by Amir Abrams
Okay, so maybe I was playing him. So what? He doesn’t know that for sure. Okay, okay, he does know. But, that’s not the point. The point is, Antonio Lopez is a capital D-O-G. Plain and simple. And, yeah, I kinda did like him. Okay, okay...I still do like him. Okay, I really do like him. But whatever! I don’t like him enough to put up with all of the crazy drama he has going on. I’m not that kinda chick. And I’m not beat to have to keep going upside some chick’s head because she can’t get over him. That Quanda chick ain’t tryna go down. And I’m sick of her. So, no. Let someone else have at it. I’m done.
I knew it was all too good to be true. Once a cheater, always a cheater, right? Cheaters don’t change. They just stop what they do until they think you done forgot about it then go right back to doing the same mess. Just like Antonio. Just like my own dad! So why am I acting all surprised?
Why am I holed up in my room crying over him every day after school?
Why am I tripping?
Because I really like him!
Because I really care about him!
This is horrible! Falling for him was not the plan. No, the plan was to teach that Quanda a lesson. To take her man, toy with him, then toss him back. Ha! The joke’s on me. I’m the fool. And now I’m sure that ghetto hyena is laughing it up at my expense.
And yeah, I know what he claims happened. But I know what I saw. That slut on top of him with her lips on him. Okay, maybe he was tryna get her off of him. Maybe he did trip and she fell on top of him. But none of that woulda happened if he hadn’t let her in the house in the first place. I’m so pissed at myself for liking that boy. I really wanted to be wrong about him. I mean, I wanted to be right that underneath all that playboy swag was a really nice, sweet guy who wanted to settle down with the right kinda girl. And I thought that girl was me. I felt it was. Even when I didn’t tell him that. When I didn’t admit it. I felt it. I felt what he felt. Heat. If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I can still feel it.
He’s trouble. I know he is. Everything about that boy is wrong. But those kisses, the way his tongue touched mine, the way his arms wrapped around me, all felt . . . right. Like we’re a perfect fit. Like two juicy strawberries dipped in sweet milk chocolate. That’s what his kisses tasted like. That’s what he felt like.
Girl, snap outta it. You’re buggin’ for real. Stick to the script, I think. You proved ya point. And now it backfired on you.
It’s hard seeing him in the halls. It’s hard sitting up in English class with him staring at me. I can’t concentrate. I sigh, shutting my locker, relieved that he isn’t here today. All seeing him does is remind me of him up in his house in his boxers with that skank. And all that does is make me wanna fight him. So, yes, I’m glad I don’t have to look at him.
Girl, boom! You’ll get over him. You only have two more months until you turn eighteen; then you’ll be going to Brooklyn. I’ve decided that I am not staying here. As soon as I turn eighteen, I’m signing myself out of this school and going back to Fashion High, and there’s nothing my mom can do to stop me. That’s exactly what I’ll do. Then I’ll never have to see him again. Yeah, that’s it. Good-bye. Good riddance! I sigh, feeling all mixed up and confused. I rush into the girls’ bathroom and try to pull myself together. I can’t let these hatin’ tricks see me all tore up. I’ll never give any of them the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me.
I shut myself in one of the stalls and pull out my compact case, flipping it open then dabbing my eyes with this hard-azz toilet paper in here. I blow my nose, then toss the paper into the toilet and flush, walking out. I stop dead in my tracks when Quanda walks in. I drop my bag, close my fists, ready to bring it to her.
“I don’t wanna fight you,” she says, putting her hand up. “I didn’t even know you were in this bathroom.”
I narrow my eyes at her. I pick my bag up and head for the row of sinks to wash my hands. She goes into one of the stalls. I pull my brush outta my bag, then brush my wrap. Yeah, I know I should probably leave before she gets done, but I don’t. A part of me wants to fight, but I know it’s not worth it. I already beat her up twice. And getting suspended isn’t an option. Not when I’m so close to getting accepted into Parsons or F.I.T.
