by Ni-Ni Simone
“This isn’t about me.” Janette paused, pursed her red lips, and soaked in a thought. “I want the best for Yvette too.”
“The best is here with me,” Ms. Glo insisted.
Janette paused again and once more stared off into a thought, then cast a look my way. “Yvette, this can never happen again. Ever.”
“It won’t,” I reassured her.
“It better not. Because you don’t have another chance. This is it for you. There are a lot of kids who’d love to be in your shoes; don’t mess it up.” Janette gathered her tote bag and purse. “I have to get going for now, but I will be back.”
“I understand,” I said. “But I won’t mess this up.”
She responded with a smirk and a wave goodbye.
Ms. Glo walked her to the door, shook her hand, then watched Janette get into her car. Once she took off and rounded the corner, Ms. Glo whipped around to face me and Tasha and said, “Let me tell y’all behinds somethin’. As you can see, this is not a game and I ain’t playin’ with neither one of you. I’m not your sister or either one of y’all girlfriends. And I may not be your mother, but I am the mother of this house, and what I say absolutely goes.”
“We were . . .” me and Tasha said simultaneously, both trying to explain.
“Be quiet!” she yelled. “Here I was worried about the two of you all night. I didn’t know where you were. Didn’t know who to call. Didn’t even know where to start looking. Then you walk in here looking half crazy and smelling questionable. Were you two drinking? Were you getting high? And don’t lie!”
“No,” we swore.
“It was just a party,” Tasha said. “A party.”
“You two have a curfew, yet neither one of y’all had any sense to be here on time. You weren’t even an hour late. You stayed out all night! You’re too young to be in a bar, and teen night at the club ends at twelve. So where were you, ’cause the only thing open all night are legs.”
Tasha said, “Ms. Glo, we were at a house party; that’s it. We didn’t drink; we didn’t smoke. We didn’t get high. Wasn’t no sleeping around. We danced, laughed, and chilled . . . it just went on too long. Yvette was the one who kept saying let’s go. It was me who wanted to stay.”
“So you chose not to do the right thing,” Ms. Glo said. “That’s what you’re telling me. You knew you were wrong, but you gon’ do what you wanna do, anyway.”
“No,” I said.
“Looks that way to me,” Ms. Glo insisted.
“That’s not what I meant,” Tasha said.
Ms. Glo continued. “You girls have the chance to be anything you wanna be. And, Yvette, you have Kamari, so if you blow it for you, you’re blowing it for the two of you. Don’t let that happen.”
“I won’t,” I promised Ms. Glo. “And I’m really sorry.”
“Me too,” Tasha said.
“Stop being sorry and start being sincere,” Ms. Glo snapped. “Now enough standing around; you two need to go and get ready for school.”
“School?” me and Tasha both said, surprised. “We haven’t had any sleep.”
“Whose problem is that? Not mine. It’s a school day, and like my mama used to say, ‘If you go out with the girls at night, then you need to be up with the women in the morning.’ Well, good morning.”
26
Push It . . .
“Good morning, Yvette,” Mrs. Brown, the school guidance counselor, said, a little too chipper, like we’d bumped into each other at Dairy Queen. When the truth was, a few minutes after Janette left the house that morning, Mrs. Brown called and said she needed to see me before homeroom, makin’ it obvious that Janette had requested a “Save Yvette” intervention.
Whatever. I showed up. Now I was here, sitting in the chair next to Mrs. Brown’s desk, praying she would cut through the crap and just say what she had to say.
“So how are things going?” she asked, pulling her square reading glasses down the bridge of her nose and placing them on her desk. She picked up a paper clip and flipped it between her thumb and index finger.
“Mrs. Brown, no disrespect, but my patience is short. And I’ve been in the system long enough to know that my caseworker called you. So can we just get to the point? ’Cause I really wanna go to homeroom.”
She stopped flipping the paperclip. “Okay.” She nodded. “Yes, Janette called me this morning, really upset, saying you’d stayed out all night partying and doing God knows what.”
I rolled my eyes. “God knows what? So you’re another one who thinks I was out gettin’ high, drinkin’, and havin’ sex?”
“Were you?” she asked.
