Appletini: why, did u have something in mind?
I think I caught him off guard with that one because he is taking even longer to respond. Now I wish I hadn’t written that at all, but I can’t stop smiling, waiting to see his reaction.
Multi-Mil: I could think of a few things, but I ain’t trying to get slapped. Lol
I pause here and think about how to reply. I don’t want to come across as easy, but this is Greg Millons we’re talking about. If he only knew how often his name came up at the lunch table. His perfect teeth, light brown eyes, body like an Adonis. Let’s not even talk about how good he smells, MMM!!! He’s chatting with me, flirting with me.
I know at least a hundred other girls who would kill to be in the situation that I’m in right now. I can’t let this opportunity slip by. I know I’m lucky to even be talking to him. There’s no reason to be scared. Being behind the computer is giving me more confidence anyway. I know I would be tripping over my own words if he were talking to me in person, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I guess it’s time for me to flirt back. It’s now or never.
Appletini: I really don’t think there’s anything u could say that would get u slapped.
Ugh, that came out sounding kind of dumb.
Multi-Mil: oh aight. It’s like that? no doubt.
Cherish me: Teenie
Cherish me: hello …
Cherish me: Teenie what’s going on?
Cherish me: HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO HELLO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Appletini: sorry sorry.
Appletini: he’s starting to get a lil risque.
Appletini: saying that my body is tight and that I got it going on.
Cherish me: see. now how long I been telling u 2 take care of urself?
Cherish me: u need to stop acting like a tomboy and start acting like a lady.
Appletini: hold up he’s typing something.
I toggle back to Greg’s box with eager anticipation.
Multi-Mil: yeah so when u walked past I was like damn, Shorty got a bangin’ body.
That’s the third time he’s said that. Each time it made me feel better than the last.
Multi-Mil: I was wondering how come I never seen u before.
Appletini: so do u have a girlfriend?
I waited long enough to unleash that.
Multi-Mil: nah.
Appletini: Cherise, I just asked him if he has a girlfriend. He said no. Does he have 1?
Cherish me: I’m not sure. I ain’t never c him with nobody but u never can tell.
Cherish me: Anyway I’m out.
Cherish me: Remember my mother thinks I’m gonna be studying by u so don’t call here looking 4 me like an idiot.
Appletini: I thought she wasn’t gonna b home
Cherish me: she and Braxton had a fight so she’s up in her room all mopey.
Appletini: ur still going?
Cherish me: yeah
Appletini: how u gonna get back in?
Cherish me: I left the backdoor open
Appletini: wait a second
Appletini: are you sure about this
Appletini: y r u going out so late anyway?
She logs off without answering. She’s got to be crazy to go out this late. I’m too afraid to put the recycling out at night, let alone get on the train.
Multi-Mil: so what nationality r u?
Bottle of Crys: whaddup Teenie
Appletini: take a wild guess Greg
Crap! I hate when that happens. Crystal’s window just popped up on my screen and I sent that to her by accident.
Bottle of Crys: what?
Appletini: oh sorry Crys. Wrong box.
I close out the window but it pops open right away.
Bottle of Crys: yo Teenie, who u talking about?
I close it again but Crystal sends me another message.
Bottle of Crys: r u talking about Greg Millons?
It looks like someone wants to get blocked. I shut Crystal down and turn my attention back to Greg.
Appletini: I’m West Indian
Appletini: half Grenadian, half Bajan (Barbados)
Multi-Mil: nice. an island gyal huh?
Appletini: lol. Yup
Appletini: how bout you?
Multi-Mil: my folks were both born in NY but my family is from North Carolina
Appletini: ok
Multi-Mil: u know u look good right?
Appletini: thank u.
I’m gonna go with it.
Appletini: u got it going on urself.
Multi-Mil: u think I look good?
Appletini: yeah ur fine.
Multi-Mil: u sure u only a freshman?
Appletini: yeah. y?
Multi-Mil: cuz their ain’t that many freshman shorties that be catching my eye.
Okay, I’ll let that one slide. Lots of people confuse “their” with “there.”
Appletini: thanx for the compliment.
Multi-Mil: and speaking of eyes …
Appletini: yes they’re real
Multi-Mil: lol. guess you get that one alot.
Appletini: a lot lol
Had to correct that one, even if he doesn’t know I’m correcting. “Alot” is one of my pet peeves.
I’m not even scared anymore. This is fun. Greg might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer but he is definitely keeping me on my toes with his comments. I’m pretty sure he does this kind of thing all the time, but whatever—he’s doing it with me now, and that’s all that matters. I want to make sure that my answers are on point, but I also don’t want to sound like I’m trying too hard.
I glance up at the clock when I hear my dad shuffling up the stairs. Wow! I didn’t realize that it was almost midnight. If Beresford sees me on the computer, he will cut the power cord. There’s no way I can get into my bedroom without him seeing me, so I push the power button on the monitor, put my head on the keyboard, and pretend to be asleep.
“Martine.”
“Hmm?” I pop up and wipe the side of my mouth.
“Come go in your bed.”