I can’t mess that up over no boy, or behind some ratch-etness. I pull out my lip gloss and slide it over my lips, waiting. For what, I don’t know. Outta habit, I still check my phone, expecting to see a text message from Tone, or to see his picture pop up on the screen when he calls and Trey Songz’s “Inside Interlude” plays as he rings through. But that was then. And this is now. And now, I have a new number. I had to change it. It was the only way I could keep myself from answering his calls, or responding to his texts. It’s the only way I could get through the night. And keep myself from wanting to believe his lies.
I walk in the back to where the stalls are. She’s on the toilet. The old me would kick in the door and drag her off the toilet, but... I bang on the door.
“I don’t wanna fight you, Miesha. I’m done. You can have Tone.”
“I don’t want him,” I say. But I’m not sure how true that is. I just know I can’t mess with him. “I just need to know why’d you go over to his house that day? Were you tryna get him back?”
“No. I wanted to talk to him.”
I frown. “About what?”
“I went there to apologize to him.”
“Did he know you were going over there?”
She passes gas. And I curl my nose up. Ugh, she stinks! “Listen, can we talk about this when I’m done? I’m tryna use the bathroom.”
“Well, too bad. We’re gonna get this out in the open right here and right now. So answer the question. Did he know you were going over there?”
She sighs. “As bad as I wanna lie to you and add some extra ish into the mix, I can’t, because I know he doesn’t want me. So no. He didn’t know I was coming there. When he opened the door, I could tell he was expecting it to be you. He didn’t even wanna let me in. But I begged him to give me a few minutes of his time. I love him. But I know he wants you. Not me. And I can’t keep playing myself like this. Do you know how many girls I’ve fought over him in the last four months? At least ten.”
“And that just goes to show how stupid you are.”
“Don’t you think I know that? And I still kept playing myself. I’m done. I apologized to him. And now I’ma apologize to you. I shoulda never started with you. All you were was the new girl at the school. The fly chick all the boys were talking about. And all I was worried about was Tone wanting you, even though he had already dumped me. I didn’t wanna see him with anyone else. But I know that no matter how many girls I fight, he’s not gonna come back to me.”
She flushes the toilet. I step back from the door just in case she comes out slinging a handful of her poop at me. She opens the door, looking at me. I take another two steps back. She goes over to the sinks and washes her hands. I watch her watching me through the mirrors.
“I’ma stay away from you, and you just stay away from me. Deal?” she says.
“And stay away from Antonio.”
“Deal.”
I walk outta the bathroom, letting out a sigh of relief. Okay, so he didn’t know she was coming over there. But he still had no business letting her in, and definitely not while he was half-naked.
“Oops, hey, boo,” Fiona says, walking into me as I round the corner to get to the stairs. It’s fourth-period lunch and I wanna go out to my car. “Where you on your way to?”
“My car.”
“Oh, good. I’ll walk with you,” she says, her heels clicking alongside of me. “How you holding up?”
I blink. “I’m good,” I say with a buncha sass. Even if it’s a lie, never let a ho see you down. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Girl, I just figured you’d still be goin’ through it over Tone, that’s all.” She shrugs. “Guess I was wrong.”
“Dead wrong. Girl, I’m onto the next.” I snap my fingers. “You miss a minute,
you miss a lot, hun. Here today, gone tomorrow, that’s my motto.”
“Ohhhhhkay,” she says, flipping her hand open. I slap her five. “Out with the old, in with new. Good for you, boo. Tone was up to no-good, anyway. Not that I’m tryna kick his back in.”
I frown. “Oh, really? Well, it’s over between us, so I’m not pressed. I couldn’t care less what kinda no-good mess he was into.”
“I knnnnnnow that’s right. You didn’t need the stress anyway, especially with him having a baby on the way.”
I blink, stopping in my tracks. “Say whaaaat? Baby?”
My heart drops! Everything stops! If I had any doubts before, I definitely don’t now. Baby daddy and BM drama is a no-no for me. Antonio Lopez is dead to me!
