He Said, She Said

by Kwame Alexander

  “Who you dating now?” somebody screams. T-Diddy, Kym, and Eve all look at me, and I want to be as far away from this nonsense as possible. So I go inside.

  “Wait up, Claudia,” I hear Omar say, and by the time I get to the front door, he’s holding it open for me.

  “What was that all about?” he asks.

  “Like I should know,” I say, and roll my eyes. “It’s too crowded in here. Jeez.” I make my way over to a closed door, to get away from all the chaos while I wait for Blu.

  When we get to the door, it opens, and Fast Freddie and Belafonte trail a hurricane of smoke.

  “I don’t think you want to go in the hot box, homegirl,” Omar says, and pulls me away. “Let’s go out back and talk.”

  “Here, take this,” I say, and hand him a mint.

  “It’s just beer,” he says.

  “It just stinks.” He pops the mint in his mouth. “Sorry about your press conference, Omar.”

  “I ain’t bitter. It’s no big deal,” he says, trying to sound like it doesn’t faze him, but I can hear it in his voice.

  “I know how important it was to you.”

  “You want to make it up to me?” he asks with that evil grin he makes where one eyebrow rises. “Come with me to Folly.”

  “Never give up, huh?”

  “Seriously, let’s go for a walk on the beach. I need to clear my mind.”

  “It’s not your mind I’m worried about.”

  “I got a plan on how we can step up our game on this silent treatment.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll see,” he says, and part of me thinks he has no idea, but the other part of me can’t wait to see what he comes up with this time. “Let’s give these jokers one more week to do the right thing, and if they don’t, we’ll get three-six-mafia up in here.”

  “Huh?”

  “Start a riot.” I give him a look that says “You’re crazy.” “I was speaking metaphorically, Claudia.”

  “What about Cru?”

  “C’mon. She was trying to play us. I called the coach at Miami, and he said as long as I don’t kill nobody or end up in jail, my scholarship is good as gold.”

  “Wow! You’re really serious about this.”

  “When T-Diddy gets an idea in his head, he can’t let go. Gotta run with it till he scores. Feel me.”

  “It’s too chilly to be walking on the beach.”

  “It’s sixty-one degrees.” He shows me the temperature on his iPhone. “Come on, be spontaneous, homegirl.”

  “Let’s dance, Mr. Football.” This is about as spontaneous as you’re going to get from me.

  He grabs my hand, and we walk back inside to the dance floor. He can’t dance that well, but he’s tall, so all he really has to do is stand over me and wave his hands from side to side, which he does pretty well. The next song that comes on is a slow song, and he just looks at me. I see Kym and Eve eyeing me from the corner. Now what, heifers? If I wanted your man, I could have him.

  I put my arms up around his neck. He slides his around my waist and then moves them to the pockets of my jeans. I move them back up to my waist. I see Kym gritting on me, so I pull him closer.

  Omar

  I never let a broad play me out of position. Got to stay focused on the mission at hand. Focus, focus, focus.

  Ever since the protest started, I haven’t worked out as much. Haven’t hung out with Willie Mack and Fast Freddie as much. I even missed the third quarter of the Jets game last Sunday to talk on the phone with Claudia. What’s up with that?

  I’m minutes from closing the deal with homegirl, I can feel it, but the truth is, I’m starting to feel a certain kinda way when I’m around her. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I want her for my wifey. But I can see keeping her around for a while. Maybe. Don’t forget why you came here, homeboy. T-Diddy, snap out of this. Dive in her ocean and get out, playa.

  Tonight may be the night. I need to lock this up now. I inch my hands down to her jeans and cup her cheeks. She pushes them back up. Still playing hard to get. Wait, she pulls me closer to her, grinds a little. Homegirl got me vexed. I don’t know if she wants T-Diddy or not.

  I see Willie Mack and Fast Freddie on the dance floor getting their freak on with some sophomores. They’re basically doing it right there. Time for me step up my game, for real.

  I move my hands back down, but this time, I go inside her jeans. Now that’s what I’m talking about. This is all me, homegirl.

