by L. Divine
“I hope not. Coming home with marks all over your body is the quickest way to get on Mama’s bad side for a long, long time. That’s why I had to get out of her house as quick as possible. Between the hickeys and the tattoos, my days on earth were numbered as far as Mama was concerned.” I can only imagine my mom living in the house with all of her brothers and Mama and Daddy. Looking at her now, I can’t imagine her living with anyone else, which still makes me wonder why she would allow her only daughter to grow up under the same conditions. But, questioning my path doesn’t change it so, back to Mama’s house I go.
After picking out my clothes for tomorrow and catching up with Mama, I decide to come out to Mama’s spirit room and catch up on my studying. Our conversation was a bit icy this evening, so I know she’s still pissed at me. Besides, I really want to finish Maman Marie’s story and learn more about Mama’s sheroes, too. But, Maman is my top priority right now. I can’t be out here all night.
It’s always quiet back here, even when there’s a bunch of drama going on in the main house. And, with Lexi guarding the door whenever someone’s in here, no drama is allowed back here at any time.
“Maman Marie. Have you heard this story before?” I ask Lexi as she makes herself comfortable across the threshold. It must be nice to be a dog. She looks up at me and gives a nod as if to say “Of course, I have. Haven’t you?”
“Oh, hush. I get enough heat from Mama. I don’t need you sweating me too.” Ignoring me completely, she falls off into her own dreams.
Sitting on the wooden stool, I put the heavy book on the worktable and turn to the chapter on Maman. Now, where was I? It’s such a long story, with sketches of her and Jon Paul on most of the pages. Some sketches are of them smiling, some yelling, some with just one or the other and some incomplete. I wonder who the artist is?
One sketch in particular catches my attention. It’s a picture of Jon choking Maman. And, on the next page a large woman appears over their heads, stopping Jon from killing Maman. The woman has a head wrap on, like the ones Mama wears when she’s working. After reading further into Maman’s history, I learn the spirit in the picture with Jon is Marie La Veau, Maman’s namesake and a famous voodoo queen in New Orleans. If a woman has problems with a lover, she can call on the queen to help her in her time of need.
“Jayd,” Mama said, “it’s too late for you to be out there by yourself,” Jay yells from the back door. Tomorrow’s Monday and I need to get some sleep for the long week ahead of me. I guess I’ll have to finish Maman’s story another time. But, at least I got something out of her story. When the road gets too hard to walk alone, call on spiritual help to see you through. That’s what I’ll need to do to survive homecoming week. It’s here and I’m not ready for any of the drama with Nellie, Raheem or Jeremy. But, I’ll have to be if I want to make it though and be victorious, no matter how hard Nellie’s tripping.
When I get to school this morning, the entire campus is dripping with red-and-white streamers. There are signs everywhere announcing the homecoming activities planned for the week. There are also signs with all the homecoming nominees plastered everywhere, including Nellie, and for the pep rally today, officially kicking off homecoming week.
“That bitch is on one,” Mickey says, referring to our friend with the swollen ego. Nellie’s been getting on her nerves all weekend too. And, Mickey’s patience wears out much quicker than mine. So, I know she’s at her peak.
“I know what you mean,” I say. She’s been rubbing me the wrong way too and enough’s enough. She needs to be checked and I’m going to do it.
“I couldn’t even stand to go to the party with her on Saturday because she pissed me off at the mall earlier, not like I really wanted to be around all those White folks on the weekend anyway,” Mickey says, continuing to vent. As we walk toward the football field, with the rest of the pep rally crowd, I see Nigel and wave for him to come over. He should be with the rest of the football team who’s probably already on the field.
“Why, what happened at the mall?” I ask Mickey. I’d rather her get her tirade out before my boy gets over here. No sense in everyone knowing our business.
“She tried on damn near every dress in Betsey Johnson and then had the nerve not to buy a single one,” Mickey says. Mickey gets very emotional, especially when it comes to some of Nellie’s selfish behavior.
