“Hey there, Marcus.” Beverly held the door opened, a silk scarf wrapped around her head.
“Hi, Miss Beverly,” I said.
“That your dog?” She asked, and I nodded. “He bite?”
“No, ma’am. He’s harmless.” I smiled. “He’s still a baby.”
“That big old dog is just a baby?” she asked, stepping out onto the porch to get a better look at Killer. “How old?”
“Seven months,” I told her. “Shepherds grow fast.”
“I suppose so,” she said. “You care for something to eat? I fried some chicken.”
“That sounds really tempting, but my stepmother, Gloria, gets really upset if I don’t eat at home. She thinks I don’t like her cooking.”
“Do you?”
“I can’t stand her cooking.” Beverly and I both laughed.
“Well, your daddy loves to eat. How he end up with a woman who can’t cook?” She laughed harder.
“I don’t know, Miss Beverly.”
“Well, you can eat here and at home.” She smiled. “Just one piece won’t hurt a thing.”
Beverly disappeared into the house, the place where those wonderful mouth-watering smells were coming from. You could smell the seasonings a block away, and I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into a piece of that fried chicken. Gloria never fried chicken; said that it was unhealthy and claimed that it was the reason that black folks died from high blood pressure. She baked everything in the oven; chicken, fish, even French fries. Everything! I was sure that from time to time, my pop wished he could go back to his New Orleans roots just for a day and taste some of those Cajun seasonings that he grew up on. My grandmother and mother deep-fried everything. Even the turkey on Thanksgiving was deep-fried.
“Can we take Killer for a walk, Marcus?” Justin asked.
“We need to get started on your homework first, little man. That’s why I’m here. To help you out.”
“I know, but can we just go for a quick walk?”
“Work first, and then we play,” I said. “Now go get your math book, so we can get started. If it’s not too late when we’re finished, we’ll take Killer for a walk.”
“Aw, man.”
“Don’t get mad. We have to get the important stuff out of the way first.” I sounded like my pop. I guess he was rubbing off on me.
Justin ran into the house to grab his math book, almost knocking his mother over as she opened the door carrying a piping hot chicken leg wrapped in a paper towel. Handed it to me.
“Here you go, Marcus.” She smiled. “And there’s plenty more where that came from.”
“Thank you.”
Justin and I sat side by side in the rocker on the porch. He opened his math book, handed me his worksheet.
“This is what we had to do today. Problems one through eight. And they were hard, too.”
I scanned the worksheet to make sure Justin had worked the problems correctly. Got distracted as three cute girls walked past the house, giggling and talking loud. Girls were always exaggerating their actions, laughing when there was nothing really that funny, and trying to be seen when boys were around.
“Hey, Sasha,” Beverly yelled to the cappuccino-colored girl with shoulder-length brown hair.
“Hi, Miss Beverly.” The girl waved. “Hey, Justin.”
“Hey.” Justin barely opened his mouth, as he looked up at her.
She was cute, and I couldn’t stop staring.
“Come here, Sasha, I got somebody I want you to meet,” Beverly said.
She walked toward the porch as her friends waited at the curb. As she got closer, I got a better look at her light brown eyes and perfectly white teeth.
“Hey, sweetie pie.” Sasha pinched Justin’s cheek, and he looked embarrassed.
He was blushing like crazy and trying to play it off. It was obvious he had a crush on her. Reminded me of the crush I once had on Mrs. Banks, my fifth grade teacher. She was so fine. She would squeeze my cheeks and tell me how cute I was. She didn’t know it, but I had secretly made her my girlfriend.
“Oh, he’s trying to act shy,” Beverly said. “Why you trying to act shy in front of Sasha, Justin?”
He shrugged his shoulders. I knew! Because he thought she was hot.
“Well, we both know that he’s not.” Sasha smiled, and that’s when I noticed her cute little dimples.
