Crazy Love

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Crazy Love Page 21

by Amir Abrams


  I remember eavesdropping on another one of Erika’s many phone conversations with her girls. Oh, please. Boys always use the same pass codes for everything. They’re real stupid when it comes to stuff like that. I smile, keying in the same password he has for his Facebook and Yahoo! accounts. Boom, there it is! I’m all in.

  I glance back over toward the bed to make sure he’s still sleeping. I just got my man back, and getting caught going through his phone would be it for me—for us. I quickly upload the tracking program I need. When it finishes loading, I put his phone back exactly the way I found it, then quietly slip back into bed.

  Know your man’s every move!

  29

  “Hey, boo-thang,” I say into the phone the minute Brittani answers. “What are you doing tonight?”

  She sighs. “Nothing. It’s a Friday night and I’m stuck up in this house, mad bored.”

  “Well, fear not, sweetness. Ya girl’s got the perfect remedy for that. You wanna go bowling tonight?”

  “Ooooh, hell yeah. I was about to lose my mind up in here. What time you wanna go? You know I need to do my hair and get real fly, ’cause you know there’s gonna be a buncha cuties up in there.”

  “I know, right.” I glance over at the clock. It’s eight thirty. “We should step up in there like around ten. I can’t drive my car, so can you ask your dad to drop us off?”

  She laughs. “Girl, trust me. He’ll be happy to get me outta the house. I have been wearing his nerves down ever since he got home from work. Ten is good. It still gives me time to do my hair and get fly.”

  I laugh. “Now we’ll have to see if Zee can get her brother to pick us up.”

  “Good luck with that, boo. You know his selfish butt gets real stank when she asks him for rides.”

  “Yeah, I know. Hold on. Let me call her.” I place her on hold, call Zahara, then click back over. Zahara picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey, boo-thang, ask your brother if he can pick us up from the bowling alley tonight. Tell him I’ll give him gas money.”

  “Okay, hold on.” She yells for her brother, then asks him if he can pick us up. “Kamiyah’s gonna fill your tank up.”

  I blink. “Hold up . . . Wait a minute. I didn’t say nothing about filling his tank up. I said I was gonna give him gas money, like in cab money. You know, like ten dollars.”

  “Uh, hellooo,” she says. “I know what you said. I got this, boo. He said he’s gonna pick us up. So when he drops you off at your house, you just hand him the ten dollars and run outta the car before he tries to run you down.” She cracks up laughing.

  “Ohmygod,” Brittani says. “He’s gonna be pissed.”

  “I know,” Zahara says. “He shouldn’t be so damn stingy all the time.”

  “Okay, anywaaayz, y’all . . . let’s synchronize our watches. I wanna be stepping up in the bowling alley at ten. One of y’all call Ameerah and tell her to be ready so we can go and turn the place out. We can all meet up over Brittani’s at like nine thirty.”

  “Okay,” they say at the same time. We hang up. I run downstairs.

  “Daddy, can you drop me off over Brittani’s like around nine thirty?” He’s in the family room watching the sports channel.

  He looks over at me. “Sure. Where are you girls going?” I tell him Brittani’s dad is gonna drop us off at the bowling alley. “Okay. Who’s bringing you home?”

  “Zahara’s brother.”

  “Okay. Just make sure you’re home by curfew.”

  “I will, Daddy.” I walk over and give him a kiss on the cheek. I’m so glad my mom isn’t here to ruin it for me. I run back upstairs to get ready.

  At exactly 10:18 P.M., we step up in Union Lanes looking fly as ever in black low-riders and black long-sleeved shirts with FLY FRIENDS FOREVER written across our chests. The place is packed tight. The music is loud. But we are loving the energy. And the cuties are out real heavy tonight. I scan the place to see if I can spot Sincere, but I don’t see him. But I’m not worried about it ’cause the GPS tracking system I loaded on his phone said this is where he is.

  “Ohmygod,” Zahara says, all hyped. “There are some cuties up in here tonight.” She starts dancing to the music, being the attention whore she is. She drops down, then brings it back up, popping her booty. “Heeeey.”

