by Amir Abrams
I grin. “And that’s what makes it so much more exciting. Knowing my parents would have a fit.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Kennedy. Seems so not worth all the trouble you could get in if you ever got caught. I mean, lying to your mom. That’s so not cool. What if she found out you were lying to her?”
I shrug. “She won’t.” She wants to know if I’ve lied before to my mom in order to sneak off with a boy. I tell her no. Tell her that I’ve never had any reason to because I’d always done what is expeted of me by my parents.
“So why the change now?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I intentionally set out to lie to her. I was on the phone talking to him and he was talking all low and sexy, telling me how much he wanted to hang out with me. I got caught up in the moment. Anyway, I wanted to see him, too.”
“You know, Kennedy. Nothing good is going to come out of you being deceitful. One day it’s all going to come out, then what?”
I look at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
She gives me a funny look. “Why do you like boys like that?”
“Like what?”
She huffs. “You know, ruffians. Thugs.”
“I don’t know. They’re interesting and exciting.”
“They’re nothing but trouble.”
I furrow my brows. “That’s so not true, Hope. All that is is a negative stereotype. All guys who wear sagging pants and from urban areas aren’t bad news. A lot of them are simply misunderstood.”
She rolls her eyes, waving me on. “Oh, please, Kennedy. All they do is run around drinking and smoking and having wild, nasty sex and getting a bunch of girls pregnant and spreading around diseases.”
I blink. “Ohmygod, Hope! You have got to be kidding me. I can’t believe what’s just come out of your mouth. You can not possibly believe what you’ve said.”
She makes a face. “Well, it’s true. So before you get on your soapbox, spare me the song and dance about the plight and misfortunes of the boys in the hood. Their apathy and disregard for the world around them is nothing but an excuse for them to go out and sell drugs and tear down their communities, killing and robbing each other, instead of staying in school, getting an education, and doing something positive and constructive with their lives.”
“It’s not always that cut and dried,” I say, feeling a headache pushing its way to the center of my forehead.
She snorts. “I don’t see why it’s not. You either want to do right, or you don’t. No one forces them to do what they do. It’s a choice. So whatever negative light is being shone on them is by their own doing.”
“That’s so not fair. How can you say that? You don’t know what it’s like to walk in their shoes. Many who live in the hood want out. They want to do what’s right, but when they aren’t given the tools or allowed access to resources that can help them, then they start to feel hopeless and helpless.”
She sucks her teeth. “So that makes it right?”
I shake my head. “No. That makes it real. You know like I do that the system is designed to see people fail, especially young black men. So you shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”
“Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t judge. And maybe you’re right. But I’ll say this, then I’m going to let it go. They’re all damaged if you ask me. And before long, if you choose to keep chasing behind boys like that, you’ll end up damaged, too.”
I am stunned, speechless.
9
“So why do they call you Blaze?” I ask Hazel Eyes two days later. We’ve been on Skype for the last twenty minutes. There’s something about him I like. I know, I know. At first I thought it wasn’t going to work out. But after our movie date and spending time with him alone at his house, he’s really not all that bad. And, besides, he’s really, really nice to look at.
Eye candy. Yeah, that’s what they call guys who look like him.
He lights his second blunt, taking two deep pulls then holding it in his lungs.
“Don’t you think that maybe you smoke too much?”
He coughs. “Nah, not like I used to. I cut back.”
“You cut back?” I ask, surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah. I used to burn like nine, ten blunts a day.”
I stare at him through the screen incredulously. “Are you for real? Even during the school year?”
“No doubt. Weed helped me concentrate better. I got most of my A’s when I was high, yo. Word is bond. I’d smoke a blunt before school, then another one for lunch. Then soon as two forty-five hit and dat bell rang, I’d be out da door sparking up wit’ my boyz until it was time to take it down.”
“So, is that why they call you Blaze? Because of all the marijuana you smoke?”
He shifts his eyes from my inquiring gaze. “Yeah, sumthin’ like dat. So you wanna catch another movie tomorrow night?”
