by Ni-Ni Simone
I looked at Tasha. “Oh, she gon’ be gone for three, four hours. I got her wrapped around my finger.”
“Shut up,” Tasha mumbled.
“That’s what I should’ve told you when you told me this dumb idea—to shut the hell up!”
Ms. Glo stormed onto the lawn. “And y’all got my clean white sheets out here on the ground?! I just washed them sheets! Tasha, Yvette, you two have serious explaining to do!” Ms. Glo looked over at Reesie and Ebony. “By the time I count to three, you’d better be gone. One,” she said, “three!”
Reesie and Ebony took off running down the street. Ms. Glo turned back toward the crowd. “I said take y’all behinds home!”
All the kids scattered except me, Tasha, and Li’l Herman.
“Li’l Herman,” Ms. Glo said, “you don’t understand English? Didn’t I say leave? I tell you what, if you don’t get yo’ thieving behind outta here, I’ma call your daddy and tell ’em you have stolen the paint out of his store again!”
“Okay, I gotta go,” Li’l Herman said. “I’ll come back for the paint.”
“Wait, Ms. Glo,” Tasha said, embarrassed.
“Wait for what? For you to ask my permission if you can have a party on my front lawn? Never!”
“We weren’t havin’ a party,” Tasha swore.
Ms. Glo carried on. “Now I gotta explain this to the pastor and the sisters from the church! They came over here for a little peace, quiet, and some tea, and now they are scared out of their damn minds!” She pointed to her car where two old women, whose eyes were popped out like a deer’s, sat. The only one who didn’t appear to be scared was Kamari, and that’s ’cause she was sleeping.
“Aunty Glo, just let me explain,” Tasha carried on. “See, what had happened was, umm, Vette-B.”
“Who is Vette-B?” Ms. Glo looked at me.
“Don’t look at me. Ask Tasha,” I said.
“It’s Yvette’s stage name,” Tasha answered.
I could’ve kicked Tasha dead in her throat.
“Stage!” Ms. Glo yelled. “What the heck kind of party was y’all having?!”
“No! Chill, Aunty Glo!” Tasha said. “That’s not what I meant!”
“I know dang well you’re not yellin’ at me!”
Seeing that Tasha’s foot was pretty much cloggin’ her throat, I said, “Ms. Glo, can I please explain?”
She hesitated, then said, “I’m listening.”
“First, Tasha is out of control. And second, this was her idea.”
“Snitch,” Tasha mumbled, but I let her get that.
I continued, “She meant well, though. See, I do this thing called air-brushing. It’s like drawing with paint. E’ry-body’s rockin’ it on their clothes. So all the kids at school wanted me to design somethin’ for them. And that’s why they were all here.”
Ms. Glo took in three deep breaths before she said anything. “The next time you two get another bright idea like this and don’t ask me first, all the li’l rules of what I can and cannot do to you will go out the window, and I’ma get me a switch and tear y’all asses up. And I mean that.” She marched over to her car and opened the passenger side door. “Come on, Sisters, it’s safe now.” Then she walked around to the other side and lifted a sleeping Kamari out of the car and on to her shoulder. “I’m going to lay this baby down and reassure my sisters that I am not running a crack house.” She looked over at me and Tasha. “You two clean up this mess!”
“Well, Vette-B,” Tasha said, after e’rybody had gone inside. “I guess your business is officially black history.”
20
Every Little Step . . .
“Time to go night-night,” I said to Kamari, who played on the floor as I lay down on the bed and patted the center of it.
Kamari shook her head no. “Not yet, Mommy.” Her loose curls bounced with every word.
“But it’s late,” I said, as if I could really convince her that there was a difference in it now being ten o’clock at night and not ten o’clock in the morning. “And I have school tomorrow.”
Kamari hugged her Care Bear and rocked it in her arms. “Cheer Bear wanna play.”
I nodded. “Okay, go on and play.”
