by Amir Abrams
Ooh, she’s comin’ for you!
You better pump the brakes ’n’ give it to her good!
I slam my locker shut, sighing. “I didn’t break up with him. We would have to be going together in order for that to happen.”
“Well, y’all were talking, right?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I guess. Something like that.”
“Then why’d you dead it?”
I shake my head. “I really don’t wanna talk about it.” I turn to walk off, but she grabs me by the arm.
“Oh no, heifer. You not even about to spin off on me, boo. Not until you tell me what the heck is really going on here.” She folds her arms, tapping her foot. “What lil thug-daddy bum are you chasing behind now that’s got your mind so jacked up that you’d mess up a good thing with one of the hottest boys on campus, huh?”
“I—”
“And don’t even try to lie,” she hisses, cutting me off. “’Cause I know you. You always chasing after the next good time, always tryna keep ya boo-daddy stash up, so don’t even try ’n’ do me with the BS. You’d rather be a ho for a buncha no-goods than be a ho for one good one.”
I blink.
Boom! Boom! Shots fired! Oooh, she did that!
She’s still tapping her foot. “Well? Don’t just stand there staring at me all nutty. What the heck is going on, girl?”
My chest tightens.
I feel a buncha emotions bubbling up in the back of my throat. That I am sooo not tryna deal with right now.
Oh no, boo! Snap outta it! You better not dare drop one dang tear. Stand ya ground! This is what you wanted, so this is what you got! Now get over it!
I swallow hard. “Look,” I finally say, sighing. “Fiona ain’t the one-boo type, okay? So let’s just drop it. It’s over. There is no me ’n’ Cease. There is no we. It was something to do, that’s it. So move along. Please ’n’ thank you.”
She eyes me, long ’n’ hard, then narrows her eyes to thin slits. We are both oblivious to the commotion around us, prying eyes zooming in on us as they slow-stroll by, sucking in the drama airing out between the two of us.
“Lies, lies, ’n’ more lies,” she snaps. “But, whatever. You wanna spend ya life trickin’ it up with a buncha boys, then do you. I’m done tryna save a chick who ain’t tryna be saved.”
She storms off, sweeping her rhinestone satchel over her shoulder.
“Fine!” I huff. “Be done! Why the hell you care, anyway?!”
She stops ’n’ turns to me. “Bish, because I’m your damn friend! But obviously you wanna shut that down, too. You’re too stuck on stupid to even know what you want. So, trust, hun. I’m done! You wanna be alone ’n’ miserable, then have at it!” She throws up two fingers. “Deuces!”
I will my feet to move, but they don’t. So I stand here in the middle of the hallway—being bumped ’n’ shouldered by kids zipping by tryna get to wherever they need to be before the bell rings—feeling lost, confused, ’n’ ridiculously outta place.
I’m fuming ’cause Miesha tried to do me. No. She did do me! But the crazy thing is, no matter how pissed I wanna be at her for servin’ me—and oooh, trust. She did that! The only person I can be mad at is me. For not sticking to the damn script! For letting that boy get all up inside my head! For missing him!
She’s right. I don’t know what the hell I want anymore. Maybe I never did!
God, I feel so stupid!
Worthless!
Girl, boom! Because you are!
43
“Fee?”
I spin around, startled.
Cease’s standing here at my locker. My heart flutters. Then sinks. I can’t let myself get all caught up in him. Missing him doesn’t mean I have to be with him. It means I just have to avoid him better, switch schools, relocate across town, to another city—anywhere other than being here. With him.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“I can’t keep doin’ this, yo.”
I blink. Shake my head, confused. “Doing what?”
“Pretending that I don’t miss you. Pretending that I’m not hurting. I’m all effed up, yo.”
I swallow. Him standing here is not helping my resolve to stay away from him. I knew coming to school today was a bad idea; especially after Miesha served me in the hallway yesterday. I shoulda played hooky. Played sick. Played crazy. Did anything to keep from being here. Standing here, looking into Cease’s face. I’ve been avoiding him for the last several days, so this is the first time we’ve spoken since he approached me on my first day back at school.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” I stammer softly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Cease. It’s just that . . .” I pause, looking away, tryna find the right words to tell him how I feel. How I don’t wanna feel. I’m struggling to tell him how much I care about him. But how can I when I’m trying so dang hard not to? How can I be with him ’n’ live by my rules, too?
