Miss Martin blew her whistle. “Okay, let’s get started, girls. I do have a life, you know.”
As Nelly’s voice echoed across the gymnasium, I got a visual of his muscular arms holding on to a microphone and of him bouncing around onstage—tattoos plastered across his sexy body. I had rushed to the mall the day his new CD was released and had bought it. I’d stared at the cover for longer than I should have—stared so long, I’d felt like I was cheating on Marcus.
Everyone took their places as we began to practice our new routine. It was a number that our team captain, Kim Elliott, had created. That is, before she got pregnant and had to go to a different school. Mother High was the nickname they’d given to the school where pregnant girls went. I felt sorry for her. It must’ve been terrible getting pregnant just six months before graduation. I’d heard about people ruining their teen lives like that, but I didn’t know anyone that it had actually happened to. It had been bittersweet, losing one of our best dancers, but with Kim gone, a spot had opened for a new team captain.
As the song faded, Miss Martin jotted notes down on a notepad. She looked up at us and began to pace the floor.
“As you all know, our team captain is gone,” she said. “We’re gonna miss Kim, but when we make adult choices for our lives, we have to live with the consequences of those choices. Kim’s mistake should be a lesson to each of you.”
I glanced over at Shelly Richards. There was a rumor that she had once been pregnant, but it had never proved to be true. Some folks said that she’d had an abortion, while others claimed that she’d never been pregnant. I never found out what the truth really was, but I was grateful that it wasn’t me.
“I guess it’s obvious that we will be looking for a team captain to replace Kim,” Miss Martin continued.
I glanced over at Kelly Winslow as she ran her fingers through her silky flat-ironed hair, her lip gloss poppin’ like Lil Mama’s. Her muscular calves were twice the size of mine, and her breasts were at least three times my size. She was an okay dancer, but the truth of the matter was that she was a senior and had been on the dance team since ninth grade. Not to mention her mother taught algebra and geometry right there at Carver. Her mother, Mrs. Winslow, probably had lunch with Miss Martin every day in the teachers’ lounge. She had an edge.
Then there was Missy Jones, also a senior. Her short and sassy spiked hair was as stiff as a board from all the spritz she used on it. She was tall and looked as if she could dunk a basketball. With her dark brown skin and flat chest, she could dance her butt off. It was no secret that she struggled to keep her grades on point. She’d almost gotten kicked off the team last year because of her grades. Miss Martin didn’t play when it came to grades—if we failed our classes, there was no need to even show up for dance-team practice.
Miss Martin went on. “And instead of simply picking a senior for this spot, I think that we should give every girl on this team a chance to compete.”
Kelly Winslow and Missy Jones looked at each other and then looked at Miss Martin as if she’d lost her mind.
“And so I’ll be watching you over the next couple of weeks, trying to determine which one of you is best equipped for the job,” said Miss Martin.
Kelly spoke up first. “But, Miss Martin, the team captain has always been a senior.”
“Yep, that’s how it’s always been, Miss Martin,” Missy added.
“Well, not anymore, ladies,” Miss Martin said. “Not necessarily. This time when I pick a team captain, it will be someone who deserves it based on talent, grades and character, and not simply because she’s a senior. Now, let’s run through the routine again.”
As Nelly’s voice bounced against the wall again, my heart began to pound. There was a chance that I could actually become the captain of this team, if I played my cards right. Jade and I looked at each other. I could tell that we were thinking the same thing. Just as I was thinking that I’d make the best team captain, Jade was probably thinking that she would, too. For the first time in our lives, we’d be competing against each other, and that felt funny.
After practice Jade and I stood inside to keep warm as we waited for her father’s SUV to pull up.
“Did you see that stupid look on Kelly’s face when Miss Martin said that the team captain wouldn’t necessarily be a senior?” Jade whispered.
“Missy was shocked, too,” I added. “Who do they think they are, anyway?”
“Seniors, of course,” Jade said.
“Everybody knows I’ll be the next dance-team captain.” I snapped my fingers.
“Excuse me?” Jade’s hand attached itself to her hip as she gave me a sideways look.
“You’re excused,” I said.
“Just think about it for a minute, Indi. Who did Miss Martin pick for the dance team, even though tryouts were over and done with?” Jade asked. “Me. And I didn’t even have to compete with the rest of you stank females.”
“If you recall, she only picked you because I begged her to.”
“Whatever, Indi,” said Jade. “We both know that’s not true. She picked me because she knew I had skills.”
“If you say so, Jade,” I said and opened the gymnasium door, bracing myself for the cold air. “Your daddy’s here.”
“So, are you saying that I can’t dance or something?” Jade asked as we walked briskly to her father’s SUV.
“I’m not saying that,” I said, suddenly wanting the conversation to end. It seemed to have taken a wrong turn somehow.
“Then what are you saying?” she asked, readjusting her gym bag on her shoulder and stopping in midstride.
“It is too cold to be standing out here, debating with you,” I said. “Let’s just drop it.”
“Yeah, let’s drop it,” Jade said, and we both hopped into the backseat of her father’s car.
