Chasing Romeo

by A. J. Byrd

  “Girls—”

  “Are. You. In?” Tyler asks.

  “Fine.” I seethe. “I’m in.”

  We ride the rest of the way to school in silence. When we climb off our final bus, we act like we’re complete strangers as we march toward the school building. However, this Saturday goes from bad to worse. Minutes after we walk into the school’s library where we have to stay for detention, in walk the Red Bones.

  chapter 13

  Phoenix—Rich Bitch

  This is going to be fun.

  The minute me and my girls roll into the spot and see the same three project hood rats who have been nothing but pains in the ass for the past week, it’s on. “Well, well, well. Look who we got here, ladies.”

  “Yeah,” Raven says, moving to stand beside me. “It looks like it’s our lucky day.”

  I stroll toward the short chick with the big attitude. “Looks like someone needs to fire the janitor. He forgot to take out the garbage.”

  Me and the girls laugh.

  The hood rats climb to their feet like they’re really going to do something. Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors about Billie Grant before she dropped out of school, but frankly I don’t believe a word of it. It’s time we let these freshmen know exactly who runs things in this school.

  Each one of us square off in front of each one of their pathetic crew. I take my time rolling my gaze over this Tyler chick, wondering which garbage dump she dug her hideous clothes out of. After a full two-minute stare down, the bitch in front of me is the first to speak.

  “You need to get your halitosis ass out of my face,” she growls.

  “Trust. You don’t want to pop off nothin’ with me.” I’m all up in her face, letting her know I can get ghetto right along with them. “Seems to me that you need someone to help knock that chip off your shoulder.”

  Tyler pushes her face so close to mine that she might as well kiss me.

  “Why don’t you give it a shot, you little Beyonce wannabe?” The bitch actually flips my hair off my shoulder.

  “I’d rather look like Beyonce than—”

  “Okay, ladies.” A man’s thunderous voice fills the library. “Take a seat.”

  Nobody moves.

  “Ms. Wilder,” Mr. Palmer calls.

  I slowly back away, not sure I want to turn my back on this chick.

  “Today, Ms. Wilder,” he commands. “Unless you want to spend time with me next Saturday as well.”

  I finally turn and take a seat. Raven and Bianca join me at my table.

  “Ms. Jamison.” Mr. Palmer folds his arms as if she’s trying his patience.

  “Tyler,” her friend Anjenai hisses. “Let it go.”

  At long last, she sits down.

  “Thank you.” Mr. Palmer sighs. “To show my appreciation for you ladies ruining a perfectly good Saturday for me, I figure I’d return the favor.” The vice principal beams a bright smile toward us. “Each of you ladies will write me a ten-page report. Phoenix, Raven and Bianca, your report will be on the dangers of smoking.”

  I roll my eyes. “But we weren’t smoking,” I lie. “That security guard couldn’t prove a thing.”

  “This isn’t a courtroom, Ms. Wilder,” he says impatiently. “You’ll do the report anyway.”

  “Jerk,” I mumble under my breath.

  Mr. Palmer turns to the other group of girls. “Anjenai, Kierra and Tyler, you ladies will do a ten-page report on school violence.”

  They fold their arms and stare back at Mr. Palmer.

  “And so you know, I expect six-different reports.” He glances around the room and looks each of us in the eye. “Am I understood?”

  No one says anything.

  “Am. I. Understood?” he asks again.

  We all mumble and groan, but there’s not a yes to be heard.

  “Good.” Mr. Palmer nods in approval. “You can get started now.” He turns and glances up toward the clock on the wall. “We’re going to treat today like a regular school day. You’ll work on your papers until noon. We’ll take a lunch break and pick back up at one o’clock.” He looks back over at us. “I need to run to my office and pick up a few things. I trust you ladies will be on your best behavior while I’m gone.” When that didn’t get a response, he adds, “No fighting. Any fighting will result in a month of Saturday detentions. Am I clear?”

  Silence.

  He sighs. “Am. I. Clear?”

  We grumble and moan again.

