by L. Divine
“Chance, Matt and Seth are looking for you. They want to give you some pointers on being the Drama Club’s nominee for homecoming princess, with the first round of voting taking place at lunch and all,” I say.
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Nellie says, twirling strands of her hair around her index finger; she must have gotten a fresh perm this weekend. “I’ll have to catch up with them at lunch.”
“Voting? What the hell we got to vote for?” Mickey says, completely out of the loop. When it comes to school business, Mickey couldn’t care less. She might as well not even come to school sometimes, as oblivious as she is to the ins and outs of Drama High. All she cares about is what she’s wearing, who’s hating, and getting her diploma on time so she can go to beauty college. Everything else is secondary.
“Girl, where you been?” Nellie asks. “You have to vote for the top three candidates for each grade level,” she says, filling Mickey in while I retrieve my books from my locker. The bell has just rung and the race is on, with students bustling around the spacious hall, rushing off to first period.
“I don’t get it. If you’re nominated, doesn’t that mean you’ve already been voted in?” Mickey asks, putting her man on hold to get a better understanding of the voting process. I guess she cares now that her girl’s on the ballot. Jeremy shakes his head, amused by my girls’ conversation.
“No, silly. I have to win a place on the actual ballot for next week’s election. This is just the beginning,” Nellie says all dreamy as if she’s running for Miss America.
“Shit, that means I have to vote twice,” Mickey says, resuming her phone conversation. “Baby, I got to go. The bell’s about to ring,” she says before hanging up her cell.
“That goes for me too,” Jeremy says, giving me a kiss before sprinting down the hall. “Check y’all later,” he says to my girls.
“Bye, Jeremy,” they say at once.
“So, when is the voting supposed to take place?” Mickey asks, truly annoyed. Anything that takes away from her chill time aggravates her.
“At lunch. And the finalists will be announced Wednesday at break. Make sure you tell everybody in your classes, Jayd. I have to make it onto the ballot,” Nellie says as we all head toward our respective classes.
“Will do, Princess,” I say, teasing her. I’m sure she’s popular enough to make the ballot on her own accord. I really don’t want to get involved with all the election business. It’s too volatile here. These folks take their politics very seriously, as Nellie will soon find out.
When I get to Spanish class I notice our teacher/football coach, Mr. Donald, is wearing a dress shirt and tie like he does on game day every Friday during the regular football season. I wonder what’s going on.
“Good morning, class,” Mr. Donald says, waiting for the bell to finish ringing before continuing. “I have a new student coming in this morning and I’ll need to talk to him outside for a few minutes. You’ll need to complete page eight in your workbooks. And, if you finish before we’re done outside, you can start your homework on page twenty-five of your textbooks,” he says, picking up his teacher’s edition and writing the homework assignment on the board under today’s notes.
When I reach into my backpack on the floor next to my seat, I notice my workbook’s not in there. Damn it. I can’t go more than two days without leaving one of my Spanish books in my locker. Reluctantly, I have to ask for yet another hall pass.
“Mr. Donald?” I ask while raising my hand. He doesn’t need to turn from the board to look at me. He already knows what I’m going to say.
“Let me guess, Miss Jackson,” he says. “You left your books in your locker.”
“Yes, I did,” I say. “I’m usually not this forgetful.” Mr. Donald turns toward the class and looks straight at me with no emotion.
“Here, Miss Jackson,” he says, handing me the hall pass. “And, please make this the last time.”
“Thank you and I will,” I say, feeling a little embarrassed. I like to remain somewhat anonymous in my elective courses. I just want to pass, not make friends or enemies.
As I rise from my desk to open the door, someone’s already on the other side pushing it open. I step outside, almost losing my footing, to see a face from the past.
“There she is,” Nigel, my old friend from back in the day, says as he releases the door to give me a tight hug. “How’s my girl been?” he asks. He looks too good to be visiting, dressed in a dark blue pin-striped suit and hat to match.
