Drama Queens

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  I shot a hot look at Rico.

  “Umm, as a matter of fact, Angel has a daughter already,” he said.

  “What you say?” his mother said. “How old is she?”

  “She’s two,” I replied, trying not to cough. I couldn’t read the reaction on her face to tell if that was a deal breaker for her or not.

  “Well, why didn’t you bring her with you?” she said, making me relax some. “We ain’t had no children running around here in a long time. Scooter got six kids, but they mamas won’t half let him see them. They’re mad ’cause Scooter won’t pay no money. I tried to tell them he’s not working, what they expect him to do? But they don’t listen. They just want to keep getting mad. All these girls try to trap my boys and then get mad when they don’t want to be with them anymore.”

  Wow, I thought. I wished I’d had a tape recorder, because my girls were not going to believe this.

  I could tell Rico’s mom loved her sons to death. But from our conversation, it seemed like she was harder on Rico and gave Scooter and Tink a pass on just about everything, something else I reminded myself to ask Rico about.

  All in all, his family was so friendly and down-to-earth. The entire family had me cracking up all evening long.

  By the time the night wore down, I was ready to hit the bed. His mom had set me up in the guest bedroom, which she said was really her sewing room. Before I turned in, I called and checked in with my mom. I once again felt awful about lying to her, but I didn’t have much choice. I then called Camille because I knew her mom makes her turn her phone off at night. I left a message, told her where I was and that I’d call when I got back to town.

  The rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful. I met more relatives, each one louder and more country than the last. But there was a lot of laughter, and I ended up having a wonderful time.

  Rico must have had a good time, too, because on the ride back to Houston he looked over at me. “I knew you were the one. The way my family took to you proves that I picked the right girl.”

  I smiled. I was about to ask about his mom giving him a hard time, but something stopped me. He was in such a good mood and that was obviously a sore spot, so I let it drop.

  “I hate we have to get back so early,” Rico said, frowning as he pulled onto the freeway. “I don’t like this.”

  “I’m sorry, but my mom was starting to ask a whole lot of questions,” I said. When I’d called last night, she’d even asked to speak to Miss Rachel, but I’d told her she’d already been asleep. Luckily, she hadn’t pressed it. “The last thing I need is my mom getting suspicious and calling Miss Rachel.”

  “Well, your girls were going to cover for you, right? I mean, they’re such good friends,” he said sarcastically.

  I nodded, ignoring his smart remark. “They got me,” I said. Even though I hadn’t talked to them about it, I knew, whether they liked it or not, they’d have my back.

  Rico let the issue drop, and for the next three hours, we laughed and talked and got to know each other even better. As we pulled into the Houston city limits, Rico said, “So, now it’s my turn.”

  “Your turn for what?” I asked.

  “It’s my turn to bond with your family. When do you plan on making that happen?”

  I inhaled sharply. I so did not want to have this conversation. We’d had a good weekened, and I didn’t want to argue, but if I told him the truth, that’s exactly what was going to happen.

  He cut his eyes at me. “Angel?”

  I leaned back against the headrest. “Just give me some time, okay, Rico?”

  He nodded, his lips tightening. “Okay, but trust, I don’t like being the hidden boyfriend. My boys give me a hard time about messing with a high school girl, but I try and tell them it’s not even like that. Now I’m starting to feel like it is.”

  He knew how to cut deep. I hated when he talked about me being in high school. I couldn’t wait to graduate.

  I didn’t bother responding to Rico this time. Yet the subject made me very uneasy. I knew I had to figure out something, because it was only a matter of time before Rico demanded to meet my mom and Angelica. And that was something I definitely wasn’t looking forward to.

  11

  Angel

  Girl, you mean he really has someone in his family named Tink?” Camille was cracking up laughing. We were all at our usual hangout—Alexis’s bedroom. I was filling them in on my trip to Dallas. Of course, they had charged me up the minute I got back, and then they’d started asking a ton of questions.

  “You two must be pretty serious,” Tyeesha said. “I mean, you’re going out of town to meet his family?”

  I nodded, then said hesitantly, “Yeah, we go together.”

  Camille threw a pillow at me. “You cow!”

  I ducked as the pillow flew over me. “What?”

  “You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell us?” Alexis said, looking hurt. Since we’d met, everyone had had a boyfriend but me. Jasmine had even had two. So, I could see how they’d be tripping over me not sharing that news with them.

  “I’m sorry, dang,” I replied. “I just didn’t want you guys giving me a hard time.”

  “Why would we give you a hard time?” Tyeesha said. “Well, except for the fact that this dude has you sneaking out of town with him?”

  I took a deep breath. I had come clean about the trip. I might as well tell them everything.

  “Rico is twenty-five,” I said casually.

  All four of their mouths dropped open. “Get out of here,” Camille said.

  “Wow. I mean, I knew he was older, but twenty-five?” Alexis said, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, and now that we’re getting serious, he’s pushing to meet my mom and Angelica,” I said. “I know my mom is not going to be feeling that idea.”

  I could tell by the sour look on Jasmine’s face that she wasn’t feeling the idea either.

  “What?” I asked her. “I know you got something to say.”

