by L. Divine
“We were just starting. Come on in,” Mrs. Peterson says without looking up from her desk. I’m glad to know her rudeness extends to more people than just me. I was starting to take it personal. “Jayd, please summarize your report outline for us, and stand up so we can hear you loud and clear.”
“Okay,” I say, retrieving the paper from my notebook. Jeremy gives me a slight smile and I return the favor before pushing my seat back and rising to my feet. I want some peace from at least one of my recent exes, and I’m willing to meet him halfway. “My report is on the black queen of California, Califia.”
“Now hold on a minute,” Mrs. Peterson says, looking straight at me. “This report is on real government leaders, not fantasy, Jayd.” Mrs. Bennett looks amused at my embarrassment, but Mr. Adewale looks as if he knows who I’m talking about.
“It’s not fiction. She really did rule California, which literally translates to ‘the land where black women live.’ You can Google it and see for yourself,” I say. I first read about her as one of Mama’s she-roes in the spirit book, then I looked her up myself and found out more about her. The more I read, the more I wanted to know. “I intend to prove how her leadership was not only revolutionary, but also very effective and progressive.”
“Well, you will first have to prove she existed. I’ve never heard of an African American woman ruling anything, let alone California,” Mrs. Peterson says. Now, why is she going to make me go off on her in front of my new man? At least Mr. Adewale will know what he’s getting into before our impromptu wedding. Mrs. Jayd Adewale: it has a nice ring to it.
“Well, I didn’t say she was African American, especially since America didn’t exist yet,” I say, sending a chill through the class. Jeremy simply shakes his head and puts it down on his desk. He knows it’s about to go down. I guess all of that pride he had in me this time last week is gone. “And also, like the majority of our history, it’s been whited out.”
“Okay, Miss Jackson, that’s enough. You can stop showing off in front of our guest now,” Mrs. Peterson says, trying to quiet me down. But I’m not backing down. I have just as much of a right to do my report on Queen Califia as any of these other students in here have a right to choose their subjects.
“Well, I’m actually enjoying the discourse,” Mr. Adewale says, catching us all off guard. “Surely you’ve seen portraits of her mural in the state capitol building? I’ve read many reports on the black queen of California, but didn’t know it was mainstream knowledge.”
“It’s not,” Mrs. Peterson says, shocked at the possibility that I might know something she doesn’t. I hate when teachers think their knowledge reigns supreme over our puny teenage brains. Just then, this bonehead from the back of the room decides to take the conversation to a whole other level, silencing my own thoughts.
“Well if that’s the case, then why do minorities get all the breaks in this state? If it was ruled by one, shouldn’t that make the government even? I’m sick of paying into the welfare system with my taxes.” Oh no, he didn’t just go there with me. What is it with these privileged white kids? You’d think the money was coming straight out of their trust funds. It’s not. It’s coming from people who are themselves probably one paycheck away from being on welfare, like my mom or Mickey’s family or countless other people I know, none of whom have trust funds.
“Okay, let’s not go there,” Mrs. Peterson says, trying to regain control of the excited classroom. She picks up her book, using it like a gavel to get our attention. “Look, Jayd, if you can prove that she existed and indeed ruled something, then your report is accepted. Now, let’s move on.” Yeah, let’s. I hate when white people say the word black, even if they’re talking about a car. It just don’t sound right coming from their lips. But the word minority burns me even more. When did everyone but them become minor? I wish I could be as ruthless as Lady Macbeth sometimes. But instead I’ll follow Mama’s advice and be sweet, even if I’m the one it’s killing.
When I get to the drama room, the audition line is as long as all outside. This always happens, no matter the event. Everyone waits until the last call to sign up, always leaving the regulars wondering about the competition.
“Hey y’all,” I say to Matt, Seth, and Chance as I enter the crowded classroom-turned-judging headquarters. “What’s the word?”