  I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “Girl, will you c’mon and give the man your shoes so we can get a damn lane.”

  She stops dancing, taking off her boots and handing them to me. “Here. Did you tell him my size?”

  “Yeah,” I say, scanning the area.

  “Umm, who you looking for?” Ameerah wants to know.

  “Girl, no one. There’s so many heads up in here I’m just tryna see who’s who.”

  “I know, right,” Brittani agrees. “Y’all wanna do a quick walk-through?”

  The attendant hands us our shoes. Tells us there’s a lane open all the way down on the other end. Perfect! A Tyga song starts playing.

  “C’mon, y’all,” Zahara says, popping her fingers to the beat. “Let’s do our walk-through dance and turn heads.”

  I’m not really beat, but I need to act like I’m here to have fun, not spy on my man. So I agree. The lineup is as follows: Zahara is always in the front—’cause she has the biggest chest. Ameerah’s next, followed by Brittani, then me. And I’m always last ’cause I have the biggest booty. Left hand goes up first, and we step off on our right foot, then left, then sway our hips just a taste; not all stank and nasty—always sexy. Then take a step back. Fingers snap, then we drop down, bring it back up, then toss the right hand up and repeat. We dance-step and finger-pop our way through the crowd until we get to lane two. I’m pissed ’cause I don’t see Sincere anywhere. But I keep it fly.

  Fifteen minutes into the game, we’re all laughing and bugging out and talking to a buncha different boys—some waaaay too old to be tryna talk to us—when I see Sincere looking over here in my direction. I smile to myself, acting like I don’t see him looking over at me. I start laughing it up real extra now, with one of the guys standing here kicking it with us. But I’m silently rolling my eyes up in my head at his lameness.

  I pull my ringing cell from outta my pocket. It’s Sincere. “Yo, what you doing all up in that dude’s face?”

  “What you mean?” I yell into the phone. “I’m not up in no dude’s face.”

  “Miyah, I’m looking right at you.”

  “Ohmygod, you’re here at the bowling alley?” I act like I’m surprised. “Where are you?”

  “Yeah. I’m standing over by the video games watching you. One of my boys spotted you when y’all were doing that little dance step thingy y’all do.”

  I turn around as if I’m tryna look for him. He throws his hand up. “Oh, wow . . . I didn’t know you were gonna be here. Who you here with?”

  “My boys,” he says, sounding like he has an attitude.

  “You sure you not here with no chicks?” I ask.

  “Miyah, don’t start that. I told you I’m here with my boys. Now what are you doing here?”

  “Chilling with my girls.”

  “I thought you said you were on punishment.”

  “I thought so, too,” I lie. When I spoke to him earlier today, I told him I was on punishment. Shoot, I had to tell him that so he’d think I was gonna be holed up in the house all weekend, so I could catch him out doing whatever, with whomever. Always keep your man on his toes! “My dad had a change of heart.”

  “Oh, a’ight. That’s wassup.”

  “How long you been here?”

  “Kamiyah, will you get off the phone,” Zahara yells. “You’re up next.”

  “For about an hour.”

  “Y’all feel like getting whipped in a game?” I ask, staring at him and grinning. “Me and my girls against you and your boys?”

  He laughs. “Y’all don’t want it with us, baby.”

  “No, y’all don’t want it with us. Put the phone down and come over here and try us.”

&
nbsp; “A’ight, bet. Let me round up my boys. We’ll be over there in a minute.”

  “We’ll be waiting.” I disconnect, smiling.

  “What you grinning about?” Brittani asks.

  “Y’all are not gonna believe who’s here. Sincere and his boys. They wanna play against us.”

  “Where they at?” Zahara asks, walking off from the convo she was having with some guy. “Shoot, I need me a sexy college man, too.”

  I see Sincere walking over toward us with three other guys. And they fine, too. “Here they come now,” I tell her.

  “Oh yes, boo . . . oh yes,” she says, looking over in their direction. “Fine, fine, and double fine. We got this.”

  I laugh. We sure do, boo. And I got my man right where I want him to be—with me!

