by A. J. Byrd
Drugs.
“And don’t worry. Consider that on the house.”
“That’s all right.” I shake my head and attempt to hand it back to him.
Drake tosses up his hands. “Nope. It’s a gift.”
“I don’t do drugs,” I hiss at him.
“Girl, please, that stuff is harmless. Just think of it like a heavy dose of caffeine.”
“Really?”
“It’s just a little pick-me-up. Help you get through the day.”
He looks honest, but I’m from the projects. It’s the innocent-looking ones that you have to look out for. “All right. Whatever,” I say, fully intending to flush his caffeine pills down the toilet the first chance I get.
But once I start to nod through seventh period, I pop those babies down my throat. And they definitely wake me the hell up.
twenty-seven
Anjenai—Girls’ Night
Some party. Nicole looks depressed, and Kierra…well, I don’t know what the hell is up with her. We left Nicole’s Range Rover in the student parking lot and rode the school bus back to Oak Hill, where we were mercilessly teased about returning to LOSERSVILLE. We laughed. Kierra talked a mile a minute about…well, I’m not quite sure about that, either, since it seemed to have a little of everything and followed no logical train of thought—at least not to me. Then again, it’s been a little difficult to concentrate with my thoughts tangled up with excitement about tomorrow night and worry about how things went down with Tyler today at court.
Last night when Tyler slammed that door in my face, my only thought was: To hell with her. However, after a night of crying my eyes out, I realized that I didn’t really mean it. I’m still hurt, but I love my friend and I just have to let her go through whatever it is she’s going through. I never told Kierra and Nicole about Tyler’s new weed habit. It didn’t seem like my place, and it would feel too much like gossiping about someone we all cared about.
When we get to Kierra’s place, I’m not surprised to see McKenya plopped in her usual position with her eyes on the television set. No doubt Deborah is just passed out asleep, since she works at night.
“Hello,” Nicole coos in her friendliest voice to McKenya.
McKenya doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.
I grin and tell Nicole, “Don’t worry. It’s not you.” We take our overnight bags to Kierra’s room, where teddy bears and fashion collages reign supreme. One thing about my girl Kierra is that she’s incredibly clean and organized. Everything has its own special place, and she tends to go overboard to make sure things stay that way.
“Hold on for a minute. I’ll be right back,” Kierra says, leaving us alone in her room while she goes down the hall. I hear her knock on her sister’s door, but a few seconds later she returns with a long face and her eyes glossed with tears.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, rushing over to her.
Kierra looks up at me, blinks and then shakes her head with a smile. “Oh, it’s nothing, Deborah just headed out to work early. I wanted to catch up with her and ask her something. That’s all. Don’t worry about it.”
That’s odd. “She left McKenya here by herself?”
Kierra shrugs that off, as well. “It’s no big deal.” Her smile stretches a little wider as she reaches for one of my braids. “I’m going to start dinner for McKenya, and then we’re going to have to get started taking those braids down. That’s going to take at least a couple of hours.” She turns.
“Oh, well. I want to run next door to check on Tyler,” I tell her. “I’m dying to know how her court date went.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” Nicole jumps in. “Since it’s her first offense, I’m hoping that she just got a good smack on the wrist. Who knows, maybe now she realizes that she needs to leave those future jailbirds, Michelle and Trisha, alone?”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” I mumble, remembering last night again.
Kierra shrugs. “All right. Sounds good. Let me just tell McKenya we will be right back.”
We all walk back through the living room. McKenya takes her sister’s announcement with the same bored disinterest. Since Kierra and Tyler live in the same building, we aren’t too concerned about leaving the apartment. However, the minute we start knocking on Tyler’s door, that same anxiousness overcomes me. I’m not as optimistic as Nicole about Tyler just getting a smack on the wrist. And then Mr. Jamison answers the door with bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothes.
“Hello, Mr. Jamison,” I greet him, glancing over at Kierra and Nicole. “Is Tyler home?”
