by Ni-Ni Simone
Nobody even responded to that. Instead, we walked up the driveway and into the small brick house, where a live DJ rocked the mic, the music was jumpin’ and people were e’rywhere. Some dancin’, some drinkin’, and some just kickin’ it.
“My man, Fifty Grand! Li’l Herman!” came from behind us.
Brooklyn.
I didn’t turn around. There was no way I could. I wasn’t ready to face him yet.
I needed a mirror and a moment to get myself together.
Quickly, I walked away from my crew in search of the bathroom. After making a quick right down the hall, I found it, rushed in, and fell against the back of the door.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Chill.
You gon’ really need to get yourself together. You cannot stop breathin’ e’rytime Brooklyn walks into the room. One day you gon’ pass out. Plus, he ain’t even all that.
Lies.
I looked at myself in the mirror, brushed a few strands of flying stray hair out of my face and tucked it back in its place. Refreshed my lip gloss. Then said to myself, “Just go out there, act like you have some sense, and say, ‘Brooklyn, does that date still stand?’ ”
No, that sounds stupid.
I got it. Say, “You wanna hang out?”
Ugh. That sounds even dumber.
“Just say . . .”
Someone pounded on the door.
“I’m coming,” I said. I shook my head and took one last peek in the mirror. “I don’t know what I’m going to say, but I’ma say something.”
I opened the door and some eye-rollin’ heifer stood there. Whatever. I ignored her, kept walkin’ and slam!
God must hate me.
I’d marched right into Brooklyn, practically knocked out his heartbeat.
He looked down. “Bricks?” He paused and my eyes drew in his fly red Adidas sweat suit, gold dookey rope chain, and Stan Smith Adidas sneakers. He continued. “Hey, I thought that was you out there, but you walked away so fast, I wasn’t sure.”
“Oh, for real?” I wondered if I sounded as crazy as I felt. “I didn’t even see you. So, umm, what are you doin’ here? Were you at the concert?”
“Fa’sho’ I was at the concert. Li’l Herman told me he got y’all in. I was hoping we would meet up and I’d get to see you. Especially since you’re up in here, looking fine as wine.”
Dear God. I loooooove his southern accent. I swear country boys are better than Ms. Glo’s pancakes.
He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Lookin’ all purty.”
I sighed, seconds away from takin’ my hands and making a heart symbol.
Okay, Jesus. Work with me. Please help me to sound just as chill as he does. “Appreciate you peepin’ that,” I said.
Shoot me now. Why did I say that? Ugh! Just smile and figure out a way to say, “I wanna kick it sometime.”
He laughed. “So thank you is not an option, huh?”
“Thank you for what?” I paused. “Oh, wait. No I didn’t mean to say it like that. I meant thank you; you look nice too.”
You are dying by the moment. Just tell him! Tell! Him! “Brooklyn, I umm was wonderin’ if, umm, we could—. . .”
“Oh, here you are,” came from behind us.
I turned around.
It was some strange chick invading our moment.
I turned back to Brooklyn and said, “So I was thinkin’ that we should . . .”
“Brooklyn, I was looking all over for you.” The girl walked around and stood next to him.
Oh, hell no! I gave this tramp the gas face. “Is this how they do rudeness in the south?” I said to the girl. “I know you heard us having an A-B conversation. So you really need to see your way out of it. Unless of course, you two are booed up or somethin’?” I looked dead into Brooklyn’s face and waited for an answer.
“I’m sorry,” the girl said. “I’m Jacinda.”
Oh, that would be a yes, they’re together.
Jacinda continued. “I didn’t catch your name.”
And that would be a hell, yes.
She held out her hand.
Trick, you’ll find a bridge and a strong wind before I’ll ever shake your hand.
I left her hangin’.
“This is Bricks,” Brooklyn said, his eyes bright, like he was seconds from smiling.
Bricks? Boy, don’t you ever call me Bricks again!
“Yvette,” I corrected him. “My name is Yvette.”
“Oh, okay. That’s sweet,” Jacinda said sounding completely fake.
