by Ni-Ni Simone
I looked toward Man-Man, who was still running his mouth about his favorite subject, himself. “...Yeah, my Player’s Club presidency will go down in history because it’s only one of me. And any more than that would be disastrous.”
Fa’ real though. “Man-Man—”
He continued, “People don’t understand there are no clones of Man-Man. I mean G-Bread—”
I snapped my fingers and waved my hands for attention. “Excuse me, can you get off of planet Myself and come back to Earth with everyone else? I need to ask you something.”
Man-Man looked at me like I was crazy. “That was hella rude.”
“Would you listen to me? I want to ask you something.”
“What?” he said as we stopped at the light. “Wassup?”
“I want you to be serious, okay?”
“I’m always serious.” The light turned green and he took off. “What you think I be playin’? Nah, what you see is straight up G. See, I be telling these girls that I’ma real cat. Never been phony—”
“This is so not about you.”
He looked taken aback. “Then what is this about?”
“Me.” I pointed to my chest. “Gem. So, can the conversation focus on me for five minutes?” I held my hand up.
“Yo, you can calm down. What’s all the attitude about?”
“Are you going to let me get a word in?”
“Go ’head.”
I swallowed and don’t ask me why I was nervous, but I was. And don’t ask me why I wanted Man-Man’s opinion, but I did. I huffed. Let out a strong string of air and said this quickly: “Doboyslikegirlslikeme?”
“I got a low D in Spanish, so I’ma need you to say that again but hollah at me in English. And not honors English either. 101.”
“Do. Boys. Like. Girls. Like. Me?”
Man-Man hesitated. “Umm...” He paused and shook his head. “I knew this would happen.”
I smirked and looked at him, completely put off. “Knew what?”
“I knew that my swagaliciousness would cause you to take side glances at me.”
“Say that again.”
“But check it, I know I’m irresistible, tantalizing, and desirable. But the day you came to live with us, Ma laid down the law that you were family. Period. Dot. Dot. Dot. And the moment she declared you were my sister you became like...how do I say this without hurting your feelings?” He snapped his fingers. “Nasty looking to me. Real stank.”
“Nasty looking and real stank?” Did he just say nasty looking and real stank?
“Don’t trip. I mean you’re cute and all but, we can’t go there. Besides, I think it’s illegal and I can’t do jail. I stole a CD out of Walmart once, Ma made me do Scared Straight and yo, that whole deal messed ... me ... up. And ever since then I break out into nigh sweats and start screaming, ‘I don’t wanna wash your drawls, Pookie!’”
Why did I even bother? “Look,” I said. “I’m not looking at you sideways, front ways, from the back, or any other kind of way, actually I don’t even understand why all these girls be sweatin’ you, fa’ real.”
“Was that a diss?”
“Anyway, all I wanna know is if you think that boys, and not you, like girls like me?”
Man-Man looked me over, from head to stiletto, and back again. “I think,” he tapped his temple, “that a cat could think you looked a’ight. You okay.”
“A’ight? Okay? That’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I mean if you’re looking for something to boost your self-esteem you gon’ have to watch the Bad Girls Club or Jersey Shore, ’cause I don’t do all of that.”
“Oh ... my... God...”
“What’s the problem? I mean, you good. I guess. And why you asking me that anyway?”
“’Cause.” I blushed. “I kind of like somebody.”
“Who?” he pressed.
“One of your boys.”
“Oh, hell nawl,” he pounded against the steering wheel. “You messing up the constitution. It’s a violation for little sisters and their brother’s boys to be kickin’ it.”
“No it’s not.”
He sighed. “Who is it?”
“It’s umm—”
“Oh hold up. Hold. Up. Yo, that night of the party when I couldn’t find you and I stepped outside and you were talking to Ny’eem, were y’all talking, like ‘hey wassup?’ or were y’all kicking it like ‘Hey. Wassup?’”