I can’t.
“Listen, yo,” Cease finally says, lifting my chin. “I can’t tell you how’ta feel or what to think. But I ain’t goin’ nowhere. If you scared, say you scared, a’ight? It’s cool. Heck. I’m scared, yo. You think I wanted this to happen, huh? I knew I was big on you, but I ain’t think I was gonna fall for you, yo. I didn’t think not bein’ wit’ you was gonna hurt so much. Not like this.”
He’s fallen for me?
Ohmigod!
I bite my quivering lip. “I warned you not to catch feelings.”
He pulls in his bottom lip, staring at me with sadness in his pained eyes, ’n’ my heart sinks further down into the soles of my heels. “Nah. I ain’t tryna hear that. It’s too late. You already all up in my heart, yo. All up in my head. Now you got me walkin’ around here feeling like crap.”
“I didn’t mean to . . .”
“You know we’re meant to be together, so why you keep frontin’, huh? We’re good together, Fee. And you know we are. Tell me I’m wrong, yo.”
I swallow, tearing my gaze away from his. “You’re wrong. I’m not good for you, Cease. I mean. I wanna be. But I don’t think I can be.”
“So it’s all in my head, right? Is that what you’re tellin’ me? That I’ve imagined all this? Tell me I’m buggin’ ’n’ I’ll spin off. Is that what you want?”
I swallow. “Yes. That’s what I want. For you to just spin off ’n’ not look back. Go off to college ’n’ be happy with someone else.”
“I’m not tryna be happy wit’ anyone else. I wanna be happy wit’ you, yo.”
“I can’t.”
Omigod! Lies!
Ooh, I’m so confused. And, trust. Fiona ’n’ confusion don’t mix. My rapid breathing is in sync with my pounding heart. I feel dizzy. I want to cry. This is pathetic! I’m pathetic! This is so not diva-like. So not Fiona Madison. I don’t do this. Crying.
Over a boy!
Over an aching heart!
And definitely not for all to see!
Ever.
Oh, girl, quit! Stop playing damn games ’n’ just be honest, for once!
“I don’t wanna hurt you, Cease,” I say honestly. “I just . . .”
“Why don’t you think you deserve to be loved, huh? Why can’t you trust that I can love you, huh? I don’t care ’bout ya past, I don’t care ’bout how many dudes you been wit’. All I care ’bout is you, Fee. Why won’t you trust me, huh?”
Because I can’t trust myself.
“I-I’m . . .” I can feel tears beginning to burn in the back of my throat.
“You love me?”
I blink. Open my mouth to finally admit what I’ve been afraid to admit. That I’ve caught feelings for him. That that dirty lil L-word has snatched me by the throat ’n’ sank its teeth into my heart ’n’ now I’m scared to death—of hurting him, of hurting myself, of hurting each other. Oooh, no, no, no! Fiona ain’t even tryna be all strung out on no boy. No ma’am, no sir. But I . . . I . . . I think it’s already too late.
I am strung out on him!
The bell ri
ngs. Classroom doors fling open. Noise erupts. And kids start pouring out into the hallway. And I see it as my great escape. My chance to flee from him, again.
From my feelings.
From his.
Cease must sense that I’m about to take off running ’cause before I can make a speedy getaway he reaches out and cups my face, flicking away my tears with his thumbs. “You ain’t gotta run from this, babe; from me. All you gotta do is trust me. Trust what’s in ya heart. I know you feel it, too.”
I shake my head. I feel myself starting to hyperventilate. “I-I can’t do this, Cease. It’s not you. It’s me. Don’t you see? I don’t do feelings. I don’t do love. I’m a heartbreaker. Not a lovemaker. Fiona ain’t tryna let you or anyone else get all up in her head ’n’ have her actin’ all dizzy . . .”
“Kiss me,” he says, ignoring my rant.
My breath catches in my throat. I rock back on my heels.
I blink. “Excuse you?”
“I said kiss me. One kiss. Right here ’til the next bell rings. That’s three minutes.”