  “All right. I’ll be right back.” He walks backward for a few steps as if he’s afraid to turn his back on us.

  However, the minute he’s out the door, we’re all back on our feet and in each other’s faces. Tyler is the first to shove me, and I shove her back. Next thing I know I hit the ground and this girl is all over me.

  I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. I barely get in a few licks before I feel Tyler’s body being dragged off of me.

  “Quit it, you guys!” the other girls scream. “Quit it. Mr. Palmer is going to be back here any minute.”

  Raven and Bianca help me stand, and I touch my lip to see if I’m bleeding. “You bitch,” I seethe. “This isn’t over, you project bitch.”

  “Anytime,” Tyler says as her girls pull her back to her seat. “Maybe I’ll snatch the rest of that weave outcha head.”

  My hand automatically flies to my hair to check the tracks.

  Her girls laugh.

  “Whatever. At least my man loves me just the way I am,” I toss back in her face. Just as I suspect, that shuts her up. Yet, at the same time, I can’t help but smile at her foolish ass. “You like Romeo, don’t you?”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I’ve seen how you look at him—checkin’ him out.”

  My girls giggle.

  “Pathetic. Do you really think you stand a chance against me? A little girl like you? What are you thirteen, fourteen?” I laugh. “Trust me, honey. Romeo needs a real woman. Someone who can give him what he needs. He’s not going nowhere.”

  My girls give me high fives.

  “You can look, but you can’t touch,” Bianca warns.

  “Maybe you need to tell him that,” Tyler says, crossing her arms.

  For a brief moment, my heart flutters.

  “If he’s yours then why is he always up in my space cheesing?”

  “You’re lying?”

  “Am I? Maybe you need to ask your sister, Nicole, the real deal.”

  “Nicole.” I laugh. “Please, that bitch lies on the regular. You’re a fool to believe anything she says.”

  She only shrugs, but her smile bothers me. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

  I wish that was true. But lately Romeo has been acting strange. We had a little fight just before school started. So technically we broke up. But it’s no big deal. We break up and get back together all the time.

  This time will be no different.

  I think.

  I hope.

  My gaze drifts over Tyler again and then toward her two friends. Hadn’t I seen Romeo alone with each of these girls in the past week?

  Wait. What am I thinking? Look at them. Why would Romeo have chicken when he could have steak? They aren’t a threat to me. Romeo and I have a bond. After dating four years, we know everything about each other: our dreams and secrets. We’ve been through a lot together. Plus, I had given him my virginity. Romeo is mine.

  He will always be mine.

  I’ll make sure of that.

  chapter 14

  Romeo—Restless

  “I think me and Phoenix are finally over,” I blurt out to my boys, Chris and Shadiq, in the middle of our Grand Theft Auto game.

  They only laugh and continue playing.

  Now that the words are out of my mouth, I feel this huge burden being lifted off my shoulders. “Nah. I mean it,” I insist.

  “Aw. C’mon, bro. You gotta be kidding me, right?” Chris asks. “Damn,” he exclaims as his man is killed on the
screen. “Now, look at what you done made me do.”

  “Your ass was losing before that,” Shadiq chuckles, shutting off the game.

  “Y’all want some more snacks?” I ask, standing from one of the game chairs and exiting my bedroom. Just like two lap dogs, my boys follow me downstairs to the kitchen.

  “Yo, you’re really thinking about ending things with Phoenix for real this time?”

  “We already broke up. I don’t think we’ll get back together.”

  “Come on,” Chris says. “We’re talking about the hottest chick in school. Why the hell would you want to walk away from that?”

  “I’m just not feeling her right now,” I admit.

  “Do you know how many boys are dying to get your spot right now? Hell, I wish I could date her.”

  Shadiq punches Chris’s shoulder.

  “Ow!” Chris turns and rubs his shoulder. “Why the hell did you do that?”

  “You don’t tell your boy that you want to kick it with his girl. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Yeah. That’s pretty foul,” I tell him, grabbing potato chip bags out of the cabinet.

