by Earl Sewell
I had just sat down opposite LaShaunda. I glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw that I had twenty minutes left until I my first period class.
“Yo. Was that a crazy train ride yesterday or what?” LaShaunda’s voice was as loud as ever. I couldn’t tell if she couldn’t hear well or if she had no concept of speaking softer. The drama that took place on the “L” train had excited her more than it had me.
“You fight like a man,” she said.
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
“Once you got it together, you beat the daylights out of Toya.” LaShaunda threw a few air punches, mimicking my movements.
“She had it coming.” I glanced down at my hands, which were still red and swollen around the knuckles.
“I heard a popping sound every time your fist connected,” LaShaunda continued. “Then all of a sudden, the popping sounded like firecrackers going off. Pop, pop, pop, pop. You have to teach me how to throw down like that.”
“Yeah. I will someday,” I said and began scratching vigorously again. I thought LaShaunda would notice, but she did not.
“Girl, you’re tougher than I gave you credit for. I thought for sure you would be the type of chick who’d start crying the minute Toya hit you.”
“That’s not me. I can take a hit.”
“My crew back in Milwaukee would love you. You would fit right in. When I was hanging with them, I never had to worry about a chick like Toya running up on me. It was like, if you messed with one of us, you messed with all of us. You know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah. I understand.” I paused for a moment and then said, “It was a good thing there was a White Sox baseball game going on when we were rushed off the ‘L’ train. I had no idea where we were or how we’d get home.”
“I thought we would just wait for the next train until you pointed out all the taxicabs dropping people off at the game. That was a good call,” LaShaunda said.
“I was glad you suggested that we have the cabdriver stop at the pharmacy so that I could pick up some makeup and sunglasses to hide the fact that I had gotten into a fight. I knew that my aunt Raven would freak out if she saw my face,” I said, scratching myself uncontrollably.
“What’s wrong with you? Stop scratching yourself like that. You’re making me itch.”
“I’m sorry. I’m trying not to, but I feel like the more I scratch, the more I itch. I don’t know what’s going on,” I said as I placed my fingers under my thighs to keep myself from scraping into my skin with my fingernails.
“How did it go when you got back home? I meant to call you, but I was dealing with my own problems. I can’t stand the foster parents that I live with. My foster mom’s boyfriend is creepy. He makes my skin crawl.”
“My aunt and grandmother blasted me. It wasn’t a pretty scene,” I said, giving in to the urge to scratch again.
“Damn, girl. Stop it! You’ve scratched so hard that you have welts on your neck.” LaShaunda leaned closer to look at the damage I’d done.
“Okay,” I said once again and sat on my hands.
“When I came in last night, my foster mom wasn’t home. My foster dad came at me hard. He accused me of being on drugs and wanted me to come to his church so I could get help through the drug rehab ministry.”
“Why does he think you’re on drugs?” I asked.
“He claimed that he was a former drug addict and that he knows when someone has a problem. I told that fool my only problem was him. When I tried to walk past him and head to my room, that trick tried to grab me. I threw up my fists. The only thing that stopped it from going any further was that my foster mom pulled into the driveway.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Yeah. That’s why I need you to show me how to beat a chump down.” She once again punched the air as if she were a boxer.
“I’ll teach you how later,” I said, scratching myself again. There was a moment of silence between us. LaShaunda stared at me as if I were diseased.
“I know your folks freaked out but did they do something to you that has you scratching like that?” she asked.
“No. I wasn’t touched, but I do know that my aunt and cousins were out driving around the neighborhood looking for me,” I explained.
“What? Wait. Back up. Start from the point after we covered up your battle scars with makeup and the cabdriver dropped me off at home.”
“I didn’t have the cabdriver pull up to the driveway. I had him drop me off at a nearby park. I made my way to the house. I knew that I couldn’t go in the house with all of this merchandise in my backpack, so I climbed the fence at the rear of the property near my uncle’s toolshed. Thankfully it wasn’t locked, and I was able to place the backpack in there until I could come back for it. I then snuck around the side of the house and tried to enter the house through the side garage door. It was locked. I tried to force it open just so that I could get inside and act as if I’d been there for a while, but had gone unnoticed. I kicked the door hard a few times, but it wouldn’t budge. My uncle thought someone was trying to break in. He went and got his gun, walked out the front door and came around to where I was.”
“Your uncle pulled a gun on you?” LaShaunda’s big mouth announced that to the entire cafeteria.
“Shhh,” I said to her before I leaned in closer and spoke softer.
“Sorry,” she said, realizing how loud she was.
“When he saw that it was me, he put the gun away and told my grandmother Esmeralda to cancel the call to the police.”
“Oh, man. You were busted. Big-time,” LaShaunda said as she came to realize just how serious the situation was.
