by Love Belvin
“I don’t need small,” I made clear. Both Trish and Collin’s heads behind Luke snapped up. The medical trainer had the girl up and was helping her out of the ring behind Luke. “I ‘on’t know why we started with one. I ain’t never spar with no girl. Why it feel like y’all tryna hold me back here?”
“Hey.” Trisha came to my side quickly, trying to soothe me like I was a baby. “It’s not that. It’s just at the collegiate level, there are liabilities we have to consider. Not only do we have to teach you, we have to protect you. Remember, you’re Blakewood’s first Lady Panther boxer. We’re trying to do this right and big. We can’t treat you like a ragdoll and throw gorillas in the ring with you, Tori.”
“But you could bring your male boxers. That one, Reggie Laws, is somebody I can give work to.”
Collin shook his head silently. Luke gave Tyrone an eye I didn’t exactly understand, but I knew when I was being slept on.
“Tori…” Trisha hesitated.
“It’s sparring, Trisha, damn! It ain’t like we’re fighting.”
“You were sparring with Latesha here.” Luke pointed over his shoulder as she limped to the set of double doors to my right, hanging onto the medical trainer.
I shook my head. “I ain’t hit her hard at all. I swear it.”
“We believe you,” Collin finally spoke up. “It’s obvious you’re stronger than what we gave you credit for.”
I sucked my teeth, disappointed. “And y’all flew out to two of my fights. You said you watched a few on video, too.”
“Yeah,” Trisha tried to explain. “We did, but Luke is your trainer and has to get to know you at his own pace. We have to respect him.”
I looked Luke straight in the eyes. “Respect me, too. Don’t treat me like a girl. I’mma fighter. A damn good one. Get me someone strong for sparring. I won’t break.”
With lifted brows and poked lips, Luke barely nodded. “Let’s do some sparring with the body protector bag.” His words were muttered as he walked away and toward Tyrone.
I turned away, mitted hands over the rope as I tried to center my breathing.
“Yo, Spence!” I heard a faint yelp outside the double doors closest to the ring.
It was ghosted until I saw movement from the next set of double doors. Clearly, someone was just standing and had walked away.
“C’mon, Tori!” Luke yelled. “Get your head in the fuckin’ game!”
That burst the bubble of thought I was in, and I turned back into the ring, getting into stance.
Could it—
Neveeeeer!
He was too much of an ass.
“You can’t be full, eating like a rabbit.”
My eyes dropped to the containers of foods I’d just gotten from the cafeteria when Samantha and I stopped in to get her an early lunch. Then my attention went to the shrimp Po’boy sandwich she was munching on.
“I was good until seeing the glop of mayo on the side of your mouth.”
“Here.” She swiped it off, handing the smeared mayo over. “It’ll be more satisfying than the cattle food you’re eating now.”
As she laughed, I tossed two almonds in my mouth as I rolled my eyes away. I’d been people watching since we copped a squat on the pavilion lawn. It was nice out; the sun was bright against the cool winds. Its rays speared through the thick, green leaves on the long tree branches all around. We were in the perfect spot, trapped under the shade.
Across the curvy walkway were two guys and a girl tossing a Frisbee. To the right of us, a kid bounced a soccer ball on his toes and knees while carrying a stack of books. Coming up the walkway, stringing through bodies zipping past her was a girl in my Black History class on a skateboard. She carried a small boom box in her left hand. As she rolled closer, I could hear Maze Featuring Frankie Beverly’s “Before I Go” pushing through the small speakers. She didn’t see me, but I was sure even if she had, the girl wouldn’t have said hello. She was another weird human.
Like me.
“So…” I turned to find Samantha swallowing while trying to speak. “…is that like your lunch?” Her face twisted in confusion, and likely pity.