“Um.” He scratches the side of his face and then leans against the door frame. “I’m sorry, girls, but, um, Tyler is at juvenile hall.” He scratches again. “She’s gonna be there for a little while.”
“How little?” I ask in a robotic voice.
“Six months,” he says.
Six months? We all just stare at him.
“But I’ll let her know that you came by to check on her,” he says, filling the awkward silence and reaching for the door. “I’ll see y’all around.” He quickly closes the door, and we still stand there, a bit shell-shocked.
Kierra draws in a deep breath. “So much for that slap on the wrist.”
“Yeah. No kidding,” Nicole mumbles.
I’m fighting tears. I may be angry with Tyler, but I still love and care for her. We return to Kierra’s apartment like a group of zombies. We sit down at the dining-room table, still darting glances at one another. It’s clear we each want to say something, but what is there to say?
“Kierra, I’m hungry,” McKenya whines after muting the television. “When are you going to fix dinner?”
“Right now,” Kierra says, climbing back out of her chair.
“Here. Let me help,” I say. I need to busy myself with something or I’ll just pull my hair out. “So what are we cooking?” I open the refrigerator and blink in surprise. It’s damn near empty.
“Wow,” Nicole says behind me. “Looks like it’s time to go to the grocery store.”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to go,” Kierra says, wiggling in between us and closing the refrigerator door and then opening the freezer.
At least there is more food in there.
“We’re having lasagna,” she informs us and then grabs a big red box before heading toward the oven. “I figure that will be less work, and we can go ahead and get a jump on those braids.”
I shake my head. “To tell you the truth, I don’t feel much like going now.”
“Why?” Kierra asks, ripping open the box.
“Because of Tyler’s situation,” I admit.
“Sooo what? You’re going to make Kwan wait to go out with you for six months? That doesn’t make much sense.”
“I have to agree,” Nicole co-signs.
“C’mon. We kinda knew this might happen. I don’t like it any better than you, but if there’s one thing I know for sure it’s that Tyler can take care of herself. The girl is tough as nails.”
She does have a point.
“Besides, I’ll never forgive you if you let someone like Kwan get scooped up by someone like Bianca. She’s already on him like white on rice and you need to show Romeo that you don’t have any problem replacing his ass.”
I laugh at that. “He could care less. Did you see him and Phoenix tongue boxing in the cafeteria today? They should’ve just gotten a room.”
Kierra shoves our dinner into the preheated oven. “Actually, I was a little surprised by that. The last couple of weeks it looked like those two were breaking up. Didn’t you think so, Nicole?”
Nicole is unusually silent during the gossip, so we both turn toward her. She’s biting her lower lip as if it’s helping her keep quiet.
“Nicole?”
“Um?”
Her innocent act needs a little more work. “What are you not saying?”
“Nothing,” she squeaks.
Kierra and I fold our arms and stare her down.
“I�
�can’t,” she admits, frowning. “I gave my word to someone.”
“Oh—your word?” I look at Kierra. “That sounds serious.”
“It is. You have no idea,” she says, but it’s clear that she wants to spill the beans.
I stare at her harder, but when I know that she’s just seconds from breaking, I decide to cut her a break and toss up my hands. “Well, that’s very admirable. I don’t want you to break your word.”
“I don’t know about that,” Kierra says. “It depends on how juicy this information is.”
“Veeerrrry juicy,” Nicole says.
“Well, now you have to tell,” Kierra says. “How can you just tease us like that? That’s not right!”
I agree. “Who exactly did you give your word to?”
Nicole bit her lower lip.
“Phoenix?” I guess.
When she doesn’t answer, I’m incredulous. “Since when are you and your sister tight enough to be exchanging secrets?” I’m a little put off by this latest development. Here we invited Nicole into our close circle, but if she’s now building a bond with her bitch of a sister…well, it’s a problem. Nicole clearly reads my expression and out the gate she starts tripping over her words.