I chuckle. “Hey-hey, not so fast. Don’t even try to change the subject. Not until you tell me what ‘something like that’ means.”
He brings his face close to his computer screen, and blows smoke at me. “See. If I tell you, I’ma have ta kidnap you.” He laughs and coughs at the same time.
I tsk him. “Just tell me, please.”
He sighs. “Yo, you really wanna know?”
I nod. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
He sighs again. “When I was like eight I found my older brother’s stash . . .”
“Oh, you have an older brother? How old is he? What kind of stash?”
He shakes his head. “Chill, chill. You want me to tell you da story or not?”
I nod.
“A’ight then. My brother, Brent, is twenty-three. Anyway, I found his stash of weed in a Timberland box under his bed. I remember watching him roll up and seein’ him smoke and I thought it was cool. So dis one night when he was out doin’ him, I snuck in his room wit’ two of my friendz at da time. He had like six blunts already rolled ’n’ ready to burn so I took one ’n’ lit it. Me ’n’ my boyz started smokin’ it like we knew what we was doin’ but we ain’t know jack; feel me?”
I nod. “So what happened?”
Blaze looks off for a split second, then lands his gaze back on me. “We heard someone comin’ ’n’ got spooked. I tossed all da blunts ’n’ da lighter back into the box ’n’ pushed it back under his bed, then me ’n’ my friendz dipped outta his room before we got caught. My moms woulda beat me if she caught me smokin’.” He shakes his head. “Later dat night, I went to bed, then the next thing I know my moms is bargin’ in my room shakin’ me ’n’ screamin’ for me to get up ’cause there’s a fire.”
I gasp. “Ohmygod! Did your house burn down?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. It was just a lotta smoke. I mean, it did burn through the box ’n’ my brother’s mattress got scorched, but we ain’t lose e’erything. My moms was just happy no one got hurt ’n’ dat our crib didn’t burn down to da ground.”
“Y’all were real lucky,” I say sincerely.
“True.”
“So did they know how his bed caught fire?”
“Not at first. But then dem fire marshall cats came ’n’ tol’ my moms what caused it. She blacked on my brother for havin’ dat stuff in her house.”
“Did she put him out?”
“Nah. She just made him give her money for da damages. And started chargin’ him rent to live wit’ us. Soon as she spun off, he started spazzin’ on me ’n’ yoked me up for goin’ into his ish. He knew da only way da fire coulda popped off da way it did is if someone was in his room messin’ wit’ his stash. Man, dude tried to beat da crap outta me. After dat he got a lock on his door, then started callin’ me Blaze.”
“Wow.”
He licks his lips. “Now, what about dat movie?”
I grin. “Tell me your real name, and it’s a yes.”
He shakes his head. “See, why you gotta know all dat? It’s Blaze.”
“Yeah, okay. And my name’s Tinkerbell from Once Upon a Time.”
“Hahahaha. Well, once upon a time, there was dis dude named Blaze who had another name. Nice to meet you, Tinker. Now come ring my bell.”
I join in his laughter. “You’re so silly.”
Although he doesn’t tell me his real name, he does share with me that his mother’s a single mom. That his dad was killed in car crash when he was six. And his brother’s in prison for three years for selling drugs.
I also learn that he’s going into his senior year. And that he plays basketball for his high school. That he’s their star point guard. And he plans to go away to college.
I’m impressed.
“Where do plan on attending?” I ask, genuinely interested.
“I don’t know. NYU, Georgetown, and Duke universities want me real bad.”
Oh, wow,” I say, excitedly. “That’s great! Which one will you choose?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. My mom wants me to go get out of Jersey. But I ain’t really tryna leave her, feel me?”
“Yeah. But where would you like to go if you had a choice?”
He thinks for a moment then says, “On some real, I’d like to go to either Howard, Hampton, Fisk, or North Carolina A & T University.”
I give him a quizzical look. “Really? Wow. Why those schools? I mean, I know they’re historically black universities and all, but why them when Georgetown, NYU, and Duke already have their eyes on you—why wouldn’t you go to one of them? They’re really good schools.”
