by T. J. Hope
Jamika fiddled with the doors along the front of the gym, until she finally found one that was open. The gym was empty during sixth hour and the darkness made it feel eerie. Jamika knew from attending previous games that the back of the gym was directly across the court and all she had to do was walk a straight line across to make it to the back doors of the gym. She started across the floor then jumped as the bell to begin sixth hour class rang loudly. She continued across until finally she saw rays of sun through the openings in the rear gym doors and knew she was approaching the back.
She peered through as she approached, and sure enough, a girl who looked to be of Latino descent stood patiently waiting. She must be Reva. Jamika stood there quietly observing Reva, until Reva’s eyes lit up at the sight of someone approaching that Jamika could not see. Jamika’s heart began to speed as she waited for the person to come into view.
And then, there he stood, her Marquis. He embraced Reva as if he hadn’t seen her in years and then stepped back to look at her as if he was in awe of her. Marquis had never looked at her in this way. She was hurt but even more so, she was angry. How long had she been playing his fool?
Marquis smiled at Reva and fished a little box out of his pocket. Before Jamika wanted to, she involuntarily pushed open the gym doors and was in Marquis’s face. “What the hell is going on here, Marquis?” Marquis was shocked into silence. Damn. What in the hell was Jamika doing here? He had successfully avoided her three times during the school day and had decided that that evening, he would call her to break things off. She was an okay little plaything when she was at the middle school. But, with her now going to the same school as himself and Reva, it was just too much of a gamble. If Reva finds out he was cheating, she’ll never marry him. He had to think fast.
“Jamika, girl damn, how the hell you knew I’d be here!” Then he turned to speak to Reva. “See baby, her people live down the street from me. She be over there on the weekends. She has a little crush on me and just won’t stop. I’ve told her time and time again that I love you, but she just won’t stop. She’s like a little stalker or something.” Then, he turned back to Jamika. “This shit getting scary, girl. I’m having a talk with your people later, because you gon’ stop this shit! I don’t want you! I want Reva! How many times you gon’ make me tell you this!”
Jamika looked at Marquis and was at a loss for words. After that, anything she said would make her look like a crazy stalker to Reva, or a girl that didn’t know when they weren’t wanted to Marquis. She stood there looking and feeling embarrassed and out of place. Reva looked at Marquis for an indication as to whether any of this was true. Marquis knew it was now or never to claim his true love.
He did not want to hurt Jamika, but he did not love her. He would miss her little, tight pussy though. He was amazed at how good Jamika was in bed, being that she was so young. Marquis turned back to Reva, once again lifting the little box. He began to speak to her as if Jamika was no longer there. “You know I love you, Reva. This is our last year, we both plan to go to FAMU, and I just thought that it’s time for us to truly start to plan our future together. You really love me, right?” he asked.
“You know I’m crazy about you, Queesie,” she replied.
“And you plan to spend the rest of your life with me, right?” he asked, genuinely nterested in her reply.
Jamika felt sick; she’d given herself to him repeatedly. She’d been to numerous Dillard basketball games to cheer him on and support him. They talked on the phone all the time. She had no idea there was anyone else. She thought Marquis really cared. She wasn’t in the deepest of love with him either. But, she did care. She was loyal. She felt betrayed. She no longer heard Marquis’s words as they seemed to be fading away.
Somewhere in the midst of her thoughts, she’d turned and walked away. The tepid sunshine mixed with a light breeze was comforting. She needed a good cleansing cry. She sadly smiled to herself and shook her head in disbelief. She wondered what else lie ahead; this was only her very first day.
Chapter Eight
Zahrice and Jamika kissed as she hopped out of his car for another day at Dillard High. She began to walk over to Nalisha, who she had become very good friends with. They had formed a duet. They often did sing-o-grams for birthdays, holidays, and special occasions for students around campus to earn extra money.
They’d won two of the school’s talent shows. Their talent was making them quite popular. Many of the guys were interested, and many of the girls were envious. This made some days at Dillard more like a chore, than a learning experience.
