by Dream Jordan
My high hopes dropped down to zero. Oh, come on now. Why would Mrs. Cooper call me into the office making grand announcements if the situation wasn’t even set in stone yet? She must’ve read the extreme disappointment in my face because she added, “I see that you’re having trouble fitting in with the other girls here. I just wanted to give you some good news to look forward to.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“In the meantime, is there anything I can do to make things better between you and the girls?”
“Yeah, kick everybody out the house,” I wanted to suggest. Instead, I said, “That’s okay. I’m good.” Besides, Jeselle’s presence was actually making things easier on me. Since all the girls were riding her bra strap, I could breeze by without beef because Jeselle had my back.
“Kate, you can’t get through this alone,” said Mrs. Cooper, fiddling with her lopsided Afro. She stared at me with sadness in her eyes.
Whatever.
It wasn’t even that serious. My new thought process: Born alone. Die alone. So what if the chicks here hated my guts? I’ve been through much worse. I could hold my own.
“I’m worried about you,” said Mrs. Cooper, shaking her head.
“No need to.” I shrugged. “But thanks, anyway.”
Mrs. Cooper pointed the pencil at me and said, “Well, Green Hills is one of the best facilities in New York City. They’ll help you with your independent living goals, and all of the girls there are on the same page as you, so it’s a teamlike atmosphere. I’d be excited if I were you.”
Well, you’re not me.
Excitement refused to register on my face, because I’d learned a long time ago not to count on anything in foster care. Plans always change, and rarely for the better. No need for me to be doing cartwheels just yet.
Mrs. Cooper babbled on and on about a few more “great” Green Hills details. But by this time, I was watching her mouth move without listening to a word she said.
I nodded at intervals with fake interest; all the while, I was thinking of my upcoming date with Percy, itching to bounce from the musty old office so I could head for my closet to hunt for something decent to wear.
Mrs. Cooper tapped the desk with her pencil and said, “Do you mean to tell me I stayed after office hours to tell you the good news, and all I get is a blank stare?”
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I do appreciate you letting me know.” I hoped this would be enough to zip the lady’s lips. No disrespect, but she didn’t know when to leave things alone.
Mrs. Cooper sighed at my response, and finally told me I could go. I thanked her, hopped out the chair, and flew out the door.
I stepped inside an empty bedroom, thanking goodness for some alone time. I started raiding my side of the closet for Operation Percy, only to resign myself to a plain shapeless white summer dress. It would have to do. Oh well.
After picking out my outfit, I had a whole hour to be by myself and bask in it. I really liked Jeselle, but she talked too dang much. And Tracy … well, you already know.
Unfortunately my peace was shattered at eight o’clock on the dot. Jesselle came busting inside the bedroom looking pissed to the tenth power. “Girl, you need to handle your business,” she shouted. “Tracy trying to play you for a chump!”
“Huh, what?”
Jesselle plopped her butt on my bed, and shook her head. “All I’m saying, if I were you, I’d stomp Tracy out. Don’t let her disrespect you no more. Stomp that girl out!”
Chapter 14
After Jesselle told me what had happened, stomping out Tracy didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Apparently, earlier in the day, when I had gone to the store to buy me a pack of sunflower seeds, Tracy went shopping inside my knapsack. She had found my silver bracelet, threw it on her wrist, and rocked it right out the house. Jeselle saw the whole thing go down.
I hadn’t noticed my bracelet was missing, because aside from my store run, I had stayed in the house all day. No reason to put it on.
“Wow,” was all I could say, shaking with anger.
It was almost too hard to believe that Tracy could be that bold. Taking my bracelet in front of a witness? Really? A part of me was tempted to double-check my knapsack. But double-checking would be an insult to Jeselle. I had to believe her. And why would she lie?
Jeselle took off her sneakers and said, “Word to my mother, I wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off Tracy’s face before she left the house. Reason I ain’t do nothing is because I want you to do something. You too quiet around here and you gonna keep getting played for a punk if you don’t stand up for yourself.”
“Oh, I’m far from a punk,” I said. “Trust.”