“Sorry, Jayd. But your audition has been pushed back until tomorrow to allow for more guys to sign up. Right now, there are only two dudes trying out for Macbeth, and Mrs. Sinclair said that’s not going to work. So, we’re doing the minor parts today. But y’all are first up tomorrow.”
“But I’m ready today,” I say. I’ve been looking forward to this audition for over a week and I’m ready to claim my part. Alia waves at me from the long line outside. Judging from her outfit, I’d say she’s trying out for one of the witches.
“And you’ll be even more ready tomorrow, sweetie. Besides, it’ll give you two more time to rehearse,” Seth says, trying to console me. I guess I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to be all the bitch that I can be. But I know if Rah doesn’t stop blowing my phone up, he’s going to end up catching my wrath instead. Speaking of wrath, I wonder how Mama’s work is going. I could sure use some of her magic right now because my head is getting hot. Just when I think this audition can’t get any more inconvenient, Reid and Laura walk down the hill that separates the Drama Department from the rest of the campus to join the line of aspiring stars. What the hell?
“You’ll never guess who’s auditioning,” Nellie says as she joins Chance and me by the door. I knew Mickey wouldn’t venture down this far, not even to support her homegirl. Drama’s not her thing.
“Laura,” I say, beating her to the punch. I knew Laura would get the bug when it came to Shakespeare; all the conceited folks do. I guess drama’s cool as long as someone gets to play royalty.
“And Reid. They’re trying out for the lead roles. Mrs. Sinclair sent an announcement request around fourth period stating that we need more people to try out and ASB jumped on board.” Nellie still gets to hang out with the Homecoming crew, but she’s a lot wiser as to who her real friends are than before. I’m not surprised we missed the announcement. My math teacher rarely reads anything that comes in via a student.
“Unbelievable,” I say, stepping outside of the buzzing room to get some fresh air. One minute ASB’s making fun of us, and the next they want to be in one of our productions. They are the biggest hypocrites on campus by far.
“Girl, you know they don’t have a thing on us,” Chance says, joining me outside and putting his arm around my shoulders. Nellie walks up right beside him, staking her claim. “We got this, Lady J. It’s in the bag.” I’m glad Chance is sure because I feel like I’ve had the floor pulled right out from under me. I’m going to practice our scene when I get home to make sure my game is tight. But right now, I’ll enjoy watching the performances with the rest of the class as soon as the bell rings. Mrs. Sinclair always makes our assignment to observe and critique the auditions. So, I’ll have to wait to get home to perfect my own style, because I’ll be damned if Laura gets my part.
7
Once a Hater
“Go ahead and hate on me hater/ I’m not afraid of what I’ve gotta pay for.”
—JILL SCOTT
When I get home, Mama’s asleep in her room, so I head to the back to practice my lines before working on the rest of my homework and my spirit work. I stopped at Rosa’s Cantina and picked up a burrito and finished most of it on the way home. After working straight through the night, I knew Mama wouldn’t be cooking anyone’s dinner.
I find a quiet corner in the back by the spirit room and get into character, with Lexi as my audience. I turned my phone off to avoid the constant stream of text messages coming in from Rah. Apparently, he didn’t come to campus after Nigel delivered my message. I hope he gets it this time before I have to tell him myself. I’ve been saying my lines repeatedly in my head all day long, but delivering them t
akes another level of intimacy and I need my leading man to practice with.
Chance is good when it comes to the fun performances, but dramatic theater is not really his thing, even if I think he’s good at it. He’s not trying his hardest with the male lead role and I want only the female lead—no smaller parts will do. So if I want to shine, I’m going to have to be perfect and that means making the judges see me as a sinister old woman, trying to convince her husband to murder the king.
“ ‘They have made themselves, and that their fitness now does unmake you,’”I begin, trying to block out Chance’s near-smiling face in my head. Every time I begin my part in our dialogue, he wants to laugh. He says I turn into another person and he can’t help but react. I can’t control his reaction; I just have to learn not to let his silliness be my weakness.