She turned to wave at Zahrice as he honked his horn for her to wave goodbye. Zahrice wanted all the guys there to know that Jamika was his girl. He kept Jamika draped with nice jewelry and expensive clothing. He enjoyed spending money on her and showing her off.
Jamika was getting fed up with his obsessive and jealous behavior. Just last week, he had pushed her down in the dirt because she’d spoken to a guy who’d said hello to her first.
“Wassup, Meek?” asked Nalisha.
“You girlfriend! I am diggin’ those sneakers,” replied Jamika.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen anybody with these, yet.” Nalisha said proudly.
“Well, I have a pair that Zah bought me; he’s taking me after school to get an outfit to match ‘em.”
“Girl, you are lucky to have Zah. He keeps you up on everything. That car he be pulling up here in, you shouldn’t even have to wonder why so many of these girls hate you.”
“I don’t wonder.”
They burst out laughing as Jamika’s purse began to shake. “What is that?” Nalisha asked. “My beeper, girl. Zah bought it; he beeps me all day. I put it on vibrate so that it won’t go off in class. He’s the only one with the number and he knows I am in school. He is so stupid sometimes. Look, he put in 143—he just left me a few minutes ago.”
Nalisha looked a little concerned. “Dag, doesn’t he have a job or something?”
“Not really. He gets his money fast and spends it fast. Do you know what I mean?” “Yeah,” Nalisha said. “Please be careful and don’t get caught up in none of that.”
“I will.”
“How did you meet him anyway?” Nalisha asked.
“Oh, I thought I told you. Remember I told you how Marquis did me for that Spanish girl, Reva, right?”
“Speaking of the devil,” Nalisha stated as Marquis and Reva walked by, holding hands. Jamika still got a funny feeling whenever she saw them together. She had really liked Marquis. She still liked him. But, if anyone asked, she would have denied it. Marquis still called her from time to time, trying to talk her into having sex with him. Jamika would hang up and feel like a fool for even taking the time out to listen.
“Anyway,” Jamika continued, “I left school walking that day in tears. I heard this loud stereo system approaching. It was playing Michael Sterling’s ‘What Do You Do’.” “Oooo, that’s my jam,” crooned Nalisha, “oh, sorry girl, continue.”
“So, I was walking along, singing along, waiting for the car to pass. Well, I noticed that the car wasn’t passing; it pulled right up beside me. I looked over to see this dark, green Cadillac with thirty’s and voes. Then the passenger window went down and Zah was sitting there with a light blue, plush Kango, and a light blue polo shirt. He asked me why I was crying. I didn’t realize I had dried up tears on my face. How embarrassing…”
“Girl please, that’s nothing. Go ahead with the story,” edged on Nalisha.
“Okay. Well, he offered me a ride and I accepted. I told him about what happened with Marquis. He went and parked outside the Broward Mall. He told me he’d be right back. When he came back, he handed me this bracelet here. This was the first one he ever gave me,” Jamika said, pointing to one of the bracelets on her arm that was among four others given to her by Zahrice. “He said it came with no strings, he just wanted to be my friend and see a smile on my face.”
“Damn. Like a fairy tale. I never meet guys l
ike that.”
“Well, it’s not as good as it seems. Zah is really starting to irk me. Also, my momma has been asking a lot of questions. I think she’s figured out that he doesn’t go to school here.”
“Well, tell him to slow down buying you so much stuff. Ms. Felise is not stupid. She knows a high school guy doesn’t have that type of dough.”
The bell rang loudly and the girls began their walk to PA building for vocal class.
***
The cafeteria was crowded and noisy as usual. Jamika pushed her way through to look for Nalisha. She felt someone walking close behind her and turned to see Quinton smiling and looking handsome, like always. “Get all off my butt, Q,” Jamika said.
“What are you talking about?” Quinton replied, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. “I was just coming up to say hello and to find out if anyone had invited you to homecoming dance yet?” he said.