  “What are you doing, Omar?” She pushes me away from her.

  “Why you screamin’, Claudia? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Are you drunk?” Every nosy character in West Charleston is all up in our convo now. Claudia is loud as heck. The music stops, and it seems like the whole party is watching us. T-Diddy can’t have no broad disrespecting him like that.

  “Naw, girl, ain’t nobody drunk.”

  “So why are you tripping?”

  “Didn’t you pull me on the dance floor?”

  “Yeah! To dance.”

  “What, you ain’t like T-Diddy’s moves?” My boys and several other party people laugh, and I laugh it up with them. “Lighten up, homegirl, you killing the buzz. Hey, DJ, turn the music back up. Ain’t no party like a Panther party, ’cause a Panther party don’t stop.”

  The lights go back down, the music blasts, the party resumes, and Claudia storms out the front door. I chase her, but Kym steps in my way.

  “Omar, you’re too good for that skank. Let her go, keep it moving. I ain’t gonna keep waiting on you.”

  “Then don’t. Now, step.”

  “Karma is a bitch, Omar. Watch your back,” she says, and flicks her wrist at me like she’s casting a spell or something.

  Outside, I see Claudia half a block away, getting into her car, about to be ghost. I sprint and jump in front of her car, so she can’t, at least not without running me over.

  “Can we talk, please?”

  “Out of my way, Omar. I swear!”

  “T-Diddy ain’t moving. Get out and talk to me.”

  “You really know how to be a jerk, don’t you?” She jumps out of her car.

  “Thank you. Look, Claudia, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You showed your true colors, primate.”

  “What about the kiss?”

  “There was no kiss. You’re delusional.”

  “I know your tongue moved.”

  “I wasn’t myself.”

  “What, you an alien or something?”

  “It was a mistake. A minor lapse in my judgment. I should have followed my first instinct and slapped you silly.”

  “That kiss, your lips, this thing we have is not minor. It’s major.”

  “Sounds like a song I’ve heard on the radio.”

  “No comment.”

  “Stop trying to play me. Look, you got your kiss, you copped a feel. Ain’t that enough to claim your prize? Leave me the frick alone.”

  “The frick? WOW!” I say, laughing. “Claudia, will you forgive me for tonight?”

  “Look, Omar, we’re friends, that’s all. Actually, we’re not even that.”

  “I thought we had a thing. We were feeling each other.”

  “A thing? You don’t even know me?”

  “I do know you, girl.”

  “What’s my favorite color?”

  “Red.”

  “Green! What’s my favorite flower?”

  “Rose.”

  “Tulip. This is silly. Look, let’s stick to the protest.”

  “T-Diddy could have any girl at this party. Real talk.”

  “You can have every girl at this party, but you won’t have this one. Real talk.”

  And then homegirl gets back in her car and speeds off.

  “Like I said, she’s out of your league.”

  “C’mon, son, it ain’t over till it’s over,” I tell Willie Mack. “Don’t underestimate T-Diddy’s game.”

  “Yeah, how’s that game wor
king out for you?”

  “T-DiddyGotSomeMagicUpHisSleeveRight?”

  “You gonna hypnotize her?” Willie Mack says sarcastically.

  “You got jokes. Step five of the ladykilla playa playbook is a guaranteed bong bong!”

  “I thought it was only three steps,” Belafonte muses.

  “Y’all know he makes this ish up as he goes along. Ain’t no steps, and definitely ain’t no playbook,” Willie Mack says.

  “Hate all you want, homeboy, but wait till you see what I got in store for homegirl next. It’s about to be KFC three-piece time.”

  “LegsThighsAndBreasts,” Fast Freddie hollers, and we all laugh.

  “Oh, snap! The DJ is going old school. ‘Brooklyn rocks to the planet,’” I sing, trying to change the subject. As much as I want to believe that I still got this thing under control, Willie is right. Not only did I just piss her off, but this playa is out of moves.

  “YoWeWasQuietForLikeTheWholeFirstBellOnFriday. That’sCrazy!”