Man-eater, I wasn’t talkin’ to you!
Chill. Let it go and let her live.
I shot a glance over at the tramp. “Well, I’ma let y’all get back to ya li’l date.” I turned around.
“Bricks,” Brooklyn called, “wait!”
I wish the hell I would.
Seconds later, I stood in the middle of the crowded living room floor looking for a way to melt into the carpet. “Did you see Brooklyn?” Tasha asked, as she and Reesie rushed over to me.
“We just saw him!” Reesie said. “And he was here with some punk-rock, Breakfast Club lookin’ ho. I was like, oh hellll nooooo, not today! I gotta find my girl. Now tell me do you wanna jump this trick, ’cause Tasha ain’t gave a good bitch-slap in a minute.”
Tasha blinked. “Why are you keeping track of my bitch slaps?”
Reesie carried on. “I’m just sayin’. Or, Yvette, we could get Ebony to go outside and slash Brooklyn’s tires. ’Cause I know, for sure, she’s got a box cutter in her purse. After all, she lives in the projects. Or you wanna just chill and move on? ’Cause truthfully, Brooklyn ain’t worth the drama. And I don’t think he’s cute. I think he’s okay. But you’re my girl, so if you wanna roll, just let me know. ’Cause I’m the friend who’s gon’ stand back, watch y’all duke it out and make sure don’t nobody else get in it.”
“Negative to all of that,” I said. “If I wanted to gun for that trick, I would’ve already taken her down and had her wonderin’ what happened. But I’m not that interested.” I looked over to Tasha. “We need to get ready to go.”
“What?” She looked taken aback. “We just got here. I know you upset because of Brooklyn and all but don’t put the brakes on me. Li’l Herman is about to be captain of my week.”
“Did you forget that we have a curfew? I’m not tryna mess that up. You can make Li’l Herman captain tomorrow.”
“Would you chill?” Tasha snapped.
“Both y’all got a point though,” Reesie said. “’Cause y’all know Ms. Glo is crazy. She don’t play that. But on the other hand, Yvette, you sound a li’l green right now. Just a li’l bit.”
“Whatever. I’m just sayin’ we need to roll,” I answered.
“Stop being so uptight,” Tasha insisted.
“I’m not bein’ uptight. I just don’t want any problems.”
Tasha huffed. “Look, Aunty Glo will be sleeping when we get in anyway. She sleeps hard as hell, and she won’t even know what time we get home.”
I didn’t say a word; I just shot her a look.
“Oh wait,” Reesie said, “somebody pause the world, honey. I have spotted a cutie and he is looking this way. Yvette, you gon’ have to take this one for the team.”
Tasha whined, “Yvette, I promise we won’t get into any trouble. I’m just tryna have a good time, and you should too. Lottie looked like he was interested in you; maybe you should see what’s up with him.”
“Lottie? I don’t like him.”
“Well, find you something to do like, ’cause I need to find Li’l Herman and get my dance on.”
“Tasha, we need to be leavin’ in an hour.”
“Yeah, an hour,” she agreed.
“I’m serious. One hour; then we need to jet.”
“Bet,” she said and took off, leaving me standing in the middle of the floor lookin’ lost.
Two hours later
I needed a cigarette.
Newport.
Extra Menthol.
And a Forty.
Ole English.
Straight to the head.
Tasha was actin’ shot out over Li’l Herman. The same dude who just the other day in class she didn’t care if he was on fire; now he was lightin’ her world.
Reesie was hugged up with some break dancer.
Ebony kicked it with an up-and-coming rapper named Black Conscious.
Brooklyn was slow draggin’ with the ugly trick he brought to the party.
Me?
I just sat there. On the couch, next to some stutterin’ sweat monster who had attempted to ask me to dance five times to four different songs, from Planet Rock to Cool G. Rap. Now EPMD’s “You Gots to Chill” played and he was at it again.
“Caaaaaaa . . .”
Ugh!
“IIIIIIIIIIII . . .”
I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. “You wanna dance?”