“Girrrrl, you didn’t hear this from me, ’cause you know I’m not one for a buncha gossip.” I roll my eyes up in my head. “But some chick from over on the West Side—” I give her a blank look. “Oh, that’s right. You’re not from here. It’s another section of JC, boo. Annnnyway, Miss Chickie-Boo has it all up on her Facebook and Instagram page pics of her sonogram, saying it’s Tone’s.”
I swallow. “Well good for her, and congrats to him. I wish them both well.”
“Girrrrl, you good. ’Cause if it was me, I’d be ready to set it off. Tone is so dang messy. He didn’t even tell you about this chick, did he? Mmmph. He knew this chick was with his child for at least two months.”
“Who is she?” I ask before I can stop the question from spilling outta my mouth.
“Some church skank who was doin’ it to him down in the church basement or some nasty mess like that.”
What?! O-M-G! He is outta control! What and who won’t that boy do?
“How long have you known about this?” I ask, eyeing her. The moment of truth has come.
“I found out about it a few weeks ago when I was across town at my cousin, TastyCakes’—one word—house.” TastyCakes? What the hell?! “She goes to Lincoln High with his BM. So when Tasty asked me if I knew Tone, you know I had to get the four-one-one, then do a lil more research before I said anything. One thing I don’t like to do is spread gossip that ain’t true.”
Ugh, this dumb trick is a mess! But she’s given me all I need to stay the hell away from the likes of Antonio Lopez. If I never see him again, it’s fine by me!
39
Antonio
“A www, damn,” Pops says, standin’ at the foot of my bed, shakin’ his head. “I knew somethin’ had’a be serious when the school called ’n’ said you been absent for four days ’n’ you didn’t answer ya phone when I was callin’ you. I thought you was in here dead. Look at you. I knew somethin’ like this was gonna eventually happen. I told you what happens when you open up ya heart . . .”
I open my eyes.
Stare at him.
I haven’t left the crib in four and a half days. I haven’t bathed. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t done jack ’cept lie in bed, playin’ this Lenny Williams joint over and over and over. I thought listenin’ to Trey Songz would do it for me. Thought maybe I could drown my sorrows listenin’ to Ja-heim. But, nah . . . “’Cause I Love You” says how I feel. It speaks what’s in my head. It screams what’s in my heart. I’m all effed up, yo. I know e’ery word to the song. Feel e’ery inch of his pain. My whole body aches. I’m sick. I haven’t felt this effed up since I was six years old—when my moms bounced. For the first time in my life, I trusted myself enough to trust someone else, somethin’ I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do. Miesha did that to me. Made it easy to talk. Made it easy for me to trust—her. And now she’s gone!
She won’t even talk to me. She stopped takin’ my calls, stopped talkin’ to me, stopped wantin’ me. I can’t even call her now ’cause her number’s changed. “Stay the HELL away from me!” That’s what she tol’ me the last time I walked up on her at her locker, tryna get her to just listen to me, to let me explain. I begged her. Me, yo! Beggin’ a girl to talk to me. That’s not what I do. That’s not who I am. Or who I was. But, in that effen moment, that’s who I became. Desperate. All needy ’n’ shit.
I still am.
And the crazy thing is, I don’t feel like a punk, or weak. I feel effed up. I feel lonely, like before. When my moms left ’n’ didn’t come back. And like then... I’m desperate. I’m sad.
I’m desperate to hear her voice. See her face. Hold her in my arms.
I am connected to her, yo. When I’m wit’ her, when I was wit’ her... I didn’t feel empty, like I did wit’ all them other females. I smashed them broads ’cause I could. I didn’t wanna be tied to any of ’em ’cause I when I looked in their eyes, I couldn’t see anything other than sex. That’s all I wanted from them. That’s all they were good for.
But Miesha . . . she’s different. Special.
E’erything ’bout her—her slick mouth, the way she smiles, her walk, the way she dresses ’n’ doesn’t care ’bout what other peeps think ’bout her, the way she looks at me, the way she feels in my arms, the way she makes me feel—is perfect . . . for me!
I want her back, yo. I need her back. I want another chance. Nah, I need another chance. But she ain’t beat.