“Yay!” she said, then sang the Sesame Street song to her bear. “Can you tell me how to get . . .”
I propped two pillows behind my back and stared at Kamari, wonderin’ if she remembered us sittin’ in Da Bricks’ courtyard, dreamin’. Dreamin’ about what she could be when she grew up. How I was not gon’ let her have a life like mine. She was gon’ have a chance to be anything she wanted to be.
I wondered if she remembered being in foster care when I was in jail.
Janette had said the people were nice to her and wanted to keep her.
I hated her for telling me that, and I hated the foster parents even more.
“I ain’t never losin’ you again. You hear me, Kamari.”
She didn’t even turn around.
“I love you, Kamari, and I’ll do anything for you.”
Kamari looked up at me and smiled, then continued singing to her bear.
I continued with our one-sided conversation. “Today was a pretty okay day. I mean, it started out crazy. I was so scared when you had that penny in your mouth. And I know you were too. No more money in your mouth, Kamari. No more. You hear me?”
“How to get to Sesame Streeeeet . . .” Kamari continued to sing.
“I’ll take that as a yes. And I’ma make sure there’s no money left on the floor. And Tasha with that Vette-B business.” I laughed. “Yo, that chick is off her rocker. But I like her. She’s cool. And Ms. Glo . . .”
I fell silent and looked around the room. The walls were covered in beige wallpaper with the same small pink daisies that were on the sheets and the comforter.
Two small windows were to the right of the bed, both covered with white pull-down shades, framed by light pink lace curtains. On the floor was burgundy carpet. There was a nightstand on each side of the bed and a mirrored dresser against the wall, by the door.
I guess I could say the room was the pretty.
I continued. “I feel bad for the way I treated Ms. Glo when we first got here. She didn’t deserve that. And then today with the Vette-B disaster. I knew that was a bad idea. I mean, I don’t mind airbrushin’, but all those people lined up like that made this place look like a trap house. Thank God the cops ain’t roll up.”
I fell silent again and took in the room once more.
“I’ma make this place work. I promise we’re gon’ have a good year and I’m not gon’ mess it up. I’ma find a way to float above it all. No worries. No pain. And no thinkin’ about what tomorrow may bring.”
“Mommy,” Kamari said, climbing onto the bed. “Time to go night-night.”
“Yeah, time to go night-night.” I smiled, reached over on the nightstand and turned the light off.
21
My Prerogative
“Good morning, class,” Mr. Harris said as we all filed into homeroom and took our self-assigned seats.
“Yo,” Reesie said to me and Tasha in a concerned whisper. “I was so worried I wasn’t gon’ see y’all this morning.”
“Why?” I frowned, slightly concerned about what would come out of her mouth.
“’Cause,” Reesie carried on. “After the way Ms. Glo lost it, I just knew y’all was gon’ wake up dead this morning. I had my black dress ironed and my mama’s brown liquor ready to be poured out.”
“First of all, how do you wake up dead?” Ebony said.
Reesie smacked her lips. “The same way you got smart with your mother, and I watched her knock you clean into the next week.”
Ebony said, “You talk too much.”
“That’s the same thing yo’ mama told you before sent you into the future.”
“Hey, Tasha,” came from behind us. Tasha rolled her eyes to the ceiling, then turned around. “Hey, Li’l Herman.”
“Y’all ai’ight?” h
e asked.
“We’re fine.” Tasha popped her eyes wide, and wiggled her neck, clearly aggravated. “Thank you.”
“That’s wassup.” He nodded. “Glad to hear that. So”—he flipped up the collar of his green Izod shirt—“maybe, ah, we can kick it real soon.”
“We just did,” Tasha answered and turned back around in her seat.
“Why are you bein’ so mean to him?” I asked.
“I’m not being mean. Didn’t I tell you that boys were like hound dogs? I’m sending him on a chase.”
Tasha slapped Reesie a high five and said, “After all, if a dog want a bone, then he got to hunt for it.”
