by Ni-Ni Simone
“Uhmmm,” Mecca said. “That’s what she said. You know they wrong. But I heard that Ciera had been pregnant…twice, had a miscarriage, and the whole nine.”
“I heard that, too,” Samantha said in awe, as if she were surprised they’d heard the same things.
I was pissed, especially because ever since we picked up this clique and they somehow inducted themselves into our crew, they’d been in my business. “You think I care? Please,” I laughed it off, “what…the…hell…ever!”
“Oh,” Naja said, taken aback. “But me, I’m pissed off!”
“Well then,” Mecca went on, “get ready for this, since you don’t care.”
“I know what you about to say,” Samantha chimed in.
“What?” Mecca asked.
“That Ciera said Jahaad told her that Elite’s mother was a crackhead.”
I almost fell on the floor.
“What?!” Naja screeched.
“And I heard,” Mecca said, “that he had to pay their rent for the last year. That he was giving your mother money, and that you, Elite, were just using him and that’s why you hooked up with Haneef, because you are usin’ him, too!”
I didn’t know if anyone saw me, but I passed the hell out. I felt like barging in Jahaad’s classroom, or squattin’ on him in the cafeteria and kicking his ass. I swallowed and prayed like hell that I played this off. “Like I said before, what…the…hell…ever. Please, if anything, his grandmother’s on crack and she sell her ass!”
“Boom!” Naja snapped. “There it is!”
“Now run and take that back.”
Mecca and Samantha fell out laughing.
And I did, too. Cept the thing behind the upward curl of my lips and the sound coming out of my mouth was my chest burning and my heart skipping a thousand beats at the threat of being exposed. And yeah, there were a thousand girls like me with mothers on drugs and all of that—but that was not what I really wanted people to see. Regardless of the rest of the world, I was very protective of my family.
As the girls continued to laugh and chat amongst themselves, only Naja noticed I’d stopped smiling. Samantha and Mecca were carrying on and gossiping about everybody who came our way.
When the bell rang and we gathered our trays and headed back to class, Naja pulled me to the side.
“You think Jahaad really did that?”
“How else would they know?”
“Well, we just have to spread some rumors about him and Ciera.”
“Yeah…” I said reluctantly, knowing that would only lead to more trouble. “We just might.”
SPIN IT…
Track 18
Haneef and I had been kickin’ it strong for the last month, and I felt like maybe…I could really be happy. The only thing was, Haneef still didn’t know the real deal about my life. He thought I lived a ghettohood fairy tale, when all the while it was a nightmare.
Long gone were the days of paying Ny’eem to stay home; I couldn’t find him long enough to even make him the offer. So, I started going out in the early evening or right after work, so it didn’t look so bad to the twins and Mica that I wasn’t home as much as I used to be.
Ny’eem had been staying out later and later. His teachers were calling the house nonstop and my mother was too high to see what it was all about. But I’d reached the point where I had to let go of my worries about losing Ny’eem to the streets, and deal with the kids I still had to care for. But somehow in the quiet of night, I worried about how I was gonna get Ny’eem to see what was right.
I turned over to sleep and moved Sydney’s feet out of my face when I heard a loud banging on the front door, followed by my bedroom door flying open. “Elite!” I jumped up. It was my mother, crying and in a panic.
“What? What’s wrong?!”
“They just locked up Ny’eem. Put your clothes on. We got to go.”
“They what? Who is they?”
“The police just locked him up. We need to go get him!”
“Where’d they arrest him?”
“In front of the building,” she said as she wiped tears from her eyes. “When I told them he was my son and asked what the problem was, they said he was selling drugs.”
“Selling what?” I couldn’t believe this, but then again, I could. “When did this happen?”
“Just a second ago. Now put on your clothes. We got to go and get my boy!”
“Ma, calm down.”
Tears were flying from her eyes and she was shaking. “I can’t do it,” she shook her head. “I can’t have y’all be like me.”
“Then you need to be a better you!” I snapped.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Dang, Ma. Ny’eem is in jail and you’re coming to get me like I’m the mother. You have to go down there. Even if they release him, he can only be released into an adult’s custody.”
“Say you eighteen.”
“Ma! They ask for ID. Why can’t you go down there?”
“Because I’m scared,” she cried. “I’m scared.”
I stood silent. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, or how to feel. Here was my mother crying like she was the child, and I was the adult. The only problem was there was no way we could reverse roles, at least not in this situation.
“Ma, just try. Try to go down there and see what happens.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to my boy.”
“Ma, go and see.”
She wiped her eyes, arched her back, and left the room.
I paced the living room for three hours, hoping and praying that things turned around. And just as a steel lump filled my throat, a key jingled in the lock and the knob twisted. It was my mother. “Where is Ny’eem?”
“In jail.”
My heart stopped. “What? Why? Why didn’t they let him go?”
“They said he had too many charges.”
“Charges?”
“Something about a stolen car…” She broke down again. “I can’t believe this. This is all my fault. All my fault.”