  “What’s crazy is you did all this to dip in that honey,” Willie Mack adds.

  Yeah, that’s how it started. I was trying to impress her, at first. But now I’m kind of into it. I mean, I’m not trying to change the world or nothing like that, but stuff does need to be different at our school.

  Last week I was in the library for the first time all year. Half the shelves are empty. Claudia says we’re supposed to have at least fourteen thousand books, but we only have three thousand. That’s just wrong.

  And now the administration is considering putting in metal detectors to curb the violence. So we’re prisoners now. How do I say any of this on a Friday night to my boys while we’re getting ready to get our party on? Buzzkill.

  “I did it for a bunch of reasons, dawg. I’m a complex individual. T-Diddy got many sides. I’m like an isosceles triangle.”

  Nobody says anything—they just stare at me. Finally we all bust out laughing.

  “Well, I hope it works, ’cause West Charleston ain’t the same without the marching band. Real talk.”

  The music stops for a second, and I hear my ears and my phone ring. I pull it out, thinking it’s probably Uncle Al telling me to stop by the store and pick up something for him. But it’s not. Six new text messages and two voicemails. From Claudia Clarke.

  “Fellas, I’ll be back.” I jump up to go.

  “WhereYouGoingT? ThePartyJustStarting.”

  “Willie, give me your keys. I need to take care of something.”

  “It’s on E, put some gas in that joint, T,” he says, throwing me the keys.

  Claudia

  My sister is at work. I called Blu like seven times. No way was I calling my ex. He’d probably think it was an excuse to see him again. The only person left was Omar.

  “Just admit it, you wanted to see me,” he says, looking up at me.

  Not. “That was just such an immature guy thing to do.”

  “I said I was sorry, dang.”

  “So I’m supposed to just up and accept your apology.”

  “Yep, if you want me to change this tire.”

  “Can you fix it?” I ask him, shivering. “It’s getting colder out here.”

  “If you keep the flashlight steady, yeah. And I’m the one down here on the freezing ground,” he answers. “You really should learn how to change a tire.”

  “That’s why I have triple-A roadside assistance.”

  “A lot of good triple-A roadside assistance is doing you right now, homegirl.”

  I didn’t intentionally let my membership expire. Senior year has been a challenge, with all the college applications, my projects, the newspaper, and now the protest. I really need to get my focus back.

  “I wasn’t going to pay them four hundred dollars to change a frickin’ tire.”

  “So you called me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know, freedom ain’t free, homegirl.”

  “Ha ha!”

  Something about the way he smiles and the left side of his upper lip curls when he says “homegirl” always makes me almost smile. An hour ago, Omar Smalls was grabbing my ass, literally, with his muscular fingers. Now those same hands are changing my flat tire.

  “Why is it taking you so long? It’s just a tire? Jeez.”

  “Stop playing all hard and just admit that you like me.”

  “Random!”

  “Claudia, you’re cool. And I’m cool, so I don’t understand why we can’t just cool out together.”

  “Maybe because I’m chillin’,” I respond, wishing I had worn a jacket to the party instead of trying to look so fly.

  “Real funny. It’s all good, though, I know you’re kinda feeling me. I could tell by the way you put my arms around you on the dance floor tonight.”

  “I just did that to make Kym jealous.”

  “And that’s why you put your tongue in my mouth the other night?” He looks up at me again, with the whole curly upper lip thing.

  “I really don’t want to talk about this. Are you almost finished, Omar?”

  He goes back to twisting and unscrewing, and we are silent for way too long.

  “So you’ll be cool if I start dating Kym again?”

  “It is what it is, Omar.”

  “So you’re cool?”

  “You can date anybody you want. Just remember it’s a two-way street, homeboy.” Why did I say that? Geeesh!

  “Two-way street? Oh, so you are feeling me?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Homegirl, I left the party to help your butt out. I was hanging with my boys, minding my own business. So it seems to me you owe T-Diddy.”

  “Owe you?”

  “There’s always consequences and repercussions.”