I rub my eyes and say, “Okay, Daddy. I just need to shut down the computer.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I wait to hear the sound of his bedroom door close before I turn the monitor back on.
Appletini: agqqqqqqqqqqqqbcagagetwhsdw r-p;l
Appletini: m,]4..e///r
Appletini: 6
Multi-Mil: ?
Multi-Mil: u there?
Ugh. That’s what I get for leaning too hard on the keyboard.
Appletini: sorry about that
Appletini: it was an accident
Multi-Mil: no prob
Appletini: it was nice talking to you but I gotta sign off now.
Multi-Mil: aight sweetness. We’ll link up soon.
Appletini: ok. Bye.
Multi-Mil: L8R.
Chapter 7
“Martine, time for school.”
I hear the door close behind my mother, and that’s it. Where’s my song? I sit up as the shock of it hits me. Even when she and Beresford go on vacation, she still calls and sings to me. She’s been doing it for so long that I kind of took it for granted. If she’s mad enough to skip my song, she might bring the hammer down on me later.
I start thinking about Greg, and the smile from last night returns. But then reality sets in. What am I going to wear?! I mope my way into the bathroom and shower in the dark. One of those new dresses would do the trick, but there’s no use thinking about things that I can’t have. I press my forehead against the wall and pray that an outfit will just come oozing out of the showerhead. Beresford knocks on the door a few times to remind me that he still has to pay the water bill. The last knock made the walls shake.
I come out of the shower and head straight for my closet. It feels more like a death march, like
I’m walking to the electric chair. I open the closet door, silently hoping that the bag of clothes is still in there. My mother must’ve moved them when I was in the bathroom. Not like I would’ve worn them anyway.
I sigh, disappointed, and drop onto my bed. I knew that I was forbidden to wear the new clothes, but now I’m forced to make a decision. I take out my cornrows and put my hair in a ponytail. It looks nice because it has this kinky, wavy thing going on. Even so, how am I going to keep Greg interested if I’m wearing button-down shirts and Gap khakis?
Sulking on the edge of my bed, I notice a box sitting on my desk. There’s a note on top of it.
Martine,
Sometimes it’s what you don’t show that’s sexy.
Mummy
P.S. We still need to talk, young lady!
Inside the box are three velour sweat suits. Even though I know a punishment is coming, I can’t help but smile and wonder how my mother knew that these things were in style. Funny, if Cherise hadn’t pointed one out to me at the mall, I wouldn’t have known myself. They don’t have any tags on them, so I’m assuming they are some of her old clothes. Thank God my mother takes care of everything she buys. These things look almost new. She says that fashion goes in cycles so she doesn’t throw much of her stuff away.
To say the velour suit fits perfectly would be an understatement. I’ll ask her if I can dig through some of her boxes in the attic. I’m bound to find some more nice stuff up there.
“I’m feeling that velour! Where’d you get it?” Cherise seems impressed when I see her in the subway.
“My mother gave it to me. I decided not to wear one of the things we bought from the mall.”
I practiced saying that line over and over on the walk to the train. Of course it didn’t come out right. Maybe I should’ve waited until she actually asked me about the clothes we bought yesterday before I said anything. Cherise’s face is full of doubt as she hears my excuse. She sees through me like I’m a pane of glass. I tell her what happened when I got home yesterday, and she almost flips.
“Damn, Teenie, I swear. You so stupid sometimes. Why you had to tell her I bought them for you?”
“What was I supposed to say? I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know. Why you ain’t tell her you saved up your money or something?”
I shrug my shoulders.
“What did she do with the clothes?”
I look away and don’t answer.
“Ugh.” She shakes her head and sucks her teeth. “You’re the worst!”
I keep quiet for a while, hoping she’ll get over it, and give her a Claritin as a peace offering. She takes it and stares at me for a little longer, then changes the subject.
“He never showed up,” she sighs.
“Who?”
“You see how you stay? Get a little attention from a boy and totally forget about your friends.”
“Oh! Big Daddy. What happened?”
“Did I tell you I was meeting with Big Daddy?”
“No.”
“So stop making assumptions then.”
“So if it wasn’t him, then who were you supposed to meet?”
“Do you want to hear the story or not?”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“I was supposed to meet him at Penn Station. You know that waiting area with all the chairs?”
“By the escalators?”
“Yup. I was sitting there for like a hour. I didn’t see him, so I just went back home.”
“Your mother didn’t say nothing when you came in so late?”
She sucks her teeth again. “She wasn’t even there when I got home. Braxton must’ve come for her.”
“Well, how do you know she didn’t check on you before she left?”
“She didn’t.”
“But how do you know? Couldn’t she have opened your bedroom door and seen that you weren’t there?”
“Did I get in trouble?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Well, I guess she didn’t check, huh?” She shakes her head and goes back to her story. “Like I was saying, when I got home, I logged on to IM, and he was waiting for me, talking ’bout how he got stuck in the library studying and lost track of the time.”
“Library?” I reach out and touch Cherise’s forehead to check for a fever. “You alright? It ain’t like you to go for the smart ones.”
