Bell Bottom High: Book 3: Junior Jewels

by B. J. Williams

  “Don’t worry about it,” Joyce insisted, waving one hand. “They’ll move on to something else real soon.”

  “You know, as much as I want to believe that, I know this is exactly the type of gossip students thrive on in a small school like this. So I know I have some difficult days ahead. I just pray I don’t have to slap nobody, especially your hardheaded cousin, R.J.,” I said with a raised voice.

  “Girl, please, don’t waste your time thinking about these fools. Ain’t nobody at this school worth you getting suspended and messing up your perfect record! You know you’re going to be the class valedictorian next year. Don’t let nobody get in the way of that!”

  “I know. It’s just that I’m so mad right now I could kick a cat!” I stomped my foot and turned away from the mirror. I didn’t enjoy seeing an angry reflection of myself.

  With my backside leaning against the sink, I switched to a level-headed mode, and whispered, “I think I finally understand the embarrassment you must have felt last year after your ordeal with Rodney and the whole VD thing.”

  “Yelp, it was bad for a while there, especially when someone went so far as to write a hurtful message about me on these bathroom walls,” Joyce stated, glancing around the concrete walls riddled with graffiti. She shuddered at the memory of that incident.

  I would never forget how Joyce had cried in my arms on that particular day as I wiped a single tear from her cheek. Now we had reversed positions, and it still wasn’t a pleasant sight.

  Flying off the bus that afternoon, I flapped my arms like they were new wings. When I entered the house, I gently closed the door, leaned against it, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. For once, I was happy to be in the safety of my own home where I could block out all the drama from school that day. From the time I had walked out of Ms. Walker’s class, I had been a bundle of nerves waiting for the school day to end without another incident. Now I just needed to get Grandma her medicine along with a healthy snack, finish my daily homework, and start cooking dinner before my parents got home from work.

  About an hour later, my homework was all done, and I stepped into the kitchen. Once I saw the whole chicken thawed out in the sink, I rinsed it off. I placed the bird on the counter, reached for a sharp knife, and cut it up like a professional butcher in only five minutes.

  By the time my parents made it home after five o’clock, the smell of fried chicken had sifted throughout the neighborhood. My mother entered the smoky room first with a satisfied smile on her face. “Your daddy is going to be real happy tonight. He was just saying the other day how we hadn’t had any fried chicken in a long time.”

  “I don’t usually like to fry chicken during the week, but after the day I had, it was a welcomed release.”

  Mama eyed me suspiciously before asking, “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Ah, nothing,” I responded, batting my eyes. I rushed to the refrigerator and opened it. “Let me get you something cold to drink.”

  “That sounds good,” Mama said, taking a seat at the eat-in kitchen table. “I heard your father’s truck just pull up.”

  I still had the refrigerator door open when I heard Daddy enter through the back entrance. He slammed the door with great force, startling me to the point that I almost jumped inside the refrigerator head first.

  “David, what’s wrong with you?” Mama asked, looking shocked. It wasn’t like Daddy to be slamming doors. He was usually the calm one.

  One look at the awful scowl on my daddy’s face, and I knew my life was over. Something deep inside told me that the rage I felt coming from him had everything to do with me. His eyes were bloodshot red like he’d been crying, and his smooth brown skin seemed to be three shades darker than it usually was. Every vein in his shiny bald head seemed as if it wanted to pop right through his skin. Glancing down at Mama with clenched fists, I knew he was ready to punch someone. I silently prayed that it wasn’t me.

  “What’s wrong, David?” Mama asked, glancing from him to me.

  He didn’t respond to her; instead, Daddy got directly in my face, and asked, “Have you been messing with that city boy living with the Campbell’s?”

  I reared my head back and started stuttering, “Wh—what do you mean by messing?”