  “And what might they be?” I ask. Omar stands up, takes off his Panther jacket, puts it around me, then grabs my hand. “Oh, so now you want to be a gentleman. I could have frozen my butt off.” Please don’t try to kiss me again, please don’t.

  “Anyway, stop complaining. I’ve felt your butt, and it’s pretty hot,” he says, and we both can’t help but laugh.

  “First you snatch a kiss, then you grab my butt. Let me find out you’re a criminal.”

  “A smooth criminal. Next, T-Diddy’s gonna steal your heart,” he says, not looking at me, which is good, because I don’t want my swoon to encourage him. “And then I’m going to carry it right here.” He looks at me, pounds his fist over his heart. “Homegirl, you okay?”

  “Please, I’m fine.”

  “I know you’re fine, but are you okay?” Do not smile, Claudia. Do not. “That was e.e. cummings, in case you didn’t know.”

  “I know that. His words, your words don’t faze me, homeboy,” I lie, and try to pretend like e.e. cummings isn’t one of my favorite poets and “i carry your heart with me” isn’t my favorite frickin’ poem. Ever.

  “Then for the last time, please, hold the flashlight straight? You’re killing me, Claudia.” He smiles and resumes changing my tire. “You owe me one night.”

  “What? Are you out of your mind? I already told you, I’m not going out with you.”

  “Hole up, homegirl, I wasn’t talking about a date. Just a quick walk, tonight. That’s all.” I look down the street.

  “What, like a walk around the block? Sure, no problem.”

  He stands up. “Hole up, hole up! You’re getting a little too comfortable in my jacket, homegirl,” he says. I look down at the jacket. When did all the buttons get snapped? “It looks good on you, though.” I snatch his phone before he snaps a picture of me.

  “You sure are dragging this out. Do you even know how to change a tire?”

  “Are we going for a walk or not?”

  “I said sure. Around the block.”

  “The block is cool, but I really need to clear my mind. Only one place can do that.”

  What, the mall? How romantic.

  “Let’s go down to Folly Beach.”

  “You’re still talking about
the beach. What, are you insane? It’s the middle of the frickin’ winter. Not in this lifetime.” Omar slowly starts unbuttoning the jacket. His jacket. What are you doing? “Uh, what are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “But we’re not finished. Hello!”

  “T-Diddy is finished. Maybe you can get it finished next lifetime.” No he didn’t.

  “Really, Omar? You’re not going to fix my car unless I walk on the beach with you? That’s so low.” He’s got a few more buttons to go.

  “Everything is not about you, Claudia. I just have a lot on my mind with the protest and school and football. It’s just one little walk.”

  “You can walk by yourself.”

  “I could, but I don’t have a ride. I need to get Willie his car back like ASAP.”

  “Who goes walking on the beach in January? That’s just crazy.”

  “Be in the now, Claudia,” quoting something I heard Clyfe say once.

  “I’ll think about it,” I tell him. Not.

  I guess he doesn’t want to really piss me off, because he leaves the jacket intact and gets back down on his knees. I’m not a shallow girl, but watching his arms jack up my car is, um, nice.

  “Focus, please. Flashlight,” he says. “I got a question. What happens if we get suspended?”

  “They can’t suspend the whole student body.”

  “True.”

  “Plus, we’re not really causing trouble or breaking rules. This silent protest is really quite clever.”

  “Yeah, I thought the same thing when I came up with the idea,” he says, and looks up at me, smiling again. I can’t help but smile back.

  “You didn’t come up with the idea.”

  “Uh, yeah, I did.”

  “I take it you’ve never heard of Gene Sharp.”

  “Who?”

  “We learned about him in government class. Civil disobedience, nonviolent stuff.”

  “You mean Dr. King,” he says.

  “Yeah, but Dr. King actually learned nonviolence from Gene Sharp.”

  “Well, I’d love to listen to your little lecture, professor, but I’m done. Spare tire is on.”

  “Great.”

  “Don’t ride too far on this spare,” he says, packing all of my tools and my busted tire in the trunk.