by L. Divine
Mama stops in the hallway and turns back around. Netta looks at me urging me to stay put knowing Mama’s about to blow and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.
“Jayd’s not your servant girl, Celia,” Mama says, placing her hands on her hips and propping her head to the right. “She’s a talented apprentice who does a lot more around the shop than sweep.”
“She’s a child and she shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the clients until she has her cosmetology license,” Celia says, boldly speaking out the side of her neck.
“Who the hell do you think you are to come into my shop and dictate how I teach my granddaughter the family trade?” Mama asks at the top of her lungs. “Netta, you’d better get your kin.”
“It’s not your shop, it’s Netta’s and we as her blood have a say in what goes on around here, especially if it’s unethical.”
Netta steps away from her desk and joins her sister across the room in an attempt to silence her. If we continue down this path it can only end in tragedy. Celia should’ve never brought me into the mix no matter how she feels about a minor washing hair. Technically, as long as I don’t handle the actual styling I’m considered an assistant. Once I hit sixteen I was old enough for that job title, but I don’t need to set my elder straight—that’s Mama’s job.
“What’s all this fussing about? We’ve got paying customers out front,” Rita says, charging into the back room. It’s too late for damage control.
Mama walks toward the door and closes it to keep the clients from hearing any more of this discussion, probably because it’s about to take a turn for the worse.
“I’m only going to say this once, Rita and Celia. After that it will be up to your sister to make the final call.”
Mama picks up the clay plate holding one of the seven Legba shrines in the shop and continues.
“I have been a partner in this shop since Netta and I came to Compton over thirty years ago. We’ve been blessed to be able to handle the business on our own, and with Jayd working here this past year we’ve been more productive than ever before.”
“Yes, Jayd has been a welcomed addition to our staff. I can’t remember what the shop was like before she came along,” Netta says, backing Mama up. I hope she’s not forced to choose between her sisters and Mama, but that looks like what it’s coming down to.
“Three women. That’s all this small space can handle,” Mama says, putting up three fingers on her free hand, holding tight onto Legba with the other. “It’s either the three of you or the three of us.”
“Lynn Mae, what are you saying?” Netta says, leaving her sister’s side and walking up to Mama.
“I’m saying that there’s not enough work to do for all of us. Someone’s got to go. Jayd, get your things. We have work to do at home,” Mama says, replacing Legba’s clay vessel in the corner.
I open the door and head to my cabinet in the front of the shop where my purse is. The three customers under the still dryers pretend not to be interested in us, but can’t help staring as Mama and I charge out of the shop.
“Lynn Mae, wait a minute. Don’t leave upset. It’s not good luck,” Netta says out the front door, but it’s no use. Once Mama makes up her mind it’s a wrap.
Mama’s across the street and halfway up the block by the time I get the car started. I wave bye to my godmother and hope this won’t be my last day working at the shop. I’m confident Netta will choose Mama in the end, but blood is thicker than water, no matter how strong the friendship. I hope in this case the old saying is wrong.
It didn’t take long for Netta to call Mama with her decision. Netta politely asked her sisters to go home. According to Mama they took it personally and left in a huff. I’m just glad they’re gone so things can get back to normal around the shop. After Netta’s sisters finally made their exodus Monday night, Mama and Netta wanted the shop to themselves on their regular Tuesdays to cleanse the air. I needed the afternoon off yesterday to catch up on my schoolwork. There’s more reading in my English class than necessary and Spanish hasn’t been easy, either. No matter if it’s my favorite teacher or my most hated, work is work and South Bay High gives plenty of it.
Math is my third class and probably the worst of them all. I know nothing about statistics nor do I want to. But it’s a senior math class and because I didn’t do well in Algebra or Geometry my sophomore and junior years, I have to take another upper level Math class this semester in order to graduate. My saving grace is the fact that I again have Mr. Adewale for Advanced Spanish second period and for Speech fourth. Fifth period is Drama class, as always and depending on how things go with Cheer, P. E. will remain my last class of the day.
With all of the books I’m carrying this semester it’s a wonder my back hasn’t snapped under all of the pressure. My locker’s already packed with useless flyers and other information signaling the need to clean it before the day is over. After my speech class this period I can take a minute to handle some housekeeping at lunch. Nellie and Mickey have been busy planning their party Saturday and I’m tired of hearing about it. And my boys have been in their own worlds, battling each other on the Nintendo DSI’s. Without Jeremy, life has been pretty boring around campus this week.
“Little Miss Jayd,” Ms. Toni says, patting my back causing me to jump a bit. I didn’t hear her come up behind me in the busy main hall. It’s the passing period before fourth and everyone’s moving quickly to get to their next class.
“Hi, Ms. Toni.” I finish changing out my morning books and close my locker shut before hugging my school mama. “How are you?”
“I’m doing just fine, Jayd. The real question is how are you?” By her tilted chin and piercing eyes I know she knows I’ve had a difficult week.
“So, you heard about cheer, huh?” I ask, walking her to the Associated Student Body office in the middle of the vast hall. I don’t see how she deals with students running in and out of her space all day, but she does close her office door when she needs a moment to herself.
