It's All Good

by Nikki Carter

  So, yeah. It’s Hope.

  “Yes, he actually said that,” I reply. “Can you believe he asked me if I was going to start acting weird?”

  “Well, you are acting kind of weird, Gia.”

  See what I mean! Suspect beyond belief.

  “How am I acting funny?”

  Hope explains, “You’re all stressed about this Ricky crush. It’s not like you haven’t always kinda dug him, so why is it such a big deal now? Why can’t y’all just be the same?”

  She is so dense. How can it ever be the same? Ricky has taken a step into boyfriend territory. You can’t just come back from that. It’s like saying you’ve never tasted pizza after you’ve already taken a bite and have cheese hanging off the side of your mouth.

  “I’m not stressed. I just need to know what’s going on. You don’t just buy someone jewelry and then start tripping.”

  Hope nods. “I do agree with you on that. Ricky shouldn’t have given you that if he didn’t want to send out the wrong signal.”

  “I don’t think he sent out the wrong signal. I just think he’s not ready to handle it yet. He sent out the right signal, but now he wants to take it back.”

  Hope is wading very close to the hater side of the swimming pool. She’s just mad because Ricky wasn’t sending her any signals at all.

  Hope shrugs. “Well, whatever, Gia. You know Ricky better than I do. I don’t know why you asked for my opinion anyway, because you definitely don’t want it.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. Change the subject before I kick you out of my room.”

  “You are evil,” Hope says.

  “Right back at cha, ma.”

  There is a light knock on my bedroom door. It has to be Candy because Gwen does not knock. She doesn’t believe in teenagers having privacy.

  “What do you want, Candy?” I ask through the closed door.

  Candy replies, “Stop being mean and let me in! I’m bored.”

  I roll my eyes and flop onto the bed in my room. When Gwen and LeRon first got married, this was LeRon’s office and he was not trying to give it up. I had to share a room with Candy, and I most definitely did not appreciate that ridiculousness.

  We had bunk beds and everything.

  Me no likee!

  Then LeRon found himself some “get right.” Yeah, I don’t know exactly what this means, but my mom always says it when I’m acting crazy and then pull myself together. Bottom line is, I got my own room. Woo-hoo!

  And guess what? Annoying little sisters are only admitted on a case-by-case basis.

  Hope jumps up from my bed and opens the door. “Come on in, Candy. Gia’s acting stank anyway, so I’m not sure if you want to come in.”

  Candy narrows her eyes over in my direction. “What is your issue?”

  “I don’t have any issues. You and Hope can fall back immediately.”

  “She’s tripping because Ricky hasn’t asked her to be his boo yet,” Hope responds, as if I’ve said nothing.

  Candy nods. “Well, that’s typical boy behavior.”

  “And how do you know?” I ask.

  “I watch The Tyra Banks Show! Guys put themselves out there and then they get scared. Ricky had an aha moment when he gave you that bracelet, and now everything else is brand-new. He’s just scared.”

  Hope and I stare at Candy in shock. Tyra show reference aside, she actually sounds credible. Could this be some sort of fear mechanism kicking in for Ricky? And if it is, should I let him off the hook or proceed? So many questions ...

  “For real, though, Candy. Maybe you’re watching too much Tyra,” I say. “An ‘aha moment’? Seriously?”

  Candy laughs. “Actually, the aha moment is from my other mother, Oprah.”

  See, this is why I keep the door to my bedroom closed.

  5

  It’s Wednesday night and I’m sitting in the church social hall waiting for our very first purity class to start. Yay! (Do you detect a hint of sarcasm? HA! That would be more than a hint, thank you very much.)

  I look around the room to see who decided to join us. Of course, Candy and Hope are here. They, like me, didn’t have a choice. Valerie’s here, too, looking like a pariah because nobody’s sitting next to her. No, not Mariah. Pariah.

  Also in the room is fellow junior, Sascha Cohen. She’s one of Hope’s rally girl friends, which means that maybe Hope decided to open up her mouth about the program. Sascha’s really pretty. Her mom is this tiny Filipino lady and her dad is Black. Sascha took the best traits from both her parents, it seems. She’s tall and brown like her dad, but has almond eyes and long wavy hair like her mother. She’s cool, so I’m really glad she came.

