Flyy Girl

by Omar Tyree

  Not a word was spoken on their half-hour journey. Once they had arrived at the store, a young cashier was guilty of watching Tracy with lustful eyes and undercounted their total. Tracy laughed when Patti brought it to her attention, but it was not funny enough to disperse her depressing thoughts about Mercedes.

  She got back home and stretched out across her bed, reflecting on her own life. A photo on her dresser of when she was ten reminded her of the times when she had first begun her interest in boys. She smiled, remembering the arguments she had had with her young girlfriends inside of the schoolyard. I wonder what they’re up to now, she pondered. Then she began to frown, remembering the misguided things that Mercedes had told her. “Boy, was she wrong,” she mumbled to herself. “That stuff she told me ain’t get me in nothing but trouble. And look where it got her.”

  Tracy wished that she could return the favor and give Mercedes some advice. Yet her advice would be of a much more constructive nature. She did come to a realization, however, of the double standards of gender through her experiences. Boys were much less inhibited. They could sex over a hundred girls and be “the man.” A girl would be considered a whore if she did the same. And guys never had to worry about monthly cycles slowing them down.

  “It just ain’t fair,” Tracy told herself. She then giggled and said, “I wish that some of them could experience a period.”

  Tracy’s sweet-sixteen party was packed, but she did not invite her college friends. She didn’t want to remind them how young she was.

  Patti felt a lot safer about having Tracy’s party with her husband around. The rowdy boys who showed up at their front door immediately took notice of him. Dave had never looked like a pushover. He had come up through the Philadelphia gang era, so a group of rowdy youngsters did not ruffle his feathers at all.

  Raheema had even enjoyed herself, while hanging out with Jantel. They made good companions. Jantel was a lot more stable with her virginity. “You just have to find something for yourself to do,” she advised.

  “Like running track, hunh?” Raheema asked, with a cup of punch in her hand.

  Jantel smiled. “Well, everybody can’t run track, but find something that you like to do, and something that you’re good at.”

  Like what? Raheema asked herself. She had participated in dance class, but she did not consider herself good at it. Dance had taken too much out of her. Neither she nor Tracy had taken another dance class. It was a one-time event, for sure.

  All that Raheema could think about that gave her any kind of enjoyment was reading books and gossiping, which basically did the same thing for her; both took her away from thoughts about her own dull life. She figured if she could not do some of the wild and crazy things that other people did, she could at least read or converse about them. Raheema could write her own book on the things that Tracy had told her about her life. And it was far from over.

  Tracy had a way of drawing engaging life stories in everything that she did, yet her junior year of school was boring from inception. Her elaborate style of dress slacked off, allowing the other girls at school to steal her show. What was the use of it? She had already been flyy. She was more interested in moving on.

  Tracy began to think about her friend Carmen while she walked through the halls. Carmen was still living fast. She did not seem to care about reevaluating her life. She had started doing it earlier than nearly everyone. Carmen was the one girl that Tracy knew of personally who had had venereal diseases. Nevertheless, she kept right on doing it.

  Tracy began to daydream as she sat in class, cringing at even the thought of having a socially transmitted disease. “What did you say, Tasha?” she commented, catching a whisper about her less-than-fashionable jeans. She had borrowed the bell-bottom style from her college friends, and bell-bottom jeans were not yet acceptable among high school circles in Philadelphia.

  “I ain’t say nothin’ to you,” Tasha lashed out at her.

  “Girl, I heard you.”

  “How you know I was talkin’ ’bout you?”

  Tracy grimaced and said, “I’m the only one I see in here with bell-bottoms on.”

  The class then broke into wild laughter. Tracy had a lot of courage trying to establish her own dress code in high school. Conforming to what was hip and what was not was the basic rule among teens in any town.

  “What is the problem?” the teacher interjected.

  “No, she gon’ accuse me of talkin’ about her,” Tasha said, speaking up first through a smile.

  The teacher grinned at their youthful silliness. “Girls, cut out the pettiness and finish reading the two paragraphs, please.”

