The Pact

by Monica McKayhan

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  We lay there, side by side on our beach towels, searching the dark sky—for what, I wasn’t sure. Maybe we were searching for answers to why we were attracted to each other. I knew that was what I was searching for. It was clear that Rena had a boyfriend. And as for me, I still had Indigo Summer under my skin. And Rena was probably regretting the kiss that had obviously caused fireworks between us. Maybe driving down to the beach had been a bad idea after all.

  “I better get home, Marcus. My mom will be looking for me soon. She gets off work at ten, and if I’m not home, she’ll launch a search party.” She stood and picked up her towel. Shook the sand away. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, I’m ready.” I shook sand from my towel, too. “Let’s go.”

  Rena led the way along the dirt trail and back to the car. An old-school Notorious B.I.G. tune was on the radio, and I bounced my head to it. Rena didn’t say much during the drive home, and I wondered what was on her mind. I wondered if she had seen the same sparks that I had just minutes earlier. Wondered what that kiss meant to her, if anything. Did it mean she had betrayed her boyfriend—the boyfriend she claimed she didn’t have—and now was she feeling guilty about it? I needed to know.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You’re acting different now. We were having a good time, and then…”

  “I’m cool, Marcus. It was just a kiss. Don’t read too much into it.”

  “It didn’t mean anything to me,” I lied. “Besides, you got a boyfriend, anyway.”

  “Who told you that I had a boyfriend?”

  “Nobody had to tell me. I saw him pick you up the other day.”

  “That was just Cedric.” She acted nonchalant about it. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “It sure looked that way…the way you greeted him with a kiss and all,” I said, trying desperately not to sound jealous, even though I was. “I guess you go around kissing everybody like that, huh?”

  “Whatever, Marcus.” Her eyes were steady on the road. “Let’s forget about tonight, okay?”

  As if that were possible!

  “Cool with me,” I said, and stared out the window the whole way back up I-45.

  Mom had fallen asleep, stretched out on the living room sofa, a stack of papers in her lap; she still had her reading glasses on. An episode of Sex and the City was on the television. I tiptoed toward her, tried removing her glasses without waking her up, but it didn’t work. Her eyes instantly popped open.

  “How was the beach, sweetie?”

  “It was cool, Ma. What you doing? Watching your eyelids?”

  “Just finishing up some work.” She took off her glasses and looked at me. “What’s wrong? You look funny.”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” I grabbed the remote control. “You watching this?”

  “No, you can turn.”

  I started flipping through the channels. Stopped when I found VH1, where New York from the reality show I Love New York was kissing some dude and telling him how much she loved him. It was funny, because on the last episode I had watched, she’d been telling another dude the same thing.

  “Ma, why are girls so weird? One minute you think they really like you, and the next minute they treat you like you did something wrong. It’s hard to understand them.”

  “You’ll probably never understand them completely, Marcus.” She laughed. “That’s just the way it is, baby.”

  “I don’t think I want to understand, either.” I headed for the kitchen. Grabbed an ice-cream sandwich from the freezer.

  “Have you thought about what we talked about? You know—the possibility of you moving here…with me? I really want you to consider it, Marcus. The schools here are great, and I think you would do well.”

  “I’ll think about it, Ma. I kinda like Atlanta, and all my friends are there.”

  “You can always make new friends, Marcus. You’re outgoing. I know you won’t have any problem meeting girls, with your cute self.” She laughed. “You’re not getting too serious with that young lady back in Atlanta…what’s her name? Indigo.”

  Indigo Summer, the girl I used to think was the most beautiful girl in the world—that is, until I met Rena.

  “No, I’m not getting too serious, Ma.”

  “That’s good. Take it slow, baby. You’re still young—got plenty of time for girls. Right now you need to focus on school, and your future.”

  “I know, Ma.” I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t a little kid anymore. That I’d grown to be a very responsible young man who had a Master Plan. But I decided not to. Instead, I flipped the channel to MTV and watched Punk’d. Before long, sleep found me right there on the sofa and I gave in to it.