I frown. Tell him I’m not about to stand here ’n’ tongue him down. Not with all these wandering eyeballs all up on us. No ma’am, no sir!
“Nah.” He steps in closer. “I’m not tryna hear all that. You don’t wanna be wit’ me, cool. I gotta learn to live wit’ it. So, after today, you ain’t gotta worry ’bout me sweatin’ you or leavin’ you any more poems. But I ain’t gonna fall back ’til you kiss me one last time. That’s all I ask. Then after that, if you still ain’t beat to be wit’ me, cool.” His voice cracks. “If you don’t feel what I feel, I’ma fall back, a’ight? I’ma let you do you. And I’ma do me.”
Ooh, this boy is tryna do me. He’s tryna be messy. And he knows Fiona don’t do messy!
“Girl, you better get yo’ life ’n’ kiss that boy,” I hear someone say. “Before I do it for you. Heeey, Cease!”
Laughter.
A small crowd is starting to gather for the spectacle that has become Cease ’n’ me. I swallow. I don’t want them to see me like this. Weak ’n’ frickin’ vulnerable. This is so not diva-like. I turn away, my face wet with tears. I don’t want him or any of these messy onlookers to see me falling apart.
I close my eyes, shaking my head. Cease steps in closer. He wraps his arms around me ’n’ nuzzles his chin on top of my head. “Let me love you, Fee. Don’t run from this. I got you.” A part of me wants to turn to him ’n’ look at him. Tell him that I wanna trust him. But I don’t dare.
“One kiss, babe. That’s all I’m askin’ for. You owe me that, yo.” I swallow as he turns me to face him. “One kiss, a’ight?” He slowly leans in ’n’ I surprise myself when I don’t pull back. His lips find mine. He pecks them lightly.
But I push him back with the palm of my hand. “I can’t.”
He blinks. Then frowns. “Oh, word? So you really want me to spin off?”
“Yes,” I whisper, refusing to look at him. I am crumbling inside, but fight to hold it all together. He shakes his head ’n’ lets it drop for a moment. When he looks back up, he looks as if he wants to cry, but he doesn’t. He’s hurt. Crushed. And it’s all my fault. “I’m—”
“Nah, save it.” He swallows, takes a deep breath, pauses, then says, “I’m out. Have a good life, yo.”
I eye him as he walks off. My hands shaking. Body trembling. Heart aching. My knees buckle ’n’ I choke back a scream.
“Ohmigod, you stupid, bish!” I hear Miesha’s voice in my head. “You’re really gonna let him walk away like that?”
I can hear a few girls sniggering.
Someone says, “Mmph, good. I’m glad she doesn’t want him. Now I can have him. She didn’t deserve him anyway.”
“Mmph. She’s dumb as hell to let that fine boy slip outta her fingers.”
Ho, stop the madness! You better get yo’ damn life!
“Cease, wait!” I yell out. He keeps walking. “Cease, please!”
When he stops ’n’ turns ’n’ sees my face he must hear what’s in my voice. Desperation ’n’ fear.
Of being alone.
Of being with him.
Of being without him.
He just stands where he is, staring, waiting. His face expressionless. “What is it, yo?”
I drop my bag. Kick off my heels. And run to him, screaming out like some crazed loony tune, “Yes!”
He frowns. “Yes, what?”
I keep running full speed, leaping up into the air at him, hoping like heck he doesn’t do me dirty ’n’ let me hit the floor. Ooh, that’ll be so messy. But if he does, I know it’d serve me right for being so dang stupid ’n’ stubborn. Okay, okay, ’n’ maybe a lil silly. But, whatever. Cease catches me in his arms ’n’ tears spurt outta my eyes.
“I love you! I love you! I love you!” I keep saying it over ’n’ over, wrapping legs around his waist ’n’ my arms around his neck. I kiss all over his face. “Yes, yes, yessss! I love you, Cease! With all my heart!” I kiss his lips. And he kisses me back.
I’m not sure who pulls back first, or if the three minutes are up ’n’ the bell has already rung. All I know is, I’m seeing stars ’n’ feeling kinda dizzy. I blink. And Cease is smiling. Then grins that lopsided grin of his. And I feel my heart fluttering.
I pause for a moment. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, not a real one. I’ve never even known what love feels like until . . .” I close my eyes. Shake my head.