  Daddy snarled, “Girl, don’t play with me. I’m your father.” He patted his chest. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  He was so close to my face that I smelt the stale lunch meat on his breath, but it was the anger in his eyes that made me tremble. I opened my mouth to speak again, only the one word I wanted to utter didn’t seem to come out. Fear gripped me. The only thing I could do was stare back at my daddy’s intense eyes.

  Mama reached out and touched Daddy’s arm, and said, “David, please back up. You’re scaring the child to death. Look at me, and tell me what’s going on.”

  He took a step back, turned toward Mama, and yelled, “I heard some of the guys at the plant talking during lunch today. It seems that party she went to Saturday night got out of hand with the drinking, and a fight broke out. And then one of the fellows told me he heard that my daughter was outside screwing that city boy!” He pointed a finger at me.

  Mama gasped and covered her mouth. Staring at Daddy in disbelief, she shook her head. “It’s not like you to listen to gossip.”

  “I don’t, unless it has something to do with my family. I’m not going to have a whore living in my house, Margret. You can forget that. Now you better talk to your daughter before I take my belt off!” he screamed. Daddy turned away from us and stomped down the hallway.

  When I heard the bedroom door slam behind him, Mama turned to face me. “Child, you better tell me what your father is talking about, and you better do it real quick.”

  “Mama, I swear that’s not true. Mama, I swear somebody is lying on me. I would never do something like that. Never!”

  “Well, how did a rumor like this get all the way on your daddy’s job? Did something happen at school today?”

  Lowering my eyes, I mumbled, “Sort of.”

  “Something sort of like what?”

  “We were in social studies class and someone handed Joyce a note saying that I had made out with R.J. at the party. But it’s a lie. You’ve got to believe me, Ma.” I looked her straight in the eyes.

  Mama pulled me into her arms and whispered in my ear. “I believe you, sweetheart. Now you’re going to have to tell me everything exactly the way it happened if you expect me to calm your father down.” Mama led me into the formal dining room and sat down next to me. She listened patiently as I recalled what happened in school earlier during the day.

  “You see, Mom, I think R.J. is behind this, because I refused to make out with him and called him out of his name.”

  “That could be true,” Mama said, nodding. “Either way you look at it, though, this is a real mess. I’ve haven’t seen your daddy this upset since both your brothers left home.”

  “Do you think he’s going to be believe me?”

  Mama smoothed her hands down my face, stared into my scared eyes, and replied, “Yes, eventually. He knows you better than that, but he’s so hurt right now. It’s just hard for him to hear your side.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  After a night of tossing and turning in my sleep, the sun finally came peeping through my plastic blinds slightly before six o’clock in the morning. I wished that my brothers were still staying at home. Tyrone and Joshua would have nipped this situation in the bud already. I pulled the covers over my head and thought, I don’t feel like going to school and facing all that drama today. I want to stay right here in my warm bed and dream all my troubles away.

  When my alarm sounded two seconds later, I slammed the “off” button, grabbed the clock, and contemplated throwing it against the wall as hard as I could. But I knew that would only make matters worse.

  In response to the knocking at my bedroom door, I placed the clock on the nightstand, and grabbed my stomach. I had never played sic
k before, but today was just one of those days that I desired to stay home and sulk in my problems. “Come in,” I said weakly.

  “Good morning, why aren’t you up yet?” Mama asked, pushing her head through the cracked door.

  “I’m not feeling well. My stomach has been bothering me most of the night,” I replied, trying my best to sound convincing. Lying on my back, I looked up at Mama hoping for some trace of sympathy.

  Mama came on in the room, looked down at me, and grimaced. “Baby, that’s the oldest trick in the book. If you were sick last night, I would have heard you getting up and going to the bathroom, or you would have woken me up for sure. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and get out of this bed. You only have twenty minutes before the bus arrives.”

  “Where’s Daddy? Is he up?”

  “Yes, but you don’t have to worry about seeing him this morning. He’s already left for work.”

  “Good,” I said, sitting up on the side of my bed. “I was praying that I didn’t have to face him this morning after seeing him so mad yesterday. I’ve never seen Daddy look like that. He really scared me.”

