by Nikki Carter
Land of the living? Hahahahaha! Kevin has been making so much progress, but at one sign of trouble he drops all freshness and goes back to old-school church language. He sounds like his grandmother getting ready to testify on Sunday. She always says, Lord, I thank you for keeping me in the land of the living. Boo, Kevin!!!!
“Miss Candy is cool,” I say. “Her wardrobe is going to be rather ... limited ... over the next few weeks or so, but she’s cool.”
“What do you mean by that?” Hope asks.
“I think I’ll just let you see her on Monday and judge for yourself.”
“That bad, huh?” Ricky asks.
“Even worse ...”
So, I’m trying to figure out this whole hayride concept. A lot of young people get together and ride around an open field in a big wooden wagon pulled by a tractor. Inside the wooden wagon is a bunch of dry, itchy hay. Let’s not forget how cold it is out here; it’s about forty degrees at the most, but at least it’s dry.
Tell me why I’m here again?
Oh yeah, because all of the freshest, flyest, and most popular kids have decided that this is the fun thing to do. Remind me to not go along with this foolishness next year.
Hope whispers in my ear, “I’m going to sit next to Ricky in the wagon.”
Of course she’s going to sit next to Ricky in the wagon. Or at least she’ll try. But I want to know why I have to be included in every single decision Hope makes in reference to Ricky. Her un-reciprocated (okay ... not sure if that’s a word) affection irritates me beyond reason.
I snap. “Listen, Hope. If you’re going to make a play for Ricky just do it. Don’t tell me about it.”
“But why wouldn’t I tell you? You’re my cousin and Ricky’s best friend!”
“You know I hate drama,” I say with a sigh. “And you, Ricky, and Valerie have given me more than my fair share.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Hope says.
“Now you do.”
“I wonder,” Hope continues, “if it’s more than your aversion to drama that makes you so annoyed with this love triangle.”
Love triangle? This girl is beyond delusional. Don’t you need three people to form a triangle? The only ones catching feelings are her and Valerie. They’ve got a love line segment (no ... I absolutely will not explain that. Simple geometry, people. Elevate your mind).
“What are you trying to say?” I ask, feeling even more annoyed.
“I think maybe you’re blocking because you are feeling Ricky more than you admit.”
“Whatever, Hope. I’m not even going to entertain that. I am not blocking either, by the way. I’m just pointing out the obvious.”
Hope lifts an eyebrow at me and says, “I’m not blind, Gia. You and Ricky are perfect for each other. You both like to make up corny dance steps, and y’all both use slang that no one else is using. I’m really surprised that you haven’t already tried to holla at him.”
Seriously? Is she trying to analyze me? She best not quit her day job, on the real. Ricky and I do have a lot in common. Hello! That’s why we’re best friends!
“Listen, just don’t involve me in your romance with Ricky and we’ll be just fine.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you! Was that so hard?”
Valerie struts up to us looking like she’s about to board a plane to Aspen. Her light brown suede jacket and skirt is the business! She’s wearing thick cream-colored tights and matching suede boots. Her makeup even matches her clothing. I know she’s cold because her cheeks are a bright red, rosy color, but it only seems to add to her fresh factor!
Dang her!
“Are you having fun, chica?” This question is directed to me, because Valerie prefers to pretend that Hope does not exist.
“We are having a great time!” Hope answers for both of us.
Valerie sneers at Hope and says, “We’re about to serve dinner soon in the barn. And then we’ll go on the hayride. After that, we’re gonna square dance.”
Square dance? Okay, somebody is tripping. I don’t square dance. I don’t do anything square.
Ricky and Kevin jog over to us. “Did someone say dinner?” Kevin asks.
“Yes.” Valerie grins at Ricky while answering Kevin’s question.
I grab Valerie’s arm to hold her in place and say to Ricky, “Hey, y’all, save me a seat at the dinner table. I need to talk to Valerie a second.”
Ricky looks suspicious but says, “Okay, Gi-Gi. See you inside.”
