The Girl of His Dreams

by Amir Abrams

  By the time I get to school, I make it to homeroom less than a minute before the bell rings. I didn’t get home until almost four in the morning. Purposefully. Aunt Linda was still in bed, but I’m sure she heard the alarm chirp when I walked in. I wanted her to. I want her to tell my mom exactly what time I got home. As far as I’m concerned, it isn’t my aunt’s job to watch me—not that I need watching. But still. . . she shouldn’t have to be the one worrying about what I’m doing. My mom should! Anyway, I let Brent drive me into Brooklyn and we hung out over at Tre’s house until like eleven-thirty. We woulda stayed out longer, but her mom started beastin’ about her having company over so late on a school night so we bounced and went to Junior’s to get something to eat since they don’t close until midnight. After that, we just drove around Brooklyn, then over into Manhattan, then zipped back over across the water.

  I can’t even lie. Brent is a really nice guy in a nerdy kinda way. He’s real smart, funny, and very thoughtful. I had to remind him that I only want to be friends. He says he’s cool with that. But then he leaned over and kissed me. And, yes, I let him. It was okay, I guess. I mean he has nice lips. And they were soft. But, I didn’t feel anything afterward. Not like I did with. . . ooh, there he goes now coming down the hall.

  “Hey, what’s up, Miesha?” this guy from my chemistry class says, walking by my locker. He sits a few seats over from me in class and every so often I catch him looking over at me. Ooh good, just the distraction I need.

  “Hey,” I say back. “You ready for that chemistry test next week?”

  He stops, shifting his stack of books from one arm to the other, then smiles. “Nah, not yet. But I will be. What about you?”

  “Ugh. I wish.”

  “Well, if you’d like, we could study together.”

  I smile all wide and extra. “Ohhh, for real? I’d love that.”

  He grins. “Cool. Do you want my number?”

  Oh my god, boy, boom! He’s all thirsty for my attention. “No. I don’t need your number.” He looks at me all pitiful and whatnot, like his puppy done pissed in his cereal. Geesh.

  He places his hand up over his heart. “Dang, you just shot my dreams down. Can’t knock a guy for trying. But I was definitely kinda hoping you would have said yes.”

  I eye Antonio as I’m standing here with this buster. He’s all tore up in his plaid shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck. He’s wearing a pair of jeans with. . . oh my god, creases! Creases?! Where they do that? That’s soooo late and wrong. He has on a pair of Crocs. What Black boy you know wearing Crocs?

  I start cracking up.

  27

  Antonio

  By the time I get to my locker, I’m mad nervous, hyped, ’n’ all sweaty palmed, thinkin’ ’bout seein’ Miesha. I ain’t gonna even front, I hardly slept last night. I tossed ’n’ turned. I don’t know what it is ’bout her kisses, them lips, that got me goin’ through it. E’ery time I think ’bout her, I get mad excited. And it’s like nothin’ I do cools me down. I was gonna hit her up last night when I got home from practice, but decided to fall back. But, man, listen. It was hard not hittin’ her up just so I could hear her voice. So I hit up Shania instead and tried to rock out wit’ her, but Miesha kept poppin’ up in my head. And I got so caught up in my thoughts ’n’ the moment that I accidentally called out her name. That set Shania off. She pushed me off ’a her, then started cussin’ me out sayin’ I disrespected her. Then she got up and started throwin’ my clothes at me and told me to bounce. Like, whatever, yo. I don’t know why broads gotta be all extra wit’ the theatrics. She’ll get over it. If not, eff ’er. I wasn’t gonna ever wife ’er anyway. So it is what it is. But, word is bond. I ain’t never call a chick I was gettin’ it in wit’ another chick’s name. Not even when I’ve been twisted from smoke ’n’ drinks. Real rap, Miesha got me slippin’, yo.

  I gotta holla at ’er, today. I gotta see what’s really good wit’ her. But when I see some dude who I ain’t really all that cool wit’ standin’ by her locker, all grins ’n’ giggles, like that dude from the lacrosse team was yesterday, I start feelin’ some kinda way. Yeah, I know she ain’t my girl yet, but damn, this corny mofo is practically all up on ’er. These thirsty mofos stay tryna get at her. But they don’t know. I’ma ’bout to shut ish down.

  She sees me walkin’ toward them, then starts laughin’ mad hard at somethin’ dude says. Whatever.

  “Yo, what’s good?” I say as I approach them.

  “Wassup?” dude says, givin’ me a head nod. He looks kinda shook ’bout somethin’, but whatever.