“Sasha, this is Marcus. He’s Justin’s tutor,” Beverly said. “Marcus, Sasha watches Justin for me in the evenings until I can get home from work. She watches him for me sometimes on the weekend too.”
“How you doing? Nice to meet you,” I said.
“You, too,” she said. “You go to Douglas?”
“George Washington Carver.”
“Oh. Our football team is playing y’all next Saturday. Homecoming game.”
“I know.” I smiled. “And we plan on winning, too.”
“I doubt it. Carver sucks,” she said. “You play football?”
“No.”
“What grade you in?”
“Tenth,” I said, and felt like I was being sized up. “What about you?”
“I’m in the eleventh,” she boasted. An older woman, I thought.
Killer raised up and rubbed up against Sasha’s leg. I guess he knew quality when he saw it. She didn’t flinch, just started rubbing him underneath his chin. She wasn’t scared of him like most people were when they first met Killer. He usually scared the crap out of everyone, especially girls. The only other girl who wasn’t scared of Killer was Indigo. When he barked at her, she told him shut up before she knocked his teeth out. That only made me more attracted to her. A girl who could play basketball in the middle of the street with a bunch of guys and talk junk to a German Shepherd like that was not an ordinary girl. She was extraordinary.
I wondered if Sasha could play ball as I checked out her smooth legs. There weren’t any muscles in her legs like in Indigo’s. Indigo’s legs looked as if she did squats every day. They were strong and muscular.
“He likes her,” Justin said.
I wanted to tell him that I did, too, but I played it cool. I turned my attention back to Justin’s homework.
“Well, I gotta go,” she said, bouncing back down the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow Justin.”
“Okay,” Justin said.
“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” she said to me, and then joined her friends who were waiting at the curb.
I watched as they walked to the corner and then turned down the next block. Watched until I could no longer see them.
Tutoring Justin might not be that bad after all, I thought.
Chapter 12
Indigo
Butterflies floated around in my stomach, each flying in different directions as I sat on the front porch. Dressed in a soft pink, sleeveless dress trimmed in lace, my hair pulled into a mass on my head, eyeliner, lipstick and mascara on my face, I waited for my date. He was already thirty minutes late, and I was becoming nervous. My parents kept snapping pictures and staring at me with these goofy smiles on their faces. At one point, Mama even had tears in her eyes.
“It’s just a Homecoming Dance,” I told them. “It’s not that serious.”
“It is serious. It’s your first real date, Indi,” Mama said, wiping tears from her eyes.
My father wouldn’t let me date until I was fifteen, so I guess this was a milestone moment in my life. The first time a boy ever came to my house and picked me up and my parents were more excited than I was.
I heard Marcus’s front door creak and watched as he stepped out of his house and onto his porch. His tie undone, he rushed to his Jeep. He looked my way and waved. I waved back.
“What’s up?” he yelled, looking extra handsome in a black tuxedo, lavender cummerbund and shiny black shoes. I wondered who he was taking to the dance, and almost asked, but didn’t want him to think I was prying, or that I cared.
“Nothing,” I said to him, and managed a smile. His smile was beautiful and cal
ming and warm, even caused my butterflies to settle.
“You waiting on Quincy?”
“Yep.”
“He’s a little late, ain’t he?” he asked, and looked at his watch.
“He’s on his way,” I shot back, not wanting him to know that I had already assessed the situation and wasn’t pleased at all.
“You look very pretty, Indi. I hope Quincy makes it here soon,” he said and rushed to his Jeep. Jumped in and pulled off down the block.
“Me, too,” I whispered to myself.
As a navy blue Nissan Maxima slowed in front of the house, my butterflies started flying rapidly again. My stomach churned as Quincy stepped out of the driver’s seat wearing a black tuxedo with a pink cummerbund that matched my dress, no tie and pink-and-white Nikes. His hair was trimmed perfectly, and he carried a white corsage in a plastic container that he had probably picked up at Publix grocery store on the way over.
“Hi, Indi. Sorry I’m late,” he said as he climbed onto our porch.
