That's What's Up!

by Paula Chase

  Jess rarely admitted it (had never actually spoken the words aloud) but she knew Sara had her back. And even though Jess gave Sara plenty of ’tude, mostly venting about someone else who was on her nerves, she loved their twin connection—needed it, in fact.

  Their parents were constantly trying to get Jess to ease up, calm down, and otherwise be more Johnson-like.

  Mari-Beth demanded everything her way. Their friendship was exhausting.

  Sara was the only person who took Jess for herself, warts and all.

  Jess groaned. Her usual defensive, clipped tone slipped into sisterlycomplaining. It was a side only Sara ever saw and even she saw it rarely.

  “This sucks, Sara.”

  “That you can’t go with Mari-Beth or that you have to tell her you can’t go?” Sara asked, eyebrow cocked high.

  “Both,” Jess admitted. “And Simone’s bucking for my spot. I just know it. The little witch.”

  Sara shook her head. “And these are your best friends. You can definitely have that.”

  Jess shrugged. “Nobody said friendship was easy.”

  “Nobody said it had to be that much work, either.” Sara sat up and crossed her legs. “Hey, speaking of work. What’s this I hear about you and Mina trucing?”

  Jessica’s eyebrows raised. “What, did Mina go yell it over the loudspeaker?”

  “No. She told me at practice today. Said you and her are waving the white flag until after the Extreme.” Sara narrowed her eyes. “What’s that all about? I thought your hate for Mina was what kept you alive?”

  Jessica laughed. “Dramatic much, Sara?” She pushed herself back on the bed until her back was against the wall. “Well, don’t get it twisted. We’re not friends. But if she’s going to be underfoot the entirespring break ...” Jessica cut her eyes over to Sara. “Thanks in large part to you. I’m just saying, I know how weird you felt when the soc project sleepover was over here and she and I kept fighting.” Jess shrugged. It was always painful for her to show any weakness or vulnerability. Her voice was a mix of tough and gentle as she said, “I’m trying to help you out.”

  “Help me out huh?”

  “Yes, help you out.” Jessica shoved Sara’s legs with her foot.

  “Really?” Sara asked, genuinely surprised.

  “It’s not a big deal, Sara,” Jessica said, clipped voice back in action.“I may not even survive three straight days of Mina. Especially now that I’m not staying with MB until Thursday. One more day for her to drive me nuts. But you like her.” Her eyes rolled in a clear, “God knows why?” motion. “And no doubt you guys will be hangingout the entire time. So ...” Jess swished her hair then exhaled with the effort. “I’ll suck it up for a few days. But once the Extreme is over ...” She shrugged as if to say, who knows. “Oh, but do me a favor, please.”

  Sara raised her eyebrows in question.

  “We’re making a massive cellie list so we can text people about where the parties are and stuff. Can you get the numbers of Mina, Brian and the rest of her ...” She snorted lightly before spitting out the word, “Clique.” Her smile was sly but her eyes playful. “I mean, if they’re interested in being down with the hottest parties.”

  “Oh you know she’s down. I’ll get the numbers,” Sara said.

  Jess gave her sister a fleeting smile of appreciation before pushing herself off the bed. She walked over to the closet, abruptly closing the discussion.

  At least some parts of the plan were still falling into place.

  Truce’n

  “One night only, let’s not pretend to care.”

  —Dreamgirls, “One Night Only”

  Welcome Cheerleaders!

  Two ... three ... four ...

  Mina counted each store sign and hotel marquee that eagerly predicted the onslaught of spirit chicks. Their arrival was the appetizerbefore the feast. Summer season started in forty-five days. When it did, the hotels, beach and every other nook and cranny of the tiny ten-mile island, Assawoman Bay on one side, the Atlantic on the other, would be packed daily through Labor Day.

  She was up to seven welcome signs after only three minutes on the four-lane highway that ran the length of O. C. And those were only the businesses on the beach side. The road, scrunched between high-rise hotels, suspect-looking motels and enough T-shirt shops to outfit the entire state of Maryland with “I’m Crabby in O.C. MD” tees, stretched in front of her father’s Navigator.

