by L. Divine
“Not for long,” Laura says, her eyes red from crying. I didn’t realize she was that upset. “You got the part because you are the drama department’s little token black girl and everyone knows it.”
“What have you been smoking, white girl?” Mickey says, ready to get up in Laura’s face. But I’ve got this one.
“First of all, don’t you ever come at me for being the only black girl in drama, because that was certainly not by my design,” I say, ready to slap her myself. But I’ve done enough hitting this week. I need to try and reason with this chick, if not for myself then for the production. “And second of all, but most important, I got the part because I’m a better actor than you—plain and simple. So don’t get mad at me because you aren’t going to be in the play.”
“Oh, but I am in the play,” Laura says, wiping the smile clean off of my face. “I’m not only one of the maidservants who gets killed in the beginning, but I also get the pleasure of being your understudy.” Damn, this isn’t getting any better for me. I guess what they say about being careful what you wish for applies in every situation.
“Well, study hard,” Mickey says. “Maybe you’ll learn something.” And with that last sass, Mickey struts back up the hill as the bell for fifth period rings, causing everyone who doesn’t have stage production or drama class to race toward the main campus.
“We’ll catch up after school, Jayd,” Nellie says before giving Chance a kiss and following the crowd. “I’m sure Mickey wouldn’t mind dropping you off on your special day.”
“I heard that,” Mickey yells, almost at the top of the hill. “What have I told you about offering my services without my consent? I’m going to start charging you every time you do that shit,” Mickey says. But her nod tells me that she’s cool with the slight inconvenience and I know her man’s still got her on a tight leash, so I ain’t tripping no way. Besides, I need to get my girl’s advice about how to handle things with Rah before he picks me up from school tomorrow. Knowing him, he hasn’t let a little thing like me not talking to him sway him from his desire to see me, and he knows I would appreciate a ride to my mom’s for the weekend.
“Settle down, class, settle down,” Mrs. Sinclair says as we take our seats and get ready for the play schedule and announcements to begin. “We have special guests today and will be sharing our fifth period with them for the next four weeks. Please welcome Ms. Toni and her ASB class.” What! Now we have to be in class with them? This is just too much for me to take.
“Hello class, and thank you for sharing your space with us,” Ms. Toni says as her small class fills in the remainder of the seats. “It’s going to be tight in here for the month, but we are determined to make this work,” she says, sitting in a seat not far from mine and returning the floor to Mrs. Sinclair. It’s nice to see two teachers who get along.
“Okay, I know you’re wondering why we are joining forces,” she says. I can’t speak for everyone in the room, but I know I am. “Well, the truth is, students and teachers alike have a lot of ongoing activities after school. So, we thought it would be best to join forces and hold mandatory lunch and fifth period rehearsals.” Wow, they are serious about this festival. It’s really not that big of a deal to the students. But I guess these types of events bring in big bucks for the organizations and props for the teachers, too.
“But Mrs. S,” Chance says. I knew he was going to have a problem with lunch rehearsals. He barely comes to the meetings we hold during that time. I know he can’t do rehearsals every day. “What about food? A brotha’s got to eat.”
“Don’t worry, Chance,” she says, rolling her eyes and giving him a slight smile. She’s the tiniest white woman with the biggest red hair I’ve ever seen. “We’re having the rehearsals catered by the Booster Club, so thank your parents when you get home for their ongoing support. Now, Seth, the folders please.” Mama would never give her hard-earned money to these rich kids to have their lunches catered and neither would my mom or dad.
Seth passes out the thick packets with our scripts, schedules and contact sheets for the cast members, all enclosed in a black and silver personalized Macbeth folder: another gift from the boosters. As the class and guests alike get acquainted with the information, I decide to holla at Ms. Toni. The only benefit from this arrangement—aside from the obvious time advantage—is that I’ll get to have her in my class.
“Hey Ms. Toni,” I say, hugging her around the neck before taking the empty seat next to hers. “So what do you know about Mr. Adewale?”