“Hell, yes!” I snapped my fingers. “Of course I was. First I smoked crack; afterwards, I snorted a line of dope. Chased it with a Forty. That got me zooted enough to participate in the orgy. And before the night was over, I slashed a few faces for sport.”
Mrs. Brown sighed. “Don’t be a smart aleck, Yvette. Your caseworker knows the consequences of you breaking the rules and not doing well here.”
“And what, you don’t think I know what the consequences are?”
“I certainly hope you do. And I also hope you know that Ms. Glo was the only home that would take you.”
“I know that too,” I snapped.
“Janette’s worried. We’re all worried. And I wish you would see that.”
I huffed. “You know what I wish? I wish y’all would stop sweatin’ me and get off my back. I wish I could screw up wit’ out e’rybody havin’ a panic attack. Or sayin’ I did this or that. Yes, I stayed out too late. Not because I was gettin’ high, drinkin’ or doin’ anything crazy. I went to a concert, then an after-party. We danced, we laughed, we kicked it . . . like I have never kicked it before. The only crime I committed was goin’ to a party and stayin’ too long.”
“Why didn’t you call home and tell Ms. Glo?”
“Because it didn’t cross my mind,” I said.
“You know she had to be worried about you.”
“She told me that. I apologized. It will not happen again. Okay? Can I go now?”
“No. We’re not done. I want you to tell me why you’re so uptight and agitated this morning?”
I leaned forward in my chair, ’cause this trick was buggin’. “Mrs. Brown, can you imagine livin’ somewhere—that’s not your home—but is your home, ’cause you ain’t got no other home. You don’t have no family. Nobody. And you live with people who the state assigns to you as your family. You get comfortable with them, you almost love them, and then one day your caseworker shows up and says, ‘You have to come with me.’ You don’t know where you’re goin’. Hell, she don’t even know where you’re goin’, but you goin’.
“Can you imagine livin’ a life like that? Being on edge like that, e’ryday, all day? Meanwhile, e’rybody’s tellin’ you to live and enjoy the moment. But when you do step out and live—just a li’l bit—enjoy the moment and party a few hours too long, e’rybody wonderin’ if you’re high, drunk, or somewhere sexin’ your problems away?”
I paused and let her absorb what I’d said. Then I continued. “Nobody ever sees how you’re strugglin’ to unlearn e’rything you know. You can’t cuss no more. You gotta watch your temper. You gotta go to school. You gotta learn how to be cute, how to properly giggle, how to sit still, how to be a child, when you was born grown.
“All this new shit, e’rybody expects you to know, but nobody ever stopped to teach you. You’re just expected to figure it out. And if you screw up and don’t live up to e’ry-body else’s expectations, then you must be retarded, stupid, ungrateful, or blind not to see that e’rybody’s worried.”
“Yvette,” Mrs. Brown said, “you don’t need to carry all of that weight around.”
“Listen, what I need is a freakin’ break. I just want to live, for once. And if I mess up, I don’t need the world to stop spinnin’.”
She stared at me. “Yvette, I just want what’s best for you.”
If I hear that one
more time, I’ma scream.
“They must be runnin’ a special on that line today,” I said, exhausted. “You want that. Janette wants that. Ms. Glo wants that. And believe it or not, even Yvette wants that.”
“You’re doing well. The teachers all say you’re a pleasure to have in class. You’re doing great with your schoolwork. And I don’t want to see anything get in the way of that. Especially not a party.”
“The only thing that can get in the way of me not doin’ the right thing is me.”
She smiled and nodded in agreement.
“Now. Mrs. Brown. Can I please leave?”
She glanced up at the clock. “Yeah. You can go.”
* * *
“So, what did she say?” Tasha grabbed my hand the moment I stepped out of Mrs. Brown’s office and pulled me into the girls’ bathroom. “Was she pissed off? Buggin’ out? I was tryna listen through the door, but I couldn’t hear nothin’.”
Tasha checked each bathroom stall to be sure they were empty. “Okay, it’s just us in here.” She leaned against the pink tiled wall, across from the full mirror. “Tell me. What’d she say? Your caseworker really called her?”
