work.” She was about to get up, but I held her arm down. I fumbled for the fifteen dollars I had left in my pocket and tried to stuff the bills in her hand. She hesitated like she didn’t want to take the money. She looked about ready to cry.
“Please?” I whispered.
Roberta cleared her throat, about to say something, but I cut her off at the pass. “Remember all those times you snuck some McDonald’s in for me? You never asked me for a dime back. Plus, you used to protect me from those chicks always trying to jack me for my fries.” I forced a laugh. “Remember that?”
“Yeah … I guess.”
“And remember how you used to help me with my homework when I actually bothered to do it? Girl, you used to hold me down all the time!” I touched her arm and forced a smile, trying to keep the mood light and unsentimental.
Roberta looked down at the floor for a long time, and then a thin smile formed on her chapped lips. “Man, you just took me back for a minute—yeah, I do remember that.”
I held her by the arm. “Listen, I promise you, I’ll be straight. Please, take it.”
Finally, Roberta stuffed the money in her back pocket and reached over to hug me even tighter than before. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back on my feet in no time. Watch me.”
“No doubt,” I said, “I know you will.”
Roberta reached down to grab her cup of change. Then she turned to Naleejah and said, “Nice meeting you, bye.”
Naleejah cracked a fake smile and flipped her hand up and down, a weak-as-can-be send-off for a girl down on her luck.
Fake broad.
As soon as Roberta left our car, Naleejah turned to me and said, “Wow, I feel so sorry for her.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh really—well, I’m surprised. You acted like you didn’t care to know her.”
“Well, y’all share a past. I don’t know her like that … matter of fact, I’m surprised you know her.”
“Why would you be?” I snapped. “She was in foster care just like me.”
“Okay, okay, you don’t have to jump down my throat. Dang, what did I say?”
“I’m saying, I could be Roberta … foster care is no joke … you have no idea … look I’m feeling all messed up right now. Let’s forget it, okay?”
“But you’re not Roberta, so you can relax.”
“Don’t tell me
to relax,” I blasted. “Didn’t I say forget it? You’re really starting to piss me off!”
“Seems like I did already—”
“Because you keep saying stupid sh—”
Naleejah cut in. “I mean … I was just trying to say that you have foster parents already, and—”
“And they’re not guaranteed,” I snapped. “And when I turn twenty-one, I’m completely on my own. I don’t have anybody, okay?”
“But you have me,” said Naleejah.
Not a comforting thought.
Naleejah paused, then said, “Well … Roberta is still pretty. I wish I could give her a makeover or something. Did you smell her? She smelt like pee.”
I jerked my head back and glared at Naleejah. “Are you out of your freaking mind?” I exploded. “The girl doesn’t have a place to live, she got her baby taken away, and that’s all you can say? I swear you say the stupidest things. Be quiet. I’m serious. Don’t talk to me.”
Naleejah was smart enough not to open her mouth for the rest of the train ride, but when we got outside to wait for the bus, she started running her mouth about the oppressive heat.
Finally, I decided, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had too much on my mind, mostly Roberta, and I wasn’t in the mood for Naleejah’s nonsense.
Operation Ditch Chick was about to be in full effect.
Chapter 20
Fortunately, Naleejah was easy to trick. I pretended to be in a sudden mood for a walk in this nice little heat wave. Her reaction was just what I expected.
“Is you out of your mind?” Naleejah exclaimed. “It’s burning up out here!”
If I wasn’t so bummed out about Roberta, I would’ve smiled at how clever I can be. “Well, I’m sorry,” I said, “but I’m in the mood to walk. You don’t have to come with me, though.”
“Please, girl, I’m taking a cab,” said Naleejah, digging in her wallet to confirm her cash flow. She dug up a twenty spot, and yep, she was good to go. Well, good—then go.
As soon as Naleejah hailed herself a cab and hopped inside, I exhaled a big huffy sigh of relief. Whew, what a day.
I hopped on the next B46 bus and rode home in peace.
* * *
I had a terrible dream that night. All I could remember was standing over Naleejah, screaming at her. She was crying like crazy. I was cursing out of control and screaming, “What is your problem, what is your problem?” Then out of nowhere, I hauled back and was about to punch Naleejah dead in her face. But before my fist connected, next thing I knew, Naleejah’s face turned into Felicia’s—don’t ask me how, that’s just how dreams do. I woke up in the middle of the night sweating and shaking under my sheets. The nightmare was so real, it was scary; the thought of hurting Felicia made me sick to the pit of my stomach. I’d never dream of hurting Felicia. At least not on purpose.
The only time I ever tried to deliberately hurt Felicia was two days before she was about to leave for South Africa. She had called to tell me how much she would miss me, and all she had said was, “Kate, I really wish you were coming.”
And then I broke on her.
“Well, I’m not coming,” I said. “So, stop talking about it. Go ahead and have fun without me.”
“But, Kate, you’re the one who decided—”
“Look, just go ahead and leave,” I spat. “People always leave me. No big deal to me.” I was trying to take her far away on a guilt trip.
It worked. There was silence on the other line.
And then came the sniffles.
I felt so bad for purposely making my homegirl cry that day. But it was the only way I knew how to deal with the hurt I was feeling. Felicia, my only friend, was leaving me for two whole months, and I just couldn’t handle it.