He smiled. “Yaaaaa.”
“Come on.”
I got up, determined to make the best out of this moment. I moved my shoulders and just as I picked up a sweet beat with my feet, whyyyyyy did this fool break out into a Michael Jackson kick and scream, “Ah hee-hee?!”
What the? I took a step back, ’cause in a minute his fly-in’ kick was gon’ knock me in the face.
I was still tryna groove, though. Plus, my girls were all sayin’, “Go ’head, Yvette! Work it out!” So I was tryna show ’em a li’l Jersey style.
Failed.
’Cause this fool started backin’ it up and doin’ Da Butt.
And what did I do? Left him standin’ right there while I walked back over to the dead corner of the room and took a seat on the plastic-covered red velour couch.
“That your dude?” Brooklyn asked, walking over to me.
“Is that your girl?” I snapped.
“My girl?” he asked, taken aback.
“Don’t act surprised. Y’all was extra cuddled up over by the bathroom. And all that bumpin’ and grindin’ you two did across the floor was ridiculous.”
“We weren’t cuddled up, and we weren’t bumpin’ and grindin’ across the dance floor. Anyway, why would you care so much?”
“I don’t. I’m just sayin’ maybe you two need a short stay. Go get you a motel room or somethin’; just get outta my face with it.”
He laughed. “Bricks, you buggin’. I asked you out. You turned me down and when I asked you why, you told me ‘Cause.’ So I figured if cause was a good enough reason for you not to go out with me, then it was a good enough reason for me not to sweat you about it.”
“I didn’t ask you to sweat me!”
“Anybody ever tell you that you’re cute when you get mad?” he said.
“Anybody ever tell you that homegirl is across the room, lookin’ for you, again.”
He turned around, and as he held up his index finger for her to give him a moment, I walked away.
Another hour passed. The party was still goin’ strong, and Tasha begged for fifteen more minutes.
I was fallin’ asleep and was slowly dissolving into this couch’s plastic cover. I lifted one thigh to get it unstuck, and I swore it sounded just like a record had screeched. Lifted the other thigh; now two records screeched. “What’s wrong, my party’s boring you?”
Lottie.
“At this moment, it’s not the party. It’s your couch. It’s eating me,” I said.
He laughed. “Come over here and let’s sit at the bar.” He pointed into the dining room, where he had a full-service glass bar. “You might be a little more comfortable over there.”
I agreed.
“So, what are you drinking?” Lottie asked, as I hopped up on the barstool.
“Nothin’. I’m cool,” I said.
“You have to let me get you a drink. It’s the least I can do. I’ve been around here all night, making connections for my music, and all I really wanted to do was get at you. So tell me, what you want, a glass of wine?”
“I’m cool, seriously. Plus, I’m only in high school,” I said, strugglin’ to sound innocent, like I’d never had a drink before.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Sixteen.”
“As pretty as you are, I thought you were at least twenty.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right. How old are you?” I asked. He didn’t look a day over seventeen. And with the exception of the seven inches of hair stacked on top of his fade, he wasn’t that much taller than me and he was boney.
He said, “I’m twenty-five.”
Twenty-five? I’m so tired of these old men. Where is Tasha?
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” he asked. “Let me get you a soda or something.”
“Really, it’s okay.”
“You’re breaking my heart.”
“I don’t mean to. I’m just tired. And ready for my friend, Tasha, to come on so we can go.”
Lottie looked at his watch. “Already? It’s just a few minutes after midnight.”
“But I need to get home.”
“Y’all look cute,” Tasha said, walking over and pressing her shoulder into mine.
“We need to get ready to go,” I said.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “In a minute.” She started to dance. “Come on Li’l Herman; this is my jam!”
Lottie smiled and I sighed.
“Well,” Lottie said, “I guess at least I’ll get another minute.”
“Yeah, seems so,” I answered.
“So, you go to school with my cousin?” he asked.
“Yeah. Me and my daughter just moved here not too long ago.”
“Oh, you have a daughter?” He looked shocked. “Word?”