The almonds, sliced oranges, and avocados weren’t exactly mouthwatering, but I was so damn hungry after my workout with Ashton, I’d eat one of the branches off the tree covering us right now. We’d been working out together in the mornings for close to two weeks now—and tutoring. We’d been…cool. Other than a few slick comments from him, Ashton had kept his word on keeping peace between the two of us. This past week, I’d finally settled into my new schedule with classes, training, and working out. The food thing was annoying because it was the one element of training for a fight I’d never done with Uppercut back in Jersey. They were strict here about it at Blakewood.
I shook my head. “It’s a snack. Stupid ass nutritionist got me on some kind of diet to get ready for my first fight. My lunch is after my next class.” And I wasn’t excited about that.
A sharp whistle had my neck snapping up.
“Shit…” Samantha swore under her breath, bringing attention to her.
Quickly, I followed her line of sight across the pavilion. It took a few seconds, but I eventually saw pretty boy, Dre, the basketball guy, who hung out with Ashton. I rolled my eyes and reached for another slice of orange.
“What’s up with that?”
Samantha’s head lifted from pretending to be looking for something in her book bag. “Huhn?” Her eyes were big. Wild. “What?”
“The Dre guy.”
“What about him?”
“He’s whistling at—”
“I don’t know.” She answered too quickly. Samantha must have realized it, too, and shook her head. “He’s been flirting. A lot. Last year, he never paid me more than a glance, but since I moved in this semester, he’s been speaking and smiling.”
“Gross.” I rolled my eyes. “Just gross.”
“What’s gross about that?” Samantha sounded hella defensive.
“Him. Anything attached to Ashton Spencer, his stupid girlfriend, and their crew is gross. They’re not humans.”
“Then what are they?”
I shrugged. “Worse than the kind of humans I hate.”
“I think he’s cute.” She bit into her sandwich. It smelled amazing, but I would never admit that. “Nice, too.”
“Nice so soon into the semester?” I challenged. “Okay.”
She mumbled, “Nicer than these bitches here.”
Before I could glance up, Aivery Cooper had flipped her long hair then reached down to give Samantha some type of flier. “Take time out of stuffing your face with an oncoming coronary artery disease to help out with a worthwhile cause.”
She quickly handed it to Samantha, practically shoving it at her, and strutted away in her short denim shorts and high sandal wedges with the Burberry print. Her white t-shirt had the matching Burberry print around the collar and was knotted at the back, showing off her slim waist. The bitch. Samantha wasn’t fat by anyone’s standard. The girl was smaller than me, wearing mostly size fours.
“What was that thing you said about humans?” Samantha whispered, rolling her eyes.
“What’s that? She might as well have shoved it in your face!” My tone wasn’t as low.
Aivery glanced back at me over her shoulders and rolled her eyes.
Samantha righted the paper for a better view. “It’s her annual petition. She’s been doing it with her cheerleader friends since she started dating Spencer, I’ve been told.”
“What’s it about?” I could see several girls around us now, handing out the same flyer.
“They want BSU to recognize them as athletes. Something about having access to the sports complex like the football team, basketball teams, hockey, soccer…boxers.” She pointed my way with her head. “Word is, only Aivery pushes the petition so hard. Everyone thinks she only wants that recognition so she can have more access to him,” she whispered.
“What do you me
an?”
“Only athletes and their staff have access to the grounds and buildings over there; not us regular students. Even the guests of the residents there have strict visitation privileges. They’re very limited to help keep them focused. I’m surprised you’re not over there.” I quickly remembered hearing Trisha say something about me registering too late for athletic housing. “She’s so insecure, she wants to live on the same part of the campus he does so she can be with him all the time. She wants to have access to that gym you guys have over there, too. I heard that shit is beyond state-of-the-art!”
I forked an avocado cube.
Stupid human…
“Wait! You didn’t give her one!” the girl, Andrea, giggled as she trekked over to us with her long box braids fanning down her back. She handed me a flyer.
“I only acknowledge normal people!” Aivery shouted back to her as she continued giving the flyers to students.