  She was here. Let the Upper revelry begin.

  She opened her phone and tapped off a message to Sara:

  here! Watchu doin

  Then to Lizzie:

  here! How wuz da test

  Then Michael:

  baby boy wat up?!

  Finally to Brian:

  miss ya already

  Mina danced, wiggling in her seat to the music from the truck’s radio as she waited for signs of life from home.

  The music went to a whisper as her mom said, “Our room probablyisn’t ready. So how about we hit the shops?”

  “Sounds good,” Mina said, one eye on the phone. “I wouldn’t be mad if we ate first though.”

  Her father laughed. “And I wouldn’t be mad if we ate, then you two left me at the hotel.” He took his eyes off the road for a second, pleading first silently with his wife, then openly. “If two hours of chauffeuring you women doesn’t earn me a pass from shopping, I don’t know what will.”

  Mariah rubbed the back of his head, kindly. “But then who would carry our bags?”

  She and Mina laughed as Jackson steered the truck into the far right lane and slowed to a crawl. The doors unlocked with a heavy thwump as he pretended to kick them out.

  “Okay, okay,” Mariah laughed, “you get a pass.”

  Mina chuckled at her parents teasing before turning her full attentionto her phone. She kept up with life back at school and Sara’s adventures visiting her grandparents, through messages that lit up her phone every few seconds.

  The world of DRB High School was same stuff, different day. But, Sara’s exact message, Jess iz pissy & my life sux rt now, made her laugh out loud.

  Funny, because hours later the sour Jess that Sara had griped about in no less than twenty-five text messages, was replaced by a remarkably chilled one. Mina wasn’t sure if it was the ocean air or the truce making Jess bearable and even fun. As she hung out with Jess and Sara in the hallway of their hotel, she didn’t care.

  Their laughter echoed down the empty hall and for the second time that night Mina reminded herself 1) Sara was the real reason Mina bothered to put up with Jess, and 2) despite Mina’s initial skepticism,Jess was taking the truce to heart. Both reasons were why the three of them were in the hallway of the hotel, putting the finishing touches on Mina’s door.

  Technically, only Mina and Sara were decorating the door with miscellaneous, hand-crafted Blue and Gold paraphernalia. Jessica sat on the floor cross-legged, her back against the door of the room across from Mina’s, making fun of Mina’s bad drawing and Sara’s inabilityto tape anything straight. The Blue Devil heads, the blue megaphonewith Mina’s name on it in gold glitter, and the poster, Blue Devils Chicks Rock!, all slanted exactly the same way to the left, as if the hotel itself was on an angle. The girls burst out laughing each time Sara added a new piece. Even Mina’s mother’s warning to “keep it down” hadn’t killed their giggling.

  Each time, Sara thought she’d finally gotten it right.

  Each time, Mina and Jessica’s new fit of sniggling announced she’d failed.

  With the last sign in hand, Sara approached the door, determined. She thrust the sign forward for a practice run.

  Mina stood next to Jessica, watching. They sniggered under their breath as Sara stepped back, eyed the door, moved forward again, stepped back, eyed, moved forward.

  “That’s gonna be the new dance,” Mina said. Making up her own tune she sang, “Step back, eye the door, move forward. Step back, eye the door, move forward.”

  Jess joined her. Th
ey added a hand clap to their simple ditty.

  Sara waved them off.“I’ve got it this time,” she declared, grabbing the tape from the floor. She advanced on the door one last time, held the poster with her knee and tore off a few pieces of tape before dropping the tape dispenser. She worked quickly to tape the poster’s four corners, added two pieces on the sides for extra security then stepped back. Her arms folded in a triumphant, “there.”

  “Wait ... wait ... I think she has it,” Jess said, her voice full of drama.

  Mina abruptly ended her singing. She and Jessica tilted their heads as if they were watching a bowling ball’s slow, off-kilter cruise to the pin. They stared at the last poster, a collage of cheer pictures. There was no white space on the board. The mass of mixed photos, upside down, sideways and every which way was so busy, it was hard to tell if the poster was straight.

