Getting Played

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “It seems like every time I turn around, something else happens to me that’s not my fault. For real, right now I feel like I have a giant bull’s-eye on my back and everybody’s taking aim. It’s not me being paranoid. It’s for real.”

  —MySpace.com

  “Kenisha. Hey, Kenisha, wait up, Kenisha. You hear me, girl.”

  “Crap,” I mutter under my breath. I know the voice. It’s Jerome Tyler, Li’l T to mostly everybody. He’s a tall and lean freshman with dreams of playing in the big leagues. He lives around the way and is always into something. He’s also the biggest gossip in the neighborhood. If you need information on anything going on, he’s the guy to talk to. I have no idea how he knows everybody’s business, but he does.

  He calls my name again. I seriously don’t feel like stopping and talking. All I’m thinking about is getting home, finding my dad, straightening this mess out and chilling. So I keep walking. Li’l T comes running up beside me. “Hey, girl, you heard me calling you. What, you acting like you don’t know nobody now?”

  I look over at him and pull my earbuds pretending like I really didn’t hear him calling my name. “Oh, hey, Jerome,” I say drily, calling him by his real name, hoping that’s gonna annoy him enough to keep going. It doesn’t. You can always depend on Li’l T not to take a hint. Anyway, he stops right beside me and starts talking about what happened this morning with the fight. He was right there and saw everything, big surprise. His friends trail behind listening close. I really am not paying attention. I already heard most of this already anyway.

  “So, what you up to this weekend?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, figuring I’d be getting my stuff together to transfer schools. I knew I wouldn’t have much time for anything else.

  “A’ight, be like that. You gonna need a brotha one day.”

  I guess he finally caught the dryness in my tone. “For real, nothing,” I said more forcibly. “There’s nothing going on this weekend. I’ll probably go to Virginia and hang with my girls.”

  “See, now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. So, when you gonna hook a brotha up with Diamond like you promised?” he asks. I laugh out loud. The image of my friend Diamond with Li’l T is too absurd. You just don’t even know. “What’s so funny?” he asks, as if he didn’t know.

  “Jerome, please, you know that’s not even about to happen.”

  “See, now you blocking on me. I see the way Diamond be checkin’ a brotha out. She likes what she sees. She knows what I got to offer.”

  Li’l T is a dreamer. At one time he wanted to hook up with me, my girl Jalisa and then with my ex-friend Chili. Not to mention a few others after that. “Not gonna happen,” I repeat.

  “Why not?” he asks, only half serious.

  “First of all, I never promised I’d hook you up with anybody, especially one of my girls. And secondly, you know Diamond is way too old for you. And she’s seriously way out of your league.”

  “What you talkin’ ’bout?”

  “I’m talking about the fact that you can’t speak a full sentence in proper English, even if your life depended on it. You know Diamond doesn’t play that. Besides, she’s kind of seeing someone now.”

  “Seeing somebody,” he says indignantly. “Who she seeing?”

  “Not you,” I say, teasingly. His friends start laughing.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever, you know Diamond’s got a thing for me,” he boasts. I give him the in-your-dreams look. He understands and laughs, too. “A’ight, a’ight,” he says half laughing. We keep walking. Then when we are right around the corner from my house he looks back, seeing that his friends have stopped to talk to someone. “Umm, listen, I hear D might be getting out in a minute,” he says, quietly.

  I almost stumble as I turn and look at him. The black eye I’d given him by accident was just about gone, but you could still see the shadow of where I punched him. Of course, nearly everybody else seems to think D gave it to him. One guess as to how that rumor got started.

  “Where’d you hear that?” I ask, hoping he was wrong, but knowing better. Anyone else, I would have seriously challenged the information, but not Li’l T. He knew what he knew and that was it. Besides, I knew Darien’s father had major pull when it came to things like that. This wasn’t the first time he got off easy.

  “I heard it,” he says. I could hear the tenseness in his voice and see his strained blank expression as he stared straight ahead. “You scared?” he asks, finally turning to me.