“Well, why you didn’t just leave her there? Lord knows you’ve done it enough times before,” I say, telling the truth.
“I did. That’s why she’s avoiding me this morning. I think she called Chance to come and get her ass from Beverly Hills. She needs to get a license or a bus pass, because I’m done being her damn driver,” Mickey says, finishing her story just as Nigel gets here.
“Hey, Jayd, Mickey,” he says, shining his biggest player smile at my girl. He’s really feeling her. And, from the looks of it, Mickey likes the attention.
“What’s up, Nigel,” Mickey says, giving him a hug. Since when are they hugging? I asked her to pump information from him. But, I didn’t know they were friends now.
“Is there something I need to know?” I say to them as they’re still locked in each other’s arms. What the hell? I wonder if Nellie knows Mickey’s her actual threat and not me. Oh, this is going to be some shit.
“Mickey, what are you thinking?” I say, pulling her away from Nigel, who’s just grinning. “What are you laughing at?” I say, pushing him as we continue toward the rally.
“You, trying to play like we all ain’t got a little something on the side,” he says, putting himself between me and Mickey as we walk down the steep hill toward the bottom bleachers as the rest of the lunch crowd settles in around us. This is when I can see just how big and White the student population really is.
“We all don’t. And, don’t get me all twisted up in whatever mess y’all stirring up. I don’t want to know nothing,” I say, serious as a heart attack. I have enough problems without managing one of Mickey’s illustrious affairs. That’s usually Nellie’s department even though she hates doing it. But, I guess I’ve moved up the home girl notch for Mickey until Nellie comes back to her senses.
“Well, that’s going to be kind of hard to do since I invited Mickey to the studio Saturday,” Nigel drops before heading to the field with the rest of the team.
“The studio?” I ask, pissed that, yet again, my territory has been invaded. I feel like Califia. And, also like her, I’m about to wage war. “You can’t come to the studio. What about your man?” I ask.
“What about yours?” she says. And just like that, I’m the one who’s checked. But, not so fast.
“I’m actually bringing Jeremy this weekend. You should invite your man too and we can make it a little party,” I say. I haven’t invited Jeremy yet, but I was planning on it. I was going to wait and see how homecoming played out on Friday before saying anything to him though. But I’m sure he’ll be game.
“Very funny, Jayd,” she says, not amused. “This is our little secret, OK? Not even Nellie can know,” Mickey says.
“Whose house?” Reid shouts through the bullhorn from the center of the makeshift stage in the middle of the field.
“Shark’s house!” the crowd roars. We can’t help but get swept away with the current.
“Whose house?” he yells again, wanting a louder response.
“Shark’s house!” and, the music begins. The crowd goes wild as the ASB spirit squad comes out dancing to the marching band’s vibrant beat. I love pep rallies. When I was a member of ASB, I was on the spirit squad. I even wore the lady shark mascot last year, and Reid was, of course, the male. But, I’m sure he’s turned that job over to someone else, now that he’s taken on deeper waters and bigger prey as president this year.
After the first performance by ASB, the rest of the week’s activities are announced. The athletes and cheerleaders will have a step show tomorrow after the tug-of-war and South Bay history challenge. Chance and I perform for the Drama Club on Wed
nesday, after the potato sack and egg race, with Thursday left for the awards presentation for the week’s activities and the pre-pep rally for the homecoming game on Friday.
“Do you think Nellie’s going to win?” Mickey says, as we move with the crowd toward fifth period.
“As her campaign manger I have to say yes,” I say. What a joke. My own candidate is treating me like crap. I guess Ms. Toni was right about this manager job being political.
“Yeah, but do you really think she has a chance at winning?” Mickey says, looking for Nigel in the crowd. I don’t even bother looking for Jeremy, who informed me in the class this morning he wouldn’t be attending. Instead, he, Matt, and Seth went to eat off campus, as usual. He has no school spirit at all.