  Chapter 9

  Indigo

  I checked out my booty in the dressing room mirror at Charlotte Russe, making sure the jeans fit just right. They were perfect, and I turned around and checked the front, stuck my hands down into the pockets. I slipped the top with spaghetti straps over my head to see if it looked right with the jeans. The outfit looked good on me, and I stepped outside the small dressing room to let Sabrina take a look.

  “Brina, what you think about these jeans?”

  She popped her head outside of her dressing room door, gave my jeans a scan. “Those are cute, Indi,” she said. “Turn around, let me see the back.”

  I did a quick spin, sticking my behind out as I placed my hand on my hip.

  “What about the top?” I asked her.

  “Cute, but come here.”

  I walked over to the door of Sabrina’s dressing room. She pulled on the bottom of my blouse in order to expose more cleavage. She straightened the spaghetti straps. “There, that’s better. You gotta show the world what you got, girl. Even though you don’t have that much.” She laughed. “Wait until you have kids…then you’ll have something to fill this little top out.”

  Sabrina checked out the back of her jeans in the mirror. “You like these, Indi?”

  “They’re cute.”

  “Yeah, I think I want them.” She smiled and then slammed her door shut.

  I stood in line behind Sabrina as she purchased a pair of silver hoop earrings and a pair of sunglasses with the large frames and pink lenses. After the salesperson rang up her purchase and handed Sabrina her change, I placed my jeans and blouse on the counter. I pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of my purse and handed it to the girl behind the counter, who had an Afrocentric hairstyle. She smiled when she handed me fifty-seven cents: my change, and the only money that I had to my name. Daddy had promised to send me fifty dollars in the mail, but I had yet to receive it. So until he got around to it, I was officially broke. The jeans fit my body perfectly, so they were worth the sacrifice.

  Sabrina and I tried on dresses that we found on the Macy’s clearance rack, and shoes that were on sale at the Wild Pair. We stopped at Starbucks and ordered white chocolate mochas with a splash of vanilla in each. We sat in the comfortable chairs at Starbucks, listened to the eccentric music playing in the store and watched as people stepped up to the counter and ordered cappuccinos or other flavored coffees. We laughed at the big woman who ordered three pieces of chocolate cake and sat there and ate every crumb. We stepped into Victoria’s Secret and smelled the new fragrances and lotions, and then ended our day at the mall with a quick breeze through the record store, in search of Chris Brown’s new CD. Once we found it, Sabrina was eager to get to the car to play it. As she backed Dugan’s Chevy out of the tight parking space, I ripped the plastic off the CD and popped it in.

  “He is so fine,” Sabrina said, then pulled a Newport out of her purse and lit it.

  “Yes, he is,” I said.

  “Check this out, Indi.” Sabrina reached into the backseat for her huge Coach bag. The jeans that she’d tried on at Charlotte Russe were crumpled up inside her purse.

  “The jeans you tried on! You stole them?”

 
“I had to have them. They were just so cute, I couldn’t pass them up.”

  I looked out the window. Shoplifting was not something that I did, and I was nervous. I kept thinking that the cops would be looking for us soon.

  “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never shoplifted before, Indi.”

  “Never,” I said.

  “Oh, I forgot, Uncle Harold buys you everything your little heart desires.” She laughed. “You’re a spoiled little rich girl.”

  The statement she made couldn’t be further from the truth. My father wasn’t rich, and he didn’t buy me everything I wanted. I rarely got anything without working for it or begging for it. She had it all wrong. I didn’t want her to think I was a “spoiled little rich girl,” so I played along.

  “That’s cool that you got those jeans, girl. They were so cute on you!”

  “You think so?” she asked.

  “You should wear them tonight when we go out,” I said.

  “You know what? I probably will,” Sabrina said, and then slowed at a stop sign.

  We both rolled our windows all the way down and let the wind blow through our hair as we pulled out of the mall parking lot and into traffic. Chris Brown serenaded us as we breezed through the streets of Chi-town on a hot summer afternoon.