  Grinning, Sara waited on their judgment.

  “It’s ...” Mina squinted, frowned. “I think it’s ...”

  Mina’s eyes focused on the poster once more then looked down at Jess, who was also concentrating. Their confused faces met for a second and then they chorused, “Slanting to the right, now,” before giggling hysterically.

  Sara harrumphed, but as she’d done all night, took their criticism in fun.

  She gazed over her handiwork then at her sister and Mina, who were laughing it up, before fluffing her ear-length curls and declaring,“Well, just so you guys know. I totally did all the crooked stuff on purpose.”

  Mina and Jess gave one another an “un-huh, right” eyebrow raise and laughed more.

  “So I’ve finally found something you suck at,” Jess teased. “Sara the easygoing, perfect Johnson twin who can pick up any sport by just thinking about it, needs a ruler just to put up a sign straight.”

  “Don’t hate me because I’m unique.” Sara put her nose in the air and announced, haughtily, “Straight is so boring.”

  Mina gathered up the mess they’d made with all the paper and tape and dropped it into a small black knapsack. She threw the bag over her shoulder. “Okay. Now to your room.” She locked arms with Sara as they made the short trip, three doors down. “We’ll be so fashionable.The only two doors designed by Miss Sara Johnson of the DRB.”

  “You’ll be known as The Angler in the interior design circles,” Jessica said. She pushed herself off the floor and trailed behind them.

  “Who would like an Angler original?” Sara asked, addressing an imaginary crowd.

  Mina and Jess jumped up and down, raising their hands, shoving one another as they tried to get their hand seen through the “crowd.”

  “Well then, let me go get my stuff,” Sara said, before disappearing into the room.

  Jessica plopped back down on the floor. Mina stationed herself across from Jess, her back against the wall. There was an uncomfortablepause, neither of them sure how to fill the silence without their mediator.

  For so long, Jess and Mina’s relationship had been that of hunter and prey. Like a baby gazelle instinctively understood the nearby lion was his natural enemy, Mina had learned long ago to give Jessica a wide berth.

  Finally, she took a small inhale and waited for Jess to diss something—hershirt, shoes, hair, crafting talents, cheer talents or the way she breathed. Usually everything was fair game.

  Her breath came out in a snort of disbelief when Jessica said simply,“I’m sooo glad spring break is finally here.”

  She leaned her head back on the door. Her eyes closed, making her dark face a mask of serenity.

  Mina ogled her for a full ten seconds, marveling both at the fact that Jess was making small talk and how many features Jess shared with Sara, despite having night and day complexions. They had the same nose and facial shape. And without the clipped, bossy tone in her voice, Jess sounded a lot like Sara.

  Still, as casual as Jess was, Mina chose the safest conversation route, “Yeah. Me too,” deciding to let Jessica lead the conversation.

  Jessica’s eyes fluttered open. She stared at the ceiling a few secondsbefore lifting her head. Her fingers raked thoughtfully through her weave, which was straight, for the day. “I would say I’m looking forward to summer but ...” Her voice trailed off into a pregnant pause. When she spoke again, her nose wrinkled and she spit the words as if she were ridding her mouth of a bad taste. “My summer’s shot. My parents are making me and Sara get jobs this summer.”

  Mina nodded, knowing instinctively that Mari-Beth Linton wouldn’t be working this summer, which meant Jess would be left out of a lot of country-clubbing. Unable to help herself, Mina decidedto bright-side it. “You know, it would be cool to work at SeventhHeaven in the mall.You guys should try and work there.”

  Jess snorted softly and shook her head. Her voice was more amazed than annoyed. “You seriously try and find the good in everything. Don’t you?”

  “I’m just saying, their clothes are hot and they have a DJ—it’s probably like working at a nightclub,” Mina said, unapologetic about her sunny optimism.

  “I saw a cute pair of walking shorts in there last week,” Jess said.

  “Oooh, were they pink and green?” Mina asked. As Jess nodded she gushed. “Those are cute. See, if you worked there you’d get a discount.”

  “True,” Jess said, without much excitement.

