Little Divas

by Philana Marie Boles

I felt a little guilty about calling Ms. Carol’s niece a chickenhead without really knowing her, but now, in a way, I was glad that Daddy hadn’t mentioned her to me. I guess if he ever does mention a new lady friend, that’ll mean that things are pretty serious. Thank goodness they’re not, now that I’ve met Toni. Eeewwww.

  “Ouch!” Golden yelped as Rikki finished French braiding her hair.

  “Sorry,” Rikki said. “Next time don’t use any spritz before you come over.”

  Now Golden moaned as if she was disgusted. She continued talking about the subject at hand. “My first stepdad was the worst. Well, they were both half-wits, but he used to smoke these awful cigars. Freddy’s got asthma real bad, but he didn’t care.”

  I grabbed a magazine and swung my legs over the arm of the La-Z-Boy.

  Rikki held up a mirror so Golden could see how neat and pretty the braid going down her back was.

  Golden stretched and craned her neck to see the reflection and smiled. “Cool,” she said.

  Rikki went over to the washing machine and reached behind it. When she came back, she put the box in the middle of the floor, and we gathered around and folded our legs.

  “So,” Rikki said. “What’d you bring?”

  Golden reached over and grabbed her backpack off the couch. From it she pulled out a fancy gold box. Very carefully, she worked the red velvet bow off. And then she sat the box on the floor.

  I read the script across the top. “Godiva,” it said.

  “Chocolate heaven in a box,” Golden said. “But my mother says it’s full of sinful calories.”

  “Good. Then it’s definitely contraband,” Rikki said.

  Golden ran her fingers along the letters, her pink fingernail polish now old and chipped. “Guh-die-vuh,” she pronounced the name.

  Rikki laughed a little. “Looks more like ‘go diva’ to me.”

  Golden giggled too. “Hey, we could call it that,” she said.

  Rikki nudged me, “What do you think, Cass?”

  I couldn’t believe it. Rikki had finally used my nickname.

  I nodded. “Right,” I said. “I like that.”

  “Diva,” Golden said. “It’s kinda like saying you’re cool, huh?”

  “And that you’re not gonna let anyone push you around,” I said.

  “Divas never do,” Rikki said.

  “And it’s saying we’re clever.”

  “And we’ve got style.”

  “And we’re not nerdy.”

  “And the boys like us.”

  “The cute ones.”

  “The ones who are going places.”

  “Right.”

  “Right.”

  “Right.”

  We all laughed.

  I thought for a second. “But that doesn’t mean we’re stuck-up, does it?”

  Golden took a piece of candy out of the box. “Nope.”

  Rikki added, “Mary says there’s a fine line between thinking highly of yourself and thinking you’re all that.”

  “We must never cross that line,” I said.

  “Never.”

  “Never.”

  We all clinked pieces of chocolate together in the air.

  I noticed Golden’s hands again and said, “I could do your nails if you want.”

  Golden looked down at her nails, and I could tell that she hadn’t realized how ragged they looked.

  “Yes, please,” Rikki said to Golden. “Let her.”

  “Okay.”

  The candy was so smooth, and the caramel in the middle was impossibly creamy. I couldn’t believe how delicious it was. It was so good that I hummed as I chewed.

  Tap. Tap.

  Rikki groaned, got up, and ran over to the window. After Mary had pushed it open, she threw her sandals in first so as not to get mud on the table, and Rikki held her hands to help her in. The late night air came in with her, and Rikki hurried to close and re-lock the window. Soon it would be autumn.

  Mary was smiling. “¡Hola, ladies!”

  “¡Hola!” we replied.

  “Whatever,” Rikki snapped. “What took you so long?”

  Mary took a deep breath as she went into the laundry room to change.

  Rikki gave Golden a look as she joined us back in the circle. She whispered, “Watch when she comes back out—she’s gonna try to act all romantic.” Rikki called out to Mary, “This ain’t The Young and the Restless, you know. You ain’t Drucilla.”

  When Mary came back, now in her flowered pajamas and looking like she’d been in the basement the entire evening, she stood in front of our special box and let out a long sigh.

  “Cassidy,” Mary said with a soft smile, “I heard the news. Look at it this way, at least you’re gonna get to write poems every day at school.”

  Golden and Rikki were looking at me sympathetically. We’d been avoiding the subject of school all evening.

  Mary continued, “You should be happy that you’re getting to go to one of the finest schools in the state. You’ll get to study some of the finest poets that ever lived. Langston Hughes. Rita Dove. Walt Whitman. Jessica Care Moore. Emily Dickinson…”

  “Good,” I said. “Hopefully I’ll have plenty of homework to keep me busy, since I’ll probably never have fun again.”