“You’re right,” I said coldly. “It is.”
SPIN IT…
Track 19
“Elite,” Naja whispered as we sat in the back ofthe bus on our way to school. “I heard that Ciera is pregnant.”
“She’s what?”
“Pregnant.”
“By who?”
“Jahaad.”
“Jahaad,” I said surprised. I knew we weren’t together any longer, but still—pregnant. I didn’t exactly know how to feel about that. It wasn’t like Jahaad acknowledged me anymore, but still…pregnant. “Whatever,” I waved my hand. “Who cares?”
“That doesn’t bother you?” Naja looked at me.
“Girl, please. Do I seemed concerned?” I said as I pressed the buzzer for the bus to stop.
“No, you seem ai’ight. But me, humph,” she said as we stepped off the bus, “I would be pissed.”
“Well, I guess that’s you,” I snapped. “Whatever.”
Naja shook her head. “Well, at least she don’t have no hee-bee-gee-bees.”
“Yeah, right?” I laughed. “She could have the cooties.”
“I know!” Naja laughed. “Right!”
“Played-out asses!” I said and we cracked up even more, as we reached the school’s double doors.
“They are so retarded,” Naja said as we walked in. But instantly the entire hallway was quiet, with the exception of Samantha and Mecca, who were laughing with Ciera and Jahaad.
I looked at Naja. “I told you they were two-faced.”
“Why is everybody so quiet and staring at us?” she asked as we walked quietly down the hall.
“I don’t know, but what the heck are all these?” I snatched one of the thousand pieces of paper that lined the hallway walls. Naja followed suit and we started reading the article together:
R&B sensation Haneef is dating a young local girl, Elite Parker, whose mother is a crack addict and often leaves Elite and her
sisters and brothers home alone.
“Elite lied to everybody at school,” Mecca, a fellow classmate said. “I doubt if Haneef even knows her real name.”
“I heard she slept with everyone,” Samantha, another classmate, added.
“There were times when I even paid her rent,” Jahaad, Elite’s ex-boyfriend, stated.
I fell against my locker. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I looked around and everyone except Naja—who’d walked over to Mecca and Samantha and started cursing them out—was laughing. I felt like grabbing my bags and running out, but I knew if I did that, these chickens would think they had the best of me. So although I wanted to leave, and I had to get the hell out of there, I couldn’t just bolt through the doors like a bat out of hell. I had to serve these fools first, and then I could leave and cry in peace.
I walked over and stood by Naja. “I got this boo-boo,” I said to Naja, loud enough for everyone who wanted a show to know they were about to get one. “Let me just shut all y’all down real quick. Every last one of y’all either tryna be me—or tryna get with me—” Then I turned to Jahaad and said, “So you really think I give a damn about whatever lie you sold some punk ass paper? What, you jealous, ’cause Haneef don’t want y’all crab-infested jump-off behinds?! Look at you, talkin’ about who’s a crackhead. Who get high and drunk more than you two?”
Then I pointed to Mecca and Samantha and said, “Don’t say shit to me ever again! And Ciera, word you a ho and everybody knows it. What, you think you got a prize with Jahaad? Mr. Itty Bitty?! Girl, please, lose yo’self. Matter fact—” I turned to Naja as I felt the tears hiding behind my eyes ready to buckle—“I got more important things to do. I’m outta here. Call me later.” I kissed her on both cheeks, threw up a peace sign, and sashayed out the door.
I was thanking God I saw the bus was coming as soon as I stepped out of school, though I knew it wasn’t the right bus to get me home. Actually, this bus was headed to New York City, but I didn’t care. I needed to get someplace where I could shrink and disappear.
By the time I stepped on the bus, tears had escaped down my face. I paid my fare and made my way to the back, thanking God again that the bus wasn’t crowded. I walked to the back, crouched in a corner seat, held my head down, and silently cried myself into oblivion.
When I looked up, the driver announced the last stop and pulled into Penn Station. I wiped my face, got out of my seat, and exited the bus.
I wandered around for about an hour, wondering mostly what I was going to do with my life, especially now that I’d been exposed. I had nothing. And yeah, I had a rich and famous boyfriend, but what did it mean if he didn’t even know the truth?
I continued to walk a few blocks more and then my cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Elite.” It was Haneef. “Where are you?”
“Why? What you wanna do, break up with me?”
“No,” he said. “All I wanna do is talk to you about what I read in Hip-Hop Weekly today. I’ve been screening calls all morning. Everyone is asking me if this is true.”
“Why, it’ll mess up your image, is that it? Know what, Haneef”—I looked at the billboard poster of his CD cover—“let me make this easy for you. It’s over. I’ll catch you around.” And I hung up.
Immediately my phone rang. “What?!” I screamed and immediately attracted a group of onlookers.
“Don’t run away from me. Where are you?”
I sighed. “In the city.”
“Come see me.”
“Haneef—did you hear me? I said we were over.”
“Naja, you don’t believe that.”
