by L. Divine
“Good morning, Miss Jackson. I haven’t seen you at any of the meetings at lunch. It would really behoove you to stay affiliated with the right side,” he says, leaning up against my locker.
“Reid, I’m always on the right side. Mine,” I say, positioning myself away from him. “Why do you always talk to me like you’re my daddy?”
Shifting his stocky frame from one side to the other, he smiles coyly while placing the stack of fliers he’s holding directly in front of his chest so I can see the names. “Jayd, you used to be such a reasonable person. Do you honestly think Nellie’s going to win today? If she does win a nomination, it’s just a wasted spot that someone really worthy of wearing one of South Bay High’s most prestigious crowns could hold, like our nominees.”
“Don’t you have some more fliers to pass out?” I say, not wanting to engage in a debate right now with this asshole. We were friendly opponents last year. But after the way he and his followers turned on me last year, I’m not feeling him anymore. Him helping me with my locker a couple of weeks ago doesn’t change anything. He’s one of the main reasons I don’t associate with ASB anymore. They’re the epitome of corrupt and he’s definitely their leader.
“Yes, I do. But still, you should think seriously about what I’ve said. We need someone as outspoken as yourself on our team. Besides, it’s always a good idea to surround yourself with winners. Not the losers you’ve recently selected to keep company with,” he says looking past me. I turn to see what’s caught Reid’s attention.
Just in time, my girls, Jeremy, and Chance stroll up the hall in my direction. I turn back to Reid and look him square in the face.
“I hope you weren’t referring to my girls, because those are fighting words.” We used to spar often in ASB meetings and he always resorted to low blows, just like now. That’s why we could never be real friends. At his core, Reid’s a punk and I know it.
“No, not at all. I rather like Nellie and Mickey. They were at Byron’s party, but you weren’t, which was another bad move,” he says, looking more serious than necessary. Reid’s starting to give me the creeps.
“Hey, girl. Sorry we kept you waiting, but Miss Diva here had to change into her announcement outfit in the gym,” Mickey says, making fun of Nellie, who’s stunning in her simple black Chanel dress and matching heels.
“You are way too fancy for school, Miss Thang,” I say, giving her a big hug. “But, you do look good. How are you going to outdress yourself for the dance?” I ask as I walk up to Jeremy and Chance standing behind Nellie and opposite Reid, our common enemy.
“Reid, what are you doing at my girl’s locker?” Jeremy says in a very serious and almost threatening tone.
“Hello, ladies,” Reid says, completely ignoring Jeremy. Just then, Jeremy steps in front of me and toward Reid, like he’s ready to sock the snot out of him with Chance right by his side.
“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me, punk. I asked what you’re doing here.”
“Calm down, weiner boy,” Reid says, purposely mispronouncing Jeremy’s last name, which usually doesn’t bother Jeremy since it’s a common problem. But, I can see anything that comes out of Reid’s mouth is enough to set Jeremy off. “We were just catching up on old times. Isn’t that right, Jayd?” he says.
“Hell no. This fool’s trying to push his little girlfriend Laura for junior class princess knowing my girl’s running for the same spot,” I say, making sure the lines of division are drawn clearly for Reid. I don’t know what’s up between him and Jeremy, but I’m damn sure not going to let him put me in the middle of it. Before I can say anything more, a voice comes across the loud speaker. The announcement is about to be made.
“This is your ASB coordinator, Ms. Toni, and I have two very special announcements. One, of course, is the finalist for this year’s homecoming princesses and queen.” Everyone in the Main Hall and outside has stopped to listen. There’s a buzz of excitement all around. “The way this works is simple,” Ms. Toni continues. “There are three final candidates for each class. For the senior class, there are also three candidates. But, the seniors have two crowns available: one for the princess, who is the runner-up, and one for the queen.”
“I really should be with the rest of ASB. Think about what I said, Jayd. Ladies.” Reid gestures my girls a farewell nod and heads off, practically running away from Chance and Jeremy.
“Stay away from my folks, man. I’m not warning you again,” Jeremy shouts after Reid, completely ignoring the people watching him in the unusually still corridor. I knew Jeremy didn’t like the dude, but this feels like some deeper mess going on here. I’ll have to pump him and Chance later for more information.
