by L. Divine
“I guess you’re right,” I say, reluctantly rising from my spot and heading toward the front door. Students are outside, loudly rehearsing their scenes and talking in general. I love drama class. It’s the most expressive elective offered at this school, and I fit right in here, most of the time.
“Thank you,” Rah says, hugging me tightly, knowing I’ve already forgiven him when he is so wrong.
“For what?” I ask, pushing him away. “I came out here to warn you before our teacher comes back in the room. Everyone ain’t as cool as Mr. Adewale,” I say, reminding him and Nigel that the only black male teacher up here, who just happened to referee an off-campus game for them months ago, is about as good as it gets. All the other teachers couldn’t give a shit about a hall pass when it comes to black male students roaming around campus.
“I know you’re pissed about what happened last night and I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?” Rah asks, throwing his hands in the air like this bull isn’t his own making. “Sandy should’ve never seen us kissing, Jayd. I knew that would set her off, but she wasn’t supposed to be there, I promise.” I look from Rah to Chance, who looks shocked by Rah’s confession. Jeremy is Chance’s best friend, and I know he’s wondering if Jeremy knows about Rah kissing me—which he doesn’t, and I need to keep it that way.
“First of all, you snuck in a kiss on the neck; I did not kiss you back,” I say, vindicating myself from his implication of joint responsibility. I want to make it very clear I had nothing to do with his affection. “And second of all, I’m more pissed at the fact you didn’t listen to me when I gave you a warning about your crazy-ass baby-mama.” I look around, noticing we’re causing a scene of our own.
“Okay, I know you were worried about Rahima and I respect that, Jayd, really I do. But I have to be able to trust her own mother with her well-being—otherwise I’d go crazy worrying about baby girl all the time.” Rah looks around like he’s expecting the school security to come and grab him at any moment, as well he should. Hall pass or not, if we get too loud they’ll gladly snatch us all up.
“And that’s fine with me because I couldn’t care less. I’m out of it,” I say, turning around to head back inside. We have a good twenty minutes left in fifth period and I want to use it productively, not out here arguing with Rah.
“Jayd, you don’t mean that. You know you’re Rahima’s godmother as far as I’m concerned, and she loves you, too.”
“Good try, but I’m not falling for your bull anymore, Rah. I’m out.” Before I can get away, Rah takes my hand, forcing me to turn around. Chance looks up and sees what I see: Jeremy turning red at the sight of Rah and me holding hands. Oh shit.
“What’s up, man?” Jeremy asks, stepping up to Rah and claiming my hand in his own. I’ve never seen Jeremy look so pissed before. How did he know what was going on all the way down here? Jeremy’s chemistry class is on the other side of campus in the science hall. Because the theater department is at the bottom of the massive campus, no one ever comes down here without intending to. Maybe that’s who Chance was texting a moment ago.
“We were just talking,” Rah says, reluctantly letting me go. He knows he has no right to claim me, especially not with my new man standing eye to eye with him, obviously ready to do whatever’s necessary to make his point clear.
“Please don’t let me stop you. What are we talking about?” Jeremy asks, holding my right hand in his while he wraps his left arm around my shoulder, completely engulfing me in his protective embrace. Nigel looks at us in disbelief. I bet he never thought he’d see the day Rah had to let me go to a white boy. Oh well. I’ve got ninety-nine problems and a fool ain’t one—anymore.
“Never mind,” Rah says, backing down for the moment. He looks at the gold necklace and charm he planted on me last night and I instinctively begin to play with the heavy ankh. “I just wanted to reiterate how sorry I was that I missed your birthday and I hope you like your gift. Peace.” Rah nods his head in Chance’s direction and gives Jeremy a hard look, which Jeremy returns. They were never very fond of each other, but I was hoping they would at least be able to grow to tolerate one another. I think that ship has permanently sailed.