  “Have you talked to Travis?” Mary wanted to know.

  “No,” I said. “I’ve had nothing all week. Today is my first day out of the house.”

  Mary fluttered her eyes and shook her head, “You’ll see Travis again. Trust me, kiddo. When people care about each other, they find a way to stay in touch. You’ll see.”

  Was that a tear in Mary’s eye? I couldn’t tell for sure.

  “Yeah, Cass,” Golden said. “Even friends.”

  “That’s right,” Rikki agreed. “Going to different schools will never keep us apart.”

  And still, Mary looked sad. Not caring what Rikki had to say or how she felt, I went ahead and said what I’d been wanting to say for a very long time. “Mary, you’re my favorite poet.”

  Mary just laughed a little. “Yeah, well.” She shook her head. “That’s real sweet of you to say, Cassidy. You’re gonna do great at Clara Ellis.”

  I watched Mary as she meticulously wiped off her lip gloss with a Kleenex. And then, with a fat pink brush, she slowly wrapped her hair around her head. She tied it up with a silk scarf, looking so mellow and relaxed. Where in the world had she and Archie gone? What had they done?

  Mary laughed. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

  Rikki’s nostrils were flared. “What happened tonight?” she demanded.

  “Archie,” Mary told us, “is such a gentleman.”

  Rikki gasped and acted like she was suffocating. “I’m gonna choke if you don’t stop with the soap opera!”

  Mary ignored her and said, “Listen to what I’m getting ready to tell you, okay, ladies?”

  “We’ve been listening,” Rikki interjected, “all the while since you got here. You ain’t said nothing yet.”

  As usual Mary was not at all affected by Rikki’s attitude. “Young ladies,” she said, “have to be prepared. You never know. Just be ready, okay?”

  With that, Mary dropped something inside the contraband box that landed with a soft thud. Rikki, Golden, and I peered over. Together we stared down into the land of smuggled goods, and then back at one another.

  Both of my friends’ eyes confirmed just what I was feeling. Complete and unimaginable shock. It was the kind of amazement that grabs you around the throat and makes it hard to swallow, makes you even forget how to do so, or even that you should.

  Mary said, “Nobody ever did this for me, okay?”

  In gym class Mrs. Watson had given us all pamphlets on sex and made us watch long movies about protection, but this was real life, not some woman in a polyester suit using big boring words. Touching one of those things would be a sin in itself. They were the ultimate contraband.

  Surely Uncle Lance, who was upstairs sleeping, would awaken
and beckon us to his throne a few miles down the road. We would kneel at the pulpit and repent for having thought of, looked at, and most definitely touched such a thing.

  I sat motionless, ready to hear the sounds of Uncle Lance stirring upstairs. Please don’t let him wake, I prayed.

  Rikki said, “Times are different now. Hardly no one waits until marriage anymore.”

  Mary smiled. “It’s okay to wait,” she assured us. “Just, if you’re ever ready, and you’re sure you’re ready, be ready, you know what I mean? Maybe you’ll be someone who will wait until you get married. Good for you if you do.”

  Mary’s words always had a way of making me feel better.

  Then she ruined it. She started going on and on about diseases and getting pregnant, and all kinds of gross things. I just wanted her to stop, to shut up. I could not believe what she was saying. I was hoping, praying, that what Mary was talking about was not why she had snuck out tonight.

  And whatever happened to Paul Bunyan?

  “It’s exactly what Daddy always preaches about.” Mary sat down on the couch and clasped her hands together. “Our bodies are our temples, and we have to treat them with love and respect.”

  Rikki reached in and held up one of the forbidden items like it was nothing but a piece of gum and then tossed it back in the box. She asked, “How are we supposed to know what to do with it?” She looked so comfortable touching it, like she’d seen one before, like she’d even touched one before for that matter. But we both had virgin eyes, and she knew it. All three of us did.

  After Golden picked one up, I reached in too. But I dropped mine right back in. Immediately I tried to erase the memory of the way it felt. An airless balloon, suffocating in plastic. It landed on top of another, and they seemed to multiply. I counted. Mary had given us three.

  Mary leaned back and wrapped her arm across her stomach and around her waist, her hand holding onto her hip. She started tapping her fingers at her side and her usually dreamy eyes grew intense.

  “Maybe it’ll be years from now, maybe it won’t, but whenever it happens, you are never,” Mary instructed us, “to do the grown up without one. Comprende?”

  “Sí.” All three of us nodded.

  Only deep inside I knew I would gladly wait to do the grown up until I actually became, well, a grown up. I didn’t say that out loud though. Some things, when you’re really sure about them, are okay just to think to yourself.