When I’ve pulled Valerie a safe distance away from everyone I ask, “Are you done with Ricky or not? It sure doesn’t seem like it.”
“I’m done pursuing him. That’s not how I get down. I don’t chase boys ... they chase me. But if Ricky ever comes to his senses, then I would definitely be open for a reunion.”
I nod, satisfied with her surprisingly honest answer. “Okay, cool.”
Valerie lets out a flurry of giggles. I frown because I have no idea what is so funny.
She says, “You just seem super concerned, that’s all. I wish that you and Ricky would stop playing games and just hook up already.”
Okay, two times in one night is too much. I stalk away from Valerie without answering her accusation. Of course, I would be open to taking my friendship with Ricky to the boyfriend level. But the hook up level? Um ... big, fat no, ma ’am!
Plus, all of their theories about Ricky and me would hinge on Ricky actually having romantic feelings about me. And I haven’t seen evidence of this at all. My only not-so-secret admirer, Kevin, even seems to be slipping away into the clutches of Candy.
So, I’m pretty much romance free.
I make my way into the huge barn where they’re serving dinner. It smells like barbeque, which makes my stomach growl. I haven’t had any good barbeque in a long time. I’ve had the disgusting, burnt-to-a-crisp substitute that Gwen calls barbeque, but not the real thing.
Ricky waves me over to their table. I see a place saved for me, but I also see that Hope has strategically gotten herself a seat next to Ricky. I guess she plans to be right up under him all evening.
Poor Ricky.
I take my seat at the table and say, “It smells good in here. I’m starving.”
“Yeah, the menu says that they have ribs and chicken, corn on the cob, and potato salad,” Kevin says.
I wonder how much Valerie’s mother spent on this shindig. I know that they’ve got dough and all, but dang! This had to cost like sweet-sixteen-party kind of money. All to win a Homecoming-queen crown? Wow on top of wow.
As if to answer my question Hope says, “Valerie’s uncle owns this place. I heard he threw this party as a gift to her.”
Valerie’s mother stands in front of about three hundred kids from Longfellow High with a microphone. “Hola, everyone! Tonight we’re having this party in honor of my Valerie, my hija.” She rolls her r as she says Valerie, making it sound more like Valerrrie.
“Everybody can line up for the dinner, and there is plenty of food for everyone!” Valerie’s mom announces, and places the microphone back in its cradle.
We line up with the rest of the crowd. As we wait to get our food, Valerie walks up and down the line with Romeo, giving people buttons and urging them to vote for her. Romeo is only a junior and not even running for Homecoming court, so I don’t see what’s in it for him. It seems like he’s content to be Valerie’s date for the evening.
Hope leans in and whispers, “I wonder what secret Valerie has on Romeo. I heard she knows something about him that can get him thrown off the football team.”
“I heard the same thing,” I reply.
Even though it was last school year, I remember like it was yesterday, the conversation that I overheard between Valerie, Kelani, and Jewel. They were talking about how badly Romeo was playing me, and Valerie admitted to forcing Romeo to date me to keep me out of her way while she schemed on Ricky. She claimed to have a huge secret on him that pretty much made him her slave.
The giggle clones, Jewel and Kelani, walk up to us. Surprisingly, they look pretty cute with their matching corduroy hookups and Timberland boots. They’re each wearing two long, braided ponytails with little brown bows on the ends.
“So where’s your sister?” Kelani asks.
“Who, Candy?”
Jewel laughs. “How many other sisters do you have?”
Yes, I knew she was talking about Candy, but sometimes it takes a moment to register that she’s actually my sister. I’ve been an only child for so long that sometimes it feels crazy to say I have a sister.
“Candy’s at home,” I reply. “She couldn’t make it tonight.”
Kelani scrunches her nose. “What do you mean, she couldn’t make it? This is a Hi-Stepper party. There’s no excuse for her not making it.”
I decide to let Candy explain her situation to Jewel and Kelani, because once they find out what has happened, they will tell the entire school. That would be messed up if Candy walked in the school on Monday with everyone already knowing about her punishment.