“Yeah. My uncle was very upset with me for trying to break down the door. He didn’t understand why I would want to do such a thing. When he asked, I couldn’t give him an answer. The thought of temporary insanity was floating around in my mind though. My grandmother Esmeralda and my aunt Raven came down on me hard. My uncle wanted to jump on my back as well, but my aunt Raven assured him that she’d handle it and asked him to leave me with her and my grandmother in the basement. My aunt got in my face, pointing her finger and yelling at me. She talked about how I was disrespecting her house, myself and blah, blah, blah. My grandmother Esmeralda tried to make me feel bad by crying, and I admit watching her cry made my heart ache, but it only made Aunt Raven angrier with me. I went deep inside myself and tuned out all the shouting. I felt as if I were trying to wait for a bad thunderstorm to blow over.”
“So what did they do? Did they notice your bruised face? Did they ask where you had been? Did they accuse you of things you didn’t do?” LaShaunda fired off a series of questions.
“Grandmother Esmeralda accused me of having sex. She said that was the only logical explanation for my disappearance. My aunt Raven accused me of trying to destroy her home and family.”
“Wow. Maybe that’s why your skin is itching, perhaps it’s bad nerves,” LaShaunda suggested.
“I doubt it.” I paused and scratched even more. “I swear, sometimes I just want to run away. Just walk out the door and leave, without ever looking back.”
“I know that feeling, girl. I have it all the time,” LaShaunda said sympathetically as the warning bell rang.
“When is your lunch hour?” she asked.
I pulled out my schedule and took a look. “Fifth period,” I said.
“That’s when mine is, as well. I’ll see you then. We can eat together.”
“Okay,” I agreed and rose from the chair.
“What’s your first class?”
“Math,” I answered. “What about you?”
“Some class,” she said.
“Which one?” I asked, confused.
“Here take a look.” LaShaunda handed me her schedule and I noticed that it appeared to be a remedial reading class.
“The class is to help you with your reading,” I said.
“I know how to read! Why do they have me in a reading class? These people around here are already trippin’,” LaShaunda barked as she tried to salvage her pride.
“I know that you can read. It’s probably just a mistake,” I said.
“I don’t want to sit in some stupid reading class. I know how to read. I can read better than all the teachers combined. I know more about stuff than they do,” LaShaunda continued. She was so loud that a security guard started walking toward us.
“Here comes a security guard,” I warned.
“Whatever. I can read better than they do,” LaShaunda said as she moved toward the direction of her class.
* * *
Fifteen minutes into my math class, my boobs, neck and face were on fire. I could not stop scratching myself. The more I scratched, the more I itched. I felt as if there were a million microscopic ticks attacking me. Red was in my math class. He gawked at me as if I was some type of nymphomaniac. Apparently the sight of me scratching myself excited him. A few girls in the class glanced my way and offered up disgusting frowns as if I was some squalid peasant.
“Viviana?” The math teacher wanted my attention. I glanced up at him as he took off his glasses.
“Yes?” I asked, forcing myself to stop scratching.
“Are you okay? Would you like to go see the school nurse?” he asked. I was about to say no, but changed my mind.
“Yes,” I said. He opened his desk drawer and began filling out a hall pass. I took it from him, but I had no intention of going to see the nurse. I was heading back home. As I walked out of the classroom and rushed down the hall, I unclasped my bra, took it off and rushed out a side door. The only thing I could think of that would cause this kind of skin irritation was a change in the laundry detergent that was being used.
When I arrived at the house, I rushed upstairs and took a shower. Afterward, I immediately felt better. I looked in the mirror and saw that my skin had turned red as fire from all my scratching. I opened the medicine cabinet in search of the hydrocortisone. I didn’t see it. I checked the downstairs bathroom and the bathroom in Aunt Raven’s room and didn’t see it there, either. I knew we had some because I’d seen it in the medicine cabinet at least a thousand times. I walked into Paul’s bedroom to see if he had been using it, then I went back to the room I shared with Anna to see if it was there, but I had no such luck. I reluctantly decided to search Maya’s bedroom. I stood in the center of her bedroom and scanned the surfaces. I moved over to her dresser where she kept her perfume and saw something. It was positioned behind her jewelry box. There were several blue packets of itching powder and the tube of hydrocortisone. I then began thinking.
“Why would Maya have done this?” Out of pure curiosity, I opened the itching powder and placed a little on my forearm and rubbed it in with the pads of my fingers. Sure enough, I began itching like crazy. I then immediately went back into the bathroom and washed it off. I returned to the bedroom I shared with Anna, opened up my underwear drawer and pulled out another bra. This time I inspected it and that’s when I saw the white powder in the cups. Maya had placed itching powder in all my bras.
“Ahhhhh!” I yelled out. My scream hung in the air. Then in a moment of blinding-white rage, I marched back into her room and grabbed the rest of the itching powder she’d purchased. I spread it on her pillows and blankets. I unscrewed the caps on the lotion she used and sprinkled some in there. I unscrewed her shampoo and conditioner bottles and sprinkled some there, as well.