“Yes. And what I want to know is why didn’t you come to me when you first knew you were in trouble?”
“This all went down Monday afternoon. I planned on coming to you at lunch to see if you were available to talk.”
“For you, always,” she says, opening the door to the massive room and letting me in. “Since you’re here now let’s chat for a few minutes while it’s quiet. I’ll write you a pass for Mr. Adewale’s class.”
During fourth period most of the ASB students are passing out flyers and doing announcements for various events, like the first pep rally this Friday that I should be performing in, but probably won’t be allowed to. Too bad, I really like the dance routine and I’m good at it, too—minus the gymnastics.
“Thanks,” I say, taking a seat across from her well-organized but packed desk.
“Well, are you going to tell me what really kept you away from cheer camp for the last few weeks or do I have to guess?” Ms. Toni asks, propping herself on the corner of her desk.
I take a deep breath and decide to tell her the truth. “I was formally initiated as a voodoo priestess. It wasn’t planned and couldn’t be avoided.”
Ms. Toni looks fascinated by my confession. I can tell she has all kinds of questions, but doesn’t want to pry and I’m glad because that’s about all I can tell her.
“I see.” She takes out a manila folder with my name on it from her desk and passes it to me. “Ms. Carter has formally called for your withdrawal from the cheer squad effective immediately.”
I open the folder and read the form myself ever amazed at how swiftly knives can appear in my back. Shit. I didn’t even get an opportunity to contest like Ms. Carter said I would before she filled out the paperwork. I’ve been trying to get an appointment with the principal all week to no avail.
“I thought I would have an opportunity to state my case,” I say, handing the file back to Ms. Toni. “Did Ms. Carter also tell you that Ellen got to go home for weeks to vi
sit her family?”
“Yes, she did, but she says that Ellen’s trip was planned and therefore excusable. You, on the other hand, simply disappeared.”
“But my grandmother called the school explaining my absence. Mrs. Malone even sent home the rest of the writing work for me to complete at home so I’m sure Ms. Carter was aware of my unforeseen illness,” as Mama called it when she informed the main office.
“You weren’t sick for that long and Ms. Carter knows it,” Ms. Toni says, smiling at me.
“How does she know anything other than what my grandmother told her?”
“Apparently, Misty and a few of the cheerleaders are friendly and she informed them about your necessity for a vacation, as she put it.”
Misty. I should’ve known that heffa had something to do with this. Why would I get to start the year off drama free? Because of Misty’s mischief last year, I was approached by my ex-boyfriend KJ’s tramp of the week before I could even get off the bus, now this bull. I should’ve kicked her ass when I had the chance.
“Ms. Toni, Misty can’t be taken seriously nor can she account for my whereabouts at any time.”
“Well dear, unfortunately she can in this instance because she’s your neighbor and that’s as good as a witness on the stand. She’s willing to put it in writing and everything.”
What a bitch.
“This is unbelievable. How did Misty get so much clout around here?”
“When it comes to someone wanting you out they’ll go through any extreme to get it done. And in this case, Ellen wants to be the uncontested star of cheer. Unfortunately, you’re a threat. Also, if you’re out, Misty’s in by way of default because she was only cut because you scored higher than her. They need an even number of cheerleaders and she’s waiting to take your place.”
“That’s way too much to think about right now.” Why does Misty always want what I have?
“Well, you need to think about it because on top of it all is your true address. Yes, Misty’s involved in that one, too. Her mom works in the attendance office. Don’t think that girl’s not up to more evil than good when it comes to you, Jayd. You’ve got to preempt her attacks or you’ll never survive.”
Ms. Toni sounds more like Mama than herself. No matter where the information’s coming from I’m glad it’s coming. I needed to be reminded to take care of my own back because I have real enemies with Misty being at the top of that list with a butcher knife.
The bell for fourth period rings loudly in the room.
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Jayd, I know it seems like you always have battles to fight, and I’d like to tell you it’s going to get easier, but I don’t want to lie,” Ms. Toni says, standing in front of me. “For queens, life is always a challenge. The day I met you two years ago I knew you were special. And believe me, honey, so does everyone else, which is why you need to take care of yourself.” She wraps her thin arms around me hugging me tightly and I return the love.
“I know you’re right. But I’m getting too tired to care.” I want to cry, but I can’t force the tears.
“Oh Jayd, never that. You can never retreat when in battle, my dear. You’ve got too much work to do. Remember your ancestors as well as the other women you represent. You’ve got to take care of you, forget about your little girl frenemies. They’re merely a stepping stone to your success.”
I pull away from Ms. Toni and grab my bags ready to head to Speech class. “So what should I do about cheer and my address?”
“As far as cheer goes, you need to get your story straight and quickly if you plan on contesting the claim. It also wouldn’t hurt if you could get your grandmother up here to reiterate her written statement. As for the address, your mother’s going to have to come in and sign her original affidavit and show proof of residency soon.”
“Getting either of my mothers up here is easier said than done.” I already know Mama’s not going for it. She didn’t want me in cheer in the first place. “But I’ll see what I can do about it.”