“Why don’t y’all ask her on Monday morning?”
Jewel narrows her eyes and stares me down like she thinks I’m hiding something. “I’m gonna send her a text right now.”
I don’t bother to tell her that Candy doesn’t have her phone and probably won’t have it back anytime soon.
On our way back to the table Ricky holds my arm and lets Hope and Kevin walk way ahead of us. Then he answers my unasked question by whispering in my ear, “Please sit next to me on the hayride.”
What part of the game is this? I promise that I don’t want to be in the middle of this mess, and every time I’m almost out, they keep pulling me back in!
I stop in my tracks and Ricky turns around when he realizes I’m no longer next to him. “What’s wrong?” he asks as he walks back to me.
“Ricky, you’re gonna have to tell Hope that you don’t like her. She’ll kill me if I sit next to you. You can’t keep using me to block for you.”
Ricky sighs. “You’re right. I’m gonna tell her tonight.”
As we sit down at the table, Hope gives me a strange look. “What took y’all so long?”
Ricky clears his throat. “I had to ask Gia something.”
“Something like what?” Hope asks, her eyebrows lifted way up and also questioning.
“Has anyone ever told you how nosy you are?” I ask.
“No,” Ricky says. “I want to tell her.”
Now Hope looks worried. “You want to tell me what?”
“I asked Gia to sit next to me on the hayride.”
“You did?” Hope asks with panic in her tone.
“Yes. I asked her that, because I didn’t want to have to tell you no.”
“I don’t understand,” Hope says with a quiver in her voice.
“Hope, you know that I love you as my sister in Christ, but I don’t want you to be my girlfriend.”
Hope takes a deep breath and says, “Okay ...”
“It’s not that you’re not pretty, because you are,” Ricky rambles, “but I’m not ready for a girlfriend right now, and it would make it so much easier if you would stop trying. Not that I don’t appreciate it, because I’m flattered. But please stop ... okay?”
My eyes and Kevin’s eyes dart from Ricky’s face to Hope’s face. I have a countdown going on in my mind to when Hope’s tears are gonna start. I guess Ricky has nothing left to say because he plugs his mouth with a huge forkful of potato salad.
“Thank you for telling me, Ricky,” Hope says sadly. “Do you all mind if I sit with the rally girls right now? It’s just a little embarrassing to stay here for now.”
“We understand,” I say, releasing Hope to go and nurse her wounds.
Kevin and I both stare at Ricky. “What?” he asks. “Isn’t this what you wanted me to do?”
“Yes, I guess so, I just didn’t think she’d take it that hard,” I reply. “She looked like she was about to start crying.”
“I know. But I’ll still be nice to her,” Ricky says.
Kevin responds, “I’d be careful on the being nice bit. Just let her get over it, and don’t say anything to her. That will make it easier for her.”
“Wow, Kev. That was freakishly insightful. I didn’t know you knew anything about girls.”
Kevin chuckles. “A lot of good it does me.”
After dinner, we’re handed little tickets for the hayride. Because there are so many kids here, it’s gonna take a minute to get through everyone. Valerie and Romeo are riding on each trip because Valerie is still, of course, campaigning for Homecoming queen.
While we’re waiting for our turn, we take cups of warm apple cider and chill in front of the huge fire pit. Someone has broken out a bag of marshmallows too. As much as I hate to admit it, this is probably the most fun party I’ve been to all year.
Fellow football player, James, asks Ricky, “Dude, why aren’t you campaigning? Aren’t you running for Homecoming prince?”
“Someone submitted my name, but I can’t exactly say that I’m running,” Ricky replies.
“Dude, you better represent for the Spartans!” James exclaims.
Kevin and I giggle. We know how much the subject of Homecoming court annoys Ricky.
“I’m voting for Ricky!” Kelani says. “I think he’d be cute with that little crown and robe on.”
Ricky blushes. “Um ... thanks, I think. But I think Romeo wants it more than I do. You should vote for him.”