“Now it’s her turn to look like a freak,” I said as I walked out of her room.
fifteen
MAYA
I had killed thirty minutes at the school library searching for an interesting book to read. I then decided to hang around the building after school and wait for Keysha, who had a theater club meeting. She had said the meeting would only take half an hour. I had just entered the auditorium and taken a seat down near the stage. I listened as dates for the fall play tryouts were announced. Once they had finished up, I joined Keysha and we walked out together.
“So what’s the fall play going to be this year?” I asked as I allowed her to exit the auditorium first and enter the rest of the complex as we headed to the buses at the main entrance.
“A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens,” Keysha said.
“Do you think you’ll get the lead role?” I asked.
“That would be interesting, seeing as how Scrooge is a male. I could probably pull it off with the right costume and some really good makeup.”
“But then you’d have to walk around practicing speaking like an old stingy man,” I said, laughing out loud.
“You’re right. I was actually thinking of shooting for the role of the Ghost of Christmas Past but right now everything is still in the preplanning stage. I’m not sure that I’m going to try out this year. I just wanted to get information,” Keysha said as we exited the building and stepped out into the light of the sunset.
“Have you spoken to Wesley?” I asked.
“I got a text from him earlier. He said that he was being released.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“Are you going to be in any activities this year?” Keysha asked.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do this year. If something interests me, I’ll let you know,” I said as we walked across the school parking lot.
“Have you talked to Misalo since history class this afternoon?”
“No. I can’t believe that he is in our history class,” I said.
“What I can’t believe is that your cousin, Viviana, is in my honors English class and in our history class.”
“Viviana is in your honors English class? That has to be a mistake. The girl can barely read a street sign,” I said.
“Well, if it was an error, I’m sure administration will catch it. Maybe that explains why she wasn’t in class today,” Keysha said. “Why she didn’t answer roll call.”
“Well, I know she came to school, which means she either ditched class or that administration caught their error and placed her into a basic English class,” I suggested.
“But that would not explain why she missed our history class, too,” Keysha reminded me.
“It’s not my job to worry about whether or not she comes to school. I couldn’t care less about her.” I was tired of devoting so much energy to the whereabouts of Viviana.
“Are you going to tell your parents that she wasn’t in class today?”
“No. They’ll send a letter home. She can explain then,” I said.
“Well, I’m going to head toward Wesley’s house. I just want to make sure he’s okay,” Keysha said.
“So what’s up with you two? Is it official? Is he your boo thang now?” I asked.
“For now we’re just good friends still.”
“What are you going to do if Lori comes back?” I asked.
“If he even thinks about saying so much as hello to her, then it’s over. We are very clear about Lori.”
“Just checking,” I said and left the subject of Lori and Wesley alone.
* * *
When I got home, Viviana was sitting at the kitchen table reading a social studies book. She briefly glanced up at me with hate ablaze in her eyes.
“Why weren’t you at school today?” I asked, just to be meddlesome.
“I was at school,” she answered.
“You weren’t in second period history or third period English,” I said just to let her know that I knew she had cut two classes.
“Who are you? Harriet the Spy?” Viviana asked condescendingly.
“You’re right. What do I care.” I chuckled and walked past her.
“Hey, Maya. Are you going to you
r room?”
“Yes. I’m going to chill out on my bed and do my homework.”
“Cool. Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” she said and laughed at me as if she knew something I didn’t.
I entered the bedroom and glanced around. I noticed that my laundry hamper was full and decided to do a load. I stood at my dresser and removed my jewelry. That’s when I noticed that the remaining itching powder packets were missing. I had stupidly left them out in plain sight. I had meant to get rid of what I didn’t use. Then I realized what Viviana had meant when she had said don’t let the bedbugs bite. I walked over to my bed and tossed back the comforter. I noticed the white powder on my purple sheets. Viviana had poured the itching powder on my bed. Then it dawned on me that she had probably missed class because she was itching. The thought of that made me smile.
I yanked all the sheets off the bed and took them down to the laundry room. Just before I was about to go into the basement, I stopped on the main floor and said, “Viviana, I’m about to wash my bedsheets. Do you have anything in the washer?”
“Why are you washing your bedsheets?” She rose from the kitchen table and positioned herself where I could see her.
“I like fresh sheets,” I said with a knowing grin.
“No. I don’t have anything in the washer,” she said and went back to her seat.
I smiled. I got nothing but joy out of letting her know that her prank had backfired. While my sheets were washing, I decided to take a shower. When I finished, I came back into my room, grabbed my scented lotion and began oiling my skin. I applied a healthy amount to my legs, arms and torso. I put on my pajamas and then headed down to the kitchen for something to drink. As I walked into the kitchen, I scratched the top of my hand. I pulled a glass down from the cupboard and filled it with crushed ice from the refrigerator.
“Did you take a shower?” Viviana asked.
“Yes. Why?” I asked.
“Did you wash your hair?”
“No,” I said, feeling as if she were prying. I filled my glass with water and headed out of the kitchen. Then it hit me like a blast of cold winter air. I began itching everywhere. Stomach, arms, legs, neck. I began twitching and dancing in place.