He was right. I didn’t believe that. “Okay, Haneef. I’m on my way.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
I hailed a cab and twenty minutes later I was at Haneef’s apartment. I thought about what I would tell him, because I knew if I told him the truth, he would want to know why I’d lied to him the whole time. A question I couldn’t really answer.
I told security who I was and they rang Haneef to let him know I was there. By the time I got to his apartment, I felt like a scared little girl. And I hadn’t felt like that in a long time, because for the longest while, I always felt grown.
While I was standing at his door, I was determined to tell him, “Look, this is my life. Either take it or leave it.” At least I was determined to do that until he opened the door and pulled me into his embrace.
I was trying to speak, but my tears muffled my voice to the point where all that could be heard were my sobs.
“Shhhh…” Haneef said, closing the door behind me. “Stop crying.”
“But…”
“Shhhh…we’ll talk about this later.” He kissed me and I kissed him back. We continued to kiss passionately and before I could tell Haneef to stop, or before I could decide if I wanted him to stop, he was undressing me and I was undressing him…
SPIN IT…
Track 20
When I awoke, the sun was shining brightly in my face, and that’s when I realized I’d been at Haneef’s all night. Immediately my heart thundered in my chest.
“Haneef.” I shook him as he lay next to me in bed. “I gotta get up.”
“Ai’ight,” he threw his arm over my waist. “In another hour.”
“No, now.” I shook my head, feeling tears knocking at the back of my eyes. “You don’t understand! I have to leave. My brother and sisters are alone!”
“Isn’t your mother home, Elite?”
“No!”
He sat up and pressed his back against the headboard. “Tell me the truth—and don’t lie to me. Is your mother recovered, like you told me and the reporters yesterday?”
Silence.
“Why do you keep lying to me!” he screamed at me while shaking my shoulders. “Tell me the truth! That’s the only way I can see how to help you!”
“I don’t need your help! I can do this on my own!”
“Elite, you’re only seventeen!”
We were in a screaming match. “So! What does that mean? I’ve always taken care of my brothers and sisters. I’m the oldest, and when my mother got on drugs so bad that she was selling the food out our house, it was me who forged her signature to get a job. It was me who went to all their plays. Me who paid for their school pictures. Me who took care of them when they were sick, and signed their report cards. Me! I told you before I’ve always been grown, so I need to go because they need me. Please, take me home.”
Haneef wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me. I pushed against his chest. “Let me go.”
“No.” He squeezed tighter.
“Haneef, please,” I cried. “Let me go.”
“I wanna help you.”
“No, I can do this.”
“Elite, I care so much about you. Come on, please let me do this with you.”
“You care that much about me?”
“Look,” he said as he pushed my hair away from my face, “remember when I told you my mother worked all the time and I was always with my brothers?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it was because my mother was on drugs. She got high and so did my dad.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I never heard that.”
“Because I was embarrassed, but not anymore. If it means helping you, then I’ll give interview after interview. But you can’t go through this alone, because you are not alone.”
“Did they…do they…”
“What? Still get high?”
“Yeah.”
“No. They got help. Both of them went to rehab and now they’re clean. They have a lot of programs for addicts here in the city. They can help your mother if she wants to be helped. But she has to want to be helped.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“No, she has to want to.”
“But I want her to get clean.”
“But she has the drug problem, not you.”
> I sat silently. I’d never thought of that. I knew I didn’t get high, but I still felt like…I needed to get help. But for the first time in my life, I realized my mother was the only one who could stop herself from getting high.
SPIN IT…
Track 21
It was six in the morning and I realized that the more days that passed, the more my life was coming apart at the seams. I always thought I would have it all together, and that no matter what, I’d be able to take care of my brothers and sisters. But with Ny’eem in jail, I felt like all I did was fail. Especially since whenever he called the house and told me how badly he wanted to come home, the only thing I could do was cry.
I got out of bed, woke the twins and Mica, got us all ready for school, dropped them off, and returned to hell’s dungeon, also known as Arts High. As I approached the entrance, I saw one of the flyers from Hip-Hop Weekly, which spilled my life’s secrets, being whipped along the sidewalk by the wind. I started to grab it and rip it to shreds but I didn’t, because at that moment—true story—I didn’t even care.
“Elite!” Naja said, running up behind me. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” I said somberly. “I’m straight.”
“We gon’ return those clothes tonight?” she asked as we headed to class.
“Yeah, I think we need to.”
I was quiet most of the day, other than saying what I had to to my teachers about my schoolwork.
A few hours later, when school ended, Naja and I headed to work. Thelma was nowhere to be found, and the crew who had worked the shift before us had left as soon as we arrived.
“And you’re so quiet because…?” Naja said as we slyly returned the clothes we’d been “borrowing.”
“No reason,” I said. “But you know I’m not doing this anymore.” I turned and gave her emphasis with my eyes. “This stealing and shit is not for me. And another thing, like…we never really got to talk about it, but that going out to the club and getting drunk was not cool.”