  She threw up her hands and backed off, though. “It’s your life.”

  “Yes, it is,” I said, glad she decided not to really trip.

  “I cannot believe that you went all the way to Dallas with him,” Camille said. “And y’all always give me a hard time about boys.”

  “I know I probably shouldn’t have gone,” I said. “But Rico really wanted me to meet his family.”

  “So his family was okay with your age?” Tyeesha asked.

  I shrugged. “We never really talked about it. He changed the subject the one time it came up.”

  “I don’t know, I think it’s pretty cool, she has this older guy diggin’ her and stuff,” Camille said.

  “You would think it was cool,” Jasmine replied, rolling her eyes. She turned her attention to me. “Angel, you gotta think about what you’re getting yourself into.” I knew Jasmine couldn’t hold her tongue for too long.

  “I mean, Rico is all Mack Daddy and stuff, but have you ever asked yourself why a twenty-five-year-old man would want someone in high school?”

  I was so sick and tired of this whole “you’re in high school” argument. “Have you ever thought he wants me because he likes me?” I snapped.

  “Jasmine has a point,” Alexis said. “I mean, is he like pressuring you to sleep with him?”

  “No!” I exclaimed. “That’s one of the reasons I like him so much. He’s the total opposite of Marcus.”

  “Well, what is it, then?” Jasmine said. “Because you have to know he has some girl up at PV he’s seeing. You can’t make me believe that this grown man just likes hanging out with someone who is barely able to date.”

  Now I was getting mad. I felt like everyone was ganging up on me. “You’re just jealous because you wish someone like Rico would show some interest in you.”

  Camille, Alexis and Tyeesha all dropped their mouths in surprise. I was the quiet one of the group, so for me to snap like that, they had to know they’d pushed me too far.

  Ja
smine bit down on her bottom lip like she was trying not to get mad. “You know, I’m gonna let you make it, because you feelin’ yourself right now.”

  “Come on, guys,” Camille said, stepping in. “Let’s not fight.”

  Jasmine threw her hands up. “Whatever. Angel, do what you want. On the real, I have more important stuff to focus on.”

  “Well, I’m sorry my stuff is so trivial to you,” I said sharply. Her and her funky attitude were about to get on my nerves.

  Jasmine closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Angel, don’t trip,” she said. “I didn’t even mean it like that. I’m sorry for going off. I’m stressed myself and I meant that this test has me losing it. So, that’s what I need to be worried about. Not who you’re dating.”

  Talk about feeling bad. Jasmine’s worried tone suddenly made everything I was talking about seem meaningless. The fact that she’d apologized so quickly proved she was pretty stressed.

  “I’m sorry, Jaz,” I said.

  “It’s nothing to apologize for,” she said. “I was just letting you know where I was coming from. If I flunk this test, it’s all over. College is my only way out of the ’hood. I don’t want to go to beauty school like my sister. Shoot, I don’t like to comb my own hair, so I sure ain’t trying to comb someone else’s.” She frowned at the very thought. “College is the only way I can make a better life for me and my family.”

  We all sat silently, no one really knowing what to say.

  “Well, don’t sweat it,” Alexis finally said. “I know you aced that test.”

  Jasmine fell back on the bed. “Aced? Shoot, I’m just praying that I passed.”

  Talking about college reminded me of my own future. Rico said he was going to graduate next year. What would that mean for me? Would he wait around on me? Would I have to leave college to go be with him? I’d been so caught up in the thrill of having a boyfriend that I hadn’t even realized that I needed to ask Rico some serious questions. I made a mental note that the next time we were together, that’s exactly what I would do.

  12

  Jasmine

  This had to be some kind of mistake. I stared at my English final exam in disbelief. We were sitting in Mrs. Stafford’s class, and she’d used the last few minutes of the period to pass out our final exams.

  “What did you get?” Camille whispered, trying to look over my shoulder at my paper. Her eyes widened, just like mine, when she saw the grade.

  “You flunked it?” she exclaimed, causing several of my classmates to look my way.

  How in the world had I gotten a sixty-seven? I swallowed hard. I knew how. Staying on the phone, laughing and fooling around with my ex-boyfriend, C.J., who I was still good friends with. He’d been telling me all about his trip to visit Oklahoma State University, where he was planning on going to play football. By the time we’d gotten off the phone, I’d been too tired to study. I had fallen asleep within ten minutes of opening my textbook. I’d known I hadn’t been prepared, but I’d never expected that I would flunk the exam. When I’d told Mrs. Rachel that I’d done okay, I’d truly believed it.

  “What did you get?” Camille leaned over and whispered to Angel.

  “An eighty-five,” Angel said softly, like she didn’t want to rub it in.

  Camille quickly turned her paper over, but I had already seen the big red A- on her paper, next to her score of ninety-three.

  They both looked at me like they didn’t know what to say.

  “Ladies,” Mrs. Stafford said, snapping our attention back to the front of the room, “you are supposed to be reviewing your exams—alone—not with one another.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Angel and Camille meekly said. Mrs. Stafford didn’t play. No one wanted to get on her bad side. I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t do anything but clutch the useless piece of paper in my hand.