“Good, Jayd. And honestly, I think you’re better off focusing on your other extracurricular activities as well as your schoolwork. If you’re worried about your college applications, I can write you a gleaming letter of recommendation mentioning your brief, but successful time on the squad. And if Mr. Adelizi has a problem with that you tell him to come see me.”
“What would I do without you in my corner?” I ask, reaching up to hug my school mama one more time before leaving her office.
“You would take care of yourself like only you can, but let’s not think of such unpleasantries.” Ms. Toni releases me from our embrace and signs my hall pass.
Something about her answer makes me uncomfortable, but I’ll investigate that later as well as get to work on her antismoke potion. I’m still trying to figure out which form will work best: tincture, spray or herb bag. Maybe I can even bake her some sweet treats to help eliminate the craving for good. Maybe Mr. Adewale can help me figure some of this madness out, too.
“It’s nice to see you this morning, Miss Jackson,” Mr. Adewale says as I enter the full classroom. He’s already calling roll and everyone’s got his or her textbooks out ready to get fourth period under way.
“Hi, Mr. A,” I say, passing him the note before walking to my desk in the front of the classroom. I nod “what up” to the rest of my crew before placing the heavy backpack down and taking my seat. This is one of the only classes most of us look forward to all day, if for no other reason most of the black and Latino student population’s up in here. The class is basically an introduction to the African Student Union’s meetings Mr. Adewale sponsors in his room twice per month. We have our first official ASU meeting of the new school year next week before the big membership rush begins. All loyalties should be solid by Homecoming, the first big event and the vote of the year. We’ve got to get more dedicated members on our team if we’re going to have any significant impact on this school’s social and political agenda.
I’ve got a busy day ahead of me, mostly copying my English reading in the library since Mrs. Bennett’s textbooks have yet to arrive. She decided to make our first assignment due Friday, damn the books. She could give a damn about winning her students over as friends. I wish I had her cold attitude when it comes to certain people in my life, like Misty and Cameron, who are both missing from class today. They can run, but they can’t hide. They have both gone out of their way to make my life more inconvenient than necessary. After I handle my urgent school business, I’m going to figure out a way to dismiss them permanently out of my circle of friends and enemies alike.
8
Unfriend
The ups and downs, the carousel/
People make the world go round.
—THE STYLISTICS
This week has been an emotional roller coaster, and I’m glad it’s Friday so I can get off of it. Chance informed me that his mother’s strongly requesting my presence sooner than later. After she came to me in my dream last night, I decided to join Chance at home this afternoon. I’m getting used to Alia being in the picture; she’s coming too. It’s weird coming home with Chance and his girlfriend when she’s not Nellie. Nellie would love for me to unfriend Chance out of loyalty to her, but I can’t do that. Chance and I have been drama partners and best friends for my entire time at Drama High and I love him like a brother. Besides, she screwed this relationship up not him.
The link between my spiritual clients and me is permanent until I do a series of cleansings to get their energy out of my head. When I began helping Mrs. Carmichael I noticed she could psychically call me through my dreams when she needed me. I’m developing the skill to receive my dream requests more regularly and to send out requests, too like a message on Facebook. I can post it out in the dream world and whoever wants to respond can. Mrs. Carmichael would be first on that list, no doubt.
I can’t stay for long because I have a lot of work to do, but I can give Mrs. Carmichael an
hour of my time. After that, I’m out no matter what type of liquor-induced hell she’s going through. Hopefully she’s been spraying the clarity mist I made for her on her body and around her home regularly. I think the first problems we need to address are her alcohol and nicotine addictions, then we can handle her other issues.
When we arrive at the Carmichael’s mini Palos Verdes mansion, a huge, white van with a key logo is parked in the driveway, forcing both Chance and me to park on the street, which I don’t mind. The hills are a bit difficult to balance my clutch on, but I’m becoming somewhat of an expert navigating the stick shift on the varied terrain in the South Bay.
We exit our separate vehicles and walk up the brick path toward the front porch passing up several piles of men’s clothing stacked on the lawn. The antique oak and glass front door is wide open and we can see his mother inside pacing between the kitchen and the foyer, wineglass in hand. I can see I have some serious work to do. Mama always says voodoo isn’t magic and this type of healing is obviously going to take some time.
“Mom, what’s wrong with the front door? And why is all of dad’s stuff on the front lawn?” Chance asks, passing up the man working on the massive door. I can’t imagine anyone kicking that heavy thing in like doors in the hood suffer from time to time.
“Hello, girls, baby.” Mrs. Carmichael blows her son a kiss without stopping her quick steps. “I’m divorcing your father,” she says, throwing more Louis Vuitton luggage out the front door. If Nellie were here she’d gladly take those off Mrs. Carmichael’s hands.
The locksmith looks like he wants to comment, but checks himself and continues his work in silence. It looks like Mrs. Carmichael’s seen Waiting to Exhale one too many times. And from the crazy look in her eyes she just might set her husband’s shit on fire, while she’s tossing it.
“Mom, you always say that. But this is the first time you’ve gone after his stuff.” Chance looks out the door at the luggage on the otherwise immaculate lawn and shakes his head.