“Shut up. He could be as smart as he wants. He looks good AND he got money.”
Now that’s the Cherise I know and love. But still … “Maybe I should go with you the next time you see him.”
The look on her face says it all. She’s right, though. There’s no way in hell I’d sneak out of my house in the middle of the night.
Cherise and I linger in the hallway before first period but see no sign of Greg. A few guys try to talk to me, but I’m getting pretty good at smiling and saying no thank you. When Cherise and I walk into class, Mr. Speight is in the middle of a tirade.
“Only four people passed,” he says with disgust, “and only two people got a perfect score.”
There are thirty-some-odd students in the class, so that’s an abysmal pass-to-fail ratio. As Mr. Speight makes mention of the perfect scores, all thirty-some students look over at me. It doesn’t help that Mr. Speight glances in my direction. Everyone knows I got the ten out of ten. Cherise is most likely the other since she copied all of my answers. I try to tell her to get at least one wrong so things won’t look suspicious. The girl never listens.
“I must be a bad teacher, because that quiz was really not that difficult. And question six, come on, people.”
During gym, we get stuck inside on the eighth floor. It’s overcast outside and the teacher doesn’t want to risk getting caught in a downpour. The rest of the girls are playing volleyball. I hate volleyball, so I convince Cherise to shoot hoops with me at the other end of the gym.
“Spread your fingertips out on the ball and leave a little space between the ball and the palm of your hand. Don’t forget to keep your elbow in.” I don’t even know why I’m wasting my breath, because Cherise uncorks a heave that would have made a shot-putter proud. I feel sorry for the backboard after her shot ricochets to the other side of the court. I chase the ball down, apologizing to the other girls for interrupting their stupid volleyball game, and show Cherise how it’s done.
Cherise is shaking her head after watching me hit jump shots from all over the court. “That’s just ridiculous, Teenie. No girl should be able to shoot like that.”
“And why the hell not?”
She thinks for a few seconds. “They just shouldn’t, that’s all.”
“Don’t hate, congratulate,” I say just as I flick up another jumper. It misses badly.
“That’s what you get for talking crap. I’m going to play volleyball.”
Cherise runs over to the other side of the gym and leaves me to work on my form. If there’s one benefit to having two older brothers, it’s learning how to shoot a basketball. Wazi and Kari had me shooting on a ten-foot rim when I was five years old. Basketball is a big deal in my house. Beresford is a big Knicks fan, and my brothers play on the basketball team at the University of Maryland.
With my jump shot, I’m more than good enough to be on the girls’ team, but I have too much going on this year. Maybe I’ll try out next year if I’m not in Spain.
Beresford was disappointed, but not nearly as much as the gym teacher, who’s watching me drain my seventh foul shot in a row. He’s also the girls’ basketball coach and he has made repeated attempts to get me to join the team. When I asked him if I could shoot at the other end of the gym, he basically ran into his office to get me a ball.
“Martine.”
Someone’s whispering at the door. I’ve seen too many horror movies to go skipping over, only to get chopped into little pieces. When I hear my name called again, I lean over as far as I can to the left, cocking my head to get a better angle on the slight opening in the door. I feel even
worse when the door opens wider and I can see who’s calling me. It’s Greg.
He peeks in to see where the teacher is, then fixes his eyes on me, smiles, waves me over. He wants me to step outside of the gym. I look over my shoulder and see that my teacher’s distracted, trying to get between two girls who are arguing. I slip out and join him in the hallway.
“What’s up, Shorty?”
He opens his arms to hug me. He gives some serious love with his hugs, the kind that makes me feel all warm and mushy inside. I almost don’t want to let go, but if I don’t, I might faint, because this boy’s cologne is making me light-headed. I blink rapidly when he lets go, trying to keep my cool. He steps back so we can talk but holds on to my hand, rubbing the top of it with his thumb. I take in what he is wearing and notice that his lime green zip-up hoodie is open. Underneath, he has on a Bob Marley T-shirt hanging over a light pair of jeans. His sneakers match the hoodie perfectly. “How did you know I had gym this period?”
“I have my ways.” He winks and smiles. His smile is so sexy. “I work in the principal’s office, so I pulled up your schedule. This is my lunch period—I just wanted to come up and say what’s up.”
“Okay.” My heart is racing right now. After last night’s conversation on IM, I can barely make eye contact with him.
“I see you gotta nice li’l jump shot.”
I smile. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
“Where’d you learn to shoot like that? Your dad teach you?”
I nod my head and smile. Why did I answer yes? My dad was a soccer player and couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a basketball. It’s too late for me to tell the truth, because Greg looks through the gym door and changes the subject.
“So you got Mr. S.?”
I have no idea whom or what he’s talking about.
“Mr. S., Mr. Scarinbolasaster,” he says, referring to my gym teacher.
“Oh yeah, Mr. S.” I smile, nod my head, try to play it off. Scarinbolasaster, that’s some name. He licks his lips, and I turn my eyes to a sign showing the fire safety route. I’ve never paid attention to it before, but my neck is burning up, and I may just have to evacuate.
Teenie Page 5