  Miesha shuts her locker. Tells dude she has seventh-period study hall—that’s good to know. And she’ll meet him in the library so they can study.

  “A’ight. Cool.” He looks over at me. “A’ight, man. Peace.”

  “Yeah, a’ight. No doubt,” I say back. I’m kinda surprised she didn’t introduce the dude like she did with dude from the lacrosse team. “So who’s ya lil boyfriend?”

  She flicks her wrist at me. “Boy, boom! Don’t question me.”

  I grin. “Yeah, a’ight. I’ll question you all I want. Whoever that corny dude is, he looks like he’s tryna be ya boyfriend.”

  She shoots me a look. “Why you care?”

  “I don’t.”

  She laughs. “Lies.”

  “Yeah, a’ight. Whatever. Yo, did you get my note?”

  She frowns. “What note?”

  “Yo, don’t front. The one I left for you in ya locker yesterday.”

  “I didn’t see it,” she says, turning back to open her locker. She opens the door, then looks down, pullin’ out the note folded into a rectangle. “Ohh, this note?”

  “Yeah, that note. Don’t open it ’til you get to class.”

  She laughs. “Boy, boom. Who says I’m gonna open it?”

  I grab for her. “Yo, don’t have me chip ya lil sexy azz up.”

  She pushes me off’a her. “Yeah, picture that.”

  I peep Luke ’n’ Justin comin’ down the hall. “Yo, what’s goodie, playboy?” Luke says, grinnin’ as he walks up on us. He gives me dap.

  “Yo, wassup, man,” I say over to Justin. He’s still actin’ kinda funny-style since that whole kissin’ scene popped off. But whatever. He gives me a head nod.

  “What’s good?” he looks over at Miesha. “Wassup, Miesha?”

  “Hey, Justin,” she says, smilin’. Damn, she gotta pretty smile. “I’ve been meaning to call you, but...”

  He shifts his eyes. “Nah, it’s all good. I’ve been mad busy with school and work and now practices.”

  “Okay,” she says. “That’s good.” I introduce her to Luke. They speak; then she tells me she’s gotta get to homeroom before the bell rings. I tell her I’ll catch up wit’ her later.

  “Yo, we still chillin’ tonight?” Luke asks, try’n not to stare at Miesha’s booty. But you can’t help but stare at it. There’s so much of it to look at. “Party at my crib.”

  I laugh. “Man, you stay partyin’. Ya parents gonna flip if they ever catch you.”

  He laughs wit’ me. “Man, they stay on the move too much to ever catch me.”

  “Yeah, a’ight. But, nah, I’ma lay low tonight.”

  I give Justin a pound. “Yo, we good?”

  “Yeah, we a’ight,” he says. But I can tell he don’t really mean it. We all head to our homerooms just as the bell rings.

  “Lopez,” Mr. Watkins says as I walk through the door. “You’re late. That’ll be two days’ detention.”

  I sigh, shakin’ my head.

  The rest of the day goes by kinda fast. Quanda is still up to her dumbness. And somebody wrote the word SLUT in red lipstick across Miesha’s locker door. But, of course, no one peeped who did it. I already know it was Quanda. That’s how she gets down. I’m just glad I got to Miesha’s locker and peeped it before she did. I hit up the boys’ bathroom and snatched up some paper towels and scrubbed it off real quick, then waited for her. But we
could only talk for a few minutes ’cause I had’a get to practice. And Coach don’t play that late ish.

  “Yo, I’ma need you to scoop me up in the mornin’,” Luke says, unfastenin’ his seat belt as I pull up into his driveway. We just left the school from practice. I’m sore ’n’ mad tired from all the drills. All I wanna do is get home, take a shower, then hit the sheets.

  “Man, when you gettin’ ya whip back?”

  “Man, who knows. . . . I told you my pops be on his BS.”

  I ask when they comin’ home.

  “My mom’ll be home Saturday night. And my pops won’t be home ’til the end of the month. He’s in China on some business trip.”

  “Man, ya pops stay on the move. That’s wassup. I can’t wait ’til I can travel like that.”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. I’d rather he be home more. But I know he gotta make that paper. I just wish he didn’t have to travel so much. He’ll probably miss most of my games this year.”

  “Hopefully not. But at least you got ya moms ’n’ you already know ya pops is always gonna come through when he’s home.”

  “Yeah, true. But now that my sister had the babies, that’s all my mom thinks about.”

  “Yo, she just excited ’bout bein’ a grandma,” I say, tryna keep it light so he don’t go gettin’ all depressed ’n’ ish.