“Hello, girls.” Uncle Ernest turned and looked at our cold faces. “How was practice?”
“Fine.” We both said it in unison.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Not really, Daddy,” Jade answered for both of us. “Can we just drop Indi off and go home? I have tons of homework.”
“You don’t want to stop for a burger?”
“No,” Jade replied and stared out the window.
I hadn’t meant to hurt Jade’s feelings, but she had to know that I was a much better dancer than she was—any day of the week.
twelve
Vance
My back against the locker, I tried with all my might to get a better grasp on my American history book and my three-ring binder. They were heavy, but I was determined not to ask for help. With crutches underneath my armpits, I was finally able to stuff the book and binder into my backpack. Wiping sweat from my temple, I limped quickly to my first class, plopped down in my seat and elevated my leg on the seat next to mine. With a cast covering the entire bottom half of my leg, I was left almost immobile.
“What happened to you, man?” Marcus asked as he entered the classroom and took his seat, right next to me.
“Skating.”
Then he asked the dumbest question I’d ever heard in my life. “How you gon’ play ball with a cast on your leg, dog?”
I glared at him. This was a very touchy subject to be discussing at such an early hour, especially since I’d already asked myself the same question a million times throughout the night. And considering I hadn’t been able to sleep, I’d had plenty of time to come up with an answer.
“I can’t play ball with a cast on my leg!” I snapped.
It was true. My basketball season was over. Twelve weeks on the bench would be like twelve years, and I wasn’t happy about it. I had major attitude. Everything I’d worked hard for was about to be flushed down the toilet, and nobody really understood that except me. My parents obviously didn’t know it, because they kept saying how temporary it was.
“You’ll be out of that cast and back on the court in no time, sweetie,” Mom had said right before she scribbled a red heart in
the center of the cast.
“It’ll be all right, son. Brush it off,” Dad had said. “You already got a leg in at Duke.”
“That’s what you get for being so clumsy, stupid,” my sister, Lori, had said, giggling as she scribbled her name on my cast with a purple marker. “You were probably trying to impress some stupid, ugly girl, anyway.”
“Shut up, and get out of my room,” I’d snarled. “And shut the door behind you!”
She’d placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at me. After sticking her tongue out, she’d walked over toward the door. “I hope you’re crippled for life,” she’d said and then walked out the door, pulling the knob behind her.
“Don’t slam…”
I hadn’t been able to get the words out before my door slammed with a bang, and my framed Michael Jordan picture—the autographed one from his last Chicago Bulls game, when they played the Atlanta Hawks—had fallen from the wall and hit the floor. Glass had shattered everywhere, and I’d wanted to wrap my fingers around Lori’s neck. What she’d said was right, though. I was trying to impress some girl. Tameka.
When I had arrived at the skating rink that day, Tameka was already in her pink-and-white skates, gliding backward on the floor. She waved when she saw me and came over to where I was, then plopped down on the bench beside me as I slipped my skates onto my feet.
“What’s up?” I asked her.
“Nothing much. What took you so long?” she asked. “I’ve been here for almost an hour.”
“I had to pick something up.”
It was the truth. I had to run by the mall and pick up a necklace I had spotted on Saturday at the jewelry store. It was a sterling silver chain with a big, fat letter T dangling from it.
“Something like what?” She placed her hand on her hip and smiled her beautiful smile. I wanted to kiss her lips right there—and did.
After a quick little peck on her lips, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the little white box. “Something like this.” I grinned as I handed it to her.
She opened it, but not before giving me a cockeyed look. “Did you do something wrong that you need to be sorry about?”
“No, girl! I just wanted to give you something nice,” I said.
The truth was, I had done something wrong. I had taken another girl to see a movie—not officially—but it was what it was. Although no PDA (public display of affection) had taken place, it hadn’t stopped my hormones from losing control. Just the simple touch of Darla’s fingers brushing against mine as we both reached for more popcorn had made the hair on my arm stand up. In the darkness of the auditorium, I had imagined her body against mine, her lips touching mine. And the fragrance that she’d worn hadn’t helped matters at all. In an attempt to get those thoughts out of my head, I had rushed to the restroom at least three times.
I slipped the piece of silver around Tameka’s neck, fastened the clasp.
“It’s so pretty, Vance. Thank you,” she cooed and then kissed my cheek.
“Let’s skate,” I said. “I need you to teach me how to do that backward thing.”
“Okay, come on! It’s so easy,” she exclaimed.
Easy? Not. I fell on my behind so many times, it was ridiculous. And just when I thought I had it, I hit the floor—again—twisted my leg in an awkward way and landed flat on my back. As I was driven to the emergency room by my no-driving-skills-having girlfriend, Tameka, I feared for my life.
“I thought you told me you could drive!” I yelled as we soared down the street toward Grady Medical Center.
“I can drive!” she yelled back as she rolled quickly through a red light.
What had started out as a great day of skating had quickly turned into something else, and I wasn’t feeling it at all. That was Sunday. How quickly things had changed. Now here I was, on crutches, and wishing I’d just taken Tameka to Steak ’n Shake for a burger and fries.