  “No,” I lie.

  “Yeah, me neither,” he says.

  I know he’s lying, just like he knows I was, too. I don’t blame him. Hearing that Darien was getting out nearly stopped my heart. I don’t know what I’d do if I actually ran into him again. The last time I saw him, the paramedics were putting him into an ambulance. Thanks to me, he had a broken arm, and Terrence had messed his face up big-time. He had turned and looked at me after he got inside the ambulance. Even now I can feel the icy chill and viciousness behind his vengeful stare. I was still thinking about that night when Li’l T asked me something. I didn’t hear him. “Huh, what?” I say.

  “I asked if you’re going over to Gia’s place tonight. You heard about her great-uncle, right?”

  “No,” I say, still only half listening. I was still stuck on the possibility of Darien getting out.

  “He died last night.”

  “Who died?” I ask, more interested now.

  “Mr. Russell. Oh, snap, I forgot. You don’t know Gia, do you? She left before you got here this summer.” Then he smiles like suddenly he has some new deep dark secret.

  “Who’s Gia?” I ask.

  “Just a girl, never mind,” he says, blowing me off.

  Okay, I’ve known Li’l T too long not to know when he’s hiding something. And for him to say never mind about a rumor, or anything else, and not tell me, meant it was something major. So of course I had to know what it was. “Nah, nah, you started this. Now you have to tell me. Who’s Gia?” I ask again, loud enough for his boys to hear. They’d been lagging behind and then quickened their pace to hear what was going on.

  “Hey, check, there’s your man,” Li’l T says, seeing lawn mower guy sitting on the steps in front of his house.

  I look over. Terrence Butler, lawn mower guy, looks up at me as we approach. I smile. I seriously love looking at his eyes. They’re light, almost hazel. He has a sweet caramel-colored complexion and long curly lashes that would make a supermodel jealous. His hair is cut short, light brown with natural blond highlights. I think his grandfather is white, but he never talks about him much. He looks the same except for the constant frown on his face when he looks at me now. That’s new. I can see he’s mad. I know it’s because I was hanging out with Darien before, but all that’s done. I told him that.

  After everything happened that night, the next day he seemed fine. We talked and walked like nothing was wrong. Now it’s all different again, and I don’t know why. We barely talk on the phone. When I text him, the only reply I get is that he’ll hit me up later. Anyway, I haven’t seen him in almost two weeks.

  “Hey, T,” Li’l T says joyfully, “What’s up, my man? How’s it going?” Terrence stands, and they shake hands and bump shoulders, in that half hug guys do.

  “Sup, Li’l T,” Terrence says and then looks at me and frowns, then greets Li’l T’s friends. “How’s it going at The Penn?”

  “Yeah, well, you know a brotha be handling his business,” Li’l T boasts. “I’m about to go hard, man. I’m just steppin’ in where you left off.”

  “Bet,” Terrence says, then nods. Li’l T’s boys nod, as well. They look like the stupid bobblehead toys my little brothers play with. I roll my eyes ’cause this conversation is totally ridiculous. It’s all big bravado spiked with testosterone and BS.

  So they’re all laughing and talking like I’m not here and don’t even exist. And I’m just standing there looking stupid. I hate when I do this. I look at Terrence, m
y lawn mower guy. I remember the first time I saw him. He was mowing my grandmother’s lawn the day we were moving here. Later, I sat watching him putting stuff away in the shed out back. He was too cute, and I was checking him out big-time.

  It was hot. He had taken his T-shirt off and had tucked it into his back pocket. His chest and back were seriously chiseled. I’m talking built with LL Cool J biceps, triceps and abs. I was staring at him like I lost my mind. But I couldn’t help it. Then he turned and started watching me watch him. I was totally in la-la land, ’cause I didn’t even notice. We started talking after that and got to know each other. We’d been hanging out ever since, but that was before.