  “You hungry?” Sabrina asked.

  “A little bit,” I told her.

  “Cool. My girlfriend Trish is firing up the grill and she invited us over.”

  The tires of Dugan’s car brushed against the curb as we pulled up in front of a ranch-style house with at least twenty people on the front porch. A Snoop Doggy Dogg track was being played—loud. Bottled beers were being turned up by some of the roughest-looking characters I’d ever seen in my life, and I was hesitant about stepping out of the car.

  “Trish here?” Sabrina asked as she headed up the walkway.

  “She in the house.” A tall, slender man pointed toward the door and offered us something to drink. “Y’all want a beer?”

  “No thanks,” we said in unison, and stepped into the house.

  People in the living room sat around on sofas and talked loud enough to be heard over the music. Four people sat at the kitchen table playing dominoes. In the backyard, several others danced to the sounds of Snoop, while two guys flipped burgers on a barbecue grill.

  “Sabrina, girl, what’s up?” A short, dark girl with gold extensions in her hair walked toward us. Her long fingers were wrapped around a red plastic cup, and each long nail had a different design.

  “Trish, what’s good?” Sabrina asked her.

  “It’s all good.” Trish smiled, and that was when I noticed the gold tooth in the front of her mouth. It was not attractive at all.

  “That’s what’s up.” My cousin gave Trish a tight squeeze. “This is my cousin Indigo. Indigo, meet Trish.”

  “Hi,” I said.

  “What’s up, girl?” Trish smiled my way. “Y’all hungry?”

  “Starving,” Sabrina answered for both of us.

  “Come on. The food’s inside.”

  We followed Trish back into the kitchen, where she pulled a roasting pan filled with barbecued ribs and chicken out of the oven. She handed us a couple of paper plates and forks, and it wasn’t long before both plates were overflowing with food. Trish poured us each a cup of Kool-Aid, and we stood around in the kitchen eating barbecue and watching as people slammed dominoes onto the table.

  Before long, we were all in the middle of the floor doing the Cupid Shuffle. It was fun hanging out with Sabrina and her friends. My friends in Atlanta were nothing like this.

  Chapter 10

  Marcus

  The sound of knocking shook me out of my sleep, and I glanced over at the clock on my nightstand. Nine-thirty. I wiped sleep from my eyes and sat up on the side of the bed. I grabbed a T-shirt, pulled it over my head and headed for the door. Peeked through the peephole. Swung the door open.

  “What’s up with you knocking on my door at the crack of dawn every morning?” I asked Michelle.

  “Marcus, it’s way past dawn. It’s almost ten o’clock,” Michelle said. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Guess,” she insisted.

  “Just tell me.”

  “I got tickets to see Lil Wayne on Friday night…at the Toyota Center!”

  “Seriously?”

  “Front-row seats and backstage passes, too,” she said, and held the tickets in the air. “You wanna go?”

  “No doubt.” I snatched them from her, just to see if they were real.

  They were real, all right. I handed them back.

  “Cool, we can go, then,” Michelle said, and stepped inside. She went straight for the kitchen. “Your mom didn’t make us pancakes this morning?”

  “She never made us pancakes in the first place. Those were my pancakes that you grubbed on the other day.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll just have a bowl of cereal.” She giggled, and then pulled a bowl from the shelf. She looked in the pantry and found a box of Fruity Pebbles.

  “Why don’t you just make yourself at home?” I said sarcastically, and shook my head as Michelle did just that.

  I made my way down the hallway and into the bathroom, washed my face and brushed my teeth. I went into my bedroom and grabbed my watch, slipped it onto my wrist. Glanced out the window at the pool. Rena was in her lifeguard uniform, sitting on her throne—her lifeguard chair. She put her whistle in her mouth, blew it and yelled at some kid. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. I watched her as she climbed down from the chair and went for a swim. I wanted to be next to her again and decided that I should go for a swim—just as soon as I got rid of Michelle.