  From the smile on Rikki’s face, I think even she would have agreed that having two friends is better than one. That night, the three of us promised to be together forever, no matter what. No crossing of hearts. No linking of pinky fingers. A promise has always been enough, and I know it always will be. Rikki, Golden, and me. The way things work even better.

  September 12

  Dear Mom,

  Clara Ellis Academy for Girls. Wow! I can’t believe it, but it’s my new school.

  My Intro to Poetry teacher is a young woman with short hair and a lovely laugh. Her name is Mrs. Rode, and she reminds me of the late Princess Diana of Wales and even speaks with an accent. On our first day she wrote on the chalkboard, “It takes a village to raise a child,” and told us that this is an ancient African proverb, which made me think of you. In our notebooks, we were to write what we thought about that saying.

  I wrote that it takes more than just a mom and a dad to help their kid through the tough times, and that maybe Forrest Hills is like a village, with plenty of help all around. Sometimes there is an uncle or an aunt, when a mom or dad can’t be around. There are cousins, too, and friends, old and new.

  The truth is that I miss you a whole lot, Mom, but it’s okay that you’re in Africa. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come home. I promise.

  acknowledgments

  To God be the glory Thanks also to Leann Heywood, Mel Berger, Ali Douglass, Sasha Illingworth, Kathryn Silsand, Lisa Moraleda, Rockelle Henderson, Gilda Squire, and all of the wonderful experts at HarperCollins.

  A newspaper article once misquoted my mother regarding what I’d asked for while shopping as a child. “It was always a book, never a Barbie,” was how she was quoted. What my mother actually said was, “If it wasn’t a book, it was a Barbie.” I have such fond memories of what my friends called “BarbieLand” in my parents’ basement. I still remember when my friends and I threw a big welcome-to-the-neighborhood Barbie party around the Barbie Swimming Pool, the Christmas when I received “The Heart Family,” and even the plot where Ken saved Skipper from drowning. Mom and Dad, I know you could have done a lot of other things with what you spent on Barbies, but that’s where a lot of my love for storytelling began. So thank you.

  Here’s to growing up in Toledo, the sorely missed Jacobson’s and being on “J. Board,” and Thackeray’s Books. Here’s to Dudley’s, Southwyck Mall, Sleepy Hollow Park—better known as “The Pond”—the “Mini-Mac” on Dorr Street, and the Strawberry and the Old West End festivals. Here’s to McTigue Junior High—and my “bestest friends” in the whole wide world back then. And here’s especially to my three cousins who made growing-up adventures so fun. Nikeeta Ziegler, Joy Harrison, and Robyn Harrison—“Keeta-Bea,” “Weez,” and “Roddy.”

  My love and appreciation for their enduring support and/or encouragement: my sister Ginger, my family (far too many to name in the allotted space!), SUA, Marci Cannon, Rose Cannon, Rhonda B. Sewell (and The Toledo Blade), Chris Champion, Nkenge Abi, Stephanie Koehler, Melissa Timko, and Kelli Martin.

  Finally, hello to my Leverette Junior High family in Toledo. Kids, this one you can read! Maybe Ms. Hawley will even give you a few extra credit points if you do!!

  About the Author

  LITTLE DIVAS is Philana Marie Boles’s third novel, although it is her literary debut for younger readers. She is also the author of two adult novels: BLAME IT ON EVE and IN THE PAINT. An inspirational speaker, Boles has a B.F.A. in creative writing and theater from Bowling Green State University and has worked as an educator in both New York City’s and Ohio’s public and community schools. Because she has been so inspired by the many students she has taught and mentored, “Miss B” feels blessed to be the founder and creative director of CeleRead—a national tour of reading CELEBrations!

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Copyright

  Harper Trophy® is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers.

  Amistad is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

  Little Divas

  Copyright © 2006 by Philana Marie Boles

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub Edition © JULY 2010 ISBN: 978-0-062-03398-7

  www.harpercollinschildrens.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Boles, Philana Marie.

  Little divas / Philana Marie Boles.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: The summer before seventh grade, Cassidy Carter must come to terms with living with her father, practically a stranger, as well as her relationships with her cousins, all amidst the overall confusion of adolescence.

  ISBN 978-0-06-073301-8

  1. African Americans— Juvenile fiction. [1. African Americans—Fiction. 2. Fathers and daughters—Fiction. 3. Divorce—Fiction. 4. Cousins—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.B635883Lit 2006 2005005860

  [Fic]—dc22

  Typography by Sasha Illingworth

  First Harper Trophy edition, 2008

&n
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