“Well, hello to you too, Miss Hottie,” she says, laughing at my unsubtle approach. “Don’t even think about it, Jayd. You know he’s too old for you.” Man, she can kill a dream quick.
“I know that. But a girl can fantasize, can’t she?” I say. And fantasize about him I do. He looks like a younger, slightly shorter Gary Dourdan, dimples included. Only difference is that Mr. Adewale’s got dreads, like Gary on A Different World back in the day. I hope he teaches in the AP courses.
“No. If he gets the position here, girls are going to be all over him,” she says, as serious as a heart attack. “You’ve got to promise me you won’t be one of his groupies, Jayd. All the young brotha needs is controversy.” Ms. Toni’s right. I’ll just have to wait until I graduate to holla at the new teacher.
“Okay, I promise. But don’t be mad if I end up his favorite student,” I say, still excited about seeing him every day. “So when does he start, what’s he teaching? Come on, I want the entire scoop.”
“He’s starting as soon as Mrs. Peterson retires and will be a rotating substitute until then. He’s teaching Honors Spanish and AP Government, and the rest is none of your business.”
“So, I get to have him for a teacher? Oh, this day just took a turn for the better,” I say. The news of Mrs. Peterson leaving soon alone is enough to get me hyped. I have to get to work on something that will help get her out of the picture that much sooner.
“Okay, let’s get started on our first read-through,” Mrs. Sinclair says, rounding up the class for our first official rehearsal. I can’t wait to tell Mickey and Nellie the good news about our latest addition at South Bay. I know they’ll be just as excited as I am about the new black man joining our campus. Maybe he can be a good example and show our dudes how to behave.
“Jayd, are you serious? You’re excited about a new teacher? Girl, please. You need to get over this school love affair and soon,” Mickey says, sucking on her lollipop as we cruise down the 91 freeway, almost to my exit. “What you need to do is get excited about the fact that Rah broke up with his girl for you. Now, that’s some news.”
“He didn’t break up with her, Mickey. He told her he wanted to have an open relationship. That’s still a relationship, Mickey, and I’m tired of settling for his shit. I’d rather be alone any day than be one of many.”
“I hear you, girl,” Nellie says, taking her head out of her book long enough to comment. “I think he’ll value you more if you stand up for your principles now,” she says, sounding like one of the shrinks on Oprah.
“Where’d you get that from?” Mickey says, looking at her copilot like she just farted. “And what are you reading now? Some self-help mumbo jumbo again?”
“Actually, it’s one of two books about why men fall for—for lack of a better word—bitches,” Nellie says, like she’s just introduced an etiquette book to us.
“You don’t need any more lessons in that department,” Mickey says, and she’s right. Nellie’s the biggest bitch of us all and she’s good at it.
“It’s not about being that kind of bitch,” Nellie says, not even ashamed of her title. “It’s about empowering yourself in relationships with men. There are a bunch of rules about what to do in certain situations, but the gist is that the bitch keeps dudes guessing, never settling for less than what she deserves.”
“Well, I agree with that approach wholeheartedly. Where’d you get that book?” I ask. The look on Nellie’s face tells me I don’t want
to know the answer.
“Where’d you get it from, girl?” Mickey asks, oblivious to Nellie’s expression. As she exits on Central Avenue, Nellie gets quiet and stares out the window.
“I got it from Tania,” she says, immediately discrediting everything she’s said in Mickey’s mind. But, I’m still feeling the book.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, Mickey,” I say, making light of the fact that Nellie left us behind to hang with the popular chicks when she was crowned homecoming princess a few weeks ago. But that’s all over now and good information is good information, no matter where it comes from.
“I’m not shooting anyone and I damn sure don’t want to hear about nothing that heffa recommended. Who are you, president of the bitch book club?” Mickey’s right, Tania was a heffa. But she was also good at getting what she wanted and I don’t mind learning the craft from others. I don’t want to manipulate like she did, but I do want to know how to get what I want and keep a man’s respect, always. Unlike Misty, I’m not willing to give my entire self to a dude, and that type of behavior doesn’t seem to keep them interested for too long anyway.