  So now Li’l T and his boys are leaving and Terrence sits back down and looks up at me. He’s got this seriously strange expression on his face. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

  “You’re late,” I say, half joking but really not. He was supposed to come home from college a week ago. He didn’t. He didn’t call to let me know he wasn’t coming.

  “Don’t start,” he warned, and then turned to look down the street away from me.

  “I’m just saying. It would have been nice to see you last week. I missed you.” He nods, but doesn’t respond. I know he’s still pissed about the Darien thing. I said I was sorry. I don’t know what else to do.

  “Look, I was busy, a’ight. I had exams and other stuff to deal with.”

  “How did the exams go?” I ask.

  “Fine.”

  Neither one of us speaks for a while. We are just there, occupying space, staring in opposite directions. “How’s school?” I ask, hopefully bringing up a safe subject we can both talk about and relate to.

  “It’s a’ight.”

  “How’s the fraternity? Having fun?”

  “It’s a’ight.”

  I sit down beside him and put my books on my lap. I look up and down the street and then glance at him. His profile is set firm and his gaze steady. He has his head down staring at the bottom step like before when Li’l T and I first walked up. I know something’s on his mind. I just wish he’d tell me what it is. So I ask. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

  “What makes you think something’s going on with me?”

  “Because you’re acting different, all mad and stiff.”

  “I’m not mad,” he says. I suck my teeth in response, ’cause I know he’s lying. “Nothing’s going on,” he says unconvincingly.

  “You don’t do that very well.”

  He turns and looks at me. “Do what?”

  “Lie to me,” I say, then stand up. “Do you want to do something tonight, hang out or something? We can go to Virginia. You said you wanted to see my new baby sister,” I say.

  “Nah, I gotta get back to school tonight.”

  “What, tonight?” I ask, surprised. “But it’s Friday, there’s no classes tomorrow. You just got here.”

  “No, I came home last night.”

  “Last night, why didn’t you call me?”

  “I was busy and it was late when I got in.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he said.

  Okay, forget this. If he just doesn’t want to do this, then that’s fine with me. I know when I’m not wanted. “Fine, later,” I say and stand up to walk away, then stop.

  “Hey, hi, you ready?”

  I turn around and look up, seeing this girl walking down the front steps of Terrence’s house. She is looking right at me. I look at Terrence. He looks at her and nods. “Yeah, I’m ready,” he says.

  “Hi. I’m Gia. You’re Kenisha, right?” she asks. I nod silently. “I used to live down the street.”

  “Hi,” I say, cautiously, not knowing exactly who she is.

  “I heard about what happened with Darien a couple of weeks ago. That must have been scary. Darien’s such an ass, always has been. But I like how you beat him down with his stupid trophies. It sounded like poetic justice.” She smiles, obviously amused.

  “Yeah,” I say stupidly. Again, it looks like everyone knew what Darien was really like, except me. I glance at Terrence who’d stood up and was looking down the street. Then it gets strange ’cause nobody is saying anything. We are all there, just standing there looking at each other.

  “Umm, T, we gotta go do that thing. It was nice meeting you, Kenisha,” Gia says and then walks down the steps between us. She looks at Terrence as she passes. He nods as she starts walking down the street.

  “Yeah, later,” he says with a nod, and then he turns and follows her.

  It wasn’t what she said or what he said. It was just something in the air between them, that all of a sudden made it really clear to me. There was definitely something I didn’t know. So, I guess that was it. It’s obvious that he is still blaming me because he had to go to the police station that night. Yeah, I get it. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been where I was, and he was protecting me and got all caught up in my drama, but everything turned out fine, except he’s still mad and now there’s a Gia.

  I watch them walk away and hope he turns around. He does. He half smiles. I do, too. I don’t know what it means. I hope it means something good. I really miss my lawn mower guy.

  I start walking the other way to my grandmother’s house. I can’t believe my day. I have no transfer papers to go to Hazelhurst on Monday. Darien and his crazy-ass might be getting out of lockup. Terrence is stuck on acting stupid around me. And now, there’s a Gia. TGIF?