“The finalists are ...” Nellie grabs mine and Mickey’s hands. Jeremy and Chance stand right behind us.
“You’re going to win girl. Just wait, it’s yours,” Chance says, looking down as Nellie smiles, thankful for his support.
“For freshman princess, the finalists are ...” Other students are making drumroll sounds with their pencils and notebooks. “Candice Sheryl, Lucinda Bergen, and Cathy Rowe.” Loud screams can be heard across campus, some happy, some sad. All accompanied by tears.
“Sophomore princess finalists are as follows: Julie Kendall, Mary Brillstein, and Becky Rainey.”
“OK. Here it comes. Y’all pray for me,” Nellie says, suddenly spiritual.
“The junior class nominees are,” Ms. Toni continues, sounding as sassy as ever. “Katrina Carr, Laura Bland, and Nellie Smith.”
“Aaah!” Nellie screams as she and Mickey embrace and jump up and down, causing a huge scene. Misty and KJ are also in the hall, laughing at the sight.
“I knew you could do it,” Chance says, picking Nellie up off the floor after Mickey lets her go. Nellie’s so excited she doesn’t even notice Chance sneak in a kiss on the cheek.
“Jayd, I made it on the ballot!” she screams in my face. I give my girl a big hug.
“Congratulations. You’re on your way now, girl,” I say, only slightly enthused. I’m too worried about the imminent backlash to get caught up in the hype of the moment.
“And, the senior class nominees for homecoming princess and queen are Kate Roberts, Josie Davis, and Tania Mahyari.” Oh, hell no, Jeremy’s ex isn’t running for homecoming queen. I don’t even think Nellie heard the list; she’s so excited about her own name having been called. I look at Jeremy, whose reaction to Tania’s name is nonexistent. But, he and Chance both notice my response.
“Problem, Jayd?” Chance asks as we shield ourselves from all of the excitement around us as people congratulate Nellie. Nellie is on cloud nine and Mickey’s right up there with her for support.
“No, not at all,” I say, insincerely. Of course there’s a problem. How can Tania be nominated for homecoming court when she’s barely here? And, I wonder if Jeremy knew she was running? Now I’ll have to see her face everywhere, not just in third period. What the hell?
“There’s one more special announcement I have to make,” Ms. Toni says, silencing the loud hall. “We have a new quarterback coming to us from Westingle High School.” I spoke to Nigel briefly on the phone yesterday after school. He was too busy being introduced to all of his teachers and teammates to give me the letter. It’s been on my mind since yesterday morning. What could Raheem have to say to me after all this time? And, more importantly, do I tell Jeremy about it?
“Please welcome the latest addition to our winning Sharks team, Nigel Esop.”
“Did you hear that, Jayd? We got a new Black dude up here. This day can’t get any better,” Nellie says, still high.
“How do you know he’s Black?” Chance asks, like his territory is under attack.
“Nigel Esop. Do you know any White folks who would name their son that?” Mickey says, making us all chuckle. She’s right. There are just some names that are definitely Black-owned.
“We need to catch up with Seth and Matt before third period,” Jeremy says, giving me a hug. “
I’ll see you in class.”
“OK, baby,” I say, relieved they’re leaving me and my girls alone for a moment. I need to fill them in on Nigel.
“And, congrats, Nellie,” Chance says, stealing another hug from her before following Jeremy out of the hall.
“Thank you,” Nellie says.
“OK, you two, listen up,” I say, like we only have five minutes to live. “I know Nigel from way back,” I say, leading them out of the hall and into the courtyard toward my government class. We only have a minute or two before the bell rings and I need to give them the 411.
“Damn, Jayd. How do you know so many folks?” Mickey asks. “And, they always happen to be dudes.”
“Can you hook a sistah up?” Nellie asks, completely self-absorbed.
“Would you two shut up and listen?” I say, becoming impatient. “Nigel’s my ex boyfriend Raheem’s best friend and my homie from back in the day. Apparently Raheem wrote me a letter and gave it to Nigel to give to me,” I say, stopping in front of my class.