“Well, that’s not what I heard.”
“I don’t care what you heard,” is what I wanted to say. But I didn’t dare get smart with the only girl in the house who seemed to like me.
So I just sat still, quietly plotting on how to go about things in my head. Jeselle’s only solution was a straight-up beat down. But nah; there had to be a better way. I turned to Jeselle and said, “See, I’m not trying to go backward for no silly broad. I came too far to go back there.”
“Listen, if you can’t handle her, I will,” exclaimed Jesselle, still upset, as if the bracelet were hers.
“But I don’t want you in some beef over me, because—”
“Listen,” she interrupted, “if you can’t handle her, I will.”
“Nah, I’m good with my hands. I’m just trying not to go there—”
“Whatever,” cut in Jeselle, clapping her hands with force. “I swear, I’m stepping to Tracy if you don’t. Can’t stand a thief. Wait until that girl gets home. Watch what I do.”
* * *
Well, I didn’t have to watch Jeselle do anything, because I did all the doing. It was time to show and prove that I could hold my own. And this is how it all went down.
I had calmly taken a seat on Jeselle’s bed, peereing out the window every five minutes. Jeselle was sitting next to me, busy chattering away about nothing.
After the third time of Jeselle witnessing me peek outside, she finally thought to ask, “Why are you staking out our block?”
“You’ll find out,” I replied, with my forehead pressed against the windowpane.
Fifteen minutes later, I finally peeped Tracy walking up the street, alone.
“Guess it’s time to put a chick in check,” I said, jumping up from the bed. I raced down the steps two at a time. Jeselle was close at my heels. Night staff was nowhere to be found, and the other girls were missing in action. The perfect setting.
I flung open the front door with force.
Before Tracy could step over the threshold, I cut her off at the pass. Jeselle closed the door behind us. We stood on the porch, glaring at Tracy. “See what I’m saying?” Jeselle pointed to Tracy’s arm.
Sure enough, Tracy had my beautiful silver bracelet on her wrist. I wondered if she was planning to rock it straight to my face, or was she planning to hide it before she stepped inside? Whatever the case, the sight of her brazenly wearing my property raised my temperature to boiling.
Tracy swung her weave bangs out of her face and said, “’Scuse me. Why y’all blocking me?”
“You real funny,” I began. “Are you serious right now?” I wanted to hit her so bad my hands were shaking.
“What’s the problem?” asked Tracy, like she really didn’t know.
Real talk, the old me would’ve punched Tracy dead in the throat and yanked the bracelet off her wrist. The new me was trying to be civil about it.
“Take off my bracelet,” I demanded, holding out my hand.
Tracy leaned her head to the side and said, “I’m saying, you be using up my perfume and stuff, but now I can’t borrow your bracelet?”
“You didn’t ask to borrow it,” I snapped. “And you know full well I don’t be using your stuff.”
“I used your stuff,” Jesselle piped in angrily. “Now what?”
Tracy
stood her ground, not budging on the bracelet. So I got a little closer to intimidate her, although I was still determined to keep things nonviolent. My fighting days were supposed to be over.
“You better back up off me,” said Tracy through gritted teeth.
“Then take off my bracelet … or do I have to take it off for you?”
Tracy looked over at Jesselle, and then at me.
“We not trying to jump you,” blurted Jesselle. “I’m a fair fighter. So go ’head, Kate. Get it in!”
“Nah, I’m not trying to fight this broad,” I explained. “She’s not worth it. I just want my bracelet back.”
My words must’ve sounded weak and spineless to Tracy because all of a sudden she got bold, raised her pointer finger to my face, and said, “I don’t have time for this.” Then she nudged me hard in the forehead. To top off her nerve, she turned her back on me, thinking I was too much of a punk to check her. I lost it then and there.
“You must be out your mind, trick!” I grabbed a handful of her weave, wrapped her hair around my wrist, and yanked her head straight back. While my left hand gripped the hair, my right hand balled into a fist and connected with her face, full force. Tracy almost dropped from the blow. But I held her up by her hair and was about to pound the girl to death.