  CHAPTER 4

  Just Leave Me Alone

  “The definition of water torture is the incessant dripping of water on the forehead. That’s how I feel, slowly, continuously, forever, dripping drama. Need I say more?”

  —Facebook.com

  SO I head up my grandmother’s front steps and get to the small porch. I turn around and see Terrence and Gia walking farther down the street together. I can hear her laughing. She pushes at him playfully. At least they’re not all hugged up. But they’re talking, like we used to. WTF. Whatever. I unlock the front door and go inside. My day is already trashed. I seriously don’t need any more drama.

  As soon as I walk in I can tell my grandmother is in the kitchen baking. The whole house is lit up and smelling just like a slice of heaven. I drop my books and jacket on the stairs and head straight to the kitchen. I stand in the door way watching her pull a Bundt cake out of the oven. My stomach growls so loud I know she had to hear me. “Umm, I hope that’s for us, ’cause I’m starved,” I say, eyeing the big fat slice I want as soon as it cools off.

  “Good afternoon,” my grandmother says, always reminding me of my manners.

  “Sorry. Hi, Grandmom,” I say automatically. She’s such a trip. She’s small, petite, with silver-gray hair and an always-knowing smile. She has a way of looking at a person and knowing everything there is to know. At least that’s how I see it. She looks just like what I guess my mom would have looked like had she lived to old age.

  “Is that for us? Please, please tell me that’s for us.” My grandmother is forever baking cakes or making potato salad, a ham or frying chicken for somebody else. Whenever there’s a problem in the neighborhood, you can tell because she’s cooking something for somebody. I hover close as she sits the hot cake pan on a wire rack. The aroma is incredible.

  “No. It’s for the family down the street. I don’t know if you know them—Charlotte Russell.”

  “I know Ms. Lottie.”

  She nods. “Charlotte’s brother passed last night. He’s been sick for a while.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Did you know him?”

  “Lord, yes, Laurence and I go way back. We went to school together. He was a good man. He was kind and considerate. No matter what, he always had a pleasant word to say. Just seeing him sometimes would brighten my day.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing exactly why I should be.

  She starts talking again. This time about h
ow she remembered him years ago when they were young together. She goes on and on. Stories like this just lose me. So I really am not paying much attention. I have my eye on the cake again. Then she says something about marriage. “Wait, so he was like your serious boyfriend a long time ago?”

  She smiles and nods. “Yes, a very, very long time ago. He was much older than I was and it was way before I knew your grandfather.”

  It was weird. I can’t seem to imagine my grandmother having a boyfriend. “How close were you two?”

  “Very close,” she says.

  I look at her. It wasn’t so much what she said, but how she said it. I got the feeling they were more than just friends. “Did my grandfather know about him?”

  “Oh, yes, he knew,” she says, then laughs. “He hated the fact that we were still friends even after everything that happened.”

  “What do you mean even after everything?”

  She turns and looks at me. “What, do you think you’re the only one who’s had drama in their life? Missy, I know drama. I know drama very well.”

  Okay, this is just getting weird. It is sounding more and more like a love triangle to me. The oven timer sounds and I hurry to stop it. I want to get back to the conversation we were having. “What kind of drama?” I ask.

  She laughs again. “You young people think you invented the concept of drama. Lord knows I had some twisting in my day. But that’s a story for another time. Right now I need to get myself out of here and get this cake delivered.”

  I couldn’t believe she’d open the door and then just drop it like that. “Grandmom, you can’t just leave me hanging.”

  “Use a toothpick, check the cake and see if it’s done.”

  I open the oven door. The smell of lemon vanilla hits me in a hot flash in my face. I lean back, but I can still see a smaller pound cake in the oven. I love it when my grandmother cooks lemon pound cake. I grab a toothpick and stick it in the center. It comes out clean. The cake’s done. I grab oven mitts and take it out and sit it on the other wire rack on the table.

  “Man, this smells so good.” My nose is practically on top of the cake. Lemon and vanilla, there’s nothing like it.