“I think she’s normal. Didn’t I tell you about the Cayenne she pulled up in two weeks ago?” Andrea’s smile was so permanent, I couldn’t determine if it was a sneer. “This one’s either normal or super-normal. She gets all kinds of deliveries from her big Cayenne boy.” My mouth fell. “Those sneakers and that book bag.”
“You’re kidding me.” Aivery returned. ShawnNicole appeared out of nowhere. Her big hair tagged along. It was a huge afro of natural-styled curls falling into the big plastic glasses on her face and even reached the middle of her back. Her style alone made a statement. Great. “Not this girl. Hell…neither of them.”
Wherever this crew gathered, attention followed. I hated attention—outside of being in the ring.
“Well, I can only tell you what I saw with my own two fucking eyes.” Andrea tossed her hands in the air—one with a stack of flyers—shrugging with that sneaky smile. “Bitch get deliveries.”
“Bitch got a name,” I hissed.
“Yup. Tori,” Andrea supplied. “‘That bitch’ Tori. You gotta be to pull a guy like that looking…regular like this.”
Aivery busted out laughing and Andrea went along with her. That’s when I knew she was clowning me for sure.
“Maybe you should pay attention,” I advised. “Could teach you how to get a man without being a wanna be or trying too hard like your goofy ass friend here.”
Andrea’s smile dimmed, and her hand smacked her chest. “Me? I’m goofy? You’re walking around here with this busted ass, dusty ass weave and stinking ass gym clothes all day, every day, but I’m goofy. Child, teach me something. Please!” She sighed, faking exhaustion.
“Come on, y’all. We’ve got to finish these flyers.” ShawnNicole tried waving them off, and I was grateful. “And I’ve got better things to do than talk about some fake boyfriend.”
“How do you know he’s fake?” Samantha dared.
“How do you know he’s real?”
“She’s my roommate. Duh!” Samantha’s head bounced.
“So what’s his name?” Was this Andrea girl that thirsty? “He in school? He can’t go to BSU; I would know him.”
“He’s none of your business,” Samantha reminded her.
“Maybe she’s a paid whore and he was a one-time John dropping her off,” Aivery’s tone was too matter-of-fact. “ShawnNicole’s right. We have to go.”
That whore label pissed me off. How dare she call me anything and didn’t know I existed before a few weeks ago? Her dismissal reminded me of Tangi and Raquel when they would ask when would my father finally come around to show his face. Their slight was hurtful; Aivery’s jab was annoying as hell.
“Friday,” I called out as they began to take off. Andrea turned first, then ShawnNicole, and finally Aivery. “We’re going out on Friday.”
“Where to?” Andrea demanded, eyes wild.
I shrugged, not having an answer, though half of one rolled off my tongue. “A show.”
“Oh, shit!” Andrea clapped her hands together. “I can’t wait. He fine?”
I shook my head. “You won’t see him. You’ll never see him. He’s low key, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
“That means you’ll look like a regular person?” Aivery gasped then laughed hard, tossing her head back. “I bet he stinks just like you.”
“Don’t push it, Aivery.” I warned. “I’ve been too nice to you.”
She rolled her eyes, sighing, “Let me get away from this.”
Aivery and her crew took off. Wisely. And I was left wondering how in the hell I was going to pull off a date on Friday with a guy who didn’t exist.
“Fuck them, okay?” Samantha tried to comfort me.
No. Fuck me…
7
-Then-
I rubbed my tight eyes. “So, that’s who you’re going with?”
Across the table from me, Tori sported a blank expression as my eyes traveled between her and my laptop.
“Yeah.” She blinked, unsure. Then she cleared her throat. “Yes.” Her tone now firm.
I dropped my chin. “The Black Guerilla Family?”
She shook her head successively. “Yup.”
“Why does that subject matter inspire you?” I cleared my throat, my hand massaging my beard as I sat back in my chair. “Why them?”
Tori shrugged, eyes faltering. “I ‘on’t know. They were fighters. They took on the system, the oppressors.”
“In prison,” I iterated to be clear.