“If transforming into a complete bitch to get the crown is an indicator of success, then yes. She has an excellent chance at winning,” I say, noticing Nellie hanging with Tania and the other Drama candidates on the field with the football players. Nigel’s down there with her. But, as soon as he sees Mickey and me, he leaves her and heads our way, making Nellie look right at us. I hope she doesn’t think he’s coming up here to see me.
Before he reaches us, Nellie heads off the field and toward the girls locker room, following Tania and Tania’s friends. I wish she could see I’m not her enemy and that those girls just might be. They’re the kind to sabotage a member of their own crew over jealousy. And she has to remember that Tania’s a hater of mine, making herself a potential hater victim by association. Nellie’s just lost all sense of reason going after this damn crown. I can’t wait until this week’s over.
Just as we think we’ve seen the last performance of the day and head to fifth period, a small crowd circles around the main lunch quad, near South Central. As Mickey, Nigel, and I head over to see what all the commotion’s about, KJ’s loud voice can be heard, leading a chant.
“Whose house?” he says, but in a slightly deeper voice than Reid’s and with a completely different rhythm.
“Our house!” the other athletes respond from behind him, forming a single line. Then, Kendra, the lead cheerleader and the only Black girl on the varsity squad this year, hollers back.
“Whose house?” she says, leading the rest of the cheerleaders in a single-file line, next to the Athletes.
“Our house!” And the mini step show begins.
“Show-offs,” I say, hating they used today as a preview for their show tomorrow. I have to admit, they’re good. It was a smart campaign move, though. Now, everyone’s going to be all hyped about the step show tomorrow, keeping the athletes’ and cheerleaders’ candidates in their heads, just like ASB does with every pep rally they get to host. Drama Club always gets the least exposure just by the nature of the campus’s social structure. But usually we only need one shot to win over an audience.
When Chance and I perform together, we’re just that good. And, with the help of the stage crew and Seth’s creative set design, our show is going to be off the chain. We have rehearsal scheduled every day after school and before school on Wednesday morning. Chance is a great performer and I’m pretty good and we’re both fast learners. Alia choreographed our routine and Matt and Leslie wrote the script, setting up the stage so we’re inside a club. We are going to get this party started and show them whose house this really is.
13
Hate Mail
“Put together a million man march With some gangsta shit.”
—SNOOP DOGG/TUPAC
The next morning I decide to go to the library at break and get started on my English paper due next week rather than look for my girls or Jeremy. I’m exhausted with all of them. Just my luck, Misty is sitting next to the only available computer and I don’t have time to come back any other day this week since we’re rehearsing at lunch and after school for the next two days. I guess even big mouths have to study at some point.
“Hey, Jayd,” Misty says, smacking on her Juicy Fruit. “How’s the date hunt coming?” she says, taking her backpack out of the empty chair so I can sit down.
“Just fine. How are the leftovers?” I say, giving her a snide look. She’s got too much confidence now, making her that much more annoying.
“Oh, they’re good. Real good,” she says, popping her gum and pissing off the librarian, who promptly shushes her.
“Whatever, Misty. I need to work so could you not talk to me for a good ten minutes, please,” I plead. I have no time to waste this morning.
“Touchy, touchy. See, if you had a Black man you could work off some of that aggravation,” she says, shaking her big hips in the small, wooden chair. She can be so nasty when she wants to be.
“Shut the hell up talking to me with all that bull,” I say, trying to ignore her while surfing the Web. I log onto the Internet and check my e-mail, which is completely full. I don’t have a computer at either my mom’s or Mama’s house. So, the only time I can get online is at school.
As Misty continues to send her hater rays my way, I sift through the many e-mails, stopping at one in particular. It has no sender and looks as if it’s been forwarded to all the club lists at school with Nellie’s name in the subject line. I wonder what this is. Maybe Seth sent out an anonymous flier promoting Nellie. When I open the picture I’m stunned to find a picture of Nellie changing clothes in the girl’s locker room with Monifa’s Touch It playing in the background. It’s a full picture of her ass in a g-string. What the hell?
“Oh, shit,” Misty says, spying over my shoulder. “Where did that come from?” she says. It’s bad enough it’s all over the Internet. Now Misty’s going to have it all over school in no time.