“ ‘I have given suck and know how tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me.’ ” This part of the scene always creeps me out. How could any woman ever think of killing a child, especially her own, for a crown? I mimic the movements of a mother breastfeeding her baby and continue in character to deliver my lines. “ ‘I would, while it was smiling in my face, have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums and dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you have done to this,’” I say, feeling the power of Lady Macbeth’s words to her husband. Damn, this chick was cold.
“You sound just like that witch,” Mama says, sneaking up on me. Lexi didn’t warn me that anyone was approaching; her loyalty lies to Mama and Mama alone.
“Hey, Mama. I’m just rehearsing my lines for the school play,” I say, dropping Lady Macbeth’s stance and relaxing my body to receive her hug. “I’m glad to see you got some rest.”
“Yes, child. As soon as you left for school I went down, and I’m just now getting up. That eye satchel you made for me is still working, girl. You’ve got the touch, chile,” she says, eyeing the three cats across the yard. I’m glad Mama likes my work.
“How did they like the cupcakes and milk?” I ask, still envious of their morning treat.
“They ate it all up like it was the best thing they’d ever tasted. Esmeralda never was a very good cook,” Mama says, locking onto the cats’ gaze with her green eyes. The cats all return her gaze, their eyes turning from hazel to mirror her green. How is she doing that?
“Mama, what are you doing?” I ask, a little freaked out by the extent of her powers. I know there’s a lot I don’t understand about Mama’s gift of sight and I don’t know how ready I am to find it all out just yet. When my mom found out, she wrote about it in her journal, but not in depth. She just said she never wanted to see Mama get mad again—ever—and that was all she wrote.
“I’m borrowing the cats’ eyes, Jayd. You should try it sometime; it’s quite entertaining,” she says, her gaze still locked on the feline trio. “The sweets were an offering to them, to make them loyal to me rather than their master. It’s only temporary, but it’s all I need to see what’s going on in that house.”
“What did you find out?” I ask, still amazed at Mama’s talents. I wonder what that recipe’s called and how many other vision sweets there are.
“Well, Esmeralda has some new house pets and she also has some new clientele in her phonebook. And she’s also one of those Internet psychics. If people only knew what they were getting into with that woman.” Speak of the devil, Esmeralda comes out of her house, breaking Mama’s connection with the feline traitors. I wonder how long the influence will last.
“Lynn Mae, you stay away from my cats,” she hisses, storming across her backyard to the gate dividing her lawn from ours.
“Stay away from my family,” Mama says, now focusing her gaze on the real enemy. The cats crawl inside, looking like they’re high and heavy. That’s what Mama’s cooking will do even when it’s not spiked. “I tell you that every time you pull this shit, Esmeralda. When are you going to learn your lesson?”
“Ha! Who died and made you queen?” she says, more boisterous than usual. I’m trying not to look at her, but I feel her pulling me with her eyes. My headache has returned in full force and Mama, sensing my discomfort, delivers the final blow for the evening.
“Maman Marie did! Ase,” Mama says, calling on our ancestor whose name demands respect from everyone who hears it. “Now get back in the house and leave us alone before you get into something you can’t get out of, Esmeralda.” Not challenging Mama’s claim, Esmeralda releases her intense look on me and finally retreats back into the house. I wish she’d take my headache with her.
“Are you okay, Jayd?” Mama says, coming to my aid as I hold my head in my hands. “Come on, let’s get you some tea to soothe your head.” Mama leads me to the spirit room, opening the door and sitting me down on one of the stools.
“Mama, what’s really going on between you two?” I say, understanding that this is bigger than some neighborly quarrel.
“Well, you know Esmeralda and I were friends. But the truth is, we were more like sisters,” she says, taking a spoonful of dry herbs out of one of the glass canisters on the counter. “We were initiated into the religion together.”