“Yeah, she called her.” I sat down on the counter, next to the sink. “Mrs. Brown was cool, for the most part. She just pissed me off asking me why I was mad. I’m like, for real, yo—first of all, I haven’t had any sleep.”
“Word,” Tasha said. “We can’t party like that again. Not on a school night.”
“We can’t party like that, period,” I said. “We have a curfew. And as you can see, not being home by the time we were supposed to be almost went completely left for me.”
“I know. And I feel real bad about that.” Tears filled her eyes.
I continued. “I know you didn’t mean any harm, but I need you to hear me on this: When I say it’s time to leave, that it’s gettin’ close to curfew, we gotta go. I don’t need anybody lookin’ for me. Unlike you, I’m here on a plea bargain. I need to chill for a year. I don’t wanna go back to jail. I don’t want my baby in foster care. My caseworker is not playin’ with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Tasha said. “I feel horrible about how everything went down. If you and Kamari had to leave because of me”—tears wet her cheeks—“I don’t know what I would ever do. I don’t really have a family either, Yvette. And you and Kamari, and Aunty Glo, y’all are like my family. If this means we gotta stay in the house all day, every day, and not ever hang out again, I’m willing to do that. I’m willing to make sure you have a great and drama-free year. I can promise you that. I will be on my best behavior. No more shenanigans.”
My chuckle started out as a disbelieving snicker, then turned into a full on hardy laugh. “Heifer, shut up. This is not the Young and the Restless. You know how you sound? The only thing missin’ was some theme music. Nobody said we couldn’t hang out. I’m not about to sit in the house all day, every day. We just can’t hang out all night. Period. And you and Ms. Glo . . . y’all kind of feel like family to me too.”
“Awww, we do?” Tasha walked over and snatched me into a hug. “I finally got a baby sister.”
“What are y’all in here goin’ through?” The bathroom door flew open and Reesie walked in. “Wait, wait, wait. Please don’t tell me that after stayin’ out all night, y’all got the black knocked off you too?” She wrapped her arms around us and joined in on the hug. “Yo, don’t feel bad, ’cause my mother, Barbara, she wasn’t playin’. She was like, don’t you ever stay out all night! And Ebony, I couldn’t even get her on the phone this morning. I think she’s Ivory now.”
The bell rang.
“Come on,” Reesie said. “Let’s get it together. Cheer up. Tasha, you were pale yellow anyway, so in a couple of hours you’ll be back in full force. And, Yvette, well, once you spend some time in the sun, your color will come back. I promise. Now let’s go; we gotta get to homeroom.”
* * *
“Yo, so did y’all bone after you took her home?” was the loud whisper that came from the back of class, as me, Reesie, and Tasha took our seats in homeroom. Most of the kids were still coming into the classroom, while Mr. Harris threatened those who lingered in the hallway with Saturday detention.
The loud whisper continued. “’Cause if not, I want my five dollars.”
“Who said that?” Tasha whispered to me and Reesie.
“Well, the only ones who sit back there are Brooklyn, Li’l Herman, James, and Rasheed,” I said.
“I wonder who they’re talkin’ about,” Tasha mused.
Reesie murmured, “It sounds like they’re talkin’ about a stank ho skeezer.”
“Shh,” I said. “Don’t be so loud; just listen.”
“That wasn’t the bet,” the loud whisper said.
“That was Li’l Herman,” Tasha said. “I know his voice. And what bet?”
Li’l Herman continued. “The bet was that if we got busy, y’all were supposed to give me five dollars.”
Tasha’s eyes popped open wide. “Get busy? Wit’ who?” she whispered, pissed.
“You the stank ho skeezer, Tasha?” Reesie asked. “You let him bust out the Jimmy on the first night?”
“Heck no!” Tasha said.
Reesie said, “Then what bet is he talking about? Oh, my God, don’t tell me he’s cheating on you already? Good thing you didn’t clear your week.”
“Quiet,” Mr. Harris said as he took out his roll-book.
“Yo, Herman,” James said, “that was not the bet. The bet was that if you hit it last night, we’d pay you five dollars. Otherwise, you had to pay us.”
“Nah,” Li’l Herman carried on, struggling to whisper, “you got it wrong. ’Cause I would’ve never made a bet like that. Me and Tasha just started kicking it.”