“Speakin’ of dogs on the hunt,” Ebony said, “Reesie told us that she saw you and Brooklyn gettin’ busy at your locker.”
“I didn’t say that. I said they were kissing,” Reesie insisted.
“Both of y’all loud and wrong,” I said. “He only flicked my chin. That’s it.”
“Umm hmm,” Reesie said. “Y’all was awfully close.”
“So?” I shrugged.
“What do you mean, so?” Ebony asked. “It’s obvious that you like him, so what’s up with that?”
“That’s what I wanna know,” Reesie said. “So are you trying to get with him or what?”
“No,” I said as the bell rang and e’rybody popped out of their seats. “I am not even thinking about him like that. He’s cute and all, but that’s it. So if any of you three want him, he’s yours for the takin’.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder and swallowed my smile, as I shot Brooklyn a quick wave and continued on to my next class.
2:30 p.m.
“Yo, slow up.”
I didn’t have to turn around to know that was Brooklyn.
I felt his hand grab mine. “Hey, wassup?”
I did my best to fake surprise. I jumped. Pushed out a breath, then said, “You scared me.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Love,” Brooklyn said, as he boldly lifted my cup of soda out of my hand. “Scaring you is the last thing I’d want to do.” He took a loud sip from my cup and came up empty.
“Dang, you drank all of it.” He tossed the cup into the trash.
“It was my soda.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“But I wanted some.”
“You wanted some too late.”
“I’d better be on time for the next round.”
“I guess.”
“Guessing again?”
I stared at him and drifted into an unexpected thought of how it would feel to kiss him. Heated? Soft? Wet? Extra wet?
“So where are you on your way to?” he asked.
“Home,” I lied. I was actually waiting around for Tasha, like I’d promised her yesterday that I would do. But when I saw Brooklyn come out of the school, I turned the other way and started walking through the parking lot.
“Where do you live?” he asked, but I couldn’t answer him. I was too busy admiring how good he looked in his red Bermuda Kango and black Levi’s denim suit. “Bricks,” he called.
I blinked.
“Bricks,” he repeated. “You hear me?”
“Huh? What? What did you call me?”
He smiled. “Bricks.”
“Bricks?” What the hell? First Vette-B and now Bricks. “It’s Yvette.”
“I know that. But you’re little and tough, so you remind me of a brick.”
Little? Tough? A brick? What the heck kind of description and nickname is that? Bricks are not cute. Or pretty. They are chipped up and used. Dang, he could’ve called me Hot-to-Trot, Brown Sugar, Kitten, Kissy Face, a million other sexy things, but he wanna call me Bricks; well, damn.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll drop it. I just thought it was kind of fly, like you,” he said.
Awww. It is kind of cute. “I think I like that. It’s cool. Plus, I’m from Brick City.”
“Newark?” he asked, shocked.
“Yeah, why?” I cocked my neck to the side. “You got an issue with Jersey or something?”
“No disrespect. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that, when Tasha handed out those Vette-B cards, she told everybody you were from New York.”
“Don’t listen to Tasha.”
“Ai’ight.” He laughed as he leaned against the hood of a two-door, silver Chevette, sliding his hands in his pockets.
Like a magnet I took two steps toward him. Then I caught myself and took three back. He reached for my hand and pulled me close. “Now tell me your address.”
“You’re awfully pressed about that,” I said, playfully.
“What? You think I’ma stalk you?” He tucked my hair behind my ears.
“I don’t know you like that. You might.”
He gave me a crooked grin. “Yeah, I might.”
An unexpected giggle slipped out.
He continued, “Nah, Bricks, I’m not gon’ stalk you. I wanted to give you a ride home; that’s all. Chill with you for a minute.”
I smiled. “I guess we can arrange that. I live the same place Tasha does.”
His eyes lit up. “That’s across the street from me.”