  30

  “Oooh, I can’t wait for the Halloween party this weekend,” Zahara says, all excited and whatnot. They’re waiting on me to get my stuff so we can go to homeroom. “Do y’all know who you’re going as, yet? I’m going as Nicki Minaj. I already got my pink wig to set it off. And don’t none of you try ’n’ bite, either.”

  I shut my locker. “Oh, please. No one’s thinking about you or Nicki. Do you, boo. I don’t know who I’m going as. But I’ll whip something up before Saturday night gets here.” I pull out my phone to text Sincere.

  “Oh no. Not this texting crap again,” Brittani snaps, snatching my phone outta my hand.

  “Girl, stop playing. Give me my phone back.”

  “No. Not until we’re done talking. It’s rude to start texting someone when you’re still talking to someone else. I really hate it.”

  “Well, geesh. Tell me how you really feel. Now give me my phone back.”

  “I told you no. We’re not done talking. Stop sweating him all the time.”

  I frown. “I’m not sweating him. I’m texting him. Besides, he’s my man.” Zahara and Ameerah stare at me. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Mmmph,” Zahara grunts. “I’m keeping my mouth shut ’cause anytime I say anything about Sincere or about how thirsty you be acting, you start getting all defensive and wanna snap my head off. No, thank you. Keep on clucking, boo.”

  “Clucking? Ain’t nobody clucking nothing.”

  “See. There you go with the attitude.”

  “I don’t have an attitude.”

  “Ohhhkay, riddle us this,” Ameerah says, eying me. “How many times this morning have you texted Sincere?”

  “I don’t know. A few, why?”

  “Did you talk to him this morning?” Brittani wants to know.

  “Yeah, for a few minutes.”

  Zahara glances at her watch, then glances over at Ameerah and Brittani. “Real thirsty,” they say in unison, laughing.

  “I am not.”

  “Oh yes, you are,” they say.

  “You don’t even let that boy breathe,” Zahara states. “I mean. Dang, we know you in love and all, but fall back some. Stop smothering him.”

  “I’m not thinking about y’all. I’m going to homeroom. Give me my phone back.”

  Brittani hands me my phone. I walk off.

  “Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo,” Brittani says. Ameerah and Zahara are laughing. “You’re starting to act real nutty over him, Miyah. Not a good look, boo-thang. You better check ya’self.” They keep laughing.

  “Whatever,” I snap over my shoulder. “I’ll get up with y’all haters later.”

  “Kamiyah, you’re wanted down in the guidance department,” Mr. Langston says, the minute I walk up in homeroom. “Take your things with you.”

  “Okay,” I say, giving him a confused look as I walk over to get a hall pass. He shifts his eyes. Jarrell winks at me as I walk by. I roll my eyes. I wonder what they want with me down at the guidance office?

  “Miss Nichols, aren’t you going the wrong way, young lady?” Mr. Donaldson questions as I make my way down the hall.

  Ohmygod, he makes me sick! With his yuck-mouth self. I flash him my pass. “I’m going to the guidance counselor’s office.” He says something else to me, but I keep stepping without giving him a second thought or glance.

  “Kamiyah, have a seat,” Mrs. Wilcox says as soon as she sees me walking through the door. She’s the secretary for the guidance department. “Your counselor will be with you shortly.”

  “Okay.” I take a seat, pulling out my phone. She eyes me. I slip it back in my bag. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  “You know the rules, Kamiyah. No cell phones during school hours.” She shakes her head, mumbling something about kids these days not knowing how to follow rules. Whatever. I roll my eyes up in my head, glancing at the time. The first-period bell rings as Mrs. Saunders comes stepping out into the waiting area, fly as usual in a black pencil skirt and pink blouse. Her heels are sick!

  “Oooh, I love your shoes,” I say.

  She smiles. “Thanks. C’mon back.”

  I stand up and follow her. “What’s this meeting about?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it once we get to my office.”

  “Oh, okay. You never . . .” My eyes pop outta my head when we get to her office door. I stop in my tracks. My stomach churns. Ohmygod, ohmygod, I am soooo dead right now!

