by L. Divine
“I’m Mrs. Tyler, vice president of our chapter, and you’ve just heard from our president, Mrs. Esop,” she says, smoothing the cloth napkin over her lap before taking a sip of her tea. “Because this is our first tea, we are going to take this opportunity to get to know each of you on a more friendly basis. So mingle and take in some of the lovely art on the walls. We’ll hold the history quiz after we get to know one another better.” Mrs. Tyler and Mrs. Esop join the rest of the women walking around the large room, checking out us girls. They seem to be watching our social etiquette. I think I’ll just stay where I am and let the wolves come to me.
“So you must be the infamous Jayd,” Mrs. Tyler says, sizing me up. “My soror here has told me a lot about you,” she says, gesturing with her teacup toward Nigel’s mom, who’s standing beside her. Unlike the white women in PV, these black elitists don’t drink alcohol during the day out of fear of being deemed uncivilized. Too bad, because they could really use some loosening up in here.
“Jayd Jackson, Lynn Mae James’s granddaughter?” one of the other women asks, suddenly interested, in the small section of the room where I’m now cornered by these three ladies. “Hello, dear. I’m Mrs. Pierce, social secretary.” Here we go.
“Yes ma’am, I am,” I answer, trying to remain polite as my blood pressure rises. I don’t want to have to cuss anyone out today, but if she says one wrong word about my grandmother, it’s going to be on and cracking in Lafayette Square, tea be damned.
“How is our soror?” Mrs. Tyler asks, catching me completely off guard. Soror? Mama’s not a member of their sorority, is she? I know Mrs. Esop is closer to Mama’s age than my mom’s, being that Mrs. Esop’s eldest child is several years older than Nigel, but I’m not sure exactly how old she is.
“Now, Rita, you know Lynn Mae left us a long, long time ago.” Mrs. Esop winks at me as she puts the tea tray down on the coffee table. “As a matter of fact, she was never really with us.”
“Yet and still, her daughter’s wearing our colors. Go figure,” Mrs. Pierce says, looking at my pink shoes and shell, smiling at my chosen attire.
“Granddaughter—and she’s only wearing half of them, or have you forgotten how well crimson goes with pink?” Mrs. Esop asks, visibly annoyed by her friend’s reference, but I’m not too sure which one. The way she said granddaughter was like she wanted to make sure the separation was clear between generations. And as for the colors, I think all Greek organizations are just one step away from being as devoted to their colors as gangs are, yet they strive to be seen as the exact opposite. Go figure.
“Yes, dear. And when’s the last time you wore the two together?” Mrs. Tyler asks while helping herself to the effervescent drink in her hand. Maybe there’s a little something extra in her cup.
“I love my ladies, but really, pink and red just don’t mix,” Mrs. Pierce says, touching up her tea with the small kettle on the side table next to my chair. There are a variety of teas in the ceramic bowls on the coffee table, as well as flavored instant coffees, Mama’s favorite. The three women are standing over me, dominating my space and the conversation. One of the younger sisters decides to take the initiative and join our side chat.
“What about Valentine’s Day? They are the two main colors, and I think they look lovely together,” she says, but I think that was the wrong thing to say because the elder sisters look at her like she has horns sticking out of her head. At least her comment got me out of the hot seat.
“Natalia, only speak when spoken to, understood?” Mrs. Tyler says, seemingly embarrassed for the young woman. “Jayd, this is my daughter Natalia. She’s so excited to be here.”
“Hello,” I say, reaching out my hand for the tall, slender sister to take. She looks at my hand, hesitating before touching my fingers.
“Charmed, I’m sure.” I look up at the broad, feeling the need to stand up so she doesn’t get it twisted. Just because I’m new to this socialite bull doesn’t mean I’m lower than anyone else. Before I can get too caught up in the Japanese animation flick in my head—me wiping the floor with Natalia’s Gucci sundress—Mrs. Esop interjects, calling the room back to order.