Quinton and Jamika joked and flirted with each other daily.
“Yes, I already have a date for homecoming,” Jamika answered.
“Now, I know you’re not talking about that cat that be dropping you off. He’s too old for this kind of thang. Doesn’t he have to bathe his kids or send out some child support payments or something?” Quinton joked.
Jamika laughed. She was about to offer a witty rebuttal, when a big commotion diverted her attention. She knew it was a fight, because people were running toward the noise. Everyone wanted to see somebody get beat down, including Jamika.
She stepped up on a chair, then on top of a table to get a better look at the brawl. She saw two girls had teamed up on one, and the girl’s chiffon shirt was being ripped from her. It then came back to Jamika suddenly that Nalisha had on a chiffon shirt, just like that one today. Nalisha was being jumped.
Jamika threw her books and purse at Quinton. She was snapping her earrings off, tucking her necklace into her shirt, and pushing herself through the crowd before she realized it. She had just tucked her earrings safely into her brassiere when she reached the brawl.
Nalisha was definitely getting a beat down. Nalisha was trying to fight back, but the two girls were too much for her. Jamika grabbed one of the girl's hair and twisted it around her fist. She began to punch the girl’s face, repeatedly. The girl kicked Jamika in the stomach.
Jamika could feel the pain ball up in her stomach. This made her even angrier. She swept her foot under the girl and she hit the floor hard. Jamika took advantage of her being down. She started to punch the girl in the face again, until her hand came back with fresh blood.
When the girl realized she was bleeding, she began to scream. Jamika was not sure if it was her hand or the girl’s face that was bleeding. All she knew is that her adrenaline was pumping, and she felt as if she could conquer the world. She felt herself being pulled off the girl and yanked into the air.
The campus policeman was carrying her away. She squirmed to get free, but he was too strong for her. Heat swelled up in her body. She was so hot and angry; she was sure steam had to be rising from her head.
The school nurse rushed to the girl lying on the floor. All of the students were being told to back up. More school officials rushed Nalisha and the other girl through the same exit in which Jamika had been carried.
The principal, Mr. Walkins, was a tall, black man with salt and pepper wavy hair. He had a wise look of a grandfather. One of those grandfathers that you knew was a lady-killer in his day. He straightened his tie and looked at each girl with disappointment. Without even hearing the specifics of the fight, he laid out their punishment. He threatened the girls that if this ever happened again, they’d all be expelled from all the schools in Broward County and would therefore be forced to repeat their current grade levels. The girls were all suspended for two weeks from school, due to the intensity of the fight. They realized that their parents would be called, and were each silently afraid of their parents’ reactions.
Nalisha sat there with her left breast exposed, her chiffon shirt torn. One of her new designer sneakers was missing. Jamika’s hand was sitting on ice, her knuckles badly swollen. She had a long scratch down her neck, and a patch of her hair had been pulled out. Charlene, the girl Jamika had been fighting, sat with a bloody towel across her nose and her head tilted back. She was trying to stop her nose from bleeding. Her hair was in disarray. Tina, the girl who’d been left fighting Nalisha, had a circular scratch around her eye like a sharp, clawed cat had engraved it there. They were all ordered to leave the campus immediately.
Jamika called Zahrice from a payphone to come and pick them up. He hung up on her before he could hear the entire story. He was there to pick them up in less than twenty minutes. He pulled up playing, “Scarred” by Uncle Luke and Trick Daddy. The loud stereo system seemed to fill the block with its sound as Uncle Luke proclaimed, “Captain dick coming, captain dick coming…”
“Zah, can you turn the music down some, I have a headache,” Jamika whined. Zahrice complied, looking at Jamika, and then at Nalisha. “What in the hell happened to y’all?” he asked.
Jamika explained how she ended up in the fight and then turned to Nalisha. “What were you fighting them for anyway?”