“Until what?” he says softly.
“Until you,” I confess. “And it scares me. You have my heart, Cease. And Fiona is terrified. Of us. Of you. I don’t wanna get hurt.”
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Fee. Trust me. I got you.”
And then, in the middle of McPherson High, fourth floor, west wing hallway, we kiss. And nothing else seems to matter anymore. Not my diva rules. Not the mess at home with my mother. Not even all these messy tricks gawking at us. Everything in me heats ’n’ I feel myself melting. And it’s as if the sun is peeking through the clouds for the first time in my life, shining down on me.
I hear a few kids whoop ’n’ applaud.
I hear Antonio yell out, “Jeez, get a room! Freaks!”
Laughter.
But none of that matters, not this time. I’m with my boo-daddy. Yes, gawd, hunni! Fiona ain’t tryna be no fool. And, hopefully, this diva’s gonna keep her mind right ’n’ not let her ho-ish ways mess things up between us.
Mmph. Maybe being with one boy won’t be so bad after all. Maybe...
Cease finally eases me down to my feet ’n’ leans in for another kiss. The kiss gets sweeter with each passing second. This time I let my eyes flutter shut ’n’ melt into Cease’s lips, so happy that I am gonna follow my heart instead of my silly lil diva rules. Wait. Ooh, don’t do me. They aren’t all silly. I mean, well . . . maybe a few of ’em will need to be tweaked a pinch now that Fiona’s got herself a fine lil boo-daddy who she’s about to let wife her up for a minute. Okay, okay, for as long as he can handle the heat ’n’ doesn’t get on my nerves. Shoot. After all, I am still fly, fabulous, ’n’ too hot to handle. Boom-boom!
But now, drumroll pleeeease . . . I’m about to make a new set of diva rules for a diva in love!
A READING GROUP GUIDE
DIVA RULES
Amir Abrams
ABOUT THIS GUIDE
The following questions are intended to
enhance your group’s reading of
DIVA RULES.
Discussion Questions
1. Fiona Madison was a real feisty, self-proclaimed diva with a set of diva rules she lived by. What are your thoughts about these rules? Are there any you’d subscribe to? If so, which one(s)? And why?
2. What did you think of Fiona’s relationship with her mother? Do you believe her disrespect was warranted? Is it ever okay to disrespect a parent, even when they’ve mistreated you? Have you ever disrespected your parent(s)? What were the consequences, if any, when you did? What was your reason for being
disrespectful? And would you do it again?
3. Despite Fiona’s volatile relationship with her mother, she seemed to have a very close relationship with her four sisters. What did you think of their relationship? Are you close to your siblings? Do you feel they understand you? If not, why?
4. Fiona was very flirtatious and had a reputation for lots of lip-locking ’n’ making it pop with the boys. What are your thoughts about promiscuity? Do you know anyone who’s like her? What did you think about her “love ’em ’n’ leave ’em” mentality?
5. What were your feelings about Cease pursuing Fiona? How did you feel about her dismissing him after her fight? Why do you think she was so afraid of being with him? Do you think she’s capable of really being with one guy? Why or why not?
Also in the McPherson High series
The Girl of His Dreams
The rules are simple: Play or get played. And never, ever, catch feelings.
That’s the motto seventeen-year-old heartthrob Antonio Lopez lives by. His father taught him everything he needs to know about women: They can’t be trusted, and a real man has more than one. So once Antonio gets what he wants from a girl, he moves on. But McPherson High’s hot new beauty is turning out to be Antonio’s first real challenge.
Miesha Wilson has a motto of her own: The thrill of the chase is not getting caught. She’s dumped her share of playboys and she’s determined to stay clear of the likes of Antonio Lopez. But when she decides to play some games of her own, Miesha and Antonio find themselves wondering if love is real after all. . . .
1
Antonio
No lie. Broads are good for only two things—well, three . . . good sex, good brain, and keepin’ my sneaker, fitted-hat, and Polo game up—and not necessarily in that order. They can scratch all the extras. I’m not lookin’ for love. I’m lookin’ for a good time. And the only thing I’m lookin’ to do is give ’em this good lovin’.
Who am I?
Oh, my bad. Thought you knew.