“It’s over between us! I don’t ever wanna talk to you, again! I hate you! You’re just like all the rest of the boys, no-effen-good! Just stay outta my life!”
Those were her words to me. And they cut me inside-out.
The one time when I’m not gassin’ a girl’s head up, or tryna do her best friend, or press up on her older sister—the one time I’m bein’ straight-up, puttin’ e’erything on the line, I get dumped over some BS, for somethin’ that I wasn’t even doin’. I never get dumped! I don’t get dismissed! But Miesha dismissed me. Told me I was invisible to her. That nothin’ I said mattered to her.
And now I have all’a these emotions, all’a these thoughts, swirlin’ ’round in me. It’s like a switch clicked on ’n’ now I can’t stop thinkin’. Can’t stop wonderin’. About my moms. About Miesha.
Why my moms bounced on me.
Why she didn’t want me.
Why Miesha won’t talk to me.
Why she can’t believe me.
Why, why, why . . . over and over, I play the ish in my head. I tried to forget ’bout my moms. I can’t forget ’bout Miesha. I don’t wanna forget ’bout her. But I don’t know what else I can do.
“What’s her name?”
I blink.
Pops is now standin’ on the side of the bed lookin’ down at me. “You gotta snap outta this, you hear me? You lyin’ ’round lookin’ all pitiful, feelin’ sorry for ya’self ain’t gonna bring her back. This ain’t what a man does. She’s gone. Let her go. . . .”
I don’t wanna let her go!
“There’s too many other woman out there for you to be lyin’ up in here wit’ the shades down, playin’ depressin’ music. . . .”
I don’t want anyone else!
“Listen, son, you gotta get ya mind right. You gotta get up ’n’ handle ya business, you hear me? Call up one’a them other lil girls you got sniffin’ behind you. Let them help you get over her. . . .”
I don’t wanna get over her!
“How many times I tell you, keep you a string of women on your team? How many times I tell you, they can’t be trusted wit’ ya heart, huh? You get ’em in ya bed. You don’t let ’em get up in ya head.”
I don’t wanna string of girls! I want Miesha!
I know what he’s beat me in the head wit’ since I was six years old. I know some girls can’t be trusted. But I don’t wanna believe all can’t be. Miesha can be. And I wanna believe, I gotta believe, that there are more girls like her. Yeah, I know what Pops tol’ me. But I’m old enough to make my own decisions. And I don’t gotta believe him. I don’t gotta think his way is the right way for me.
“I’m not you,” I push out. “Why I gotta be angry ’cause you are?”
“What?”
I look up at Pops. “Why’d she leave me?”
> He shakes his head. “That’s what women do when they don’t want you. They leave.”
I keep my eyes on him. They burn from holdin’ back tears. “But I was her kid.”
He kinda looks at me, and now he gets it. He blinks. Rubs his hands over his head. “I thought we promised never to mention her again.”
“No, Pops. You did. You tol’ me that’s what we were gonna do. And I haven’t. But now I am. I wanna know. Why?”
He sighs. “Damn. I hoped we would never hafta have this conversation.” He starts pacin’ the room. He stops ’n’ looks at me. “I loved ya moms, son. But I loved the streets ’n’ the pretty women more. She got fed up ’n’ wanted to leave me. I tol’ her she could go, but she couldn’t take you. Not my firstborn son. I tol’ her I would hunt her down ’n’ kill ’er if she did. . . . She knew the kinda man I was in the streets. She knew that violent side of me. And believed me.”
I blink.
He hangs his head. “It hurt me that she wanted to leave me. And it hurt even more when she tol’ me she had met someone else. I tol’ her I wasn’t lettin’ another man raise my son. Tol’ her if she ever came near us again, I’d put a bullet in her head. . . .”
I blink. E’erything comes back to me. My mom’s face, her smile, the tears in her eyes, all pop into my head. “Why are you cryin’, Mommy?”
“Because Mommy loves you so much.”
“I love you too, Mommy.”
“Listen, sweetheart. Mommy has to go away for a while, sweetie? But I promise I’m gonna come back for you real soon, okay?”
“Don’t leave, Mommy.”