  “Yo, so what’s good wit’ you and shorty?”

  “Who, Miesha?”

  “Yeah. Yo, hands down, she’s bad.”

  I grin. “Most def, yo. I don’t know. I dig her, but she be on some extra ish.”

  “Oh, word? Like what?”

  “I don’t know, man. I know she only really got at me to get at Quanda. . . .”

  He looks over at me, shakin’ his head. “Damn, that’s crazy, yo. So why you even effen wit’ that broad if you already know what it is wit’ her?”

  “Man, I don’t know. It was somethin’ ’bout that first kiss, yo.”

  “First kiss? What, you’ve gotten more?”

  I grin. “Yeah, man. I had’a get another round of that.”

  “Yo, hol’up . . . get the eff outta here, son. You tonguin’ down a chick. Damn, son. Sounds like she’s ’bout to put the whammy on you, bruh.”

  I shake my head. “Tell me ’bout it, yo.”

  He opens the door ’n’ gets out. “Yeah, okay. She already got you kissin’. We’ll see, yo.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Shut my door wit’ ya ugly azz.”

  He shuts the door, givin’ me the finger. I laugh, backin’ out, headin’ home so I can hit the shower, eat, then relax.

  Around nine o’clock, I’m lyin’ in bed, tryna watch the latest episode of Criminal Minds online, but my mind keeps wanderin’. I can’t stop thinkin’ ’bout her. Miesha. Man, this is crazy, I think, hoppin’ outta bed. This chick ain’t even ya girl ’n’ she got you buggin’, yo. Wonderin’ what she’s up to. Wonderin’ if she’s off somewhere laughin’ it up ’n’ chillin’ wit’ some other dude. Wonderin’ if she’s even wonderin’ ’bout me. This ish is crazy!

  I pick up my phone ’n’ hit her up. “Yo, what’s good?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “It’s Tone.”

  “Sorry, wrong number. I don’t know a Tone.”

  I scoff. “Yeah, whatever. You know who this is, girl. Stop frontin’ like you don’t know my voice.”

  “Oh my god! Cecil, is that you, boo? Oh my god! The last I heard you ran off with some cross-eyed chick with two missing front teeth. Boy, how you been?”

  I start laughin’. “Oh, you got jokes.”

  She laughs. “Well, who is this, again?”

  I lower my voice, grinnin’. “Yo, why don’t you quit playin’? It’s Antonio.”

  “Ohhhhhh, Antonio. Mmmph. Why you just didn’t say that in the first place? Anyway, how can I help you?”

  “Yeah, a’ight. When we gonna chill, yo?”

  “Who says I wanna chill with you?”

  “I know you do, yo. But you stay frontin’.”

  “Boy, please. Frontin’ about what?”

  I stare up at the ceilin’. I peep a cobweb up over in the corner. “C’mon, yo. What you think? ’Bout that kiss. And the one after that. I know you felt it, too.”

  “You know I felt what?”

  “Heat,” I tell her. “It shot all through ya body, makin’ you dizzy. You felt ya knees buckle.”

  “Ha! Boy, you’re delusional.”

  “Yeah, a’ight. But tell me I’m lyin’.”

  “Bye, Antonio. I gotta go.”

  I grin. “Yeah, a’ight, sexy.” I have another call comin’ in. It’s Luke. “Yo, I’ll holla.” The call drops ’n’ I click over. “Yo, what it do, son?”

  “Chillin’, yo. You stoppin’ through tonight?”

  “Nah, yo. I’m beat. Practice whipped my tail, yo. I’ma take it down in a minute. And you should be doin’ the same thing, yo.”

  He laughs. “I’ma take it down a’ight. Take them panties down. Them Spanish broads, Rosa ’n’ Carmela, comin’ through to chill, again, so you already know how it’s goin’ down. And I gotta few fellas comin’ through wit’ a few chicks.”

  “Oh, word? Cease stoppin’ through?”

  “Nah, he on some corny-ish like ya punk azz.”

  I laugh. “Whatever, yo. Get it in for me, bruh. I’ma ’bout to hit these sheets.”

  “A’ight. Make sure you come scoop me. Last time you forgot and I had’a catch a cab. Matter of fact, you owe me ten bucks for that, yo.”

  “Haha. You must be on that molly, yo. But I’ma be there in the mornin’. And make sure you ready, yo. I ain’t tryna be late effen wit’ you.”