“I’ll kill you,” she yelled, crying and spinning her arms at the empty air in front of her.
I let go of her hair and effortlessly tripped her to the ground. My fists were cocked and ready to launch. I wanted to stomp Tracy out. But something inside me stopped me cold flat. I was overdoing it. In actuality, all I wanted was my bracelet back. So I sat on her stomach, grabbed her right arm, and yanked my prized possession off her chubby wrist.
“We could’ve done this the easy way,” I said, out of breath.
Jeselle stood behind me laughing her head off. “Dang, Kate, that was quick. I didn’t know you could get down like that!”
* * *
The next day, everybody but the staff knew how I got down. Jeselle had bragged about my fighting skills all day, like a proud parent. Now the girls were steering clear of me. They knew what I could do, and they didn’t want to get done.
Tracy avoided eye contact with me the whole time at the breakfast table. I felt so bad seeing the nasty bruise splotched on her dark brown skin, looking like permanent purple Magic Marker. It was easy to see that she had gotten clocked in the face; nothing else could explain the damage. But the no-snitching rule held mad weight in our house. So Tracy blamed the bruise on a fight during her home visit. Then she bounced from the crib immediately after breakfast, scared straight, I guessed.
Although I didn’t get punished for my actions, I still felt troubled. Troubled because when you have the kind of life I have, it’s so easy to get sucked back into violent mode. I couldn’t believe that I had risked everything over a bracelet that could be replaced. Tracy’s life couldn’t be replaced if I killed her from a freak accident, a fatal punch gone wrong—you never know. And as angry as I was last night, that’s what I could’ve done.
The longer I thought about it, the sicker to my stomach I felt. I replayed the fight over and over in my head, so mad at myself for not handling things differently.
But soon, enough was enough. I did what I did, and hopefully I wouldn’t have to do it again. I pushed the incident way in the back of my mind, and forced myself to push pleasant thoughts in the forefront, namely thoughts about Percy. I thought about his sexy lips, his sensuous kiss. Thoughts of him easily relaxed my mind.
Then it suddenly hit me. I shouldn’t be so relaxed when it came to my appearance; Percy was too special for a shapeless summer dress. What in the world was I thinking? What was I going to wear? Saturday was less than twenty-four hours away!
I tore up my side of the closet again, hunting for something decent. Nothing. I had absolutely nothing. I badgered my brain trying to think of a solution. Couldn’t think of a doggone thing. Our allowance was so sorry; a few dollars a week couldn’t buy me jack. And none of these broads would let me borrow their clothes. Please, I wasn’t foolish enough to ask any of them. Then again, Jeselle was crazy cool and would most definitely hook me up. Too bad she was taller than a tree; nothing of hers would fit me—
See … that’s why I wished things were different around the house. Tracy is a shorty like me, in fact, my exact body type. Why couldn’t we be were more like sisters instead of stone-cold enemies, fighting and beefing over nonsense? Imagine how dope it would be if we could share one another’s clothes and secrets, getting along with each other like one big happy family. That’s all I ever wanted was a family … but anyway. No need to get off track. I had to bring my mind back to Percy.
I had disappointed my dream boy once already, looking like a straight-up cornball last time I saw him. There was no way on Earth I was going to disappoint him again.
Chapter 15
Early Saturday morning, I jumped out of bed with a single hopeful thought swirling through my head: Felicia. Felicia might be able to save my day!
Back in June, Felicia had mentioned a yellow stretch dress she had bought for one of her countless dates with Marlon, but ended up not wearing it.
“OMG, the lycra emphasizes my lanky bones,” Felicia had complained. “I don’t look sexy. I look anorexic!”
“Aww, poor anorexic baby,” I replied, forcing a laugh. At the time, I was depressed about leaving the Johnsons and trying to hide it behind a jokey façade.
“One size fits all, my behind!” Felicia continued.
“What behind?” I teased. “I thought you didn’t have one.”
“Well, you definitely have the curves to do this dress justice,” explained Felicia. “You can come get it whenever you want.”