“Tasha, yes, you are the stank ho skeezer,” Reesie whispered. “And Li’l Herman placed a bet on your coochie. A cheap one, too. You couldn’t at least get ten dollars? He needs to be cussed out for that. Don’t tell me you gon’ let him play you out like that!”
Li’l Herman continued. “She ain’t that easy. I need more than a day. I need at least two days. We’re supposed to hang out after school today. So this time tomorrow I’ma be pimp-walkin’ in here and y’all gon’ be like, ‘What’s that smell?’ And I’ma be like, ‘Cherries, dawg. Cherries.’”
Tasha stood up and turned around to face Li’l Herman. She shoved both hands up on her hips and swung her neck in full motion. “Have you lost yo’ rabbit-behind mind?!”
Immediately the class became silent. A few seconds later, e’rybody burst into oohs, ahhs, and giggles as Tasha continued. “Boy, you will never get this. So you might as well pay ’em all of your li’l allowance money, ’cause I’m done with you. And the only cherries they gon’ smell will be from the hand lotion you use, jerk-off!”
“What is goin’ on in here?!” Mr. Harris demanded to know.
“Chill, Tasha,” Li’l Herman said. “I wasn’t talkin’ about you.”
“Lies! I heard you!”
“Break it up! Break it up!” Mr. Harris marched over to Tasha and Li’l Herman. “Last I checked, I didn’t have Ike and Tina in my class! Now you two either cut it out or you will be sent to the office for . . .”
Brggggggg!
The bell rang. We all popped out of our seats, and Mr. Harris’s threat was lost in the shuffle of our feet.
“Bricks!” Brooklyn called me as I walked past him and hurried down the hall. “Can’t speak?”
I turned to face him but never stopped walking. “Yes. I can speak. But I’m not.” I rushed over to my locker and grabbed the books for my next two classes. I turned around and Brooklyn was standing there.
“Why are you always in my way?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
“I’m tryin’ to be in your way.”
“And why is that?”
“I wanna know why you’re trippin’.”
“Psst. Please,” I said, more to myself than to him. Besides, I ain�
�t owe him no explanation as to whether I was trippin’ or not.
And for the record, I wasn’t trippin’.
I had tripped, and that’s why I ignored him, or was at least tryin’ to. Especially since I’d seen him last night, all cuddled up on his whack-behind date. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how I should’ve been the trophy on his arm.
“Excuse you, stalker,” I said as I tapped Brooklyn on his shoulder, “but I need to get to my next class.”
“Are all up-north girls like this?” he asked.
I frowned. ’Cause I know he ain’t want me to get started on down-south country boys. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Like what?”
“One day you’re cool and the next day you’re buggin’.”
I curled my upper lip, hopin’ to put a stop to this dumb smile I felt creepin’ up. Brooklyn was so stupid fresh. He rocked a pair of razor-creased red Levi jeans, with a matching Levi jacket, a white tee, with two gold dookey rope chains hanging around his neck, and on his feet were Air Jordans.
I sucked my teeth and shot him a look. “Boy. Please. Spare. Me.”
He continued. “At least tell me what the problem is. ’Cause after today, I’m not gon’ ask again.”
Oh no he didn’t! “I didn’t ask you to ask me the first time. So don’t act like I’m sweatin’ you.”
“I didn’t say you were sweatin’ me. All I asked was what did I do to you? Clearly, I’m checkin’ for you. I asked you on a date and you told me ’cause. Which I guess in Jersey means no. But down here means nothing, because ’cause is not even a complete thought. Which means that your ’cause ain’t nothing more than you fronting. So I’m stepping to you, like a man, and I’m asking you what’s the deally-o, yo? If you don’t like me, cool. We can be friends. But this never-ending attitude with me gotta stop. Today.”
Is that an order? Okay. He comin’ at me all strong and gangster-like. He just upped his cutie meter by at least a thousand. And if I don’t like you? Boy, you are so fine, your name should be Mine.
I said, “You asked me out. Then because I didn’t say yes, you gon’ show up at a party, where you knew I’d be, with a date to throw in my face? How played is that? What did you expect me to do, run after you? You better fetch Alesha for that.”