I paused, especially since I wanted to say, “We did more than kick it—actually his swag and his kisses took me hostage and that’s why I’m so torn on whether I need to run away or stand and deal with the flurries running through my belly.” But I decided to keep it simple. “We were kicking it.”
“I knew it. Y’all exchanged numbers?”
“Yeah, he gave me his number.”
Man-Man shook his head. “You talk to him?”
“No.”
“Good, don’t. I don’t want you talking to my boys.” He made a left into the school’s parking lot.
“Are you serious?”
He shook his head again. “I see I’ma have to watch you. But whatever, Ny’eem is cool, so I guess it’ll be a’ight if y’all kicked it for a minute. You called him?”
“No. I didn’t know what to say to him.”
“Just let it flow. Ny’eem is a cool dude. And if he wasn’t feeling you he wouldn’t have even kicked it to you. So he must like you.”
“Really?” I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Close your mouth. And yeah, really. If Ny’eem gave you his number then he’s diggin’ you.”
“Maybe I’ll just talk to him when I see him this morning.”
“You won’t. He doesn’t go to school here, he lives on the block but he goes to a private school. They recruited him to play ball.”
“Word?”
“Yup. And you know they tried to recruit me, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I tried out to be a center and they gon’ recruit me to be the mascot. What I look like running around with a hot-and-played bear costume on?”
All I could do was laugh. Actually, I laughed so hard I cried.
“I don’t find that funny,” Man-Man said. “I’m a little sensitive about that.”
“Oh, okay. I’m sorry.” I did my best to stop giggling. “My fault.”
“Anyway,” Man-Man said quickly changing the subject, “while Ny’eem’s over at his school running thangs I’m here in Brick City High handling my lane—the mac game.” He took the key from the ignition. “So what you gon’ do? You gon’ call him or what?”
“I—”
“Excuse me, Gem,” Man-Man cut me off as a group of girls walked past the car. “Hold that thought for a few hours.” He got out of the car, dipped across the lot, and walked over to the group of girls who quickly enveloped him. No good-bye. No see you later. Nothing. Just a cloud of dust left behind.
I eased out the car and leaned against the door. I turned my head and looked around the school’s parking lot. It was a sea of color, varying fashion, and teens of all shapes and sizes. There were cackles of laughter, buzzing conversations filled the air, and teachers patrolled the parking lot.
I walked over to the school—an enormous, three-story, beige brick building—and walked in through the glass door. There were pockets of cliques everywhere, which caused me to be hesitant once I stood at the top of the hallway.
I hated starting all over again.
New friends.
New teachers.
Ugh, I was so not beat for this.
12
My stilettos clapped against the tile floor as I put one four-inch heel in front of the other, and did my all to ease to my locker. My intention was to keep a low profile and peep things out. Find out who was real, who was phony, and whose mouth was always in somebody’s business. This way I’d know when to keep my distance. It’s not that I was an angel. I mean, sometimes I liked to watch ish unfold—a little—I just didn’t like drama snea
king up on me. I preferred a warning.
Feel me?
Exactly. So I decided to creep to my locker while nobody noticed me.
“Geeeeeem!” Pop shrieked my name like a bolt of lightning. Everyone turned and looked dead in my face.
So much for incognito . . .
Pop carried on. “Over here, girl! Over here!” She blew a pink bubble and popped it while placing one hand on her hip and the other in the air. “That’s my girl right there!” she broadcasted to the crowd in the hallway. “Yup, that’s right! My best-bestie in the whole world. Okay!” She paused, took a breath, and continued, “Let me tell y’all something, you may think these lil freaks, and frenemies, and so called homies are your friends, but none of them are like this chick right here. ’Cause this chick is totally different. She knows the meaning of having her girl’s back fa’ sho.” Pop parked her hips one way and her neck another. “Now don’t hate, appreciate and get ya clap on for my homegirl, Gem!”
And as if that speech itself wasn’t embarrassing enough some folks really clapped their hands. I didn’t know if they were being anti-hatin’, sarcastic, or if Pop had enough popularity and pull to make me a rock star. But whatever it was I had to live up to my rep at the moment so I kicked things up to a red carpet notch and hit ’em with a Beyoncé strut down the runway.