  Class ended shortly after the outburst. Tracy then went and joined Jantel inside the lunch room. They had the same lunch period.

  Jantel announced, “I hate that little bitch!” She had gained a few pounds and looked good in her toned brown frame, like the track star that she had become. Jantel never wore anything glamourous, and she kept her hair short for sprinting purposes.

  “Who are you talking about?” Tracy asked her.

  “That freshman girl with the Gucci sweat suit.”

  Tracy smiled. “You’re getting jealous, hunh?”

  “No, but I mean, that girl think she’s it.”

  “So what? You got your own life to live. People know you all over the city. Especially after the Penn Relays. Y’all almost beat William Penn last year,” Tracy alluded. She was proud of her good friend, and she was glad that they had squashed their differences.

  “Yeah, we’re gonna go up against them again this year. This is the fastest team we’ve had in a while,” Jantel added with a smile.

  Tracy nodded and said, “See that? That girl won’t be running in the Penn Relays with thousands of people watching her. She’s just having her fun.”

  Jantel thought it over and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  The Gucci-girl flirted in the lunch line. She was pretty and dark brown-skinned, with a big butt. The guys were all up on her info. Who is that? they asked of themselves.

  Tracy said, “We did the same thing our freshman year.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t have three-hundred-dollar sweat suits on either.”

  Tracy grinned. “Oh, that’s why you don’t like her?”

  “No, not only that, but they be actin’ like they own the school or somethin’.”

  “Come on now, that’s kid stuff. We’re getting too old for that,” Tracy commented. She went to her next class after lunch break and daydreamed about being married with kids, and living in a nice house with a charming husband. Her urge for security was rising, especially after her father had come back home. With the lack of a boyfriend, she was becoming envious of her mother’s happiness. Tracy wanted what Patti had, a handsome guy to be there for her.

  “Okay, Tracy, I just want you to know that college is a different atmosphere from high school. Things move extremely fast here.”

  “I can handle myself, Lisa.” Tracy folded her legs in the back of Lisa’s blue Toyota.

  “See y’all, she think she’s grown, and she doesn’t know anything about college life,” Lisa responded to her two college friends. They were headed for City Line Avenue, on the west side of Philadelphia, to attend a Cheyney State University party.

  “Unh hunh. I got a little sister like that who’s pregnant now,” said Joanne, sitting in the front passenger seat. She was dark and thick-bodied, wearing African Kente fabric wrapped around her head that matched the cloth bag that she carried. Lisa, on the other hand, was real light-skinned, or “damned-near white.” She had her hair twisted in baby dreadlocks.

  “Well, I’m on the pill,” Tracy said proudly.

  “Oh, well excuuuse me. Girlfriend is ready for the world,” Joanne retorted sarcastically.

  Lisa added, “Yup, and we better watch out for who tries to get her. Because you know those pressed freshmen boys are dying to get their hands on some fresh, high-school meat.”

  “Unt u
nh,” Tracy grunted with a grin. “Ain’t nobody gettin’ this meat.”

  “Do your parent’s know that you’re on the pill?” the girlfriend sitting in the backseat with Tracy asked.

  Tracy looked at her as if she was crazy. “Unt unh.”

  Kiwana was a shade darker than Tracy. She had long silky hair, looking like Mercedes used to look. Kiwana had been in music videos, and aspired to be an actress and a playwright. Tracy was impressed with her, and she secretly coveted her name. She repeated it to herself as if it was her own: Kiwana Ellison. Kiwana Ellison.

  “Yeah, they have that confidentiality rule,” Joanne informed her.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Kiwana said with a nod.

  Lisa said, “Well, birth control doesn’t have anything to do with being a tramp or not. And we got a ‘Ms. Goodfoot’ in here, y’all. She thinks she knows all the right moves.”

  Lisa loved to talk. She hadn’t stopped since they picked Tracy up. Everyone else was enjoying the ride.