“Well, Charlene stepped on my shoes. I just asked her to say excuse me. Instead, she started talking shit. So, I started talking shit back. Next thing I know, she hit me and Tina jumped in on it. You know they don’t like me,” Nalisha explained.
“Hold up! Let me find out that we were fighting over some damn sneakers. Me and you are about to throw down.”
“All I asked for was an apology for scuffing up my new shoes. I didn’t know they were going to take it that far.”
“Well, next time, just chill out. I have to go home and hear Felise’s mouth. She’s going to ground me for a while for this one.”
“Mine too. I am so sorry, girl. I didn’t expect you to come jumping in like that. I didn’t see you anywhere. I appreciate it though, for real. I was getting my ass whipped.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Jamika said, rolling her eyes while smiling at her best friend.
After Nalisha was dropped off, Zahrice and Jamika rode in silence. Jamika could tell that Zahrice was in a bad mood. “Are you all right, baby?” Jamika asked. Before she saw it coming, Zahrice slapped her so hard that her face felt numb and her eyes filled with tears. “What is wrong with you?” asked Jamika.
“You!” he yelled. “You around here fighting for this stupid ass girl, getting all fucked up and ugly. That shit ain’t cute at all. Now, you know your momma gonna ground you for this shit. When am I supposed to see you? I want my pussy when I want it! I ain’t got time for this childish ass shit! You need to grow the fuck up!”
“Well, I am only fourteen years old, just in case you forgot,” Jamika defended herself. “Nalisha is the only friend that I have at Dillard, and I’ll be damned if…” Another slap whipped across her face. “Fuck that. I take care of you, not her. You act like you fucking her or something!” Zahrice yelled.
“No, you know what, fuck you!” Jamika cried back. She jumped out of the car as it reached a stop sign.
This was the last thing she needed right now. She thought he would support her, but he wanted to be her daddy. She decided to just catch the city bus home.
“Get yo ass in the car.” Zahrice was visibly getting angrier by the minute. Jamika did not care. She was tired of the way he treated her like she was a piece of property, instead of a girl. She knew when she met him that having a twenty-one-year-old boyfriend was maybe a little much.
“No. I don’t want to be with you anymore. I told you that day when you pushed me down that if you ever put your hands on me again, that was it. I don’t need you or your stuff, so leave me alone.”
Zahrice gave her a crazed look. He noticed some old ladies sitting on a porch nearby. He was sure they’d be more than happy to call the police. He decided to go ahead and leave.
He sped off so quickly, his tires left black skid marks on the street. Jami
ka ran off to catch the city bus. Jamika reached the bus stop just as the bus was approaching. She sat down to think of how she’d explain everything to Felise. Felise didn’t play about her grades. Two weeks from school, meant two weeks of missed assignments. This was going to be very bad.
Jamika walked around the corner to the street where she lived. She was surprised to see Quinton waiting in her driveway. She wondered how he had found out where she lived. She wasn’t upset at him though. After all that she’d been through that day, it was comforting to see him there. He had a way of always making her laugh or smile, and that’s exactly what she needed.
“Q. What are you doing here?” Jamika asked.
“Just a little home delivery on the way home from school,” he replied, while handing Jamika her purse and books. She’d forgotten that she’d thrown them at him before she’d run off to fight. “Good lookin’ out, Q. I owe you one.”
“Well,” Quinton started, “homecoming would be a great start. But, you gotta do something about yo’ appearance, girl. You lookin’ like Buckwheat’s lil’ sister with your hair missing in the back like that.”
Jamika couldn’t help but smile. Quinton was indeed a flirt, but there was something special that the two of them had managed to capture. “Okay, if my mother lets me go, we’ll do homecoming. They suspended me for two weeks,” Jamika said, sliding on the hood of Quinton’s 1986 Nissan Sentra.
“I’ll have to talk to her. Your old girl likes me. I could tell at open house,” he said.
“Of course she does, you kept flirting with her and telling her she looks like my sister. As a matter of fact, don’t try that shit no more,” Jamika joked.