“It’s always the ones closest to you.” I’ve learned that the hard way over the years, especially where my ex-best friend turned enemy Misty’s concerned. If she didn’t know so much about me, she wouldn’t be such a lethal threat, much like Esmeralda is to Mama.
“Ain’t that the truth.” As we wait for the water to boil, Mama instinctively begins to straighten up the already immaculate kitchen. “But with Esmeralda it was different. She was my godsister in the religion. Granted, she had her clients and I had mine, but we were always in sync, until I left and came here with your grandfather. But her jealousy had already started to unravel our friendship. When she followed me here it just got worse.”
“Why can’t you come up with some way to get her to move?” I say, taking the Mason jar full of honey and the spoon she hands to me. She fills the mug with water and passes the hot elixir to me, and I stir in the honey, allowing the vapors to penetrate my skin. I already feel the headache moving to the back of my skull.
“Because that’s not how I work. I’ve always prided myself on being the opposite of what I consider to be evil.” Mama sits down on a stool opposite me, watching me stir a second spoonful of honey into my tea. “Esmeralda uses manipulation to gain an advantage over her victims.”
“But Mama, you just turned her cats against her. I’m not saying it’s the same as people, but still,” I say, sipping the brew and silencing myself. Mama looks at me and smiles, ready to break it down like only she can.
“When someone attacks your family, Jayd, all rules are malleable,” she says, pulling the overstuffed spirit book from the far end of the table toward her, opening it to the recipe she used for the cats’ breakfast. I still haven’t looked up my mom’s special tea, but I will as soon as I get a chance. “Unlike Esmeralda, our incantations are always pleasant and temporary and always for the greater good,” Mama says, reading the ingredients and smiling.
“I feel you, Mama.” And I do. I love the fact that we have an inside scoop on asking nature to work to our advantage.
“Yes, but even more so, you need to feel yourself, Jayd. You can’t allow her to get to you. That’s your weakness. Until you can keep certain folks out of your head, you need to learn how to ignore them.” In both the theater and real life, allowing other people power over my emotions leads to my downfall. Mama’s right, I need to tighten my A game and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Misty wasn’t on the bus this morning, so I had no distractions to practice ignoring. I wonder if she got a ride with someone. I’ll have to wait until I get to school to practice my new skill of ignoring irritating people. I can’t wait to practice it on Chance during the auditions. I’m not letting him—or anyone else—distract me today.
“Hey Jayd, want some company?” Nigel says, walking me down the hill toward the drama room. He knows damn well I don’t need an escort; he’s neve
r offered before. This must be another mission on Rah’s behalf and I’m tiring of his crusade.
“I know what you’re going to say and I don’t have time for it right now. I’m already nervous about my audition and I don’t need anything else to think about.” Which is why I’ve had my phone off all day. I’ll deal with Rah when all of this is over.
“Who are you auditioning for, Ms. Cleo?” he says, pulling me by the arm, forcing me to come to a halt.
“Nigel, I don’t have time for this. I have to go before they call our names,” I say. Chance is already down there with the rest of the drama crew. Yesterday’s auditions have been the talk of the campus because the witches were funny as hell. I know Alia made one of the three parts hers. All of the other female roles were so minor I don’t even remember who all auditioned. But today is the big one and the competition vibe is definitely in the air.
“Just a second. Now, you’ve given our boy the cold shoulder long enough, Jayd. When are you going to return his messages?”
“When I’m ready,” I say, snatching my arm away from his and moving on. “I’ll see him this weekend, Nigel. Until then, let me be, please.” I can’t stay mad at Rah forever, but I can at least drag it out until I have a little more time to think. Right now, I have to make these folks see that William wrote this part just for me.
To my surprise, Ms. Toni is seated as one of the judges. I guess the ASB had to have representation from someone in its camp to make it all seem fair. Well, this may be good for the clique, but not for Chance. Ms. Toni doesn’t care for him too much and I know she won’t be able to see him as Macbeth. I hope she doesn’t penalize me for auditioning with him.