“And in the streets. I read something about that.” She nodded with a twisted mouth.
Okay…
This shit further exhausted me. It was four in the afternoon, and thankfully, Tori was my last tutoring appointment. Coach’s advisement of me avoiding this commitment had been screaming louder and louder on days like this when I was so tired from practice and working out, I didn’t know what day of the week it was. Instead of studying, this small room in the library suddenly felt like the best spot to steal away from the world and cop a nap.
To push Tori along, I tried it from a different perspective. “So, Professor Brown wants a little known Black figure, as in person; not organization. So why don’t we go with the founder.” His name wasn’t coming to memory fast enough.
“Oh,” she hooted like an owl. “The author. George…”
“Jackson.” I finally recalled. “George Lester Jackson. Do you have his bio—the basics, like where and when he was born? What type of upbringing did he have? Did it consist of anything you could connect to his push for revolutionary work?”
Tori nodded again, convincing me she understood my guidance. “But I like the movement. He rose up against people who tried to keep him down. He didn’t give a single fuck.”
The conviction in her voice gave me pause. “Why does he inspire you?” I hated the seniority in my tone.
She shrugged again, exhaling. “I’m just feeling like it’s me against—” Her eyes skirted the small room “—everybody. Nothing wrong with learning about another underdog and bouncing your shoulders ‘cause of their victory.”
Victories? Dude was killed trying to escape.
Rubbing my eyes again with the bottom of my palms, I murmured. “Alright. Get those demographics on him and better articulated reasons why you’re selecting him, and we should be able to go from there.”
It was time to end this session. I was getting up with Aivery and the crew soon and needed to mentally prepare.
And wake the fuck up…
“Hey.” The mixture of softness and sincerity in her call grasped my attention acutely. “Do you know of any second-hand stores around here?”
“Like…consignment shops?”
Tori’s head bouncing in the air meant I had heard her correctly. “Yeah. One of those.”
“No.” I couldn’t point her to one anywhere on this green/blue earth. “Why?”
“I got myself into some bullshit with my big mouth.” She started packing up. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll figure it out.”
I gave it a mental shrug, not knowing what the hell she
was mumbling about. In less than two minutes, Tori was out the door, leaving me a few minutes to decide if I’d close my eyes for a few minutes or suck it up and grab a cup of java.
“Yooooooo! I can’t wait for the iPhone to drop.” Dre shared while typing into his Blackberry. “It’s gonna take this shit out the game for a very long time.”
With Aivery curled under my arm in the lounge area of the cafeteria, we’d finished eating and were just sitting idly around at this point. Either we were people-watching or they were watching us. At this point, I didn’t know. It was stifling, but I remained…the hamster stuck on the wheel.
“Yeah. My cousin, who’s an executive at AT&T, saying it’s going to be a problem,” Al agreed. “They’re letting top execs play with it before their trainers. The trainers teach the store reps who sell the devices.”
ShawnNicole asked, “When’s it coming out?”
“Definitely next year,” Dre advised, twisting his hair, something he did unconsciously. “You know how shit gets pushed back, and pushed back, and pushed back.” He tossed his hand, demonstrating.
“Homecoming will be here before you know it,” Andrea added randomly.
“Mmhmmmm.” Aivery agreed with a contented sigh.
“You two should let me design your coordinating ensembles,” Andrea proposed, twisting a braid around her finger and smiling conspiratorially, using extra syrup.
So the mention of homecoming wasn’t random at all.
Sucking in a breath, Aivery sat up straight. “That would be so bomb!” Her wild eyes shot over to me. “Babe, wouldn’t that be amazing? I can think of a few colors we’d kill in.”
“Awesome!” Andrea shrilled excitedly, clapping her hands in victory.
“I didn’t say I’m with it,” I made clear.
“Well, you have to by Monday,” Andrea explained. “The specs have to be in as my first grade for the semester.”
“Please,” Aivery began to beg, tugging at my shirt while my attention was fixed straight ahead.