“Young ladies,” Mrs. Esop says, commanding our attention. She is definitely the baddest broad in here and her sisters seem to know it. I guess that’s why she’s president. I hope I command the same respect when I win the ASU race. “We are going to begin the interview process now. Please step into the dining room and we’ll come get you individually when your time comes. There are more pastries and drinks in there to enjoy.” The fifteen of us leave the large space, leaving our sponsors in the living room, and walk toward the dining room, everyone paired up but me. There are fifteen of us and because it’s an odd number, someone’s going to be left out. I let them go into the quaint space, chitchatting it up while I head through the kitchen and toward the front door. I need some air.
“Jayd, is that you?” Nellie asks. Mickey comes in the front door behind her. I guess my friends are having a session during our teatime. Good. Maybe I can kick it after I’m done here.
“The one and only,” I say, smiling at them both. Even if we’re on weird terms, I’m still happy to see familiar faces.
“Out of my way, please. I have to pee,” Mickey says, passing me by on her way to the guest bathroom in the hallway. I’m glad I have Mickey’s balm in the car. Chance and Nigel are walking up the driveway carrying the bags from this afternoon’s shopping trip.
“Wow,” Chance says, hugging me, careful not to wrinkle my mom’s suit. “You clean up well, boo.” Nellie hits him on the arm, but it’s no use. Chance and I will always be cool like that. I guess he just got back from Atlanta. We’ll have to talk about his trip later since he asked me to keep his family secret on the low. I know Nellie’s going to be pissed when she finds out Chance confided in me and not her, but I think Chance needed to trust this newfound development in his life with a longtime friend, not his new and unpredictable narcissistic girlfriend. I totally get it, but I doubt Nellie will be as understanding.
Nigel comes up the porch steps, seeing the same thing they all see: a new Jayd. Damn, do I really look that different?
“Well, well, well. They’ve got you now, don’t they?” Nigel says, hugging me and kissing me on the cheek. “You look good, girl.”
“Yeah, Jayd. We almost didn’t recognize you,” Nellie says, and I don’t think that was a compliment. “We’d better get this stuff upstairs,” Nellie says, leading the way out of the foyer and through the hallway toward the staircase. Nigel and Chance follow her as Mickey makes her way out of the bathroom.
“By the way, Jayd. Rah says holla at him when you get a min.” Nigel waits for Mickey to pass and then walks behind her.
“Oh, and Jayd,” Chance says, turning around in midstep and stopping their trek before leaving the hall. “My mom wants to know if you could come to dinner soon.” Nellie looks back at me, wearing a scowl like I just slapped her in the face. Chance could have saved that invite for later, but I don’t think he sees the harm in always being truthful about his shit. He’d better learn self-censorship and soon if he’s going to have a girl like Nellie on his arm.
“Hi, kids. Jayd, we’re ready for you,” Mrs. Esop says, stepping into the foyer and greeting my friends walking up the stairs. I watch them disappear upstairs as I return to my fate, down here. I don’t know that I’m making the right decision, but I’m here now and I have to walk my chosen path to see where it leads me. I’ll worry about the rest tomorrow.
After the end of a very long afternoon yesterday, I joined my crew upstairs and chillaxed with them for the rest of the evening. I gave Mickey her balm and she used it immediately. After getting instant relief, she was too relaxed to be irritated with me anymore, but Nellie’s another story. I haven’t run into either one of my girls this morning, but it’s still early in the day.
“Jayd, how come you didn’t tell me about the auditions for the spring play and that you’re not trying out for t
he lead?” Ms. Toni asks, approaching my locker with a handful of files. “Since when don’t you want to be the star you were born to be?” No hi, hello—nothing. Just straight to the point, as usual. I love my school mama, but sometimes I just need a hug, not a tongue-lashing.
“It’s complicated,” I say, closing my locker door and facing Ms. Toni. I hug her tall, slender frame and walk with her toward her office a few feet away in the middle of the large hall. I wish she’d stop smoking. I can smell it all over her soft black sweater. Perhaps there’s something in the spirit book that’ll give her just the push she needs to get rid of the cigarettes once and for all. Maybe she’ll even let me do her hair, too.