“Oh, hold up!” Some tall chick, with her neck twisted and her hair swingin’ came out of nowhere and walked up on us. “Brooklyn, who is this?”
“You’d better back up.” He placed his hands on my waist, and moved me to the side. He stood up.
The girl flared her hands in the air. “This is why I can’t get you on the phone! You trippin’ on me for this stupid trick. For this ho! What you looking at?” She huffed and attempted to run up on me.
Brooklyn pushed her back.
Wait, what just happened here? “Come again?” I said. “Trick? Ho? Stupid? I don’t know what time you think it is, but don’t get my short ass twisted.”
“Let her go!” the girl yelled.
I did my best to move around Brooklyn, but couldn’t. “Yo, calm down,” Brooklyn pleaded.
“Ain’t no calm down,” I went on, my eyes daring the girl to say another word to me. “Trust, somewhere in this world is a chick laid up with her face peeled open for doin’ less than what you just did. So I won’t hesitate, Black, to snatch your cranium back. Therefore, I advise you to keep this between you and your boyfriend.”
“Chill,” Brooklyn said.
I continued. “You better tell ya broad that, ’cause I ain’t chillin’ ’til I’m done. I don’t know how y’all do it down here, but homegirl ain’t about to run up on me. I’m not no punk. Now check it. You can hash this out with him now, or after he takes me home. But either way, you need to keep anything havin’ to do with me outta ya mouth! And that’s real.”
“Would you chill?” Brooklyn said, opening his car door. “Just get in. I got this.”
“You better get it before I end it.”
“I said get in,” he demanded.
Everything in me wanted to hook off on this trick, but I knew she wasn’t worth it. So I listened to Brooklyn and got in the car.
I cracked the window though. I had to hear anything else this skeezer had to say.
“Alesha, what’s yo’ problem, yo?” Brooklyn said. “How many times we gotta go through this? How many times I gotta tell you to step off. I’m done with you. We’re finished.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere!” Alesha said, lookin’ stupid.
Brooklyn shook his head. “Know what, you don’t have to.” He walked around to the driver’s side of the car and got in.
She tried to snatch the door open. “You better let me in! You better not go nowhere, Brooklyn!”
He started the engine.
She jumped in front of the car.
“Watch me.” He jerked the gear in reverse.
“Dumb ho!” I yelled out the window, as he backed up.
“Watch your mouth,” Brooklyn said, as he took off for the street. “I told you I had it.”
“Look, I was not about to let that trick come for my neck.”
“I wouldn’t have let that
happen. So it was no need for you to lose your cool; plus, you’re too pretty for that,” he said.
“Is that what you tell all the girls? When she runs up and attacks them?”
“It ain’t even like that, and why are you worried about all the girls when the only one I’m worried about is you.”
Silence.
Did he just say that?
“Don’t get quiet on me now,” he said.
“I’m not. I’m just waiting for you to get to the part where you explain to me what’s up with you and homegirl from the parking lot.”
“It’s nothing up.”
“Apparently, she thinks you’re her boyfriend.”
“She knows I’m not her boyfriend,” he said, stopping at a red light.
“So y’all broke up?”
The light turned green and he took off. “Yeah. About two months ago.”
“She’s pyscho. That’s the line you wanna feed me? You had to do something to send her crazy.”
He smirked, as he turned the corner. “I didn’t do anything. We just grew apart, and she’s having a hard time accepting that. So I guess when she saw me with you, she lost it.”
“How long were you together?”
“About six months.”
“You loved her?”
“I liked her. Now enough of that. I want to talk about something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like me and you and when you’re going to let me take you out.” He pulled up and parked in front of Ms. Glo’s house.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Chill.
Relax.
“Thank you for the ride, but I don’t think we should go out.”
He arched a brow. “Why not?”
“Because.” And that’s all I said before I hopped out the car and ran up the steps.
I opened the screen door, rushed in, and of course Tasha was peekin’ out the window.