“So, what’s the big deal? I’m sure it’s just a friendly note to say hi and he’s happy y’all can reconnect,” Nellie says.
“Yeah, maybe a little too happy. I need y’all to pump info from him and see what he knows about the contents of the letter. I know he won’t give it to y’all because he doesn’t know y’all like that. But, maybe you can see if Raheem is still feeling me.”
“Why can’t you just ask him yourself?” Mickey asks. She wants to know the entire story and I ain’t about to give it up that easily.
“Look, I don’t have time to get into all of that right now. And besides, I promised Jeremy we’d have lunch together. So I won’t see Nigel today, I’m sure.”
“Even though I don’t know the whole story, I think you’re smart for staying clear of any potential drama right now, especially after all that went down between you and KJ last week,” Nellie says, reminding me of Jeremy and KJ’s fight at the mall. All I need is another dude in my life to make Jeremy jealous. “But, I don’t have time to play twenty questions,” Nellie says, looking in her compact mirror, admiring her chocolate complexion. This girl is too much. “I have a crown to win.”
“Fine, Miss Compton USA. Mickey, can you please pump Nigel for info?”
“Sure thing. Come on, Nellie. Let’s get to class,” Mickey says as the bell for third rings. Jeremy runs by them on his way to our class. Why does there have to be so much drama so early on in our relationship? I can’t wait to get home and tell Mama about my day.
After Jeremy drops me off at the bus stop by Mama’s house, I decide to take the long way home to think about my day. Between Nellie’s nomination and Nigel’s transfer, I can’t concentrate on anything.
When I finally get home, Mama’s in the kitchen cooking spaghetti, cabbage, and corn bread. The smell coming from the kitchen makes my stomach growl.
“Hey, baby. I thought I felt you walking up the street,” Mama says. She’s in her usual housedress, stirring the spaghetti sauce inside a big stainless-steel pot on the stove. The cabbage and corn bread are done and sitting on the kitchen table, waiting to be devoured. And, I’m up for the task.
“Hey, Mama,” I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek before washing my hands in the sink and taking a seat at the kitchen table. Mama hasn’t cooked in a week or so due to her busy schedule and the fact that she’s supposed to be on strike from cooking for the men. But, there’s enough food here to feed an army. And, when my uncles and grandfather come home, it’ll be time for the war.
“How was your day?” she says, taking the large wooden spoon out of the pot and putting it into the full sink.
“It was very exciting,” I say, recalling the day’s events in my head.
“Really? Exciting good or exciting bad?” she says, studying my face. I can never get anything past Mama.
“Well, I don’t know yet,” I say. “Nellie won the nomination for homecoming princess.”
“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” she asks. I’m not really sure how to answer that question without getting into the details of Monday’s dream. Knowing Mama, she’ll make me analyze it, write it down, and then assign homework based on it. And, I’m not in the mood for more work right now. But, I could use some advice about Nigel.
“Yes, it’s great for her. And, Nigel is the newest member of South Bay’s elite Black population,” I add, taking a nibble from the corn bread. It’s still in the cast-iron skillet and steaming, just the way I like it.
“Nigel from Family Christian Nigel?” she asks, turning off the pot of spaghetti before sitting down across from me. Lexi, Mama’s canine shadow, is under the table, fast asleep.
“Yes, the very same one. But, he and Raheem transferred to Westingle last I heard and Raheem sent a letter for me through him.”
“Well, if Nigel’s on the prowl, you know Raheem ain’t far behind. When’s the last time you talked to that boy?” Mama says with a little disgust in her voice. All Mama remembers about Raheem is the bad stuff. Like us getting caught kissing behind the bleachers in the seventh grade, making out in the girl’s restroom in the eighth and him getting my best friend at the time pregnant in the ninth. Hard to believe I was actually in love with him.
“Not since I chewed him out for kissing Nia,” I say, referring to his illicit affair with my cousin on my dad’s side our last year at Family Christian. The boy gets around.