“Jayd, didn’t the last time you got in trouble with Mrs. Bennett—after Laura mysteriously lost her voice during the fall play—teach you not to keep secrets from me? I can’t help you if we don’t have full disclosure.” Ms. Toni and I almost fell out permanently over my role in that one.
“That’s just it, Ms. Toni. I don’t need help this time because I know exactly what I should do. And in this case, that’s trying out for the supporting role.” Ms. Toni wants me to confide in her about everything, including my spirit drama, but I can’t.
“You owe it to yourself and every other little black girl after you to try out and win this part. You know these white folks up here will take your retreat as their personal win if you don’t, girl. They already are. You should hear Laura and Mrs. Bennett praising themselves.” Damn, do I always have to be the spokesperson for the successful black child up here? I’m tired of wearing that crown.
“I’m already running for ASU president and trying out for cheer, not to mention my life outside of school. I’m tired, Ms. Toni,” I say, realizing I’m whining. I wave at Maggie and her Latino crew coming into the hall from the other end, envying their chill existence. How come Ms. Toni’s not all up in her ass to become the first Latina to do all the great things she’s always putting me up to?
“Stop complaining and handle your business, little girl,” Ms. Toni says, patting me on the shoulder before retreating to her office. Her and her drive-bys.
Ms. Toni’s right. I owe it to myself and the other black students interested in drama to audition for the lead role. Besides, I can always step down if playing a blind woman proves to be too much for me. Winning the part will be victory enough for me, and that starts with trying out for the right part this afternoon.
I’d think that my friends would want to start the week off at school, but no such thing. Nigel, Nellie, Jeremy, and Mickey are all missing today, making it a very quiet Monday. I heard from my man at break when he texted me good morning. Jeremy was just waking up and decided to stay at home for the rest of the day. I know Chance will be here for the auditions in class this period, but the rest of my crew I haven’t heard from.
“Welcome to the next round of auditions for the spring play, Wait Until Dark,” Mrs. Sinclair announces, hushing the vibrant room. We’ve all been rehearsing our monologues since class began, and I can’t wait to get this over with. Luckily, we can read from the script for auditions and I had to read Susy’s lines to study for Gloria since most of their scenes are together. I’m really uncomfortable playing the role of a blind woman, but I can’t miss the opportunity to audition for the lead in the last play of the year, especially after the grilling Ms. Toni gave me earlier this afternoon, and she’s right to some extent. But the bottom line is, I have to trust my ashe, and as Mama says, if it doesn’t feel good I won’t do it. But I still owe it to myself to try.
“Today we will do a test run for the main characters Mike, Carlino, Roat, Susy, Sam, and Gloria.” Everyone looks through their scripts, marking the pages where the names are present, ready to read. I look through my pages, carefully eyeing Susy’s lines. I do like her spunk, although Gloria’s not bad either—for a little girl. But Susy’s the strong, savvy one and I think I’d make a great leading lady.
“I’m a shoo-in for Carlino,” Chance says, reveling in playing one of the bad guys. He was only in Atlanta for three days and already has a different swag about him.
“Why not Mike?” I ask, reading through the opening scene where the crooks are trying to figure out what’s going on. They’re all in money trouble and need to find the doll filled with heroin, which is where Sam, Susy, and Gloria come in.
“Because he’s not a leader like I am, you know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, I know what you’re saying.” I look at my friend, recognizing the change in his physical appearance and overall demeanor since finding out he’s got a little black in him. Chance is growing more comfortable with himself. How can I hate on him for that? I hope his dad and girlfriend are also adjusting to this newfound attitude of his. I don’t know about the name change, but Mama always taught me that there’s a lot of power in what we call ourselves. And if Chance wants to be called by his birth name, Chase, I’m all for it.