  There are some other girls from our church, too, probably being forced to attend by their mothers.

  “Sascha, come sit over here with us!” Hope says.

  Sascha smiles and joins us. Candy appraises her outfit with a bit of envy in her eyes. I don’t know if she’s gonna make it through her punishment. Her lack of fly apparel seems to be killing her.

  “That skirt is cute,” Candy remarks.

  “Thanks,” Sascha replies. “And thank y’all for asking me to sit over here. I thought Valerie was gonna come and sit next to me.”

  Hope jumps up and hugs Sascha. “I would never leave a rally girl hanging! You know this.”

  Gag on top of gag. I’m so sick of Hi-Steppers this and rally girls that. Are you kidding me? I really despise cliques, and yet I seem to reside amongst them. Go figure.

  Aunt Elena and Gwen emerge from somewhere in the back of the church sanctuary. They must think they are too cute with their little yoga outfits on. I guess they’re supposed to be on our level, so they didn’t wear their usual church outfits. My mother usually wears a hat wide enough to poke somebody’s eye out every time she sets foot inside the church. And Aunt Elena stays rocking some kind of Banana Republic suit.

  “Hello girls!” Aunt Elena says. “We are so happy that you joined us for PGP!”

  PGP? Oh, no. They done went and made up an acronym. I’m afraid to know what the letters stand for, and from the way Hope is covering her face with both hands, she’s afraid, too.

  Gwen exclaims, “I bet you’re all wondering what PGP stands for!”

  “It stands for Powerful Girls are Pure!” Aunt Elena says, and then she gives Gwen a high five.

  Kill me. Kill me now.

  “We are about to embark on a wonderful journey!” Gwen exclaims.

  Aunt Elena nods. “Absolutely. You young ladies are about to experience the passage into womanhood.”

  Oh wow! Talk about laying it on thick. The Gwen and Aunt Elena tag team is in full effect. The fact that they’ve put their differences aside to mold the minds of young women is inspiring.

  Um ... yeah.

  I’m just waiting for Aunt Elena to say something out of pocket to or about Atilla the Gwen. That’s when things will get interesting.

  Gwen opens a huge shopping bag and says, “First Lady Elena and I have a gift for each one of you!”

  No, Auntie Elena is not the president’s wife, silly! In our church, we call the pastor’s wife First Lady. Now pay attention before you miss something.

  Gwen reaches into her bag and pulls out a handful of plastic tiaras.

  “While we’re in class, each of you will wear one of these tiaras, because you are daughters of King Jesus,” Aunt Elena explains.

  Gwen adds, “And that makes you princesses!”

  Why are Aunt Elena and Gwen clapping and giving themselves a round of applause? They are just too proud of themselves.

  “During our sessions, you will address each other by your royal names,” Aunt Elena says. “Princess Hope, come and receive your tiara.”

  When we’re all looking beyond foolish with plastic, dollar-store tiaras on our heads, Gwen and Aunt Elena seem pleased. At least someone is happy about this ridiculousness.

  Womp, womp on us.

  “Over the course of our time together, we’re goin
g to talk about why your minds, hearts, and bodies are precious to God,” Aunt Elena explains.

  Gwen says, “You will maintain exceptional conduct and grades while in the PGP program. And at the end of March you will graduate from the program and be presented at the PGP cotillion.”

  Aunt Elena asks, “Are there any questions?”

  Sascha raises her hand.

  “Yes, Princess Sascha?” Aunt Elena says with a big smile.

  Sascha asks, “Is a cotillion a dance? Like a prom? And do we get to bring a date?”

  Gwen replies, “It’s something like a dance, but your parents will be there and you’ll be presented as the debutantes that you are. It’s going to be in early spring, because that’s when the flowers start to bloom, and you will be blooming into young women.”

  Gag on top of gag.

  Sascha scrunches her nose. “Our parents are going to be there? With our dates?”

  “They won’t actually be dates. They’ll be escorts, and only part of the ceremony.”

  Sascha still doesn’t look convinced. “Okay. I guess I get it.”