“Damn, Jayd. I hoped you would escape the constant man problems of the William’s women legacy. Or at least that part of it,” Mama says nibbling on the still hot corn bread with me. Nobody makes buttermilk corn bread like Mama can.
“What legacy?” I ask, anxious for a good story. There’s always a lesson involved. Before she answers, I get up and make a plate and pour myself a large glass of Tropical Punch Kool Aid with lemons. After I’ve gotten my food, I settle in my seat. It’s only the two of us here now. So, it’s a good time to have a little girl chat.
“The lesson of heartbreak from choosing the wrong men,” she says, cutting a slice of corn bread and placing it on my overstuffed plate. This is one of my favorite meals. Mama doesn’t eat until everything’s cooled off. For some reason, she doesn’t like her food hot, unlike me. I prefer it fresh off the stove, damn near burning my tongue, when possible.
“How’s Jeremy?” she asks, making me smile. In spite of all the day’s drama, the highlight was a quiet lunch with Jeremy at the beach and a slow ride home. I just love the way he makes me feel. And, I love that he loves being with me too.
“He’s good. We’re good. That’s why I’m afraid of Nigel coming in and interrupting our flow,” I say, stuffing a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth. This is the best comfort food ever.
“He can’t interrupt anything unless you let him, Jayd. Don’t you get that by now?” she asks. “You, as the female, have all the power in relationships.” Huh? Mama must be talking about some other kind of relationship because all the relationships I’ve seen, usually the men are the ones in power.
“Mama, are you serious?” I ask.
“Very,” she says, getting up and walking over to the refrigerator. She reaches up to the top and takes down her secret recipe book, which is where she keeps it when it’s not in her spirit room.
“Here’s the story of my mother, Marie, and my father, Jon Paul Williams,” she says, turning to a chapter I’ve never seen before. This book is so huge it would take me years to read through cover to cover. There are fifteen sections, all meticulously divided and color-coded for easy reference. So far I’ve only ventured to the recipes section for my personal use.
The last time I was at the beauty shop with Mama, Netta mentioned Mama’s parents, but we didn’t get into it. All I know is Mama’s mother was a white woman from Paris and her father a dark Haitian man. Mama doesn’t talk much about her parents because she didn’t grow up with them. But, the little I do know is that Mama believes her father drowned her mother in the bathtub because of jealousy. Now, that’s som
e shit to live with.
“Jayd, men are powerful beings, physically. But, spiritually, women are where it’s at,” she says, flipping through the yellowed pages before stopping at a page with a picture of a woman on it.
“Is this your mother?” I ask, taking a large gulp of my Kool Aid.
“Yes. This is your great-grandmother, Maman Marie Devereaux.” Mama stares at the sketch hard, like she’s communicating with her mother’s spirit. “Contrary to popular belief, my mother wasn’t a White woman, although she could easily pass for one. Her mother was white and her father was a light-skinned Black man, like your daddy.” Maybe that’s why she hates my father so much.
“So, why didn’t you correct Netta when she was telling your story?” I ask, referring to Netta’s infatuation with Mama’s lineage.
“Because it ain’t her story to tell in the first place,” Mama says, snappily. “People love to talk, Jayd, especially if the story being told is so juicy it sounds more like a legend than real life. And most of the time, the people talking only know part of the story.” As Mama continues, I clear the table of my empty dishes. But I’m anxious to settle back into my seat and see where Mama’s going with this.
“Maman was born in California. She moved to Paris in the late 1940s when she was a teenager to study art, I guess. I don’t know the full story. But, I’ve written down everything I heard about her as the years passed,” she says, staring at her mother’s picture. The woman in the photograph is very light with straight, black hair. Even though it’s a black-and-white photograph, I can still see her fierce green eyes, just like Mama’s and my mother’s.
“Part of your legacy is power. And people—men especially—are attracted to power. Maman was the most powerful of us all,” Mama says, a little teary-eyed. “I didn’t get a chance to know my mother, being that she died before my first birthday, and then I was sent to live with my daddy’s relatives in New Orleans after he disappeared. Dirty bastard. But, I still know her spirit,” she says, taking a paper towel from the roll on the table and wiping her eyes.