“Hi, Quincy,” I said, and suddenly Daddy appeared behind me.
“Hello, sir,” Quincy said, grabbing my father’s hand in a strong handshake. I was relieved to know that he at least had manners.
That was important because I knew that Daddy would judge him based on whether or not he seemed to have home training. That would determine whether or not he could come back again. So I was relieved.
“How are you, son?” Daddy said. “Running a little late aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir, and I’m sorry. I had an errand to run for my mother.”
Just then, Mama rushed out onto the porch carrying one of her old shawls. One like the old ladies wore at our church.
“Here, Indi. Take this. You might get cold later and you can throw this around your arms.”
I took it, but had no intentions of wearing it tonight or any other night. It was too old fashioned for my taste, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Hello, young man,” Mama said and shook Quincy’s hand.
“How you doing, Mrs. Summer?” Quincy asked. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“What time can we expect her home?” Daddy asked.
“What time would you like her home?” Quincy asked.
“No later than twelve-thirty,” Daddy said.
“Twelve-thirty, Daddy? We won’t even have time to get anything to eat,” I protested. “One-thirty?”
“One o’clock, Indi. And that’s final.”
“I’ll have her home by one, sir.” Quincy stepped in, and then took the corsage out of its package. Pinned it on me, and I was embarrassed as his hand accidentally swept across my breast. He was obviously experienced at this stuff; pinning corsages on girls, because he did it perfectly. How many times had he taken somebody to a formal dance?
“Y’all look so nice. Stand over there so I can take a picture,” Mama said, digital camera in hand.
“They wearing sneakers to formal dances now?” Daddy got a better view of Quincy’s shoes.
“It’s the style, Daddy.” Quincy and I both laughed.
“Times sure have changed since I was in high school.”
“Yes, they have,” I said, blinded by the flash from the camera. “Can we go now?”
“Y’all have a good time.” Mama kissed my cheek. “I’ll make sure your nana gets copies of these pictures. She’ll be so excited. Wouldn’t you like to call her before you leave, just to say hello?”
“Mama, we’re already running late.” Quincy and I started down the stairs. “I’ll call her later.”
“You have your cell phone, Indi?” Mama asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Call us if you need us, baby,” she said.
“Okay.”
Quincy opened the passenger door of his mama’s car, and I hopped inside. Couldn’t wait to get away from those parents of mine; the ones who still treated me like a five-year-old. At some point they would have to let go. As soon as we got to the end of my street, Quincy pumped up a single by Dem Franchize Boyz, “Lean Wit It, Rock Wit It,” the unedited version. That nice, mannerable young man who had just stepped onto my parent’s porch for the first time had disappeared by the time we reached the corner.
“You look fine, girl,” he said.
“Thanks. So do you.” I was tense. Clasped my hands together with nervous energy.
“You can loosen up. We’re away from your parents. It’s just you and me now. So just relax and kick back.”
“Okay,” I said, but the butterflies wouldn’t keep still, as he did about eighty miles an hour in a residential area.
The school’s cafeteria had been transformed into a ballroom with streamers, colorful balloons everywhere, and fluorescent lights throughout the room. In one corner of the room, a DJ played booty-shaking music and in the opposite corner, Coach Robinson served cake and punch to a long line of students. I immediately lost Quincy to his boys from the football team as they huddled together in the middle of the floor, flexing and showing off their tuxedos. I was left against the wall by myself, looking around to see who all was there. A few people were on the dance floor getting their grooves on. As I scanned the room checking out all the different dresses I prayed that no one had mine on. Someone covered my eyes from behind.
“It’s about time you got here.” Tameka smiled, her strapless red dress covering every inch of her round hips. Her body was fully developed like a grown woman’s—like her mother, Mel’s. She had it all in the right places, unlike me. Mine was divided sparingly—a little bit of hips here, a little bit of booty, some nice muscular legs—thanks to the squats that Miss Martin demanded from the dance team—but not much in the breast department at all. Some girls received it a lot slower than others.