He gives me a funny look. “Why not those schools? They’re just as good as Georgetown, Duke, NYU, Princeton, Harvard, Yale, or any other prestigious Ivy League school, feel me? Besides, they’re listed among Forbes’s top colleges and universities to attend.”
“Forbes?” I say. “What you know about Forbes?”
“See,” he says, smirking. “I know more than you think, yo. Don’t sleep on ya future man, yo.”
I laugh. “Oh, is that what you’re going to be, my man?”
“Yeah. One day.”
I raise a brow. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah. When you ready for me.”
“Ohmygod! You are so full of yourself. What makes you think I’m not ready for you?”
“Don’t worry about all dat. I can tell.”
I tsk. “Annnnyway, moving on. Sounds like you have a promising future ahead of you.”
“True indeed. Every black boy from da hood ain’t a dropout, or out slingin’ packs, yo. Yeah, I dress hood ’n’ I talk dat talk, but I ain’t a derelict or destined for a prison cell.”
I smile at him. “I know not to judge a book by its cover.”
“Exactly. Most of us got dreams, feel me?”
I nod.
“I bet you thought I was just some hood nucca wit’ nothin’ goin’ for himself, didn’t you?”
“No. I didn’t think that.”
He laughs. “C’mon. Don’t front. Yes, you did.”
“Honestly. I didn’t.”
He gives me a “yeah right” look.
“Ohmygod! I’m serious. I really didn’t know what to think when I first saw you.”
“Yeah, right. You know you thought I looked good, yo. I saw you eyein’ my swag.”
I feign insult. “O-M-G! I was not eyeing your swag.” I bust out laughing. “Okay, okay. Maybe I was; just a little.”
“Hahaha. Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He pauses, moving his face up into his computer screen. “I’m sayin’, though. I wanna see you, yo.”
I smile. “I want to see you, too.”
He pulls in his bottom lip. “A’ight then. So what’s good?”
I glance at the time in the upper right corner of my MacBook. It’s almost one in the morning. Already waaaay past my curfew. “I can’t,” I say. “My mom will kill me.”
“Oh, a’ight, it’s cool,” he says without even trying to convince me to come out.
I won’t pretend that I’m not a little taken aback for some reason that he isn’t pressing me to sneak out to see him. I guess I kind of wanted him to. So, okay, okay, I’m disappointed.
“Well, alright then. I guess I’ll go to sleep.”
He laughs. “What, you want me to tell you to sneak outta ya crib to come chill wit’ me?”
“No,” I lie.
He keeps laughing. “Yeah, a’ight. Whatever you say, ma. But don’t get it twisted, yo. I wanna def chill wit’ you again. But I ain’t tryna have you do nothin’ you don’t already do. Good girls don’t sneak outta dey parents’ crib. Bad girls do.”
10
“Hey, y’all want to go check out that new movie with Jennifer Hudson?” Jordan asks, tossing her Teen People magazine over on her bed.
No, I’d rather go riding around, I think. My mind drifts back to the other night with Hazel Eyes. I snuck out of my house to hang out with him. And guess what? I don’t even feel bad about doing it. A part of me knows I should feel horrible for doing what I did, climbing out of my bedroom window like that. But I don’t. In fact, it was daring and exciting.
Yes, I was really nervous about getting caught, but the risk was worth it. Not that Blaze asked me to do it. Or expected me to. But his good girl comment made me want to not only prove to him that I could be a bad girl, too, but to see what it was like to break a rule. To sneak out.
And I got caught up in the thrill of it all.
It was fun. It was out of character. It was spontaneous. It was sooo not me. I climbed out of my bedroom window, grabbed onto the ledge, then shimmied my way down. Then I walked-ran outside the gates of my development and met Blaze at the WaWa’s three blocks down from my street. We didn’t really do much except ride around, then park in some secluded area and kiss and make out. I almost smoked some marijuana with him, too. Well, I wanted to. But he wouldn’t let me.