I popped my hips from left to right, posed, turned, posed, and sauntered toward my friend, who I knew if nobody else in the world had my back, she did—no matter how long we’d been apart. We both giggled at my performance as we embraced.
“I missed you so much,” Pop squealed and squeezed me. “I’m so glad we go to the same school!”
“Me too,” I said.
“Girl,” Pop took a step back and snapped her fingers the way she always did when she was either mad or excited. “Boo-boo, this year . . .” Snap, snap. “Is ’bout. To. Be. Fiyah!”
“And there it is.”
“And just so you know, I wanted to call you this morning, so that we could’ve met in the parking lot somewhere. But just as I went to text G and tell him to have you call me I got an e-mail alert that read, ‘G-Bread has changed his relationship status.’ So I peeped out his Facebook page and don’t you know he changed his status from ‘Happily kicking it,’ to ‘It’s complicated.’ Can you believe that? ’Cause I couldn’t believe that! It’s the first day of school and now I’ma complication? Me? And you know I’m drama free. Always. So there is nothing complicated about me.” Snap. Snap. Deep breath.
I didn’t know what amazed me more: that she said all of that in one breath or that she thought Man-Man’s Facebook status was that deep. Heck, he’s not even that deep, and besides, I didn’t really wanna talk about him. “Pop, now you know you’re too cute to be sweatin’ anybody. Let him sweat you.”
“Oh girl, I know. I’m ca’yute. No doubt.” Snap. Snap. Sucked teeth. “Forget him. And besides, I did him one better and changed my status to single. Boom. And I blocked him and unfollowed him on Twitter. If he can say that I’m a complication then I can ban him from my page and stop following his tweets around.”
Oh... my ... God...
“But did he mention me this morning?” she spat out as if she couldn’t keep the question bottled up a moment longer.
Pause. Ummm . . . “Yeah.”
“What he say, girl?” Her eyes burst with excitement. “Was he crying and mad, ’cause I’m single now or was he spittin’ fire ’cause I blocked him? Or was he really beat because I made his number of Twitter followers drop down.”
“I’m not sure about any of that. But I know he said something about you being wifey.” I can’t believe I’m in the middle of this, again.
“I knew it.” Snap. Snap. Pop blew a pink bubble and popped it. “But it’s cool, ’cause I’ma make him wait it out at least four days, four hours, four and a half minutes, and a few seconds before I even think about taking him back. Hmph, I need some time to do me. And get my mind together. ’Cause obviously G got me twisted. “
Ummm hmmm. . . .
“Anywho girl,” Pop said, “enough of him. Let me tell you I was so worried that you wouldn’t know what door to come in. God forbid you got mixed up with the freaky freshmen.” She fanned her face. “You didn’t get mixed up with those creatures did you?”
“Creatures—?”
“Creatures, honey. Lil nasty eighth graders who just graduated elementary school. And the boys are the worst. Those lines they lay on you, oh my. I’m telling you they will make you understand why folks need the Holy Ghost. Now did you run into any of them this morning?”
“No.”
“Good. ’Cause the way you were standing here like a frozen Pop-Tart I was concerned.”
All I could do was laugh.
“Now let me look at you.” Pop took a step back and waved her index finger over me like a wand. “Check, check.”
“Check, check what?” I twisted my lip in confusion.
“Check, check you look cute,” she said and snapped her fingers.
“Rich Girl fly.”
“And you know this. That’s why I can’t wait ’til we get up on the court together and kill ’em!” She made an invisible three-point play. “Swoosh! The crowd goes wild and the opposing team goes down!”
We cracked up laughing at least until Kamani slammed the door to her locker and said, “Don’t get carried away. ’Cause first of all to be a true Rich Girl—”
“Means you’re a part of the b-ball team,” Janay said to us as she walked over and completed Kamani’s sentence.