At that time, I was too busy moping to be thinking about a dress. So I told her I would come, but never did. I had no reason to.
Fast-forward to today. Now, I had a purpose. A hot, hot date, and I couldn’t wait! I hoped Felicia hadn’t given my dress away.
I took my shower, hopped into any old thing, and ran out the house with my BlackBerry stuffed inside the pocket of my jeans. I walked two blocks to a small park, sat on a bench, and dialed Felicia with anxious fingers.
“Hey, Fee, welcome back, sorry for calling you so early, but I need a big favor.”
“Wow, you said a mouthful,” exclaimed Felicia. “What’s up?”
“Do you still have that yellow dress you wanted to give me?”
“Yep. It’s still in a bag waiting for you.”
“Oh man, thank you so much!” I sighed with relief. “What’s the earliest I can come through?”
“Anytime you want. I have to get ready soon anyway. Marlon’s been whining about missing me all week, so he’s coming over for breakfast. My mom is making us a serious spread … of course you’re welcome to join us.”
“Oh, no thanks,” I said quickly.
I couldn’t stand Felicia’s parents, both big-time lawyers who held their noses too high, not a down-to-earth bone in their bodies. In the projects is where Felicia’s parents first met, but they were steady trying to forget, acting all stiff and superior over others. I could tell they didn’t really approve of my friendship with Felicia. And the only reason they tolerated me was because I rocked good grades and was the first real friend Felicia ever had.
“What number are you calling me from by the way?” asked Felicia.
“It’s a surprise,” I replied. “Anyway, I’ll be there around eleven,” I added, hoping they’d be done with breakfast by then.
“Okay, and don’t think I forgot, Ms. Thing,” began Felicia. “I will be grilling you about your new man!”
I giggled, feeling all girlish and giddy. I couldn’t wait to be grilled.
* * *
At eleven o’clock on the dot, I landed on Felicia’s spic-and-span front porch, and rang her bell. Her house was the best on the block, a flawless brownstone painted peach on top and dark brown at the bottom, a shiny black gate,
not a crumbling step or chipped stone in sight. Even her garbage cans sat there all prim and proper.
Felicia flung open the door, and greeted me with a big hug. “What took you so long?” she asked, playfully.
“Shoot, I ran all the way here,” I joked.
As soon as I walked through the front door, the delicious aroma of bacon, waffles, and coffee wafted in the air. The kitchen was miles away from their brightly lit hallway, but the smell of good food was overpowering me. “Dang, Kate, you be tripping,” said my stomach, resenting my foolish pride.
“Come say hi to everybody.” Felicia led me into the kitchen.
I reluctantly followed.
Felicia’s kitchen was all glossy wood and tiles shining, and in it sat Felicia’s beefy, bespectacled father, her skinny serious-faced mother, and Marlon. Their oak kitchen table was huge, but Marlon was sitting right up under Mrs. Coldwell, already looking like part of the family. Felicia’s father sat opposite them, with The New York Times raised up to his face. I got a quick hello from everyone.
Then Marlon continued where he had left off. “My mom may be a chef, but she can certainly take lessons from you, Mrs. Coldwell.”
Oh, what a brown nose, I thought; but I wasn’t mad at Marlon. You gotta do what you gotta do to get in good with the parents!
Mrs. Coldwell gave a fake, restrained laugh, and she patted Marlon’s shoulder. “You’re too sweet.”
Felicia beamed at the scene.
“So, how are things with you, Kate?” asked Mrs. Coldwell.
I put on my proper voice and replied, “Everything is fine, thank you.”
By now, I was fidgeting. I wanted to get my dress and be out. So I turned to Felicia and said, “Sorry, but I really can’t stay long.”
I was glad Felicia got the hint. She told everyone, “Be right back,” and led me up the polished wooden steps into her colossal bedroom. This year, her walls were painted lavender, a new plush purple comforter covered her canopy bed, and lacy cream curtains adorned the room’s huge windows. Before stepping fully inside, I slipped off my sneakers. Then I plopped down on her bed and ran my feet through her lavish cream carpet.