“All right, which group is up first?” Mrs. Sinclair asks, waiting for volunteers from the class. We might as well get it over with, especially since we missed the first read-through Friday afternoon. Before I can get up from my seat, Laura and Reid—the self-proclaimed king and queen of ASB—walk into the auditions. I hope she’s not considering trying out for the role. Alia and I walk onto the floor with Chance and Seth right behind us. Emilio’s also here, ready to try out. I hate that auditions have to be open to everyone. You never know who’s going to come in and ruin the vibe we thespians have got going on in here.
“Okay, it looks like we have readers for each part,” Mrs. Sinclair says, giving Matt the cue to lower the lights, hushing the bustling room. “Let’s begin. Scene one.” Alia and I step out of the center, allowing the guys to show off for the first part of the scene. Then Alia and I dominate the second scene, she reading for Gloria and I for Susy. After it’s over, the class gives our group a standing ovation and we know we deserve it.
“You looked good out there,” Alia says, hugging me tightly, and I return the affection. She’s always been cool with me.
“So did you. I think you’re selling yourself short trying out for Gloria,” I say, fanning myself with the script in my hand. The spotlights always feel like heat lamps beaming on my head. It was scary for a moment there when the lights blinded me, but I don’t think that was a coincidence. Maybe if I can convince Alia to try out for the lead in the next round, I can try out for Gloria. I wouldn’t mind losing the part to her, but to Laura—never again. When she conned her way into the female lead for Macbeth, with Misty and Esmeralda’s help, I had to snatch it back from her by using a special spray that made her lose her voice on opening night, handing the crown back to me, its rightful owner. This time I won’t have to go through all of that because she’s not even going to be in the running if I can help it.
“You know that part is yours, Jayd. You were on fire out there,” Alia says, giving me another big hug. If she only knew how truthful that statement really is.
“Let’s make a deal. If we both get the parts we auditioned for, we’ll be each other’s understudies. Deal?”
“It’s a deal, Jayd,” Alia says, eyeing Chance talking to Matt beside us. She obviously has it bad for my boy. I wonder if Chance knows he has a not-so-secret admirer.
“Well done,” Laura says to Alia, who smiles big at the compliment. I know better than to take anything this heffa says at face value. Laura looks down at me, her skinny, tall frame reminding me of Olive Oyl from Popeye, and smiles. What’s she up to now?
“Jayd, are you ready? We need to rehearse our lines for the second round tomorrow,” Chance asks, trying to save me before my head gets hot again. He knows I can’t stand Reid and Laura for any longer than I have to. It’s bad enough I have classes with them on my AP track, but now that I’m trying out for cheer, if I make the squad I will no doubt have to be involved in certain ASB activities shared with the athletes and cheerleaders crew. What a compromise I’m making to get into a good college. I just hope it’s all wor
th it in the end.
Before I can escape, Laura opens her mouth, forcing me to listen.
“Jayd, you have read the script, right?” Laura asks. Why is this broad begging me to slap her, and in public, too?
“Yes, Laura. In case you haven’t noticed, this is a classroom and we are real students.” Drama class gets a bad rap for being an easy elective when it’s anything but. Mrs. Sinclair is serious about her students knowing the ins and outs of all our productions, and that includes reading the back stories on all scripts as well as the full plays themselves.
“Well, in that case, I’m sure you’ve noticed that Susy is a tall, sophisticated woman living in New York and that you, of course, don’t fit that description, no matter how good of an actress you assume yourself to be.” Alia and Chance look at each other and back at Laura, shocked by her bold ignorance. Who the hell does this heffa think she is, walking into our class and deciding who fits the bill and who doesn’t? What she really stops short of saying is that I’m a short black girl from Compton and shouldn’t even consider auditioning for the part.
“What’s your problem, Laura?” Chance asks before the words can escape my mouth. That’s my boy, slamming her when I can’t. Chance always has my back. I’m trying to keep myself from cussing her out, but I don’t know if I can think of another more appropriate response to her inquiry. Laura’s a bitch and then some. And ever since Nellie started hanging out with her, she’s becoming more and more like Laura every day.
“The auditions are open to anyone who wants to try out, regardless of how they look or whether or not they can act,” Alia says, visibly uncomfortable with Laura’s point of view.
