by Nikki Carter
“What up, chica?” Valerie asks as she stops at my locker.
“You coming to my birthday party?”
“Over Rick’s house, right? Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”
Valerie gives me a weak smile. “Gia, you know what it is. My senior year is not supposed to be going down like this.”
“I know. But you don’t have to let it completely bum you out.”
“You’re right, but it’s crazy, because I didn’t even do the stuff they’re saying I did.”
I lift my eyebrows with interest. “I’ve been saying that since the beginning. It just didn’t sound like something you’d do.”
“First of all, I’m hardly ever on Facebook. As a matter of fact, I tried to log in the other day, and the password I have isn’t even right.”
I grab Valerie’s arm because flashbulbs are going off in my brain. “Your password doesn’t work?”
“No. And I don’t know why, because I wrote it down in the back of my diary.”
“Sounds like your page has been hacked. Did you answer any strange e-mails asking for your Facebook ID and password?”
Valerie shakes her head. “Nah. I only open e-mails from people that I know.”
“So the hacker had to be someone that has access to your diary. Do you carry it around with you?”
“Um, no! It stays in my room, in my special hiding place. No one knows where it is, but me.”
“Hmmm ... maybe you left yourself logged on at a public terminal by accident. Did you ever check your account at the school library?” I ask.
“Once or twice, I guess. I don’t know.”
“If you want me to help you save your senior year, then you need to think harder than that.”
Valerie grins. “Who said I wanted your help? And why do you want to help me anyway?”
“Righting injustices in the world gives me purpose!” I declare in my Martin Luther King Jr. speech voice.
Valerie bursts into laughter. “Gia, you’re crazy. I’m gonna miss you when I go off to college.”
“A www, that’s so sweet. Where are you going?”
“I’m hoping to get into Spelman, but with this junk on my school record, I don’t know what’s gonna happen.”
“That’s all the more reason we need to solve this.”
Valerie gives me a hug and it scares me.
“What was that for?” I ask.
“Because you’re the only one who’s trying to help me. Even my mom told me to drop it.”
“Your mom said to drop it? I thought she was going to sue the school and all that.”
“That’s what I thought too, then out of the blue she just changed her mind. She keeps saying that it’ll all blow over.”
I shrug sadly. “That’s messed up. But I’ll help you as long as you want.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you coming to the PGP meeting tonight?”
Valerie nods. “Of course! Shoot, the PGP cotillion might be the closest thing I get to a prom. Did you find your escort yet?”
“Um, Ricky asked if he could take me.” Why do I feel embarrassed sharing this information with Valerie?
“All right! Look at you two, all BFF turned boyfriend, girlfriend. That’s so cute.”
I clear my throat anxiously. “We’re not boyfriend, girlfriend. We’re still just friends.”
“Not for long.”
Ha! Clearly Valerie doesn’t know Ricky. It takes him all day to decide which flavor of Kool-Aid he’s going to make. (It’s always a cherry/lemonade mix, by the way.)
“I can’t believe she’s here,” Candy says, while motioning to Sascha at the PGP meeting.
I, for one, am glad to see her here. Maybe that means she’s decided not to hook up with Chase. Hopefully, it means she broke up with his abusive self. I still haven’t told my mom about Sascha’s issue yet, because I hope she says something herself. Plus, I’m still tripping that Jewel and Kelani called me a snitch.
I’m not a snitch. Am I?
Anyhoo, now that I think about it, Sascha looks kind of sad. Our meeting won’t start for a few more minutes, so I’m going to share some Gia cheer with her.
I plop down in the seat next to Sascha. “Hey, girl! What’s up?”
“Nothing, Gia. Absolutely nothing.”
Mmmm-kay. This coming from the girl who was just rocking the promise ring and talking about marrying Chase. Speaking of the promise ring, it’s missing from Sascha’s finger.
“Where’s your ring?” I ask.
Sascha’s eyes tear up. “I took it off, because Chase is tripping. I wouldn’t have come here tonight, but my mom forced me to come.”
“Tripping how?”
“Well ...”
She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence, because at that very moment Chase and one of his boys roll up into our meeting. Gwen’s face is all kinds of twisted. Chase doesn’t know it, but he should be afraid.
Aunt Elena says, “Is there something we can help you all with?”
Chase walks farther inside. “Yes. I’m looking for my girlfriend, Sascha. Is she here?”
I glance over at Sascha and notice that she’s sliding down in her chair as if she’s trying to disappear.
“Well, this is a closed session, young man,” Gwen says with attitude. “So I suggest you call or text her later when we’re through.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but she’s through anyway. Isn’t this the purity class? Well, she’s not pure anymore, if you know what I mean.”
Chase gives his friend a high five, and Sascha’s face turns a deep shade of red.
“He’s lying,” she whispers through clenched teeth.
Gwen replies, “At any rate, this session is for girls only. You’ll have to handle your little drama outside of here.”
“All right then,” Chase says. “Can you tell her I’m looking for her?”
“I cannot,” Gwen says.
Chase and his friend crack up laughing and head for the door. Then Chase turns around. “Sascha, I know you’re here. You better come here, girl. You know what’s up.”
Sascha looks unsure for a moment, but then stands. “I’ll be right back, Sister Gwen. Sorry for the disruption.”
“No, you won’t,” Chase says. “We’re about to bounce. Tell your little church friends good-bye.”