  Gwen is giving Sascha the shut-your-mouth-that’s-enough-questions stare down. Candy raises her hand and lets her off the hook.

  “Yes, Princess Candy?”

  Candy clears her throat and swallows. “How will you know if everyone has good conduct?”

  Gwen narrows her eyes at Candy. Have I taught this child nothing? Unnecessary questions always activate Gwen’s mess radar!

  Fortunately for Candy, Aunt Elena tackles her question. “Well, you ladies are on an honor system, as far as we’re concerned. We expect you to understand that this is more about a relationship with God than a dance at the end of March. That being said, if something is brought to our attention, Sister Gwen and I may be forced to take action and you could possibly be removed from the program.”

  Wow. It looks like Aunt Elena and my mom are definitely not playing. Just about every girl in the room looks a tad bit uncomfortable. Valerie more than anyone else—hmmm ... I wonder why?

  I still haven’t figured out why she’s even here, because I sure don’t believe it’s all about wanting to be pure.

  “That was so embarrassing,” Hope says to me as soon as we’re dismissed.

  “Tell me about it. How and when did Gwen and Aunt Elena get so out of control?”

  Candy responds, “It’s not that bad. I mean, at least we get to have a cotillion out of the deal.”

  Right. A cotillion. Yet another dance where I have to find a date. They can call it an “escort” all they want, but for real—it’s a date. It seems like my life goes from one dance to the next, all opportunities for me to look like the lame, dateless chick.

  Maybe I’ll just surrender and let Kevin be my boyfriend. He’s dressing better, has contacts, and his driver’s license. Plus his acne is like half gone. Yeah, that still leaves an awful lot of pimples, but you know what I mean.

  Hope snatches me out of my daydream ... er ... nightmare.

  “Gia, why is Valerie here, anyway?”

  “Heck if I know! Big mouth Candy brought it up in Hi-Steppers practice and she invited herself.”

  Hope frowns. “I think she’s just here to cause trouble. She left a nastygram on Susan Chiang’s Facebook page the other day.”

  “What do you mean, nastygram?”

  “She just posted a note to her wall that said, ‘Bow to the real queen of Longfellow High. It’s not over.’”

  I burst into spontaneous laughter. It’s not over! Are you kidding me?

  “That doesn’t even sound like Valerie,” I say after I’m done laughing. “She’s much more cerebral than that. The whole Facebook stalking seems so juvenile.”

  Candy says, “I saw it, too. It was right there in my updates, next to a picture of Susan wearing her Homecoming crown.”

  “It was there,” Sascha concurs. “We all told Susan that Valerie is just jealous and that she shouldn’t worry about it.”

  Hmm ... I don’t know if that was good advice. If that was truly Valerie posting a note on Susan’s page, she probably should worry. But I still can’t see Valerie sitting at home on her computer thinking up halfway mean things to say online. She’s the type to get right up in your face and get you told.

  Valerie waves at me and Candy from across the sanctuary as she walks out the back exit. How do I know she wasn’t waving at Hope and Sascha too? That’s easy.

  They’re rally girls.

  6

  It’s Friday, and I am too pumped because I’m sitting in my last-period English class with Kevin and Ricky and it’s almost over! That means that in less than thirty minutes we’re going to be on the school bus and headed to Columbus, Ohio, for the state high school football championship. The Spartans are playing the Finley Sabers, and it should be a beast of a matchup. (You like that little play on words, don’t you? Sabers ... beast? Okay, whatever, hater. It was a good pun.)

  Ms. Beckman, our fierce English teacher, is letting us chill until the bell, because she knows that we are way too excited to hear anything she’s trying to tell us about poetry structure. That’s going to have to wait until next week when the Spartans are the state champs!

  Do I sound extra pumped? Hahahaha.

  “Are you still gonna sit next to me on the bus?” Kevin asks.

  He is most definitely rocking his new outfit and a fresh haircut, so I guess I’ll keep my word. “Sure, Kev. Too bad Ricky’s gonna be on the other bus. He’s gonna be so bored without us.”