“Look. I know what you guys are thinking. It’s nothing like that. I just stumbled in on Phoenix, crying her eyes out—”
“Crying?” Kierra and I thunder. Probably because we have a hard time imagining Phoenix crying about anything.
Nicole holds up her hands. “Look. I’ve already said too much. She’d kill me if she found out that I told you guys that—” Nicole stops herself by slapping a hand over her mouth.
Kierra and I grab her by opposite arms and drag her back to the bedroom where we dump her onto the bed and then stand over her with our arms crossed.
“Spit it out,” we demand.
“I can’t,” she whines, wringing her hands. “I promised.”
Okay. This is going to require a different tactic. I sit down next to her on the bed. “Look, Nicole.” I wrap my arm around her. “I think it’s admirable that you want to keep your promise to someone. But to Phoenix? Think back to all the humiliation that she and the Redbones have put you through over the years. I mean, now that they’ve fallen out, she wants to turn to you for what? Sisterly love?”
“Yeah. That’s mighty convenient, don’t you think?” Kierra joins in. “Think about it. What has Phoenix ever done to deserve your loyalty? Where with us, you know we’ll always have your back.”
Nicole’s gaze darts back and forth between us before she finally caves and tells us Phoenix’s shocking secret.
twenty-eight
Tyler—Jailbird
My first night in juvenile hall and I’m just trying to keep to myself. I’m not interested in meeting people or telling nosy people my business. In and out that’s all I’m about. But I’m quickly learning that old saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. After court, I was processed (which took forever) and shoved into a room with three other girls. The moment I walked in the room, these project hoes were looking me up and down like I owed them money or something.
I should’ve known that when a group of girls are together there are going to be problems. And I just walked into a wasps’ nest, because the girl in my top bunk bed is Billie Grant’s cousin, Laquisha.
Small world.
For the first couple of hours, Laquisha smiled at me like she thought Christmas had come early. I guess in a way it had for her. Instead of just making her move so we could get some furniture moving around here, Laquisha played her cards close to her chest while she snickered and eyeballed me to death. But soon as the sun started to set and the facility started to thin, I knew trouble was brewing.
Now here I am lying in bed with my eyes wide open, waiting. For what, I’m not sure, but I know that it’s coming. Soon.
Another hour passes.
Then another hour.
My eyelids grow heavy. After all, it’s been a long day. A lot has happened, and I didn’t get that much sleep last night. I fight it as long as I can, but finally lose the war and fall asleep.
A minute later I’m awakened when some bitch wraps a hand around my mouth and hisses in my ear, “We got you, bitch!”
In the next nanosecond, Laquisha starts pounding away on my ribs. I try to swing, only to discover to my horror that they’ve managed to pin my arms to my sides by tucking the top sheet so tight I’m paralyzed for a full twenty seconds. Ordinarily that’s not a long time, but when you’re getting your butt kicked it feels like a lifetime. When I finally do get loose, it’s on and poppin’. I knock Laquisha’s two-hundred-pound ass off me for a few seconds and then get in a few licks with her two skinny friends. For a minute, I’m holding my own—but reality comes back into play, and it’s still three against one. Without Kierra and Anjenai as my usual backup, for the first time in my life I actually lose a fight.
It’s going to be a long six months.
twenty-nine
Kwan—Falling
Tonight is the night of my big date with Anjenai, and I have to admit I’m actually looking forward to it. I stay up all night spitting rhymes and experimenting with different beats for tonight’s open-mike battle at Club Zero. I’m more concerned about impressing Anjenai than I am about winning the contest. The minute I stroll through the school doors, I’m rubbernecking the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of Anjenai. She has already given me her number and address so I know where I’m going to pick her up, but I want to catch up with her and make sure that everything is still a go.
While my gaze is wandering, my ear picks up Anjenai’s name on the lips of a few girls.