  When they pulled up at Cheyney State, the campus grounds were packed, and it was an interesting change of scenery for Tracy. The students possessed an air of importance. But a lot of them dressed like black hippies to Tracy. She chuckled at that. And she had already begun to copy their fashions.

  After paying to enter the party, fraternity members were bouncing around, dancing and screaming, “WE ARE THE BROTHERS!” from such and such. Sorority sisters began meowing like cats. Others made hooting noises. Fraternity members wearing purple and gold then barked into the party in a single-file line and began removing their shirts and pants, displaying their underwear while they entertained the crowd with their ritual of a dance. The whole thing was a totally different world to Tracy.

  So this is college, she thought with a smile. They are bugging out inhere.

  Tracy turned down her first dance offer. The second guy was more handsome, so she danced with him. She had been used to dealing with older guys, but none of her flings were with college types. Tracy was curious.

  “So, are you a freshman?” Mr. Handsome asked her.

  “Nope. I’m still in high school,” Tracy answered, too proud to lie about it.

  He gave her a second look and said, “Damn! You look old as hell to be in high school. You got a boyfriend?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Naw? A pretty girl like you?” He began to stare into Tracy’s hazels, but his tone turned her off. Mr. Handsome was too damned simple-minded for her idea of a cool college guy. She thought of him as a nag.

  “Look, I’m about to go get some water,” she told him, stepping away.

  “Well, I wanna talk to you when you come back,” he said, as Tracy faded into the crowd.

  Lisa asked, “So, did anyone try to talk to you yet?”

  “Yeah, that tall dude right there,” Tracy responded, looking through the crowds and spotting Mr. Handsome.

  “Oh, that’s Sax.”

  “Sax? His name is Sax?” Tracy asked quizzically.

  “No, girl. We just call him that, because he swear he can play some jazz. But he do be jammin’ though.”

  “Yup,” Joanne added.

  Kiwana said, “Yeah, don’t worry about him. The boy has a serious ego problem.”

  “Ay, what’s up, girl?” a handsome, muscular guy with a golden-brown complexion stepped up and asked Lisa. He then slammed his big arm around her shoulder.

  “Hey, Carl. When did you get here?”

  “I’m just walking in now.”

  Tracy liked him immediately. He seemed cool, as if he had everything under control, and the tank top that he wore displayed his attractive muscular arms.

  “Well, how come y’all not doin’ this party, Carl?” Kiwana asked him.

  Carl said, “We had this other party last night out West Philly. That party was s-o-o-o live, ‘Kia.’ ”

  “My name is Kiwana, Carl. How many times do I have to tell you that?” she retorted.

  Carl hugged her with his thick, golden-brown arms. “I know, girlfriend. But I like to call you ‘Kia’ because you’re so cute and cuddly.”

  Tracy was envious again. She wanted Carl to wrap that beautiful body of his around hers.

  Lisa said, “Oh, so y’all just said the hell with this party, hunh?”

  Carl answered, “No, but the plans were made weeks ago, and we didn’t know if we would be able to do this one or not.” He then looked at Tracy tenderly.

  She responded quickly and before he could turn away from her. “Hi you doin’?”

  “Oh, this my little girlfriend, Tracy,” Lisa interjected.

  Carl’s golden-brown skin shined in the flashing disco lights. He had a soothing personality. Tracy felt relaxed around him, as if they had known each other for years.

  “Well, can I dance with the charmer?” he asked Lisa.

  “Yeah, I’ll dance with you,” Tracy answered.

  Carl was impressed by her assertiveness. They eased out onto the dance floor where he asked her, “So, are you still in high school?”

  “Yup,” she perked.

  Carl smiled at her exuberant energy. “I figured you were, since Lisa called you her ‘little’ girlfriend. But it doesn’t really matter too much to me.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because, the social age of a person is more important than just a number. I started school early, because my birthday is in January, so I’m not much older than you are,” he told her.

  “Are you an English major or something?” Tracy asked, listening to his proper diction. He seemed a lot more easygoing with his speech than her previous friend Keith did. Carl did not seem concerned with putting on airs.

  “Well yeah, but I’m more than that actually,” he answered.