  Ricky chuckles. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  Can I tell you that he really, really is starting to get on my nerves? I’m trying to keep a positive outlook on this whole Gia/Ricky thing, but it seems like Ricky is dead set on there being no us.

  “So, Ricky, when are the ’rents coming down?” I ask.

  “They’re driving down Saturday afternoon. My dad has to work in the morning. Is your mom coming?”

  I shrug. “I would rather she didn’t.”

  “Why not?” Ricky asks. “It’s not like you’ve got any wildin’ out planned. Or do you?”

  “Anyway!” I say, totally dismissing Ricky. “Kev, did your grandmother pack any snacks for us?”

  Kevin’s face lights up, like he’s really excited that I’m looking forward to riding next to him on the bus. Why you playing, though, Mother Witherspoon makes some slamming goodie bags. As long as she doesn’t make those ...

  “Yes! She made us fried chicken sandwiches.”

  Fried chicken sandwiches.

  Ricky cracks up. “Kev, you’ve been walking around all day with fried chicken in your backpack? It’s probably spoiled by now. You and Gia are gonna end up with salmonella poisoning.”

  “For your info, Mr. Quarterback, I put them in the refrigerator in the teachers’ lounge this morning. I’m going to warm them up right before we get on the bus.”

  Still giggling, Ricky replies, “Good, then. It sounds yummy. I’ll take Mickey D’s.”

  I am completely unwilling to join in Ricky’s laughter. “Whatever, hater. Kevin, those sandwiches are probably going to be good. Thanks for thinking of me!”

  “Anytime, Gia,” Kevin replies. “I’m just glad my grandmother is letting me go. Do you know she asked Pastor Stokes if he thought there was going to be any tomfoolery on the trip?”

  I see that blank expression on your face. Yeah, I don’t know what tomfoolery means either. You’ll have to ask Mother Witherspoon. Knowing her, she’s praying against any and all tomfoolery and whatever else Kevin might get into.

  Obviously, she doesn’t know she’s got a lame for a grandson. Kevin wouldn’t know tom or foolery if they sat in his lap and patted him on the head!

  Ricky slaps Kevin on the back. “It’s cool, though, Kev. You’re going now, and we’re gonna have fun this weekend.”

  Kevin nods. “This is going to be my last weekend of fun for a while.”

  “Why is that?” I ask.

  “Gia! Did you forg
et our SAT prep class? I signed you up, and I’m going to be driving you every Saturday. My grandmother already talked to your mom.”

  “All right! Spelman, here I come.”

  Ricky frowns and asks, “Why didn’t y’all sign me up?”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to go,” Kevin replies. “That’s me and Gia’s thing. We’ve been studying for the SATs since the eighth grade.”

  Kevin is telling the absolute truth. He and I have been learning SAT vocabulary words for the longest. We even picked our class schedules based on what would help us most on the test.

  Ricky nods slowly and starts to scribble in his notebook, with the frown still in place. Is someone feeling left out? Better yet, is this jealousy I detect?

  The bell rings and we rush out of the classroom, not waiting for Ms. Beckman to give us an official dismissal.

  Kevin turns in the direction of the teachers’ lounge and says, “I’ll see you on the bus, Gia.”

  “Okay.”

  Ricky is still standing in front of me, giving me evil side eye.

  “Dude, what is it?”

  “G, I can’t believe you didn’t sign me up for the SAT prep. You know I never think to do stuff like that. I’m going to college too!”

  Am I his mama or something? Dang! Why do I have to remember to do stuff for him? I’m obviously not his girlfriend, so someone please explain. What part of the game is this?

  “Seriously, Ricky, there will be another SAT prep. Just get in the next class. Not a big deal.”

  “It’s not a big deal that my two best friends are gonna be totally missing in action for the next eight Saturdays?”

  Okay, so I didn’t think about it that way. Ricky, Kevin, and I do usually hang at the rec center or the mall on Saturdays. We even let Hope come along sometimes. The SAT is breaking up our trio.

  “You said you wouldn’t act weird, Gia. I should’ve known that you’d act like Hope when I gave you that bracelet.”

  I don’t know what’s more insulting. The part where he said I was weird or the part where he said I was acting like Hope. He’s tripping on both counts.