“Well now, Mr. Armstrong, what happened to you?” Mr. Harris asked.
“Skating,” I mumbled. I was tired of people asking what had happened, and I was tired of answering. I just wanted to be left alone.
“Or not skating.” He smiled. “Looks like you could use a little more practice.”
As Mr. Harris headed back to the front of the class, I pulled my book out of my backpack and slammed it onto my desktop.
“Need some help?” Darla Union asked as she approached, wearing a short denim skirt with knee-high black leather boots, a cropped pink sweater and a black leather jacket. She looked sexy and smelled like the fragrance samples that came inside of magazines.
“Nah, I got it.” I smiled.
“You mind if I sign your cast?” she asked, her pen in hand.
“That’s cool,” I said.
She drew a heart with an arrow through it, and inside the heart, she scribbled, Vance, Let Me Know How I Can Help U Heal. Much Love, Darla XOXO.
Snapping the top back on her gel pen with the purple ink, she winked and then took her seat, next to mine. I watched as she opened her book, not meaning to stare, but pink was definitely her color, and she was wearing it well. She was glowing, and I couldn’t help but watch.
The thought of riding the school bus was already beginning to cramp my style, but it wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter. It wasn’t like I could drive, and with my parents’ busy schedules, there was no hope of them transporting me back and forth. The school bus, which I hadn’t been on since freshman year, was the only alternative to walking. The thought of it had me depressed the entire day. I’d thought about watching my team practice after school but decided I really didn’t want to be depressed more than I already was. And since it was almost impossible to drive with my right leg in a cast, I figured my only ride home would be the big yellow school bus waiting next to the curb in front of the school.
“You gonna be okay?” Tameka asked as she walked me to the bus, struggling to hold on to my backpack.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I told you that you don’t have to carry my books for me.”
“I don’t mind. You’re my boo,” she said and kissed my cheek.
If I am your boo, then why did you run away the other day, when we were about to go to the next level? I silently asked the question that had been burning in my mind for days. It had bothered me more than I’d let on, but instead of bringing it up, I’d let it fester.
I gave her a quick smile as we made our way across the courtyard to where the buses waited for students to board.
“Holler at me when you get home from dance-team practice,” I said.
“I will.” Tameka handed my backpack over.
I kissed her forehead and watched as she jogged back inside, her leotards hugging her thighs. Both crutches underneath one arm, I lifted myself onto the bus and plopped down in one of the seats up front, placed my crutches against the window.
As I glared out the window, I knew that this would be the longest twelve weeks of my life.
“Anybody sitting here?” Darla asked. Her leather jacket was zipped all the way up to her neck in order to shield her from the cold.
“Nah, just me.” I slid closer to the window, and she plopped down in the seat next to me.
“Was that your girlfriend who just walked you to the bus?” she asked. “Yep.”
She leaned over me, pretending to look out the window. I guessed she was trying to get another glimpse of Tameka. While her breasts brushed against my arm, her fingertips traced the heart that she’d drawn on my cast earlier, and then her fingers moved toward my thigh.
“Does Tameka know how to take care of her man?”
The question came out of nowhere and threw me off guard.
“What?”
“Does she do the things that girlfriends should do?” she asked.
I was dumbfounded and really didn’t know how to answer that question. So I just said, “She’s cool.”
“I really like you, Vance. I wasn’t sure if you could tell, but it’s true.” She
smiled. “I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you. Are you and Tameka serious?”
“Sort of, yeah.” I was hesitant about the whole line of questioning.
What did I mean, sort of? Tameka had practically made me swear on a stack of bibles that I would be forever true to her. That no other hoochie mama, as she called them, would come in between us.
“I guess what I’m really trying to say is, my mom works nights, and I’m usually at home all by myself every day after school.” Darla grinned wickedly. “So anytime you want to come by, you can. We could hang out, watch some movies. We could do anything you want. And you don’t even need an invitation.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I pressed my backpack against my lap to hide the fact that Darla Union had me feeling things I’d never felt before and thinking thoughts that I shouldn’t have been thinking.
thirteen
Indigo
I was giving it all I had, shaking everything my mama had given me as my hips swayed to the music. I wanted to show Miss Martin what I really had, just in case she’d forgotten. Every girl on the team was dancing better than she ever had, putting something extra into every move.
“Okay, girls.” Miss Martin blew her whistle. “Give me one lap around the gym, and then we’ll meet right here when you’re finished.”
I took off toward the bleachers. Marcus gave me his award-winning smile as I passed him. He was reclining on the bleachers, his gym bag in between his legs. His basketball practice was over early, and he was waiting for me, as he did most nights, watching our practice and giving unwanted advice about how I could make my routine better. I didn’t show up at his practice, telling him how to shoot a free throw better or how to play better defense. Therefore, I didn’t need dancing advice from him. Jade and Tymia jogged side by side and then caught up to me. Tameka and some other girls pulled up the rear. After we all completed one lap, we gathered around Miss Martin and waited for her to dismiss us.
Deal With It Page 8
