Teenie

by Christopher Grant

  That’s true. I don’t think I’ve ever prayed when things were going well, and judging from all the heads I see nodding in the congregation, a lot of people feel the same way.

  “It’s only when things get rough that we run to Him. Here is where the problem lies. We think we’re in control of everything. When things don’t go our way, we get upset and start questioning God. Why is He doing this to me? We need to change the way we think. Don’t make idols of your circumstances.”

  I’m not sure what that means until she says, “Don’t let your problems dominate your thoughts. Your mind should be on God and His bountiful grace.”

  Okay. I guess that makes sense—a little at least.

  “He has a plan for us, and we don’t have the ability to understand it. God has our lives on autopilot. If you apply enough force, you can turn your life in a direction that He did not lay out for you. Think about how much energy you have to apply to do things your way. We have to let go, people. We have to let go and let God.”

  A man in the crowd shouts, “Preach it, Sister,” and the applause starts to get louder.

  “If He brought you to it, He can get you through it! Take your hands off the wheel and let Him do what He does best!”

  The church is on its feet, and everyone is clapping loudly. I stand up too and silently say to myself, If He brought me to it, He will get me through it.

  I feel a little lighter after church. I don’t understand why God is putting me through this, but the only way I’ll be able to deal with what’s happened is to be faithful. Even though I feel like a phony saying that, I’m really going to try to hold on to it.

  After service, my parents stop at a diner for brunch. The diner is one of the few places where my mother will allow us to eat. Normally we talk about random things, but something is in the air today. I get the feeling that they are worried, so I’m not surprised when my mother says, “Martine, we’re concerned.”

  I wait a few seconds and then ask, “About?”

  “Well, sweetie, you’ve been acting a little strange lately.”

  I sit quiet and play with my pancakes.

  “You haven’t been eating. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m okay. I’m just a little tired.”

  “I know you’re under a lot of pressure with this scholarship thing. Do you think maybe you should wait until next year?”

  “No, I still want to do it. I don’t want to wait.”

  “So what’s wrong? Tell us what’s bothering you.”

  “I’m fine. I’m just tired. That’s it.”

  As usual, my mother is going to press until she gets an answer that she’s satisfied with. “Are you still upset about what happened with you and Cherise?”

  “Yeah. A little, I guess.”

  She reaches out and grabs my hand. “Martine, I want you to understand that these things happen all the time. I could tell you dozens of stories about how I lost friends and felt horrible about it afterward. I just want you to remember that we are always here for you, no matter what.”

  I nod my head and keep my eyes fixed on the piece of pancake I’ve cut. I’ve been trying to get every part of it covered in syrup.

  “When something is bothering you, we want you to talk to us about it, okay?”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  My mother reaches for her cell phone.

  “Yes, Bakari. We’re at the diner.” She stops and listens, while my dad signals for the waiter to come over. “That is what both of y’all want? Cool yah nerves, boy. You talking too fast. Which one have the turkey bacon in it? Okay.”

  The waiter comes over, and my dad says, “Boss, I need to make an order for takeout. What they want, Glory?”

  “Okay. We’ll be home in a minute.” My mother closes the cell and says, “Two fried eggs with turkey sausage and two scrambled eggs with cheese and turkey bacon. Both of them with home fries.”

  If it were up to me, I wouldn’t get those two mongrels anything. Sunday brunch should be reserved for people who go to church. My mother turns to my dad and says, “I tell you, those boys are your children,” as if my father doesn’t already know that those two Decepticons are a chip off the old block. He nods his head, probably not even hearing a word she’s saying because he’s too busy staring at soccer on the TV. My mother looks at him and shakes her head.

  • • •

  When my brothers go back to school, I finally get a chance to sit down and tackle my studying. I finish my American studies essay, but I need Garth’s help for this math test because it will be, by far, the biggest challenge for me.

  Appletini: explain it to me one more time?

  Garth Vader: Ok no problem.

  I need at least a ninety-four on this test to get that scholarship, and that’s only if I get hundreds on my American studies essay and the English test I took last week. All my other grades are pretty much set. They’re all worth twenty percent of my grade for the semester, so I have to make sure I do well on all of them. This is going to be really hard.

  Garth Vader: when you have a fraction in front of the variable, the easiest way to figure out the value of the variable is to multiply the entire equation by the inverse of the fraction.

  Appletini: huh?

  Looks like we’re going to be here all night. I hear Beresford and his lead feet coming up the stairs. He stops at my door and pokes his head in.

  “Ayy.”

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “What you doing?”

  “Studying for an exam tomorrow.” My eyes don’t move from the screen.

  When he sees my Instant Messenger flashing, he asks, “Who you talking to?”

  “One of my classmates from school.”

  “It’s a boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “Garth.”

  “Who’s Garth?”

  “One of my classmates from school.”

  “How old he is?”

  “Fourteen. He’s helping me study for my math test.”