  “What do you mean?” Tracy quizzed.

  “I’m majoring in communications, which entails more than just an English requirement. I also play football.”

  “Oh,” Tracy said, smiling. The more they talked, the more she liked him. “Do you plan on getting married soon?” she asked, jumping ahead of herself. She figured that Patti had met her husband at a campus party, so why not her?

  Carl said, “You know, a lot of guys would shy away from that question, but I feel as though I could, if the right girl came along and caught me off-guard.”

  Yes! Tracy thought. He’s marriable. “Why she gotta catch you ‘off-guard?’ ” she wanted to know.

  “Because, to be truthful, I’m not looking straight down the aisles of a wedding, or at least not yet. I mean, I’m only a sophomore. And since I was skipped, I’m only eighteen years old. You’re acting as if I’m twenty-five already.”

  “Yo, what’s up, Carl?” a tall friend interrupted, shaking his hand. Carl was just a few inches taller than Tracy, but his friend appeared to be a basketball-slamming giant. He looked into her face and stepped back. “Damn, you always get the good ones! Hunh, young-boah’?”

  Carl smiled and said, “No, she’s just my friend.”

  “Well, I would love to have a friend like her,” the giant said, laughing before he walked away.

  It was upsetting to be so close to such a gorgeous person and be called “just a friend.” Tracy did not like the sound of that.

  “You have a girlfriend or something?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, how many girls are you talking to?”

  “I’m talking to you, right now.”

  Tracy raised her brow, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, I want to talk to you. Matter of fact, come here.” Carl led Tracy by the hand. Her college girlfriends were all doing their own things by then.

  Tracy followed Carl over to one of his friends, who was standing near the turntables. She was wondering what Carl was doing. She was apprehensive about saying anything though. She figured that she would simply trust him.

  Carl yelled, “AY JOE, you got some paper back there?”

  “Yeah, hold up,” Joe said, looking i
n the corner of the stage set.

  Once he received the paper and a pen, Carl wrote his phone number down. He didn’t ask Tracy for hers.

  Tracy asked with a smile, “Don’t you want mine?”

  Carl checked out her earrings. Patti had given them back to her. “Oh, I’ll get it from you when you call me,” he said, touching them. Tracy didn’t like guys to touch her earrings. But what the hell? she trusted him. Carl said, “You know, you don’t need these big clumsy things, Tracy. You’re already attractive in my eyes. You don’t need any artificial additives.”

  Tracy beamed and thought, That was a good one. I like that. He has class.

  Tracy and her college girlfriends squeezed back into the Toyota at the night’s end. Patti had met Tracy’s new friends weeks ago, deciding it would be good for her daughter to hang out with college girls, and Dave had agreed. “It’ll get Tracy’s head screwed on right, and get her focused toward going to school,” Patti told him. She also gave Tracy a warning, “You make sure you keep them panties on up there, unless you feel you’re ready to raise your own household. You hear me?”

  “Tracy, wake up, girl!” Kiwana said, shoving her inside of the car.

  Lisa asked from the wheel, “Is she asleep?”

  “Girl, she knocked out like a baby.”

  Joanne said, “It looked like her and Carl were strapped together all night.”

  Tracy grinned with her eyes still closed.

  “Oh, she heard that?” Kiwana said, noticing her smile. “So you’re talkin’ to him now, or what?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Tracy told her.

  Joanne smiled. “Hmm, she went up there and booked a guy on the first night. A good one at that.”

  “Yeah, well, Carl’s kind of young anyway. But he is nice,” Lisa added.

  Kiwana only smiled at the idea. She had turned Carl down before, but it wasn’t because she didn’t like him. She simply had someone else in mind for her affections, someone older.

  Tracy slept good that night, finally waking up in mid-afternoon. It was a chilly Saturday, but the sun shined through all of the windows, warming her face, and Jason was busy running around the house, up and down the steps, letting Tracy know it was a normal weekend. She then began to smile up at the ceiling, wondering how she and Carl would get along as a couple.