  “Yo, Luke?” I call out, walkin’ through the kitchen. I had’a walk ’round back of the house ’n’ use the key he keeps hidden in a small box behind a buncha shrubs to get in his crib ’cause the mofo ain’t answer the doorbell. I was outside leanin’ on the buzzer and bangin’ on the front door for almost five minutes. I shake my head at the mess in the sink, and all over the counters. There’s mad Papa John’s pizza boxes, KFC boxes, ’n’ White Castle burger cartons along wit’ half-empty liters of Pepsi, Sprite, ’n’ orange sodas. There are empty bottles ’n’ cans of beer e’ery-where. They were def havin’ a feast up in here last night. I go down into the basement. There’s bodies stretched out all over the place, passed out. On the floor, ’cross the sofa. There’s a naked chick balled up, sleepin’ on the makeshift bar table. I step over several peeps I know from school, makin’ my way back up the stairs. His parents are gonna snap for real if they walk up in here ’n’ see this ish. I glance at my watch. I have only thirty minutes to get to school before the first-period bell rings. I’ma be mad late if I don’t hurry up outta here.

  I shoot up the stairs, two steps at’a time, then tap on Luke’s door. “Yo, Luke, man. . . you up?” No response. I turn the knob, walkin’ into his room. I frown. It smells like hot funk ’n’ feet. “Luke, man, wake ya drunk-butt up, yo.” He’s lyin’ facedown, naked, on top of the covers between two other bodies. I walk over and grab his foot and shake him. “Luke, wake the eff up, yo!” He stirs, rolls over on his back, wipin’ drool from the corner of his mouth. “Yo, I ain’t tryna see all that, fam,” I say, tossin’ him his drawers. “Cover ya’self, man.”

  He blinks, bringin’ me into focus. “What time is it?”

  “Time for you to get up ’n’ wash ya stankin’ azz. You ugly as hell in the mornin’, yo.”

  “Man, eff you.” He scoots down to the edge of the bed and slips on his boxers. He starts scratchin’ his crotch.

  “Yo, ninja. You need’a go handle that itch. I know you ain’t go raw up in them hoes, did you?” I ask, noddin’ my head over at the bed.

  “Who you callin’ a ho?” one of the girls says groggily, poppin’ her head up from beneath the covers. She cranes her neck to look at me. It’s one of the Spanish broads from over the summer. I bet you he tryna wife that. Dumb mofo stays tryna wife hoes. She smiles
when she sees it’s me. “Oh, hey, boo. You shoulda came through last night. Why you stop callin’ me?” She sits up, lettin’ the covers fall to her waist. She don’t even try to cover her boobs up. I stare at ’em and she don’t seem to mind.

  “Yeah, I guess I shoulda,” I say. “Maybe next time.” I hit ’er wit’ some lame excuse—a’ight, lie—’bout not callin’ ’er ’cause I lost all’a my contacts in my phone, and shift my attention to Luke. She plops back into the pillow. “Yo, man, you need to let me know what you tryna do, yo. You goin’ to school or what?”

  “Nah, man. My stomach’s all effed up.”

  “That’s what you get effen wit’ that White Castle, mofo. I tol’ you before that ain’t real meat they servin’.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, whatever. But, nah, that ain’t got my stomach all jacked. It’s that One-Fifty-One, yo. We was takin’ it to the head, no chaser. Got my stomach on fire.” He swings open his bedroom door, and rushes out into the hall into the bathroom. I follow out behind him. He’s down on his knees, clutchin’ the toilet, tossin’ up his guts.

  I shake my head. “Yo, on some real ish. You effen up, fam. On a school night, yo? I mean, you really couldn’t wait to go in hard ’til the weekend?”

  He coughs ’n’ gags, heavin’. “Yo, not right now, son. My head’s spinnin’, yo.”

  I stare at his back. He has scratches all down his spine from bein’ clawed up from one’a them broads stretched out in his room. “Yo, I’m out. You can eff around if you want. But I gotta get to school.”

  Deuces! I spin off. Head down the stairs and out the door to my car. I back out just as Luke’s moms is pullin’ in. Oh snap! It’s ’bout to be on ’n’ poppin’ now. His moms is gonna flip her wig when she walks up in there. She waves at me, gettin’ outta her car. Damn! I stop, rollin’ my window down.

  “Hey, Mrs. Emmerson. How was your trip?”

  “Hey, Antonio. The trip was good, thanks. I decided to get back a few days early.” And you’re in for a real surprise. “How’s your father doing?”

  “He’s good.”

  “Good. Tell him I asked about him.”