“Misty, you can’t tell anyone about this,” I say, logging off the computer and picking up my bag, ready to bolt out the door. My paper will have to wait for another day. Right now I have to see who else knows about this and more importantly, if Nellie knows yet.
“Girl, I ain’t got nothing to gain from spreading this around campus,” Misty says, sounding sincere. “Besides, we both want the same thing for a change. The Black girl to win. And even though most of the dudes in South Central are athletes, we all want the same results,” she says, sounding like she’s got an idea. “If we find out who would benefit the most from Nellie’s humiliation, then we’ll also find out who did it,” she says, looking like she’s ready for a spy mission. How is it that Misty’s offering to help me and my home girl is tripping? I feel like I’m in a warped reality.
“And how do you suppose we do that?” I ask, ready to leave her behind. I’ve got to get to Nellie before someone else does. I don’t know if she’s strong enough for this type of humiliation.
“If you’d listen for a minute I’ll tell you,” Misty says, slowing me down as I walk out the door toward South Central. “We can get all the athletes to put their ears to the ground. You know, locker rooms talk. And, that picture was apparently taken in the girl’s locker room,” Misty says, starting to make sense. If it’s one thing she’s good at it’s scheming.
“So, you think they could find out who took the picture?” I ask. “Like anyone’s going to fess up,” I say, not really believing her plan will work.
“Oh, but they will if they haven’t already.”
“OK, Misty. See what you can find out in South Central and in the meantime I’ll text Seth and ask him to take this off the web,” I say, hardly believing I’m collaborating with Misty of all people. But, it’s always better to have two cliques working together. There’s just more power that way. And, if anyone can crack a computer code, it’s Seth.
After plotting away break, I rush to third period, finding a sub in for Mrs. Peterson. This day is looking up after all. And, there’s Jeremy waiting for me to sit next to him, in our usual seats.
“Hey, baby,” he says, kissing me on my neck as I settle into my desk.
“You better stop that,” I say, not really wanting him too. “You remember what happened last time you kissed my neck, Dracula,” I say referring to the hickeys still pro
minent under my makeup. I wear it all day, even when I go to bed, to keep Mama from seeing.
“Don’t tell me you’re once bitten, twice shy, Jayd,” he says, sitting back in his chair, looking ready for a good nap. The substitute is too busy trying to take roll and deal with students already asking for hall passes. I feel sorry for the subs at this school. White kids are the best hustlers when it comes to ditching. Speaking of which, the ditch queen herself, Tania and crew are next to approach the sub for a pass of their own, I assume.
“Hey, Jeremy,” Tania says on her way to the teacher’s desk, looking like she wants to take a bite out of him. “Checked your e-mail lately?” she says, passing up our desks while looking directly at me, even though she’s supposedly talking to him. This broad knows something about Nellie’s picture. I can feel it.
“No, why?” Jeremy says, taking out his cell phone, ready to pull up the Internet.
“Yeah, Tania, why should he check his e-mail?” I ask, ready to pounce on this heffa. If she had anything to do with Nellie’s picture being e-mailed, I’m going to get wicked on her ass.
“Oh, no reason. Just thought he might like to see some new pics I noticed when I checked mine a little while ago,” she says with a sinful grin on her face.
“What do you know about the picture?” I say, quickly rising from my seat and getting in her face. Her two homegirls step up a little closer, ready for whatever’s about to go down. As fast as my blood’s rushing, I could probably take all three of them down.
“Calm down, Little Kim,” Tania says. “I don’t know anything, except that your girl’s campaign just went down the toilet and so did her reputation,” she says, laughing with her girls.
“Why the hell is this funny to you?” I say, now yelling and causing the entire class to look our way. Jeremy, who’s standing right behind me, grabs my arm, trying to get me to calm down. But, I’m just getting warmed up. “Aren’t you and Nellie on the same team?” I say, reminding her they’re both being sponsored by the Drama Club for homecoming court.