“And last I checked,” Kamani continued, “you were the new chick on the block.”
“Who was not a part of the team,” Janay said.
Pop interjected, “Are you two even serious with this right now?”
“I know that’s your girl and all Pop,” Kamani said. “But rules are rules and she can’t be a Rich Girl just because she knows you.” She looked me over. “And that’s just how it is. I mean I heard you could ball and all—”
“The best who ever did it,” I said with one hundred percent confidence.
“But you’re not on the team. Now, tryouts are next week, which all adds up to this—you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”
I couldn’t believe this chick. Trust, if I were on the street I would’ve molly-whopped this heifer by now. Dragged her over the concrete. “You seem confused, boo, because I’m the one who started the whole Rich Girl crew—” I said.
“You didn’t start nothing over here—!” Kamani spazzed.
“Yes, she did,” Pop said. “I shared the name with y’all, because we were a nameless clique. But the Rich Girlz started when Gem and I were twelve and Gem suggested it. We had a constitution and the whole nine. Matter fact Gem is the one who gave us our sole rule, ‘No Boyz allowed to come between our crew.’ She’s the one—”
“Who disappeared and you haven’t seen her in four years,” Kamani snapped. “Now it’s cool and cute if she’s who truly named the clique, but it’s been upgraded since she was last in it. And now you have to be a Brick City High baller to be a part of it. And since I’m the captain of the basketball team she has to come through me. Period. And right now I’m not sure how I’m feeling.”
“You know what,” I said disgusted. “This is just too much. Like, fa’ real-fa’ real, it’s not even that deep for me. My life is so much more than this silliness. So check it, the last thing on my mind is rolling with a group of chicks. And for the record I don’t eff with basketball anymore ’cause if I did you’d be benched, Captain.”
Kamani sucked her teeth and flicked her hand. “Girl, please.”
“Yeah, and that’s just how you’d spend your time: begging me.” I turned to Pop. “You’re my girl and all, but silly chicks and their tricks are for kids.”
“Gem, just chill,” Pop said and then turned to Kamani. “You need to fall back, Kamani. It’s the first day of school and nobody came here for fever.”
“Don’t try a
nd blame me. I wasn’t trying to start anything,” Kamani said. “I was just making a statement and Gem got all twisted about it.”
“Girl, bye. I don’t have to deal with you.” Then as if on cue the bell rang, and mobs of teens scattered toward their homerooms.
“I guess we’ll get up,” Janay said, as she turned to follow behind Kamani who’d walked away and into our homeroom.
“Yeah, I guess we’ll get up,” Pop said somberly, like she was lost. And I guess in a way she was lost because I didn’t know what to say. I expected my day to go one way but it had totally flipped the script—so clearly, I wasn’t in charge.
My homeroom teacher stood in the doorway and said, “You ladies have two minutes to make it in here or you’ll have to go to the guidance counselor’s office and get a late pass.”
Pop and I didn’t say anything; we just walked into the classroom and an awkward silence followed behind us. I took my seat and as Pop sat next to me, she turned toward the back of the room and looked at Janay and Kamani. There was an empty desk between them, I guess that’s where Pop would’ve sat if I wasn’t here. “You don’t have to sit here if you don’t want to,” I said. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel obligated to me. “Psst, please. I’m good.”
“If I wanted to move I would,” Pop said.
I didn’t say anything more. The awkward silence resumed and consumed my entire time in homeroom. I guess that’s why I was so surprised and caught off guard when the bell rang again signaling that class had ended. Everybody rushed out of the room and Pop and I lagged behind. Once we stood in the hallway I turned to her and said, “Look, you don’t have to feel obligated to hang with me. You got your b-ball crew and obviously they’re not feeling me and I’m def not feeling them. So you know... I’m okay with us being reduced to just being cool. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Oh, really?” Pop’s eyes looked as if they were turning red, but she shook it off and looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
I continued, “I’m just saying, it’s not written anywhere that we have to be homegirls.”
“We don’t have to anything actually,” she snapped.