  Mama sat down on the bed next to me, and said, “I know. He scared me, too. It’s not like your daddy to get that upset about anything but his baby girl. It was hard for him to accept the fact when you started having your monthly period, and now that he thinks you might be sexually active, it’s driving him insane.” Mama crossed her arms and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Mama. I never meant for any of this to happen. I just wanted to have a boyfriend like all the popular girls at school.”

  “I know you do, baby. But you’ll have plenty of time for boys once you’ve finished high school. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” From the tone of Mama’s voice, I sensed she had more to say.

  “Do you remember the talk we had about the birds and bees when you started your menstrual cycle years ago?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I nodded.

  “You know, when I was a teenager, mothers didn’t talk to their daughters about all of that stuff, especially sex. All my mama ever told me about sex was to stay away from boys and that I better keep my legs closed.” Mama laughed. “Now, with this sexual revolution going on, more parents are taking the time to teach their children about puberty and to educate them on sex.” Mama sniffed and adjusted her body on the small bed. She didn’t seem exactly comfortable with the subject, but she was trying her best to connect with me. “You know, baby, you can tell me anything, right?”

  “Yes, Mama.” I searched her face for a clue as to where this conversation was headed.

  “I need you to promise me something, sweetheart. Whenever you think you’re ready to experience sex, I want you to let me know, and I can see about getting you some protection. You know what I mean?”

  My eyes popped. I couldn’t believe my good, Christian mother was actually suggesting such a thing. “I—I, okay,” was all I managed to stumble out.

  “I just don’t want you to end up pregnant like Lena or dealing with a VD like Joyce. This is the seventies, and it’s easy to buy condoms or get birth control pills. Now, I know your daddy would never approve of either one, but you’re my only daughter, and I’ll do whatever I think is best for you, understand me?”

  I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I hugged her. “Thanks, Mama. You’re the best in the world.”

  “And you’re the best daughter in the world. Believe me, you’ll have plenty of time for boys and experimenting with sex when you’re older. Right now, your education should be the most important thing on your mind.” She released me, leaned back, and continued, “Speaking of education, how is your welcome speech for the foreign exchange students coming along?”

  I lowered my head. “I haven’t even started working on it, yet. I know what I want to say, but I just can’t seem to write it down on paper.”

  “Well, don’t worry.” Mama patted my back. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll think of something, and I’ll be there to hear every word.” Standing up, she added, “Now, hurry up and get changed so you can eat a quick breakfast.”

  Dragging myself to the bathroom across the hall, I closed the door and leaned my heavy, laden forehead against it. Why does trouble always seem to find me? My freshman year was filled with drama created by Lena Turnipseed when she confided in me that she was pregnant and needed my help with running away from home and staying at a shelter for girls. Then, my sophomore year, Joyce confided in me that she did it with the same boy who’d gotten Lena pregnant and needed my help finding out whether or not she’d contracted a venereal disease from that creep, Rodney Payne. Now, her cousin has started a rumor that I slept with him at the first real party I’ve ever attended. What’s wrong with me, and why is trouble so attracted to me?

  I lifted my head, walked towards the mirror, and turned on the water faucet. As much as I hated the thought of attending classes today, I needed to wash-up and get ready for another drama-filled day at Bell High School.

  Back in my room, I tugged on a lightweight sweater and a pair of decorated bell bottom jeans. Decorating jeans was something I had turned out to be pretty good at. I got the studs and patches at the dollar store and let my imagination take over.

  Checking out my reflection in the mirror, I thought, I won’t win any fashion awards, but this will have to do for today. I picked out my nappy afro with a wire pick and patted it down some just to give it a more rounded shape. I slid into a pair of black platform shoes, grabbed my books, and headed to the kitchen for a warm bowl of oatmeal.

  With the yellow school bus approaching, Mama stood in the doorway waiting to give me a hug. She whispered, “It’s going to be fine; you’ll see. Just try to enjoy your day.”