“I’ll holla at y’all later,” Nigel says, following Rah back toward the parking lot. Nigel’s supposed to be at basketball practice right now. But because football is his first love, he slacks off in B-ball a lot, unlike KJ and his crew, who live for this season. They made it to the finals and will be ready to take it to the state championships before it’s all said and done. Their only real challenge is Westingle, and that game is coming up soon. Nigel knows all of those cats, too, and I’m sure his loyalty is split, just like it is between his newfound friends here and his old friends there, like Rah.
“What the hell was that all about?” Jeremy asks, relaxing his stance a little bit now that Rah’s disappeared off campus.
“Do you want the short version or the long one?” I ask, looking at Chance’s watch for the time. Neither Jeremy nor I wear watches, and I left my phone in the room with the rest of my belongings.
“Whichever one includes Rah giving you this,” Jeremy says, flicking the gold charm with his middle finger. “Why didn’t you tell me he gave this to you?” I look into Jeremy’s magnetic blue eyes and wish I had the opportunity to chill his mind out and tell him what all went down last night, but there’s no time. The bell’s about to ring and we all have to get back inside.
“I was going to, but I didn’t know what to say.” Chance makes a sound indicating I’m not being completely honest and he’s right. But damn, did he have to sell me out like that?
“You don’t know what to say? Since when? I’ll let it slide for now, Lady J, but we need to talk about this.” Jeremy kisses me on the nose before jogging back up the hill.
“What the hell, Chance?” I ask, socking my homeboy in his arm. “I didn’t tell Nellie about your little date at the beach last weekend. What the hell are you trying to do, break us up?”
“No. The exact opposite. If there’s nothing to hide then spill it. Otherwise it’s just lying, and I know Jeremy. If there’s one thing he can’t tolerate, it’s being lied to for whatever reason.” I know he’s right and I didn’t really do anything, but I still feel guilty. “Tania lied to him about being pregnant, and then when he finally did find out, the bitch was already engaged and making baby plans without him. He’s never gotten over it and won’t. I know this isn’t as serious, but it’s still a lie, Jayd, and you need to clear it up—fast.” We walk back into the room and take our seats with the rest of the class. Mrs. Sinclair has reentered the room, talking with the groups individually about their casting and scene choices, which Chance and I are still mulling over.
This isn’t like me, and I’m the last person I want to remind Jeremy of his ex-baby-mama, Tania. The only thing that makes his situation more dignified than Rah’s is money. Otherwise, I’m sure they’d have similar issues. Maybe I can explain it to him tonight after work. But right now, I have to get back on my grind and let the energy pass because, as of now, Jayd Jackson is officially back on her shit. And that starts with choosing the best audition monologue and scene.
Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that, my mom says, interrupting my reading. And don’t worry about your audition, Jayd. I don’t think you’ll go blind again by playing a blind woman. It doesn’t work like that, and besides, what are your jade bracelets for? Use them and have faith. ’Bye, my mom says, checking out of my head.
Maybe everything will be okay and I’m tripping for nothing. Still, I’m not sure if this part’s for me, but I’ll try it out for size. If I never challenge myself—even when it’s not necessarily my thing—I’ll never grow, and that’s what I’m here for. I love my hoods, but I don’t want to stay in Compton or Inglewood forever. College is my preferred way out, and doing as many notable activities in high school as possible is my way into the University of West LA. So if I have to try out for tainted lead roles or drink expensive t
ea at debutante meetings all day long to get in, I’m on it.
2
Cup of Tea
“If I was a rich girl.”
—GWEN STEFANI
After working at Netta’s shop all afternoon and well into the evening, I was too tired to move when I got back to Inglewood. Of course Mama tried to convince me to spend the night in Compton because it was so late when we left the shop, but all I wanted to do was soak in a long, hot bath and call it a night. My mom’s quiet apartment is always the path of least resistance, even with all of the spirit work and homework I have on my plate, because my mom’s always at her boyfriend Karl’s place.