Before I could explain myself, Felicia had hung up on me. I called her right back, but she said she was too busy with last-minute packing. So I asked her if I could come over to help. She said no … but I could ride with her to the airport on Saturday. Much as I can’t stand Felicia’s parents, on Saturday, I rolled with them to see Felicia off. And when it came to saying good-bye, I started crying, not boo-hooing out loud, but the tears were steady rolling down my face.
“Kate, please stop,” Felicia said. “Now you’re going to make me cry.”
I stopped crying, but still felt terrible. When we hugged, I couldn’t seem to let go of Felicia. She ended up having to pull herself away from my death grip. I guess she was trying to keep the mood light when she said, “Dang, Kate, you act like I’m dying! I’ll be back all right?… Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay,” I said, stiffening my upper lip. But during the ride back home, I sat in the backseat of the Coldwells’ icy cold Benz, with my heart broken and my eyes blinking back tears. Felicia and I had a rhythm going, and now that she was leaving me, I felt offbeat. Alone. And look at me now, so desperate for friendship, I was stuck with a chickenhead like Naleejah who was clucking on my last nerves.
Chapter 21
Naleejah knew I was upset with her. So I didn’t think she’d have the guts to call me anytime soon. But she did. She called me three days later, at two o’clock in the afternoon, when I was alone in the house, studying the PSAT book Lynn had bought for me two months ago. At the time Lynn handed it to me, I said to myself, “Come on, now, lady—I got two more years to sweat this mess.” But after my encounter with Roberta, nuh-uh, I was scared straight, realizing my future is not a game. I’d rather be ahead of my class than behind … get myself a scholarship, and make big moves before I’m ever forced to move again. My new thing is, wherever I go, I’m going to have my act together.
“Hey, Kate, look outside your window,” Naleejah squealed into my ear.
Feeling apprehensive, I put down the phone. I went into the living room, kneeled on the couch, and peered outside.
Naleejah was waving at me with her right hand and holding a big brown Macy’s bag with her left. What the—?
I hung up the phone and came outside, with my eyebrows knitted. The first thing I said was, “I didn’t ask for permission to have company.”
“Girl, hush, I just came over to bring you this.” Naleejah held up the shopping bag. “I bought you something I know you’ve been missing for a while.”
Is Felicia inside the bag?
Naleejah handed me the shopping bag. I peeked inside and pulled out a black sporty knapsack with silver zippers and pockets everywhere.… Whoa, this bag was crazy fly—but—well—it couldn’t replace my trusty old knapsack. However, I’d be looking hot and sporty with this sleek backpack on my shoulders.
“Wow, thanks,” I said, reaching out to hug Naleejah. “Good looking out.”
“No problem.”
“So what’s popping?” I asked.
“Nothing much,” said Naleejah. “What you been up to? What it do?”
“Chilling … reading … whatever.”
But to be exact, on my days off from Naleejah, I’d been reading, journaling in my life book, taking pictures (yes, with Ted’s digital camera!) of the flowers Lynn had planted in the backyard. I’d been building up my life book and actually having fun doing it. I’m not a crafty person, so I was surprised at myself. But of course, I wouldn’t mention any of this happy la-la-la stuff to Naleejah. She might’ve tried to clown me again, and I didn’t want to go off on her, especially not after she’d come over to give me such a sweet and thoughtful gift.
Don’t get me wrong, though. My friendship is not for sale. It just seemed like Naleejah was trying to show me that she was sorry … that she was trying to make things right … or at least better. I appreciated that.
Naleejah suddenly reached out to feel the top of my head. “New growth,” she said, “You’ll be needing a touch-up soon.”
“Oh, already?” I frowned.
“Yeah, but I got you. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, okay,” I said. But ugh. I was in no mood to have that creamy white stuff burning up my head again. How could I prolong needing another
perm? Oh snap. What about a new hat? I just got my knapsack replaced, so why not cop a new dome piece too?
But no more baseball caps for me. I was too cute for that. I’d buy myself a fly and sexy hat that I could tip to the side like a true diva. Hide my new growth too. As a matter of fact, just the other day, on Lewis Avenue, I had passed a rainbow assortment of hats displayed in a fancy boutique’s window. I had always wanted to check out the store. Now was a good time. Should I invite Naleejah to join me? Sure, why not?
“Hey, you got any plans?” I asked.
“Nah, not lately,” said Naleejah. “Guess I better get me a new batch of boys.”
I ignored her comment and said, “Well, I want to check out some hats at a store around the way. You down?”
“What?” Naleejah exclaimed. “You know I’m always down to shop!”
“A’ight, I’ll be back.” I turned around to go get my gift certificate.
“Um—why I gotta’ wait outside?” asked Naleejah. “You’ve seen my house already.”
“Nothing personal,” I said. “I didn’t ask to have company, and I don’t want Ted or Lynn popping up.”
“Dang, they sound crazy!”
“No, it’s not like that,” I said. “They’re okay.… I’m just trying to show them some respect, you feel me?”
“Yeah, I feel you, but hurry up. I can’t wait to get my shopping on!”
* * *
I took my time digging up Tammy’s hottest gear. I knew I had to come correct when I stepped inside this classy boutique. When you dress like a bum, store clerks be hopping on your back and riding you all around the store, swearing you’re about to steal. I wasn’t in the mood for any back riders. I’m no thief—well, then again.
I threw on a low-cut white top and slithered into a pair of formfitting hot pink capri pants. Slipped on my sexy black leather sandals. Then tended to my head. Put a dash of coconut oil on my hair and brushed it down flat on all sides. Now I looked like a bootleg Cleopatra. I must say though, I looked good. I strutted outside.