He laughed and coughed as he smoked. “Yo, why you call it marijuana? That sounds mad white, yo.”
“Well, that’s what it is,” I said, playfully swatting his arm. “Well, actually it’s called cannabis because it comes from the cannabis plant.”
He smirked, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. “Yeah, a’ight. Call it what you want, good girl. And I’ma call it what it is: Weed. Bud. Chronic. Loud. I don’t know nuthin’ ’bout no cannabis. All I know is, dis some good ish, yo.”
“Can I try some?” I asked, surprising myself.
He looked at me, gave me a funny stare. “Nah. You ain’t ready for dis, yo. I ain’t tryna corrupt you.”
I smirk. “Whatever.”
He took a few more deep pulls, then put it out. But he didn’t dare indulge my curiosity. And I’m kind of glad he didn’t. Still, I don’t like when he says I’m a good girl. For some reason, it sounds like being good is really a bad thing.
Anyway, next thing I knew, Blaze’s hands were all over me. And mine were all over him. And before I knew it, we were in the backseat of his car getting all hot and bothered. But when he went for my panties, surprisingly, he didn’t make a big deal out of it when I stopped him from pulling them down, or sticking his hand in them. We just grinded and kissed, then he finally said, “I better get you home, good girl. Before ya parents find out you missing.”
“I’m not missing. I’m out with you.”
“Yeah, true-true. You know what I mean.” We both fixed ourselves, then got back in the front seats. He started his engine then drove me right back where he dropped me off at.
“You think I’m corny, don’t you?”
He turned to look at me, then knitted his brows together. “Nah, not at all.”
I shifted my body toward him. “Yeah, right,” I said sarcastically, sucking my teeth. “Then why you keep calling me a good girl?”
“Because that’s what you are. It’s a compliment. Don’t ever change.”
I frowned. “Then why doesn’t it feel like one when you say it?”
He shrugged. “You tell me, ma. I mean it no other way; real spit.”
I eyed him unconvinced. “So you really don’t think I’m a
cornball?”
He grinned. “Nah.” He leaned over and kissed me on the lips then. “I think you’re mad sexy. Real sweet.”
I’m not going to lie. He made me blush. And there was something about the way he stared into my eyes that made me excited. I mean, really, really excited. Like I wanted to make out with him right there in the parking lot of WaWa’s.
“I really like you, yo,” he said, kissing me one last time before I climbed out of his car and made my way back home—at almost two thirty in the morning. Even though he wanted to drive me all the way to my house, I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t—and don’t—want him or anyone else to know where I live. Even if he does know that the area is really nice. He still doesn’t know exactly how nice. It’s not something he needs to know.
I climbed back up the side of the house and slipped back into my bedroom, breaking a nail in the process. But it was well worth it.
Will I do it again?
Ummm. Maybe not. We’ll see. Okay, okay... probably. But only if there’s something going on that I really want to be a part of. Then, yes. I think I will. Okay, okay... I know I will.
Fingers crossed, I don’t ever get caught.
“Ummm, no thanks,” Hope says, pulling me from my thoughts. I look over at her as she’s shaking her head. “She won’t be getting my money.”
“Who won’t be getting your money?” I ask.
Hope sighs. “Jennifer Hudson. Weren’t you listening? I was telling Jordan that I’ll sit this one out. I’m not interested in seeing her C-list acting in any movie.”
“Ohmygod, Hope, that’s so not nice,” I say, grabbing one of the pillows off the bed and playfully hitting her with it.
She shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong. I like Jennifer and all, but she really needs to stick to singing. I’d rather put that thirteen dollars, plus another fifteen dollars for snacks and drinks, toward a cute pair of sandals.”
Jordan gives a dismissive wave.
“Well, what about you, Kennedy? You want to go?”
“Huh? What about me?”
Jordan repeats the question. I shake my head. “No. I’ll pass.”
She huffs. “Well, dang. Both of you sure know how to be party duds. I thought it would be kind of fun to see a movie.”