I spent an hour last night getting myself organized for the week ahead and finally took a bath and called it a night. I’m praying that I make it through to the end of the school year as drama-free as possible. I know I just have to keep pushing and it’ll be all right. Unlike these rich folks up here at South Bay High, I have to work hard for mine and I don’t mind one bit. I’m used to it. If one of these privileged rich girls had to live a day in my shoes, she’d probably break down and cry.
I don’t know why Mr. Adelizi wants to see me this morning. I’ve been on my game academically all year long—as always—and I’m sure he’s well aware of my Advanced Placement exams being complete. It’s too early to choose classes for my senior year, so what the hell does he want? Maybe the scores for the AP exams are in early. I’m anxious to see what I got on all three of my exams, but they’re not due for another week or two.
I walk through the nearly empty main hall toward the main office, thankful to have escaped government class for the remainder of third period. My first two classes were pretty uneventful, and Jeremy and I spent the nutrition break together avoiding the looming conversation about Rah’s impromptu school visit yesterday and belated birthday gift still hanging around my neck. Usually Jeremy’s pretty laid-back about everything, but seeing me with another dude always gets his feathers ruffled. I could tell he needed to cool off before bringing the subject up again and I’m happy to wait as long as possible to have that conversation.
I step into the main office and head straight for the counselors’ offices. There are five counselors on campus: one for each grade level and an extra one for “special circumstances.” Luckily I haven’t been in that office at all this semester and I’m trying hard to keep it that way. But broads like Misty, my former best friend turned worst enemy, and Laura, the rich white bitch from hell, make it difficult to maintain my cool. Hopefully I won’t run into Misty or her mama this morning. She works in the attendance office. I’ve never had a problem with Miss Caldwell, but now that she’s under the influence of my crazy next-door neighbor and Mama’s enemy, Esmeralda, I don’t want to take any chances.
“Miss Jackson, it’s good to see you. Have a seat,” Mr. Adelizi, the junior class counselor, says, gesturing for me to sit down in the only available seat in the cramped space. I guess the end-of-the-year paperwork has overwhelmed him a bit because the other student seat is stacked with folders and so is every other available space in his office, including his desk. Even his chair has a bag hanging from the arm with overflowing pages hitting his left elbow. Don’t they have housekeeping every evening in the main office?
“What’s up, Mr. Adelizi?” I ask, trying to avoid as much small talk as possible. Coming to the counselor’s office is always uncomfortable to me. It usually symbolizes some sort of change, and if it’s not voluntary or positive, I’m really not in the mood to deal with it.
“Well, Jayd, I’ve been reviewing your transcripts and you should think about adding more diverse activities to your academic resume if you’re still planning on applying to colleges in the fall,” he says, pointing at the computer screen in front of him. If I add any more activities to my already full schedule I might go crazy.
“Mr. Adelizi, if you see what I see, I already have a full plate,” I say, squinting at the screen. Lately my vision hasn’t been very clear. Maybe I just need more rest. I have been up reading late and my mom’s apartment doesn’t have the best lighting for studying, since most of her light consists of low lamps and candles. It’s a great atmosphere for relaxing but horrible for getting any work done.
That’s because it’s a grown woman’s apartment, not a high school student’s, my mom says, all up in my business this morning. And stop complaining. If you need more light, buy yourself a desk lamp or brighter bulbs. There’s a Target up the street.
I wasn’t complaining, Mom, and please get out of my head. I’m in a meeting with my counselor, I say, staring at Mr. Adelizi, who’s concentrating on my transcripts. Thank God, because I still haven’t mastered hiding the distant look on my face when my mom’s in my head; yet another thing I need to work on.
“Well, how about cheer?” he asks, handing me one of the fluorescent pink fliers posted all over the campus and ending the psychic conversation in my head. I look at the bright pink and green paper, grateful I don’t have to hand these out. I’m getting a headache just reading the damn thing.
“Come again?” He must not know me at all, no matter how much he pretends to be in tune with his students. Obviously he’s been gravely misinformed about Jayd Jackson.