“Hell no. As a matter of fact, I forgot I had the books until I cleaned off my desk yesterday. Now I can’t put it down,” Nellie says, turning the pages in fascination.
“Well, what does it say about getting a man to understand why second isn’t best?” I say, ready to get out of the car and start dinner for Mama. She already told me what to do this morning because she had to get her nails done this afternoon. She’s been after Netta to get a manicurist, but knows Netta likes being the only hen in the henhouse.
“I’m telling you, girl, you have to read this for yourself. But like I said, stick to your guns, Jayd. If you’re not comfortable with the idea of him dating both you and Trish out in the open then say something,” Nellie says, bringing up a good point—and I know Mickey caught that.
“Yeah Jayd, you have to ask yourself why it was okay to be with him when he was exclusive with Trish, but now that he’s opened the playing field up to include you in it, you’re retreating,” Mickey says. Leave it to her to give me counseling using a game analogy.
“Well, first of all I was never cool about being the chick on the side,” I say, putting my backpack on my back, ready to push Nellie’s seat forward and exit the classic vehicle. Mary J. is softly playing in the background, but the bass is still strong enough to shake her trunk. “And, second of all, he’s not opening up anything. He’s just having his cake and eating it too, all while advertising it.”
“She’s right, Mickey,” Nellie says, not looking up from her studies, but still chiming in on our conversation. “If Rah really wanted Jayd, he’d break up with Trish completely and wouldn’t want to see anyone but Jayd. Now that’s a compliment. Making her the honorary second wifey isn’t.” Damn, she said it so much better than I could have.
“Was that in the book?” I say, teasing my homegirl while pushing her seat forward as she opens the passenger door. “I’ve got to pick up a copy of that one.”
“Yeah girl, you do,” she says, showing me the front cover. “Why Men Love Bitches is only the first one. Tania was on the second, Why Men Marry Bitches, when she snagged her hubby. And look at her now.”
“Yeah, she’s the biggest bitch out there,” Mickey says. “She should get some sort of royalties on these books.”
“She may be, but you can’t front. The girl’s a survivor. Not a nice one, but a survivor nonetheless. I don’t know about y’all, but if I’m going to be a bitch, that’s the kind I want to be,” Nellie says as she closes her door. While I wave goodbye to my girls, my phone sings “Ghetto Story,” signaling a call from Rah. I’m still not ready to talk to him. I love him so much most of the time, but he works my nerves like no other boy ever has. When will this love thing get easy?
9
A Thin Line
“It’s a thin line between love and hate/ I didn’t think my woman could do something like this to me.”
—THE PERSUADERS
After a long day of testing and turning in crap, I’m ready to go to my mom’s house and chill. I have to admit, I’m excited to see Rah today. He texted me at lunch to let me know he’d be about twenty minutes late. I’m sure it has something to do with Trish. And that thought alone makes me not want to see him. I never know how to feel about being one of Rah’s girls. I’m going to tell him I think we’re better off as friends for real this time.
“Did you have a nice week, Jayd?” Mrs. Bennett asks, catching me off guard as she strolls past my locker toward the main office. She gives me the creeps.
“I did,” I say, not wanting to engage her in conversation, but I don’t want to give her anything else to hold against me either.
“I’m sorry that your relationship with Jeremy failed,” she says, pausing for a second to let her words sink in. This bitch better not ever catch herself around me off campus. “Maybe next time you’ll try listening to your elders,” she says, repeating Esmeralda’s words almost verbatim. Mama says there are no coincidences and the hairs standing on the back of my neck says this is no exception.
“What did you just say to me?” I turn completely around, slam my locker door shut and step up closer to her. She smells like coffee and cat hair. I’ve never noticed how blue her eyes are until now.