“Yeah.”
“How old?” he asked.
“Two.”
He paused. “How old are you again?”
“Sixteen.”
“Wow, you had her at fourteen.”
I nodded.
“Still with her father?”
“No.” I think I said that a little too fast.
“And from the way you said that, I guess you ain’t never goin’ back.”
“Never.” I smiled. “So what about you? Since you all up in my B.I., what’s up with you? You got a girlfriend?”
“Nah. I’m single.”
“Ai’ight,” I said, as Luther Vandross’s “If This World Were Mine” played. “I love this song!” I swayed in my seat.
“Well, I guess this dance is on me.” Lottie took my hand and we danced until we couldn’t dance anymore. Then we laughed, joked, and chilled, until the night rolled into the morning, and the sun made its way into the sky.
25
Five . . . Four . . . Three . . . Two . . . One . . .
Time’s up.
I walked into Ms. Glo’s living room and saw Janette, my social worker, sitting on the couch, waitin’ for me.
The look on Ms. Glo’s face was more than pissed; it was disappointed. Disappointed that I’d came in here a screwup, and a month later, was gon’ leave out one.
Ms. Glo looked at Tasha. “Go to your room.” She turned to me. “Yvette, you stay right there.”
“Aunty Glo,” Tasha said, her eyes pleading for understanding.
“Did you hear what I said?” Ms. Glo said sternly.
“Yes, ma’am, but . . .”
“I said go.”
Tasha tossed me a pitiful eye, then dragged to her room.
This was it.
I would never be more than I was at this moment.
I should beg her to let me stay.
No.
Beggin’ don’t work. It never convinced Mommy to stay.
You going back to jail...
Officer Washington.
Kamari in foster care.
Nana.
Stick.
You ain’t gon’ never be shit.
Flip.
I got some rock to make you feel better.
Tears filled my eyes.
> You better not cry.
You better not drop one tear.
I couldn’t help it and before I could save my pride from the embarrassment of desperation I said, “I’m sorry, Ms. Glo. I didn’t mean to stay out all night.”
“Be quiet,” Ms. Glo said.
I couldn’t be quiet. I had to explain. “We were at the concert, but the promoter had an after-party. And we were only supposed to be there for a while. But one thing led to another, and another thing led to this morning and . . .”
Janette jumped up. “Yvette! What were you doing staying out all night? Were you drinking? Doing drugs?”
“It’s my fault!” Tasha rushed into the living room. “I was the one who said we should stay. Yvette wanted to go. And no she wasn’t high or drunk; it wasn’t that kind of party.”
“Young lady,” Janette said, “I’m speaking to Yvette.” She looked at me. “Yvette?”
“No, I wasn’t doing any of that!” I said.
Janette tapped her foot and shook her head in disgust. “This is it. You have to go. You cannot stay here. This is a violation. Flat-out against the rules.” She looked at Ms. Glo. “You told me you sent her to the store early this morning. Why did you tell me that?”
“Because I knew what would happen if I didn’t tell you something. So now you know the truth. But I think you’re overreacting.”
“I’m not overreacting! Yvette, go pack yours and Kamari’s things. I have to call the office. This isn’t the right place for you two.”
I didn’t move.
“Look,” Ms. Glo said to Janette. “When you all called me and asked me to take Yvette, I said yes, because I felt like I could help her. I never expected her to be perfect. And I didn’t know you expected perfection either. Yeah, she screwed up. So what? You’ve never messed up before? Your visit was unexpected; otherwise, she would have been here.”
“She should have been here whether she knew I was coming or not. She’s a mother!” Janette looked at me. “And a mother doesn’t abandon her child for a party!”
“Hold on here!” Ms. Glo was pissed. “She didn’t abandon her child! I was here with Kamari; and furthermore, Yvette’s a child. Did you forget that? Is there any room in your rulebook for her to be one? Now I know you have a job to do, but I’m asking you to leave her here with me, because if you take her and that baby out of here today, we will lose both of them to the streets. Is that what you want? Can you live with that?”