“Weren’t you on the spirit squad last year?” Mr. Adelizi asks, reminding me of my brief attempt at joining the lesser of the school spirit teams. That was at the beginning of my sophomore year, before I had my breast reduction surgery, which changed more than my appearance: It also gave me more confidence and a new outlook on my social life.
“I was, but only for a few weeks. It wasn’t my thing.” I can still smell the sweat of a thousand other students who wore the school mascot costume before me, which the members rotated wearing every week. It’s one thing to do it every now and then for fun, but to have to wear the large, two-piece sea-hawk costume for three hours straight is pure torture.
“But you were in dance class for the last two semesters and that seemed to work well for you, or does Ms. Carter simply hand out A’s to all of the students?” Mr. Adelizi can be a real smart-ass when he wants to.
“No, I earned that grade.” And I did. Ms. Carter’s a tough teacher and I miss the creative and physical workouts her classes gave me. I’ve noticed my pants getting a little tighter around the waist since her class was discontinued last semester, and Jeremy constantly feeding me isn’t helping the situation much, either. Now she’s the full-time cheer squad coordinator. But I’m still not going to be a pom-pom girl.
“Okay then. Sign-ups start today after school,” Mr. Adelizi continues, still not feeling me.
“Mr. Adelizi, I’m already in the drama club, speech and debate, and the African Student Union, not to mention I work two jobs. I don’t have time for anything else, but thanks for your concern,” I say, rising from my seat. But apparently he’s not through with me yet.
“Miss Jackson, I remember the first time we spoke about your attending college and I was less than supportive, and for that, I’m sorry,” Mr. Adelizi says, signaling me to reclaim my seat. I’m in no rush to get back to government class, so I’ll gladly stay until the bell rings. After that, I’m out whether he’s in midsentence or not.
“It’s cool,” I say. I was over that shit the day it happened. When I first came to South Bay High, with its rich, white population, I knew where I was and didn’t expect anything more or less from the administration up here. And unfortunately, Mr. Adelizi was partially correct to jump to the conclusion that I might not want to attend college. Out of my hood crew, I’m the only one who wants to attend college. Nigel’s automatically going, but sports are his motivation, not academics or upward social mobility, because his parents are already doing well financially. Rah will probably go, but if he doesn’t get in it won’t be a big deal to him. And as for my girls, they never even considered going to school any longer than they have to.
“No, it’s not. I made an assumption about you based on your economic background and that wasn’t fair.” Mr. Adelizi
looks truly repentant for his racist ways, but why now? There has to be a catch.
“To be honest, I’m used to it. It shocks me more when people don’t size me up when they find out I’m from Compton.” We stare at each other for a moment, unsure of who should speak next. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting such a blunt response, but again, he doesn’t know me at all.
“Excuse me, Mr. Adelizi. There’s a call for you on line two,” one of the school secretaries says, stepping into the open door and breaking the awkward silence.
“Can you please tell them I’ll be just a moment?” Mr. Adelizi looks at my transcripts on the computer screen in front of him and back at me. “Jayd, I’m impressed with your tenacity. You’ve kept up with your Advanced Placement courses and you continue to stay active in drama, but that’s not going to be enough to make you stand out as a well-rounded candidate for the top colleges, which I hope you’re still considering applying to come fall.” Mr. Adelizi looks down at the blinking phone on his crowded desk and back up at me, hoping his words have sunk in.
“Trust me, it’s all I think about.” The sooner I get out of high school, the better. And from what I heard KJ’s older friends say about college life when KJ and I were together, and from what Mr. Adewale’s shared about his experiences, University of West Los Angeles is the place to be, and that’s where I plan on going. I’ve never been to the campus, but I’m sure it’s all that and then some.
“That’s good to hear. There are many colleges that are looking to broaden the diversity of their student population. That said, they are looking for top candidates from the local distinguished high schools first. Now, I have placed your name on that list for South Bay and hope you’re open to the program.”
“It sounds like a good opportunity, Mr. Adelizi. Thank you,” I say, surprised that I was called into his office for good news rather than the usual bull.