  “Okay.” My dad looks at the screen, probably trying to catch a glance of what I’m chatting about. “Alright. Remember to be mindful of what you’re doing on that computer. I ain’t want you on there all night, yah hear?”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Thanks, Cherise. Whenever my dad thinks I’m talking to a boy, he’s going to grill me like a piece of chicken.

  He sticks his head back into the room and says, “Martine, I want you to know that if there is something bothering you, you can talk to your mother and I about it. We love you very much and don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to us if you’re having a problem or you find yourself in a situation that is above your head.”

  “Okay, Daddy. Thank you.”

  “Good, good.” He taps the wall and walks out of the room.

  • • •

  Garth is really being patient with me. We’re working on twenty questions that he put together from Mr. Gershik’s old exams.

  Garth Vader: the key is to study smart Teenie.

  Garth Vader: I’ve looked at his tests from the last 5 years and it looks like he uses similar questions on all of them.

  With the way things have been going for me, I’m all but assured that he’ll use new ones. Not like it would matter anyway. If we’re studying smart, I must be a giant idiot, because we’ve been stuck on this same question for thirty minutes. I haven’t even told Garth what Greg said to me. What’s the point of me studying like this if he’s just gonna take it away from me?

  Appletini: I give up Garth. I can’t get this. It’s too hard.

  Garth Vader: no you’re not and yes you can. Let’s try it one more time

  Appletini: I can’t do it!

  Appletini: it’s too hard. I can’t concentrate.

  Garth Vader: relax and take a deep breath

  Appletini: but I don’t know the answers to any of these problems.

  Garth Vader: we have to focus on one at a time.

  Garth Vader: deal with
this one first then move on to the next otherwise you get overwhelmed by everything.

  Appletini: words of wisdom from your mother I suppose?

  Garth Vader: lol. yup. If it wasn’t for her encouraging me, I would have crumpled like a cheap suit.

  Garth Vader: focus on one thing at a time.

  Appletini: alright

  Ten more minutes and I feel like I’m going to smash my keyboard, but Garth is still here, holding my hand.

  Garth Vader: therefore, once you turn the coefficient into a whole number, x has to equal …

  I’ve done the calculations four times, and I keep coming up with the same number.

  Appletini: 11?

  Garth Vader: correct!

  Chapter 25

  In the morning, my mother sings “Three Little Birds,” her usual song. I will do my best not to “worry about a thing,” and try in my heart to believe that “every little thing is gonna be alright.” The lesson at church helped a little, but in all honesty, it’s kind of hard to be strong when I know there are people in school ready to bash my brains in.

  Beresford almost breaks the bathroom door down because of how long a shower I take. He’s so angry when I come out that he can’t even form a proper sentence, although I do hear a few high-pitched noises and something about him cutting off the pipe. When I get out of the shower, I switch outfits about ten times, trying anything to prolong having to go to school. I thought about pretending to be sick—but after Sunday and the look on Beresford’s face this morning, I don’t want to press my luck.

  I try to take my mind off things by rereading my essay for Mr. Speight’s class during the train ride. The essay is really good and I’m satisfied that it’s A+ material, but I still can’t shake the unease. I’ve been singing “Lord Give Me Strength” to myself all morning but there’s a pit in my tummy the size of a basketball. I don’t even know why I’m reading this stupid paper anyway. It’s not like I can make any changes at this point. The math test is more pressing, because I’m not as confident that I can get the grade I need.

  My mother is a firm believer in how negative thinking can lead to negative outcomes. It appears that she is right and that I’ve sealed my fate by thinking about how bad things are for me. When I get out of the train and start walking down the platform, I see Passion and her crew waiting by the turnstiles across the tracks. With the way she is scanning the faces in the crowd, I can tell that she is waiting for me, waiting to finish what she started on Friday.

  She looks especially mean today with her cornrows and Timberlands, a hairstyle and shoe that I’ve seen many girls wear when they’re ready to brawl. Cherise told me that girls put a ton of Vaseline on their faces to keep from getting scratched. The reason for the Timberlands is obvious: they’re the best stomping shoes money can buy. I can see Passion’s face shining from all the way over here, and her boots are laced right up to the top. It’s a good thing that I know this train station like the back of my hand. There are at least five other exits I can use to avoid crossing paths with her. I take a detour that leads me farthest away from her and end up coming out of the station two blocks out of my way.

  When I get into school, I don’t feel any safer. If I only had to watch out for one person, I think I would be able to make it through the day. Having to stay away from two people will be damn near impossible, especially when one of them knows my class schedule. As soon as I turn the corner and see Greg leaning up against the wall of my class, I feel the air go out of my body. He hasn’t spotted me yet, so I turn around to walk in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, my stealth act is short-lived, as I bump right into Cherise and knock her iPod out of her hand. Things get even worse when I hear Greg say, “There you are.”

  He puts his hands around my waist and jerks me around so I’m facing him. He pulls back on the side of my jacket and says, “Nice shirt.”

  Cherise walks by and sees the fear in my eyes. She pauses for a second before walking through the doorway to class. I don’t care how mad I am at her. If I saw a guy roughing her up, I would help her.