  Sara popped out of the room at that instant. “Ready,” she announcedloudly, dropping a sack full of decorations on the floor. “What are you guys talking about?”

  Mina busied herself poring through Sara’s décor goodies as she answered, “Summer.”

  “Soon to be known as the end of our childhood,” Jessica said, a sigh in her gloomy proclamation.

  There was no misery in Sara’s voice as she guessed at the root of Jessica’s sadness. “Yup. We’ve gotta earn our keep around the Johnson ranch this summer.”

  “If only we actually did have a ranch,” Jessica snorted.

  Mina happily suggested Seventh Heaven again then joked, “I mean, the thought of having a discount by association at the mall’s hottest store never occurred to me.” She cut her eyes at both girls then popped them innocently. “I mean never.”

  Even Jessica laughed at the wink-wink hint.

  Lying in bed later that night, or early the next morning, depending on how you looked at it, Mina thought about the evening and wonderedif it had been real. She’d had such a good time. Her arms—buried under the hotel’s thin sheet, a squeezably soft down blanket and a warm comforter—broke out in a million goose bumps at the admission.

  Fun. I had fun with Jessica Johnson, her mind whispered as it drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  Drug Free

  “Never sprung, huh?”

  —Jay-Z, “Who You Wit II”

  Thursday evening, Kelly and Angel walked along the quiet, empty street of her gated community, flush with McMansions and sculpted green lawns. She marveled at the way Angel fit in wherever he was. He was as easy and confident here as he was on the cracked pavementof The Cove’s basketball courts, which were always surroundedby spectators, young and old.

  Kelly secretly checked him out, playing her own game of Can Anyone Tell He’s An (Ex) Drug Dealer? As always, she lost. If Angel were on that crazy game show where the contestant had to pick which person was in what profession, that contestant would lose. Angel had on a pair of dark-wash denim jeans that hung loose, but not baggy. They gave the impression that he was skinnier than he really was. The multicolored striped polo was the kicker that made him look so normal, in Kelly’s opinion. Angel’s caramel complexion against the shirt’s vivid orange, yellow, and dark blue stripes was pale, but already taking on the soft glow of being in the spring sun, like maybe, just maybe, he’d been to a tanning salon recently.

  No, she finally admitted to herself, no one would ever pinpoint Angel as a kingpin, or whatever he once was in the drug game. He blended in like a chameleon. At least he did as long as he didn’t have the Muscle Twins with him, the two bodyguards who shado
wed him seemingly twenty-four hours, except now and the other time Angel had come to Kelly’s house. And, Kelly assumed, when he was in school. Now, Angel joked with Kevin, Kelly’s eleven-year-old brother, about the prospect of him having to shave one day if he stayed on the Folger’s Way swim team.

  Kevin liked Angel and he took the jokes in stride, even teasing back. They seemed to have forgotten Kelly was there, giving her a chance to absorb the scene. Kevin and Angel had identical caramel complexions and shared similar features, small noses, smiling eyes—gray for Kevin, hazel for Angel. And wavy brown hair with a hint of red when the sun hit it—both kept it short, except Angel’s was a littlelonger on top, his curls thick and swirling.

  It hit Kelly that the three of them probably looked like siblings to people passing. Ninety-five percent of Folger’s Way residents were white. Hers was the lone Latino family and there were two black families. No doubt, anyone driving by who recognized “the mixed-lookinggirl” would wonder where she’d picked up a second brother. On the swim and tennis teams, Kevin was better known in Folger’s Way than Kelly.

  They neared the community’s clubhouse and Kevin gave Angel a pound before sprinting the last few yards to some teammates.

  Angel waited for Kelly to catch up to him. His smile lit up his entire face as he called out, “Hurry up, nenesita.”

  “Well you two left me behind,” Kelly grumbled playfully.

  Angel stretched out his hand and she took it. A warm ribbon of pinpricks ran from her hand up her arm. She wondered if he could feel it.

  They walked into the clubhouse, passing by the attendant who waved Kelly in, one of the few people who recognized Kelly by face—or more likely as Kevin Lopez’s sister—and took a seat on the bleachersfacing the pool.