  She was already crunching on Fruity Pebbles and flipping through the channels on the television when I walked back into the room.

  “This video is so hot!” Michelle said. “Check it out.”

  “Yeah, it is pretty hot.”

  It was a Plies video, featuring Akon—a video where sexy girls shook their hips in slow motion. It was one of the top videos on 106 & Park that week, and one that was in my top ten.

  I watched as Michelle bounced around in the middle of the floor. I was surprised that she had rhythm, and I began to wonder how she would look if she got rid of those pop-bottle glasses and actually invested in a pair of contacts. And what if she didn’t wear braces and had straight, white teeth, and micro braids like the other girls I knew, instead of the silly ponytail that she wore on the back of her head? She seemed to be somewhat pretty on the inside. I just wondered what she would be like if she was pretty on the outside, too.

  It was a hot summer day, and I couldn’t wait to cool off in the pool. There was no hope of getting rid of Michelle as we both stepped out into the Texas heat. I had already spotted Rena from a distance, and watched as she paced the edge of the pool—back and forth—her whistle in her mouth, just waiting to be blown at someone violating the rules. I watched her, thinking of our kiss at the beach, and wondered if she’d thought of me when she got home. And wondering where her attitude had come from so suddenly that night. Had I done something wrong?

  The tapping of a basketball shook me from my trance.

  “What’s up, Michelle? You’re still as ugly as ever,” said a short guy who favored Martin Lawrence, with his short cut, big teeth and big ears. He grinned at Michelle as he insulted her. He was wearing gray shorts that hung past his knees, and the number 23 on his Miami Heat jersey was beginning to peel. He dribbled the ball between his legs and pretended to shoot it into an imaginary basket.

  “You are so stupid, Andre. You should grow up.” Michelle rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth.

  “You playing ball somewhere, man?” I asked. I didn’t remember seeing a basketball court anywhere.

  “Court right up the street, dog,” Andre said. “You play?”

  “Yeah, I play.”

  “Everybody plays up there. We can probably get the next game if we leave now.”

  I
thought about it for a moment. I was just about to go for a swim and flirt with the sexy lifeguard at the pool. I wasn’t even dressed for a game of basketball—I wore swimming trunks, and flip-flops on my feet.

  “I was about to go for a swim,” I said, and glanced back over at the pool. I wanted to go for a swim, but part of me wanted to shoot some hoops, too.

  “Suit yourself, dog.” Andre continued to bounce the ball, headed toward the subdivision entrance.

  “Wait, man,” I told him, “let me get my sneakers.”

  He nodded and agreed to wait for me. I took the stairs two at a time, changed shoes and ran back outside with a wifebeater on, and Jordans on my feet. I caught up with Andre. Michelle was close behind, as usual. She was quickly becoming my shadow.

  “What position you play?” I asked Andre.

  “Point guard,” he boasted, “and let me tell you, I’m bad on the court…weaving in and out, in between the tall dudes. They can’t touch me, dog.”

  “You that good, huh?” I asked.

  “I can’t even tell you in words. I gotta show you.”

  “Please,” Michelle said, swinging her neck from side to side. “Boy, you can’t play no ball.”

  “Shut up, girl, with those magnifying glasses on your face.”

  “You shut up, with your learning-disabled self,” Michelle came back. “When you gon’ stop riding the short bus and ride a regular bus like the rest of us?”

  “Be quiet, girl,” Andre said. “Hey, Marcus, like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted…my game is tight. Believe that.”

  Andre was talking a bunch of trash, and I wondered if he really did have game. The three of us jaywalked across a busy street, a tow truck coming very close to running us over. We cut through the parking lot of a Shell gas station, and then ended up on the backside of a Diamond Shamrock store. Across the street from the store was a playground where a tall dude was dunking a basketball into a rusty goal without a net. There were about ten dudes in the game and another twenty on the sideline awaiting their turns. I doubted that Andre or I would get a chance to play before dark, but I instantly felt a rush of excitement just to be able to watch the game being played.