  Returning her hug, I said, “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you this evening.” I clutched my books to my chest as I trotted down the driveway toward the bus. When the glass doors swung open, I held my breath and hoped that today, just like the sunlight, would be much brighter than yesterday. Only that funny sinking feeling in my stomach, the one that had never let me down, told me something quite different.

  *

  I walked out of my last class for the day and released a sigh of relief. With Joyce at my side, I was glad that the day was coming to an uneventful end. For once in my life, that funny feeling in my stomach had turned out to be just a funny feeling. After walking around all day waiting for a bomb to drop, I wiped her forehead and smiled at my best friend.

  “What’s wrong?” Joyce asked, eyeing me. “You look relieved about something.”

  “I am. For some reason, I was expecting to have more drama at school today, but things turned out great after all. I didn’t even see Leslie all day. Was she even at school?”

  “Yeah, she was here. I guess she just had sense enough to leave you alone today.”

  As we rounded the corner, my eyes popped out at the sight of Chubby and R.J. shouting and pushing one another at the end of the hallway. Most of the students had already exited the building heading for the bus boarding area. Only a handful stood by watching to see how the event would unfold. I gasped as Chubby swung a right fist to R.J.’s jaw, causing him to slam backwards against the concrete wall and slither downward faster than a snake onto the hardwood floor. Known for his wrestling skills, Chubby swung on R.J. as if he was in the sparing ring with Muhammad Ali, the greatest champion of all time. With his wide frame standing guard over R.J., Chubby literally dared the young man to try getting up.

  Before I could make it to my cousin’s side, Mr. Mack, a dark-skinned, bald-headed math teacher, rushed out of the classroom and placed his stubby body between the two boys. “What’s going on here, gentlemen?”

  Both guys remained silent, staring at one another through anger-filled eyes.

  “Somebody better start talking or you’re both going to the principal’s office right now so he can get to the bottom of this.”

  “It’s his fault,” R.J. shouted, pointing up at Chubby. R.J. scrambled o
nto his knees and pushed himself up with both hands. “He walked up to me as I was coming out of class and started yelling at me. Next thing I know, he’s socking me in the mouth.”

  “Fool, stop lying, you know why I popped your lying butt in the mouth,” Chubby said, making a step toward R.J.

  Mr. Mack held up his short arm and warned Chubby to step back. “Young man, that’s enough.”

  Turning toward the other students, Mr. Mack asked, “Did anybody see what happened here? I need some witnesses.” The few remaining students shook their heads and made a mad dash to the double-door exit as if the fire alarm had just sounded.

  Joyce and I remained in place; we were both too startled to move or speak. My heart sank to my lower intestines. As much as I wanted to defend Chubby, I dreaded going to the principal’s office knowing that he would call my parents at work. I was already in enough trouble at home and dreaded facing daddy’s wrath again this evening for any reason. But I also wanted to be by Chubby’s side, because I knew this whole episode had everything to do with me and my short relationship with R.J. Caressing my stomach, I surmised, That funny feeling didn’t let me down after all.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Mr. Mack grumbled. “I need all of you to follow me to the principal’s office right now.” He turned swiftly and started stepping like he was in a marching band headed out to the football field.

  Chubby dropped his shoulders, waiting for R.J. to go first. “I don’t see why I have to go to the principal’s office, this sucker punched me,” R.J. complained.

  Mr. Mack stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Well, you can tell that to the principal, and let him make the decision about what to do. Now, come on.”

  Lagging behind, Joyce and I stared at one another. I didn’t know what we could share since we didn’t see how it got started. But, either way, Chubby needed my moral support.

  Mr. Lazarus, the high school principal, sat behind his desk wearing a dark gray suit. Holding a black ballpoint pen in one hand, he stared over the rim of his black-frame glasses, glaring at us like we had dared to enter his office with foolishness nearing the end of a school day. “Yes, Mr. Mack, what can I do for you?”