  This exam was 30 percent of our grade and I had flunked it. Granted, I never claimed to be the smartest person, but I wasn’t the dumbest either—at least I thought I wasn’t.

  Class couldn’t end fast enough for me. When the bell rang, I held up my hand and stopped Camille before she could start with her pity party. “You guys go on. I need to talk to Mrs. Stafford,” I told her and Angel.

  “What are you gonna say? I mean, this is thirty percent of our grade,” Camille said.

  “You don’t think I know that?” I cried. I didn’t mean to be getting mad at her, but this was serious. If I flunked this test, the highest I could get in her class would be a D. That was passing but not enough to get the scholarship. I took a deep breath and walked over to Mrs. Stafford’s desk.

  “Mrs. Stafford, may I talk to you?” I know I must’ve shocked her by the soft tone of my voice, but this was no time to play a hard role.

  She looked up from the papers she was grading. “Yes, Miss Jones?”

  “Th-this must be some kind of mistake,” I said, pointing to my paper. I knew I was grasping at straws, but I was hoping that she’d messed up grading or something. I just couldn’t fail this exam.

  “The only mistake, Miss Jones, is that you apparently did not study.”

  “But I did,” I protested.

  She gave me a “yeah, right” look, and I quickly decided that the best way to get through to Mrs. Stafford was to be honest.

  “I mean, I studied, but not like I should have, because I ended up falling asleep,” I explained.

  “Miss Jones, what have I told you about excuses?”

  I lowered my eyes and mumbled her mantra: “‘Excuses are tools of incompetence. Those who use them, use them well and seldom do well at anything else.’”

  “Exactly,” she said, looking at me sternly. “And what does that mean?”

  Why she was asking these stupid questions she already knew the answer to was beyond me. But since I was in no position to complain about anything, I answered. “It means that there are no excuses when it comes to doing what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Thank you very much,” she said, turning her attention back to her papers.

  I couldn’t help it; my eyes filled with tears. “But if I don’t pass this test, I’m going to get a D in your class.”

  “Seems to me that should’ve been inspiration enough for you to study ahead of time and not wait until the last minute.” She didn’t look up from her papers.

  I wiped the tears that had begun trickling down my cheeks.

  My sniffling must have gotten to her, because she finally said, “Miss Jones, I don’t understand. This isn’t the first test you’ve failed in my class and you’ve never been this concerned before.”

  “I needed at least a ninety on my test in order to get a B in your class,” I told her.

  She raised an arched eyebrow. “And you knew this when you took the test, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what, Miss Jones?” she said, like she was getting tired of me.

  “But I didn’t have a scholarship on the line at that time.”

  That caused her ears to perk up. “What kind of scholarship?”

  I couldn’t help it. I made like a faucet and the words started pouring out. “I never really wanted to go to college before I got accepted to Prairie View. And then I got excited, but my mom said I can’t go because we can’t afford it. Then Miss Rachel went and found someone to give me a scholarship, but in order for me to get it, I have to make at least a B in your class.”

  She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “So how are all your other classes?”

  “I have As and Bs and one C,” I said. “Please, Mrs. Stafford, is there anything I can do?”

  She didn’t give away a thing. She stood and began putting her papers into her briefcase. I knew it was all over. “Miss Jones, you know I do not believe in playing favorites.”

  “I’m not asking you to play favorites.” I sniffed. “I’m just asking for another chance—”

  She held up her hand to cut me off. “But I do like you. You remind me a lot of m
yself when I was your age. And I am allowing two other students to submit makeup essays.”

  My heart started racing. She stared at me to let me know she was serious. “One chance. That’s all you get. One chance. I need a ten-page essay.”

  “Ten pages?” I said before thinking about my words.

  This time she raised both eyebrows, and I quickly straightened up. “Oh, no. Ten pages is fine. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

  “Ten pages on the importance of a college education,” Mrs. Stafford said firmly.

  “Okay.” I nodded. That sounded easy enough. I could just rattle off reasons why you should go to college.

  “I don’t want anything just thrown together,” she said, as if she was reading my mind. “I need you to put thought in it, and your argument has to be supported by statistics. I want graphs and data. I want it to be so good that it can be presented to the Higher Education Coordinating Board and they’d be wowed by it.”

  My mouth dropped open. She sure wanted a lot for an essay.

  “Is that going to be a problem, Miss Jones? Because we can leave your grade as is.”

  “N-no, ma’am,” I stammered. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

  “Okay, I’m glad we’re on the same page. I need your paper by Friday.”

  “Friday? But that’s a week away.”

  “I’m glad that you are aware of your calendar days. Besides, you have Thursday off for Senior Skip Day, although I wouldn’t advise you to wait until the last minute. I’m merely pointing out that you have more than enough time. Friday, by eight-thirty a.m. Take it or leave it.”

  “Okay, I’ll take it. Ten pages of an awesome essay by Friday morning. I’ll have it done,” I said, although I didn’t know how.

  “I trust that you will.” She wiggled her index finger at me. “No excuses.”

  “No excuses,” I repeated before taking off toward the door.

  “Miss Jones,” she said, stopping me.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “Take this seriously. You have a lot riding on this essay.”