“That dress is off da hook, girl!” I said. “It looks so much better than it did when you tried it on at Macy’s.”
Tameka modeled her dress in front of me, twisting and turning as if she was on the runway. “You look really cute yourself.”
“Thank you.”
As the DJ played “Shoulder Lean,” Tameka pulled my arm. “Come on, let’s go get our men so we can dance.”
Tameka broke up their little party, grabbed Jeff by the arm and I grabbed Quincy. We led them to the dance floor. Quincy started doing a dance called the Shoulder Lean and I followed. Tameka and Jeff danced to our right. Across the room and to my left, I spotted Marcus dancing with Charmaine Jackson, his date for the evening. They were color coordinated. His eyes met mine, and he smiled. I smiled back. I wondered how the two of them ended up together. She definitely wasn’t his type, and she wasn’t even cute. Had she asked him, or had he asked her to the dance? What did I care? He was just my stupid next-door neighbor anyway.
Chapter 13
Marcus
For some reason, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Indigo. And she was definitely wearing that dress. She wasn’t overdeveloped like some of the other girls in the place, but she had a little something that was worth looking at. She was perfectly built, in my opinion. And the moment I saw her walk in with Quincy Rawlins, my blood started to boil. Jealousy rushed through my veins. He didn’t deserve a girl like that. He was one of the biggest dogs at our school, and it was always the dogs that got first dibs on the girls. The good girls. Not girls like my date, Charmaine Jackson, who hadn’t stopped talking since the moment I picked her up at her run-down apartment complex.
Her brothers had stood outside in their sagging pants and bandanas wrapped around their heads, throwing up gang signs as I pulled into the parking lot. Her mother had answered the door wearing a short, sheer nightgown and asked me if I could run to the store and pick her up a package of cigarettes.
“A package of Kool Milds, baby,” she’d said. “And pick me up one of them disposable cameras so I can take you and Charmaine’s picture.”
“Ma’am, I’m not old enough to buy cigarettes,” I told her. “I’m only sixteen.”
“Ma’am? Don’t be calling me no
ma’am! You can just call me Shirley,” she said. “And you can just tell James down at the CVS that the cigarettes is for me. He’ll sell ’em to you.”
She pulled a wad of cash out of her purse and handed me a ten-dollar bill.
“Miss Jackson, I really don’t feel comfortable buying cigarettes,” I told her.
“Oh, never mind, boy. I’ll get one of these no-good sons of mine to run to the store. Y’all go on to the dance, and have a good time.”
I was relieved to finally jump in my Jeep and burn rubber out of the parking lot.
Chapter 14
Indigo
I stood on the wall nursing a cup of punch, as everyone was on the dance floor, sweaty from all the movement. On Quincy’s way back from the restroom, he stopped and whispered something in Patrice Robinson’s ear and she smiled at him. Before long the two of them were on the dance floor, his hands wrapped around her body and hers exploring his chest. I was fighting mad. How could he bring me to a dance and then dance with someone else? This time I wouldn’t be so calm.
“Why you standing over here by yourself?” Marcus had found his way next to me, and I was actually happy to hear his voice in my ear.
“Waiting for Quincy to get done dancing with that tramp over there.”
“Who, Patrice?” he asked, as if he hadn’t noticed. Everybody in the place noticed how they danced with each other.
“Yes, Patrice.”
“There’s one of two things you can do about that.” He smiled and it was the first time I noticed how beautiful his smile was. And he smelled so good. “You can either go over there and tell him that you don’t appreciate him dancing with her…”
“What’s the other thing?”
“You can come out here and dance with me, let me show you some moves.”
“Where’s your date?”
“Her girls came and whisked her off somewhere to go gossip.”
We both laughed.
“How did you end up with her anyway, Marcus? She’s not even your type.”
“My type?” He smiled that smile again. “What’s my type?”
Indigo Summer Page 7