  Greg has a hard grip on my pelvis and a scary smile on his face. “So we’re still on for this afternoon, right?”

  I look down and say, “Leave me alone.” He grabs my chin and forces my head up. His smile is gone. “Get off me!” I try to move my head away, but he holds it in place.

  “We already talked about this!” He looks around to make sure that no one is paying attention to us, then guides me over to the wall with a tight grip on my arm. There are a few students walking by. Greg has me pinned against the wall in a way that they can’t really tell what’s going on. “Sounds like somebody don’t want to go to Spain. You know I can take that away just like that,” he says, snapping his fingers. “I’m not going to tell you again. You owe me.”

  Mr. Speight comes from the classroom and says, “Miss Lashley, inside please.” He eyes Greg suspiciously. Greg smiles and pretends to wipe something off my cheek.

  “See you later.”

  My forehead doesn’t leave the desk for the entire period. If there were a way to just disappear, I would do it right now. I’d give one of my fingers for Harry Potter’s wand. I sneak a glance back at Cherise and catch her staring at me. She looks away and up at the board. Yeah, right, like she’s actually listening to what Mr. Speight is saying. Watching her walk by me while I was in trouble is what I’m having the hardest time dealing with. I realize now that I can’t depend on anyone or anything.

  Well, maybe I’m not all by myself. I still have Garth, and he has got to be the world’s greatest tutor. Everything we talked about last night is on the math test. Even better, the first seven questions come straight from those old exams that Garth gave me! These problems used to seem like hieroglyphics to me, and I am breezing through them like nothing. I can still remember the answers, but we have to show all the work. My smile gets bigger and bigger when I finish each question and come up with the right numbers. I glance up at the clock. There are fifteen minutes left in the class and I have three problems left. I can do this.

  Question 8 stumps me a little bit. It’s different than what Garth and I went over. I try my best, and after erasing a few times, I come up with something that seems to make sense. When I get to question 9, I almost crack a smile. Even though it wasn’t one of the questions that Garth gave me, I can hear his voice walking me through it. When you have a fraction in front of the variable, the easiest way to figure out the value of the variable is to multiply the entire equation by the inverse of the fraction. That’s exactly what I do, and before I know it, I’m writing the answer down. One more question.

  I tilt my head back and take a deep breath. I roll my head around a few times, trying to loosen my neck up, and catch sight of someone standing in the hallway near the door. It’s Greg. He smiles and winks at me, then walks away. I try to work on that last question, reading the problem over and over. It’s pointless.

  “Pencils down.”

  The dark side of school is showing up more and more. News spreads fast at Tech—like a wildfire, to be exact. By fifth period, it seems as if everyone in the school is talking about what happened between Greg and me on Friday. Whenever I walk by a group of people, they start sneezing and saying, “Bless you” before laughing hysterically.

  A drawback of going to school with smart kids is that they take ridicule to new heights. One guy turned to his friend and said, “May I pass?” and his friend responded, “Certainly, you have my blessing.”

  It’s bad enough that I am so afraid of running into Greg or Passion. Now I have to deal with the school thinking I’m some kind of whore? I just want to turn and scream at them and tell them what really happened. I want to tell them that Greg is abusive and probably a rapist in the making, if he hasn’t done it by now. It’s pointless, though, because I know they won’t believe me. He is the captain of the basketball team, and I’d be just another girl throwing herself at his feet.

  We’re inside again for gym today. Loo
ks like soccer is on today. A few of the girls in the class are looking over at me and snickering. They’re talking just above a whisper, but I don’t pay any attention to them. I’m focused on Cherise.

  I tell Mr. S., “I want to play offense.” My eyes never leave Cherise. She’s the goalie, and I’d love to get one good shot at her head.

  “No, we need you at goalie. You’re good at catching balls.”

  All the girls start laughing as the unintentional joke sails right over Mr. S.’s head.

  The game isn’t much of a distraction. I’m hardly making an effort, because the girls on the other team are as non-athletic as they come. I have no problem swatting away their weak shot attempts.

  A girl walks into the gym, and I watch her head straight for Mr. S. It’s that girl Azalia from the study abroad office. She hands a note to him and looks over at me as she walks out of the gym. She throws me a nasty glance on her way out of the door. After Mr. S. finishes reading the note, he blows his whistle and pulls me to the side.

  “Ms. Lashley, please come with me.” When we get out into the hallway, he says, “I just got a note from the principal’s office. I’m sorry to tell you this. Something has happened to your brother.”

  “What? What happened?” I’m so close to crying right now.

  “The note didn’t say. It just said that you should report to the principal’s office immediately.” He scratches his head and says, “This is kind of unusual. They don’t normally send letters.… I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 26

  My heart is racing. Something has happened to my brother. What? Which one? Oh my God, I hope they’re not hurt. I hope they didn’t get shot or in a car accident. Please just let whoever it is have broken his arm or something. I shouldn’t have wished bad things on them. I push through the doors to the stairwell and run full speed toward the stairs. I never make it, because someone grabs my arm.