“Nigel, what’s up?” I say as he lets me go just enough to look up at him. Damn, he gives good hugs. “And more importantly, what are you doing here?”
“Girl, it’s been a while and we miss you around the way,” he says, allowing the door to completely close and leaving us outside to quickly catch up.
By his “we” I know he means Raheem. Whenever we’d get in a fight, which was often, Nigel would always play the middle man. But, this is the longest we’ve gone without talking, mostly due to us all leaving our old school, Family Christian, at the same time. Both of them now live in Windsor Hills, which isn’t far from Inglewood, but is still a completely different hood from my mom’s.
“A while? Try two years,” I say, releasing myself from his embrace to look him in the eye.
“So, you’re balling like that now, huh?” he says, grabbing my wrist and eyeing my gold bracelet. “Must be nice chilling with the White folks,” he says. “But I’ll know soon enough.”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask, eyeing the hall clock. “Is Westingle turning all White or something?” I say, referring to their school. It’s basically the Black South Bay High. My mom tried to get me to go there, but no such luck. Her address wasn’t in the right area and she missed the deadline for submitting a transfer request.
“No, but the coaches from South Bay said they could promise me a starting position, basically guaranteeing me playing time in front of recruiters from the top colleges in the nation, which means scholarships. Now, a brotha can’t pass that up, can I?” he says.
“So, you mean to tell me you’re going to my school?” I ask, almost shouting. Oh, hell no. This can’t be good. And, knowing Raheem, he’ll be at every game, if not trying to transfer himself. They are each other’s clique, no other members allowed or needed.
“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Nigel asks, smiling.
“No, not at all,” I say as Mr. Donald opens the door. But, hell yeah I got a problem with it. First Nellie’s nomination, and now this. What the hell?
“Jayd, you know our new student, Nigel?” Yeah, a little too well. But, Mr. Donald doesn’t need to know all that.
“Yeah, me and my girl here go way back,” he says, putting his arm around me and giving me one last hug before I head to the Main Hall.
“I was just going to get my book,” I say, leaving the two of them to talk.
“I’ll catch up with you later, Jayd. Raheem gave me a letter for you, but I left it in my locker.” A letter saying what, I wonder? All I need is more drama to deal with.
After voting, Nellie, Mickey and I decide to hang in South Central for the remainder of lunch. Although I miss my man, I need to chill with my friends too. Most of the usual suspects are still voting in the cafeteria. So, it’s unusually peaceful in the quad area.
“Do you think I made it?” Nellie asks.
“I think so. The other names on the ballot weren’t nearly as recognizable as yours. Well, except for Laura,” I say. Laura’s the first lady of ASB and that unofficial position always has its perks.
“What’s the big deal?” Mickey says, picking at her hamburger. We each settled for cafeteria food today, which isn’t so bad. But, the voting line was long and our food has gotten cold. “So what if you don’t win. Does it really matter?” The look on Nellie’s face surely makes Mickey regret her statement.
“How can you say that?” Nellie asks, beginning what I predict to be the tantrum of all tantrums. Whenever her voice raises ten
octaves, I know she’s about to throw a fit. “This is very important to me. And, it’s good for our social status,” she says, giving Mickey the evil eye.
“OK, whatever. Slow your roll and bring it down a notch,” Mickey says, taking a bite out of her lukewarm burger. “All I meant was you shouldn’t be disappointed if you don’t win.”
“That’s just the type of negative thinking I don’t need. And besides, I wouldn’t be worried about our social status if Jayd had come to Byron’s party with us as planned,” Nellie says, bringing up old news.
“Why are you dragging me into this?” I say as I get up from the bench where we’re seated to throw away my chili fries. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s cold potatoes.
“Because, Jayd, not showing up to Byron’s party wasn’t a good move. It seems like you just don’t care about your popularity anymore,” Nellie says, sounding truly concerned. “Yes, it helps that you’re dating Jeremy. But, he’s not concerned with popularity at all and that’s OK for him. He’s a rich White boy. You on the other hand, need to think more seriously about your reputation.” Both Mickey and I look at Nellie like she’s lost her damned mind.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mickey says, finishing off the last of her fries. To be as skinny as she is, the girl can out eat me and Nellie combined.