Ricky looks all kinds of relieved when our ticket numbers are finally called for the hayride. He doesn’t do so well under pressure. It makes me wonder how he’s such a good football player.
I take a seat between Kevin and Ricky. For warmth mostly, and not because of Ricky’s previous request. Fortunately, Hope is not on this ride. I’d hate for her to hurt anymore this evening. She’s already been through enough.
Valerie sits directly opposite us and Romeo is at her side. Romeo’s arm is around Valerie and she snuggles up close to him while gazing at Ricky. Ricky looks away under her intense stare.
As we ride around in the cold with our warm breath blowing vapors in the wind, I think about how far Ricky and I have come. We are definitely a part of the popular crowd, even if we’re on the fringes. Last year, before I became a Hi-Stepper, and when Ricky was a second-string quarterback, we weren’t getting invited to anything. But now, our social calendar is off the charts.
It’s pretty unbelievable.
24
“I’m not going to church! You can’t make me!”
It is way too early in the morning for this foolishness. I got in late from the hayride, and I’d like to get another fifteen minutes of sleep, but I can see that’s not going to happen! Ugh!
Candy is standing about five inches from my bed and LeRon is outside the closed bedroom door.
“Why do you think you’re not going to church, Candy? We always go every Sunday, as a family.”
Candy replies, “I don’t think God cares about me. If He did, He wouldn’t let you and your wife torture me.”
“Stop being melodramatic, Candy, and get dressed.”
“You’re going to have to flog me, like they did the Apostle Paul.”
LeRon ignores Candy. “Gia. It’s time to get up. We’re going to be late for Sunday school. Candy, get your clothes on.”
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death ... I fear no evil!” Candy wails.
I have to stifle my giggles, because this is some funny stuff!
“Candy, I’m not playing around with you.” LeRon sounds irritated. “Get dressed!”
Candy takes a long pause and then replies, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want!”
“Candy, I’m counting to five, and if you’re not in the bathroom, you’re going to be praying for real.” LeRon’s voice sounds like a booming roar. It’s finally enough to get some action out of Cand
y.
“Girl, do you like playing with fire?” I ask as Candy finally grabs her clothes.
“He won’t do anything he says. I guarantee that I’ll have a pile of new outfits by the end of the week. I’ve already got back some of my skirts and dresses. This is just step one in my process.”
“That’s just because my mother didn’t want you to wear that clown suit to church. But I wouldn’t push it.”
I’m glad she’s so confident and sure of herself. I don’t tell her that I think her daddy might be a little bit stronger with Gwen backing him up. I figure they can show her better than I can tell her.
There’s another knock on our door. “Girls, I’m making eggs. Do y’all want scrambled or fried?” Gwen asks.
Mmm-kay, the answer is neither. Besides, there are only two kinds of eggs with Gwen—burnt and half-raw. I vote no.
“I’ll take scrambled, Mama Gwen!” Candy replies in a sing-song voice.
“Okay, Candy. Coming right up. What about you, Gia?”
“I’ll just have a piece of toast.” She can’t mess that up, right?
“All right then.”
I roll my eyes at Candy. “Please tell me that buttering Gwen up isn’t step two in your process.”
Candy just smiles. “Watch and learn. Watch and learn.”
Since this Sunday isn’t a youth choir Sunday, we are forced to listen to the mass choir. I’m not going to say that they’re bad, but the adult choir director, Sister Pennington, is deaf in one ear. Plus, she’s one of those people who thinks that any- and everybody who wants to sing should be in the choir. She doesn’t turn anyone away. Not even Sister Butler, who sounds like she has a chainsaw in her throat.
I can barely keep my eyes open during their especially unrousing rendition of “We Lift Our Hands in the Sanctuary.” Man, Kurt Carr would probably ban our church from ever singing his lively song again if he heard our choir mangle it.
Ricky, who is ushering this week, sits down next to me on the back pew. He looks exhausted.
“Hey, Gia. Did you get enough sleep last night?”
“No way. If Pastor preaches long today, I guarantee I’m falling asleep.”