  “Sor-ry,” Chris says, rolling his eyes. “But I was just being honest and trying to let my man know what a good thing he has going.”

  “A good thing? I feel like an accessory on Phoenix’s arm while she prattles away about clothes and makeup—stuff that just bores me to tears. We’re just too different,” I confess. “We don’t have anything in common anymore.”

  “You’re still hittin’ it, ain’t you?” Shadiq asks.

  I shrug a so what at them.

  “Hell, then what else do you need to have in common?” Shadiq asks.

  “There should be more to a relationship than just sex,” I say, and then I meet two blank stares.

  “What?”

  “Boy, get the hell out of here!” Chris laughs.

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny. Man, we’re fifteen. We’re only supposed to have one thing on our minds.”

  “Two,” Shadiq corrects. “Sex and sports.”

  “Yeah, and if we’re lucky to make the NFL then it will open the doors for even more sex.”

  “I’m talking to a bunch of idiots,” I say.

  “No. You’re talking to two realists. Nobody expects us to be all deep and shit at this age. Save that bullshit for when we get all old in our thirties and are looking to get married. Right now, we’re supposed to be young and dumb and I, for one, intend to be just that.”

  “Where in the hell do you get this stuff from?” I ask.

  “My dad,” Chris says. “After high school he says girls get real complicated.”

  They’re complicated now, but I don’t tell them that. I’ll let them discover that on their own.

  “Look,” Shadiq jumps in. “You and Phoenix are the ‘it’ couple in school right now. Nobody even comes close. You’re going to dump her for who? Bianca…Raven? They are the only other fly chicks up in there.”

  “Hey, I’m feeling Raven right now. I love the way she says papi all the time,” Chris says.

  “And if everything goes according to plan, I’m going to be hittin’ my own home run with Bianca tonight,” Shadiq boasts.

  “No shit? You two are going out?” I ask, surprised. Bianca only showed love to the white boys.

  “Yep. And a brotha like me plans on gettin’ in where he fits in. Believe that.” Shadiq holds up his hand for a round of high fives.

  “See, this is how it’s supposed to be—the three of us with the Red Bones. The hottest playas with the finest chicks. We can’t be stopped, son.”

  I shake my head and turn to the fridge. I reach for the sodas, but my boys are there in a heartbeat and grabbing my dad’s beer. “Whatcha doin’?”

  “Relax,” Chris says. “Your dad isn’t going to miss a couple of bottles.”

  “Yeah, he has two cases in here.” Shadiq pops open his can and takes a long swig. “Aah. Now that hits the spot.” He reaches back into the fridge and tosses me one. “Bottoms up.”

  I hesitate. We started sneaking and drinking beer this past summer. It was first out of curiosity, and now I think it’s because Chris and Shadiq think it makes them feel grown. Me? I didn’t care for the taste at first, and now I’ve gotten past it. The problem is: once I get started I can’t seem to stop. Sometimes I get mean.

  Sometimes I black out.

  The guys always say I’m hilarious when I drink. I just know I feel awful the next day.

  “What? You’re not going to drink with us?” Chris asks.

  “C’mon,” Shadiq says, then downs another gulp. “You need to loosen up. Talkin’ about dumpin’ Phoenix and shit. You know what your problem is?”

  “I have a problem now?”

  “Damn right. You think too much.”

  “Amen to that.” Chris smiles. “You’re a lot more fun when you drink.”

  “Funny. You stay the same asshole.”

  They laugh, and we grab our snacks and beer and return to my bedroom. When Shadiq starts up the game again, Chris returns to our previous conversation. “So if you’re seriously thinking about dumpin’ Phoenix, who’re you thinking about replacing her with?”

  I shrug. “I dunno. Maybe I’ll be a free agent for a while.”

  They laugh again.

  “C’mon, Romeo. We’re your boys. You don’t drop someone like Phoenix from the roster without having a replacement in mind. That’s dick suicide.”

  Instantly, tough talkin’ Tyler Jamison pops into my head and then the sweet face of Anjenai from gym class. “Nah. I don’t have anyone in mind,” I lie.