“Giiirrrl! I didn’t hardly recognize Anjenai this morning. The hair and makeup—”
“What about her clothes?” the girl’s friend says.
“I know. Right? I wonder who she’s trying to impress?”
With my curiosity piqued I start to ask the girls where they saw Anjenai when suddenly one of them says, “Oh. There she goes!”
I damn near break my neck trying to turn around. Almost instantly, my gaze crashes into Anjenai and, in turn, my eyes nearly bug out of my head. After that my heart starts pounding hard inside my chest, and after a few more seconds, I have to remind myself to breathe.
From the top, Anjenai’s shoulder-length micro braids were gone. Her thick hair is now flat-ironed straight and highlighted with blond streaks. Her face—her beautiful, glowing face—looks as if it is ready for the pages of one of those glossy magazines girls always seem to have their faces shoved into. Eyes poppin’, cheeks glowing and her lips—those beautiful strawberry-tinted lips have this brother caught up. In her ears are two silver hoops, around her neck a single silver chain.
Her blouse is this soft lavender number that cuts across her top in a way that for the first time brings attention to a nice cleavage. I ain’t going to lie, my gaze sticks there for a minute before it travels on down her slim waist and then to the nice, thick curves that are in a pair of jeans that look as if they were painted on. Oh, my God!
I blink a couple of more times to make sure that I’m not dreaming. When it’s clear that I’m not, I quickly do a drool check and head straight toward Anjenai with a smile stretched from ear to ear. When she sees me approaching, her lips twitch upward and she starts to slow down. Every eye in the hallway rolls our way, and the idle chitchat grinds to a halt.
A cluster of smooth one-liners swirls inside of my head, but by the time I stop in front of her, they all disappear in a puff of smoke and I’m left standing there in front of her with a deer-in-the-headlights look that’s going to do heavy damage to the smooth-swagger act that I’ve worked so hard to perfect. In the end, Anjenai has to break my hypnotic spell by being the first one to speak.
“Good morning,” she says with dimples winking.
“Morning.” I rake my gaze over her one more time. “You look…stunning.” Instantly, she lights up like a Christmas tree.
&nb
sp; “Thanks.” Her hand drifts up to her curtain of straight hair. “I figured it was time for a change.”
“As long as you like it, then I love it,” I tell her—which is true. I like the change, but I was just as smitten by her when she was the cute geek slash athlete. “Sooo are we still on for tonight?” I ask.
“I’m still down,” she says. “Are you sure that you still want to pick me up? I don’t have a problem with—”
“I’m picking you up,” I tell her. “This is a real official date, and we’re going to do things the right way.”
Anjenai’s cheeks darken to a deep burgundy as her smile brightens.
“Are you blushing?”
“A little bit.”
Now her entire face has changed color. It’s cute and adorable. When I remember that everyone is still watching us, I lean forward and whisper, “So can a brother walk you to your locker?”
“Sure. I don’t mind.”
Before she starts to walk, I reach over and grab her bag. “Let me carry this for you.” Still smiling, she releases the bag and we fall into step side by side, leaving a trail of open mouths in our wake—including Romeo Blackwell’s and Phoenix Wilder’s.
thirty
Phoenix—Worth Fighting For
He still has the hots for that bitch! I can’t believe this. How on earth is this one project hood rat able to give me so much grief? What? People are supposed to be impressed because she slapped a hot iron on her hair and put on some makeup? Puh-lease. A hood rat is a hood rat is a hood rat. That heifer ain’t fooling nobody. I cross my arms and cut my gaze back over to Romeo, waiting for him to put his eyes back into his head and pick his damn mouth off the floor. By the time he does, I have a serious attitude.
“What?” he asks, trying to look all innocent.
“You know what,” I hiss. “Don’t play me sideways.”
“C’mon now. Don’t start.”
“If you’d stop drooling after that girl, then we wouldn’t have a problem, would we?”