“Now, now Jayd. This abrasive attitude of yours is just what got you in trouble last time and the reason why Jeremy lost interest in you so soon, or so I hear.” Just then, Rah walks into the hall, momentarily distracting me from this witch’s words.
“It’s been real,” I say, walking past her toward Rah, who is waiting by the main office. As usual, his timing is impeccable. One minute more and I may not have been able to hold my tongue. Mrs. Bennett’s got her nerve talking to me like that. She’s always up in my business.
“Well, you move on rather quickly don’t you, Jayd? I knew you were fast, but I never took you for easy.” I stop in my tracks, smile at Rah, who knows it’s not for him but gives me a look back indicating he’s got my vibe, and turn around to look Mrs. Bennett dead in her cold aqua eyes. I know I could take her if I had to. We’re about the same height and weight. It would be a fair fight if she weren’t my elder. But I’ll never give her the satisfaction of having me arrested for harassing a teacher, no matter how wicked she is.
“Easy is as easy does,” I say, resuming my quick pace while wiping the sinister grin off of her face. The sooner I get off this campus, the better.
“What was that all about?” Rah asks, taking my backpack off of my shoulder and following me out of the buzzing hall.
“Mrs. Bennett’s just hating, that’s all,” I say, not wanting to talk about her anymore. All Rah and I need is another argument about Jeremy. Sometimes I wonder why it’s never easy in a relationship. No matter the guy, there always seems to be drama. I thought I loved Jeremy and KJ, but they both turned out to be jerks. And what I thought was love turned out to be something else completely. And then there’s Rah who, regardless of the year, always finds his way into my heart no matter how many times he breaks it. I wish I could cross that thin line from loving him to hating him, but I don’t know if I could ever truly hate Rah.
“Oh, aite,” he says, pushing the office door open in front of me, allowing me to step outside. The afternoon sun feels good on my face, even in the crisp November air. I’m always hot after dancing in sixth period, so I’m grateful for the chill. “Are you hungry?” Rah says as he leads the way to his car parked down the hill, next to the curb.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to stay out too late,” I say. I don’t want to keep being rude to him, but Rah has to understand that I’m not that easy, no matter what Mrs. Bennett may think. “We can just go to Subway or McDonald’s or something.”
“Cool. In and Out it is,” he says. “Is that cool with you, little queen?”
“Yeah, whatever. And, it’s just queen to you.” Rah laughs as he opens the passenger door. After I make myself comfort
able in his car, I hear screaming coming from around the corner. Is that Mickey?
“What’s going on?” Rah says, stepping off the curb into the street to get a closer look. “Oh shit, it’s Mickey and Nigel. What the hell?” Rah jumps in the car, starts the engine and pulls off toward the football field parking lot, where all of the drama with Mickey and her man started in the first place.
“What is it?” I ask. But Rah’s mind is on getting up the hill as quickly as possible. My phone vibrates: it’s a text message from Nellie. I know this can’t be good.
“Girl, Mickey threw Nigel’s phone into traffic and he snatched her BlackBerry, put it under his tire and drove over it—twice! She’s about to kill him. Where r u?”
“Is that Nellie?” Rah says. Sometimes I think he’s the one with the gift of sight.
“Yeah.” No one else would be texting me right after school, but he doesn’t have to know that. When we pull up to the scene, Nigel and Mickey are at each other’s throats, giving the crowd of students a free Friday smackdown—no television needed. Rah parks the car next to Mickey’s Regal and jumps out with the engine still running. His job as Nigel’s best friend is to help him keep his temper in check so that we can all profit from his ass going to the NFL one day. When it comes to fighting—especially with girls—Rah has no patience whatsoever.
“All right, that’s enough,” Rah says, stepping in between the feuding lovers and pushing Nigel back into his Impala. Damn, I hope he didn’t make a dent in the new green paint.
“I agree, you two. Now you’re hurting the cars,” I say, stepping out of Rah’s ride and joining Nellie, who’s got Mickey under control—somewhat. Mickey can never really be under anyone’s control.