  “Then let’s find you someone,” Shadiq says.

  “What? Put up a want ad or something?”

  “We can post it on Facebook or MySpace,” Chris suggests.

  “Or not,” I say. “I’m not hard up, fellas.”

  “Maybe not, but with homecoming seven weeks away, everyone is looking to couple up right now,” Shadiq says after dying again on the screen. “Matter of fact, maybe you should wait on breaking things off for good until after homecoming. Phoenix is probably going to be Homecoming Queen, and you, being the most popular guy in school, are going to be King. You’re just going to wind up being with her anyway.”

  Believe it or not, that actually makes sense to me. “I don’t know.” I was hoping to uncomplicate my life before then. “I’ll think about it,” I say and finally take a sip of beer.

  chapter 15

  Tyler—Too Cool For School

  By the time Mr. Palmer returns to the library, we have scrambled back to our seats; but our gazes continue to shoot daggers. I’m beginning to think that it might be worth a month of Saturday detentions to just finish what we started. Someone needs to teach these high yellow bitches a thing or two with their fake highlights and the layers of MAC makeup.

  This first week of school has been hell in part because of the Red Bones gossiping and spreading lies around the school. I ain’t going out like that. If these girls want to throw down then I’m down with it. Believe that shit.

  I’m sick of these bitches.

  Saturday detention creeps by like a turtle running the Peachtree Road Race. It’s mind-numbingly dull. It takes all of twenty minutes to write Mr. Palmer’s b.s. of a report. The rest of the time, I remain ready to rumble at the slightest indication.

  Dad has been talking to me lately about seeing someone about my anger issues. Frankly, it wouldn’t be an issue if everyone just stopped trying to piss me off all the time. Besides, he’s a fine one to talk about someone gettin’ help.

  There’s no talking allowed in Mr. Palmer’s Saturday detention, so the Red Bones just text each other and giggle while the BFFs pass notes the old-fashioned way. This is just another example of how the Red Bones and the BFFs are as different as night and day.

  They are high class. We’re low class.

  They are rich. We’re poor.

  They fight by spreading
gossip and lies. We knuckle up and throw down.

  When detention is finally over, Mr. Palmer insists on walking everyone out of the building. I think he just wants to make sure the two groups don’t kill each other on his watch.

  Smart man.

  The BFFs humiliation is complete when a fancy Range Rover arrives at the school to pick up Phoenix and her friends while we stand across the street at the city bus stop.

  “The haves and the have-nots,” Kierra says as we watch them drive away while pointing and laughing at us.

  “I can’t stand those bitches,” I mumble.

  “You know what else they have?” Anje says, folding her arms. “Romeo. At least Phoenix does anyway.”

  I think back on that crazy bet we made this morning and laugh. “We were being stupid, huh?”

  “Retarded, more like it,” Kierra chimes in. “Were we really fighting over a boy this morning?”

  “Worse,” I say. “A boy with a girlfriend—a bitchy girlfriend.”

  “I don’t know what he sees in that girl,” Anje says. “My brothers have more breasts than she does.”

  “I do,” Kierra says. “Do you see the clothes that girl rocks on the regular? Those jeans alone are worth more than my sister’s car payment.”

  Anjenai and I roll our eyes.

  “Other than when you were trying to snatch the hair off her head this morning, the girl has been flawless all week. What guy wouldn’t want that on his arm?”

  Kierra’s words are like a sock in the gut. My clothes in comparison deserve a violation ticket from the fashion police.

  “Whatever.” I shrug. “I have better things to do with my time than spend hours on hair and makeup before I step out of the door every morning. No offense, Kierra.”

  “It doesn’t take hours—especially if you get the good stuff. Maybe you should come over tomorrow, and I can give you a makeover.”

  I glare at her.

  “Or not.”

  “No, thanks. My beauty regimen is Sea Breeze and ChapStick. A winning combination, if you ask me.”

  “So what are we saying?” Anje asks. “Are we squashing that stupid bet?”

  “Absolutely,” Kierra says. “No guy is worth us fighting over.”