“I’m talking about me winning. It doesn’t help my campaign if I hang out with someone whose reputation is taking a turn for the worst.”
“What the hell!” I exclaim, almost choking on my Coke. “My reputation is just fine, contrary to popular belief. And besides, if it weren’t for your affiliation with me you wouldn’t have been nominated in the first place,” I say, checking my uppity friend. Just then, Misty, KJ, and Shae return from the cafeteria to their usual post at the table across from our bench.
“Hey, y’all,” KJ says, smiling at me like he’s just won something special.
“Hey, KJ,” Nellie says. Mickey and I are still in a state of shock over Nellie’s growing head.
“I don’t even need to ask who y’all voted for, do I?” Nellie says, hot on her campaign trail. She’s taking this princess thing a little too seriously. But, I guess Seth had it right this morning. Nellie does have just enough bitch in her to make it to the top.
“Of course we voted for you, Nellie. I made sure everyone in South Central did,” KJ says, unwrapping his sub sandwich while Misty sits next to him, holding his Snapple in her hand. This girl’s so sprung on him I’m almost embarrassed for her.
“Yeah. We Black folks stick together, ain’t that right, Mickey?” Shae says, obviously trying to say something to me without directly saying it.
“Don’t ask me. I couldn’t care less about all this homecoming shit. Although I am going to the dance.” Now, that’s a shocker. Last year her man was on lockdown in county jail and Mickey didn’t attend any school functions. But, this year is different, I guess.
“And, was that supposed to mean something to me, Shae?” I ask. I don’t really want to confront her, but I can’t let her get away with that little comment of hers. How come she thinks I’m such a sellout? Black folks get on my nerves with that mess.
“Not at all,” Shae says, smiling. “I’m just saying if there’s a Black name on the ballot, you know we’re going to pick it because that’s how we get down over here.” Yeah, broad, clean it up why don’t you. Frankly, I’ve had enough of her and Nellie. Besides, I can’t stand to watch Misty practically feed KJ for another second. I wonder what my man is up to. Maybe I can catch up with him on my way to drama class.
“Well, as lovely as this little chat has been, I’ve got to roll,” I say, grabbing my backpack from the ground before getting up to leave.
“Can’t keep the White boy waiting, huh?” Misty says.
“Better than being someone’s maidservant,” I snap back at her before saying bye to my girls and heading away from the quad and down the hill. “I’ll catch up with y’all after school,” I say to Nellie and Mickey, ignoring Misty’s evil glare and KJ’s intense eyes.
“Jayd, I’ll walk with you,” Nellie says, hurriedly picking up her bag and tossing the rest of her chicken strips into the trash can before following me. It’s not like her to leave Mickey, so this must be good. “I’ll see y’all in class,” she says to Mickey and everyone else, since they all have fifth period together.
“Jayd, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings about the whole reputation thing,” she says. “I just never imagined I could get nominated at this school for anything,” she says, looping her arm into mine, forcing me to listen. Honestly, I don’t want her to win if this is what’s going to happen to her. She’s already enough to deal with. Becoming princess will just make her ass even more uptight and stuck-up.
“I know. And, for the record, I couldn’t care less about what people up here think of me,” I say, not letting her completely off the hook while letting her know we’re still cool.
“I know. And you’re right. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been nominated. So, thank you, girl. This means so much to me,” she says, returning to her princess dream. “I can’t wait until the nominees are announced on Wednesday. I just know I’m going to win.” For Nellie’s sake, I hope if she does, that Matt, Seth, and Chance are going to be right there for her. Because, folks won’t be happy with her nomination, and when the shit hits the fan, I don’t know what she’s going to do. She’s never had to face any drama of her own up here. And, if my dream predicted correctly, there’ll be plenty to go around.
2
Process of Elimination
“Walk like a champion, Talk like a champion.”