  “Oh nooo. Don’t stop,” the Wicked Witch says. Daddy is sitting next to her and they both look like they’re ready to set it off. “Bring your grown butt up in here.”

  There’s an empty chair in between Daddy and her. Ohmygod! They’re gonna tag-team me up in here. I’m not gonna even front. I’m scared shitless.

  Mrs. Saunders takes her seat behind her desk, tells me to close the door. “Your parents and I were discussing your academic performance and attendance for the marking period.”

  My heart drops. “Oh?” I say, closing the door. My parents eye me. I stay close to the door in case I gotta run out screaming.

  “Please sit,” Mrs. Saunders says, eyeing the chair between my very pissed parents. My mother tilts her head, waiting.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll stand.”

  Daddy frowns at me. “No, you’re going to get your butt over here and sit. That’s what you’re going to do.”

  I blink, walking over to the chair. I know Daddy won’t turn it up too much, but the Witch will. I eye Mrs. Saunders. How dare she set me up like this! Smiling all up in my face.

  “Kamiyah,” she starts, “I called this meeting because I have some concerns that I felt should be discussed with your parents, and you.”

  “Well, if you’re so concerned, how come you didn’t discuss them with me first, before calling them?” I question.

  “Kamiyah—Shut. Up,” Daddy warns. Ohmygod, he’s never told me to shut up. I am gonna get killed for real now.

  Mrs. Saunders looks at me. “We’re only thirty-five days into the school year and your attendance is a major concern. You’ve never had more than six absences in the three years you’ve been here. And here we are in the earlier part of your senior year, and you’ve accumulated more than ten absences. And you’ve gotten two failing grades so far. That’s not like you, Kamiyah. You are one of our most gifted and talented students.”

  My left leg bounces. My hands are getting sweaty.

  “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” my mother wants to know. I hang my head and shrug my shoulders. “Don’t sit there and shrug like you don’t know. I want an answer. Where the hell have you been during school hours?!”

  I glance over at Daddy. “Answer your mother. And answer her now. Where were you and what the hell were you doing?”

  “I was with Sincere.” It comes out in almost a whisper.

  “You were where?!” she snaps in my ear.

  I repeat myself.

  “Doing what?”

  On cue, I start crying.

  “Kamiyah, there’s no need to start crying,” Mrs. Saunders says, handing me tissues. I stare her down, then stare at her hand. I wipe my eyes on the back of my sleeve.

  “Oh, she can sit there and cry
all she wants,” the Witch says. “But she better start talking before I forget we’re out in public and tear her up.” She jerks her chair back, turning it to face me. “Now, I wanna know what you were doing with Sincere that you couldn’t do after school?”

  “Nothing, really. We were hanging out.”

  Slap! I’m shocked that she’s slapped me. Right here in front of my guidance counselor. “Oh, so you wanna hang out while I’m paying for your tuition every month, huh?” Slap! “Answer me!”

  I grab my face.

  “Kayla, stop,” Daddy says.

  “Oh, I don’t think so. We send her here to learn, not cut school and get failing grades.”

  “Mrs. Nichols, please. I understand you’re upset. But please refrain from hitting her.”

  “Excuse you,” the Witch snaps. “I’m missing a day of work to be down here because she wants to hang out with her boyfriend. I don’t think so. I will hit her.”

  “Kayla,” Daddy says. “This is not the place. We’ll deal with her when we get home.”

  She stares me down. “You can kiss any freedom you think you have good-bye. You understand me? And that little boyfriend of yours? You’re not seeing him—period.”

  I am sobbing now. I start yelling at her. “You can’t stop me from seeing him! I don’t care what you say. I will run away and get pregnant if I have to. But I am going to see him. I hate—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, she’s up outta her seat hitting and punching me. “I am not about to let you throw away everything your father and I have worked hard for. You will get these grades up! And you will graduate with honors and go to college like you’ve planned! Do you hear me?!” I am balled up in my chair, trying to block her fists. Daddy has to pull her off of me. “I’m sick of you! I’m sick of your disrespect! You will not see him, and that’s that! And if you even think about running off and getting pregnant, I will beat it out of you!”

 

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