—BUJU BANTON
Although I’m a tad bit excited for Nellie, I honestly don’t think today is going to be the grandiose picture she’s painted for herself. She picked out a special outfit to wear for the big announcement and got her nails done after school yesterday. The girl’s in the zone for winning the crown and nothing better get in her way. But, if I know one thing for sure, it’s that something or someone’s definitely going to try to spoil this coronation.
Speaking of which, these students around here seem to become ruder as the year progresses. What happened to a simple “excuse me” when you bump into someone? I’ve been standing in the Main Hall for five minutes where at least ten people have nudged my body in one way or another. And, according to my count, not a single one has said “excuse me”. I turn around ready for the smackdown when one more person bumps into me.
“Oh. Excuse me, Jayd. My bad. I didn’t see you standing there. ¿Que pasa, chica?” Maggie says, giving me a big hug. At least someone else around here has some manners. “Why are you standing here by yourself? You know you and your girls should be rolling tight, with the announcement coming and all,” she says referring to the impending backlash from the White students and other haters, should Nellie win the nomination.
“I’m actually waiting for them. Mickey told me to meet them here at break and I haven’t seen them yet,” I say, getting a little worried. I hope the drama hasn’t already begun. “How’s your man?” I ask, surprised he’s not with her. She and Juan are usually attached at the hip.
“Oh, he’s fine. He’s waiting for me in El Barrio. You want to hang with us while you wait?” Maggie asks, looping her arm into mine. “You know you’re always welcome to hang with us, hermana,” she smiles, reminding me why El Barrio is the tightest clique at South Bay. They even sound tight, always speaking in “we,” like the Borg on Star Trek: The Next Generation, but definitely in a positive way.
“Maybe I should. Let me call Mickey and let her know where I’ll be,” I say, reaching for my cell with my free hand.
“By the way, how’s your man?” Maggie asks. “I heard you and the White boy are pretty hot and heavy these days, no?”
My train of thought interrupted and briefly blushing, I proceed to scroll down my list of contacts until I reach Mickey’s name and push send.
“He’s just
fine, and how did you know about the hot-and-heavy part?” I ask, ready to point the finger at Misty, the usual suspect. Mickey’s voice mail picks up immediately, which means she’s either on a call or turned off her phone. No point in leaving a message. I’m sure I’ll see her before she gets around to checking her voice mail, one of her least favorite activities.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. We’ve got eyes and ears all over this campus. You just worry about pleasing your man. I like this Jeremy. He seems good for you, from what we’ve heard,” she continues.
“What exactly have you heard and from where?” I ask.
“Well, not too much except he’s very generous when it comes to spoiling you,” she says, gently touching the gold bangle Jeremy bought me last week. “And, that’s a sure sign of a good man. Speaking of which, are you coming with us or not because Juan’s about to send out the search party if I don’t get my fine ass over there soon,” she says, turning toward the quad area.
“You go ahead. I’d better stay here and wait for my girls,” I say, still worried. Where are they?
“Suit yourself, chica. Tell Nellie and Mickey I said hola and your girl Nellie to watch her back. You know these people around here are serious about their crowns and shit,” Maggie says, pulling her compact out of her backpack and checking her face in the tiny mirror.
“Will do, sis. I’ll check for you later. We may need the backup if she wins,” I say, only half joking. I’m expecting retaliation, but not immediately. These folks at South Bay High are stealthlike. Speaking of which, I see the ASB president headed this way. What’s Reid up to now?
“Oh hell, here comes that corny White boy. Doesn’t he have anything else better to do?” Maggie says as she returns her mirror to her backpack’s side pocket and slips the huge Jansport onto her tiny back, ready to bolt. “Adíos, chica. Hasta luego.”
As Maggie heads down the crowded hall and out the double doors, I can’t help but worry about my girls. Flipping my cell open to dial Nellie’s number, even though I know her phone’s usually off during school hours, Reid catches me off guard and hands me a flier for ASB’s homecoming court nominees.