Okay, so Sascha looks super embarrassed right now. I would too, because everyone is whispering and Aunt Elena and my mom are looking extra salty.
I take Sascha’s hand and say, “You don’t have to go.”
She snatches it away quickly, but not fast enough for me not to see the purple bruises all over her wrist. She’s wearing long sleeves, but I wonder if there are more.
“She’s right, Sascha. Have a seat. We’ll call your mother if you want,” Aunt Elena says, backing me up.
Sascha shakes her head. “It’s okay, really. He just wants to talk to me.”
Sascha takes her things and heads to the back of the church. Gwen narrows her eyes, furious. Uh-oh. This looks like a job for Ninja Gwen.
My mom says, “Sascha, sit yourself down. Boy, if you don’t get up out of this church right now, I’m gonna make you wish you never walked through the door.”
Chase chuckles. “What are you gonna do? You can’t put your hands on me. I’m a minor.”
“No, but I can do this.” My mom takes out her cell phone and dials 911. “Yes, I’m at the church with a group of young women and some thugs have broken into our service.”
“Thugs! Man, she’s tripping!” Chase says. “Let’s roll out.”
When they leave, Gwen rushes to the door and locks it. She doesn’t look scared, but I know my mother. She was worried that some violence was going to go down, and she most definitely will not leave this situation alone.
Sascha takes her seat next to me, and I notice that she’s shaking uncontrollably. I think Mom notices it too, because she looks over at Sascha and shak
es her head sadly.
Aunt Elena says, “Ladies, I think we’ve had enough excitement for the evening. We’re going to dismiss you, but please stay inside until your ride is here. Thank you.”
Before we’re dismissed for good, my mom pulls Sascha to the side. She looks more afraid of my mom than she does of that boy who likes to put his hands on her. Crazy!
Hope crosses over to where I’m sitting and whispers, “What was that about?”
“I don’t know, but I hope Sascha didn’t give it up to Chase. He’s so not worth it.”
Hope nods in agreement. “I know, right! When did he turn into a thug? He used to be cute grungy, not scary grungy.”
“Maybe he’s always been like this, but we just didn’t know,” Candy suggests as she joins our conversation.
“Aren’t you the one who was just crushing on him?” Hope asks.
Candy rolls her eyes. “Get it right. He was crushing on me. But he can forget it now. He’s tragically flawed.”
All three of us watch as Sascha bursts into tears. We can’t hear what my mom is saying, but it must be deep if she’s crying like that. My mom signals for Aunt Elena to come over too. They do their signature tag-team prayer on her.
I hope it works, because this scenario, like Chase, is tragically flawed.
16
“Gia, Candy,come here!” my mom calls from the living room in her “we need to talk” voice.
I knew this was going to happen. Sascha’s little after-school special has turned into an unnecessary parental speech for me and Candy. Me no likee.
Candy and I file into the living room and sit down on the couch while Mom paces back and forth.
“We need to talk,” she finally says.
See. I told you.
“I just feel the need to say something to you two about Sascha’s situation.”
Candy says, “Okay, Mama Gwen, we’re listening.”
“First of all, please tell me that neither of you find that Chase attractive.”
“I don’t,” I say, and I’m not about to speak for Candy.
Candy rolls her eyes at me. “I used to until I saw him hitting Sascha. That’s not cool.”
“So he does hit her! I knew it, but she denied it.”
Mmm-hmmm. Now who’s the snitch. Not that I see a problem with it, though. This is totally a snitch-worthy scenario.
Gwen continues. “Listen, girls. Any boy who puts his hands on you is not worth it. And if he does it once, he’ll do it again.”
“We know that, Mom. We’re not stupid,” I say.
Candy interjects, “But girls hit too, Mama Gwen. I think that’s wrong too, and then the boy gets in trouble for hitting back.”
“It is wrong. No one should be hitting, period. If a boy is getting hit, then he needs to open up his mouth and say something. Is that what’s happening with Sascha and Chase?”
Candy shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. I was just talking in general.”
Gwen says, “I’m glad the two of you have got your heads on straight. You’ll need to have Sascha’s back when she breaks up with Chase, even though she’s out of PGP.”
“Why is she out of PGP?” I ask. “She said that Chase was lying about her not being a virgin.”
Gwen nods. “Even still, with sneaking out on dates and lying to her mother, her conduct is not something that we want for PGP.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Candy protests.
Gwen adds, “Plus, dating and forgiving an abuser is not a good example for the rest of the girls.”
“Who says she’s going to take him back? Mom, you and Aunt Elena are jumping to conclusions.”
I can tell by the scary look on my mom’s face that she is so over Candy and I giving her back talk. But I’m dead serious. This is not fair. They’re telling Sascha to do the right thing and leave Chase alone, but then they’re punishing her for it too? Not a good look for Mom or Aunt Elena.
“Okay, enough,” Gwen says with a tone of finality. “Sascha is not the only girl in the program. We’ve got everyone else to worry about too.”
Candy looks like she wants to say something else. I give her a tiny, almost invisible head shake to let her know she should just drop it. I think we’ll be able to talk to my mom and Aunt Elena later, after everything calms down.
And after my birthday party! Hello! No ruinations on my festivities are allowed. I’m not sure if I just made up the word ruination, but it is extremely apropos if I did.
I lay three outfits on my bed for Hope’s approval. One is typical Gia, with a vintage camo Tweety, skinny jeans, and army-style jean jacket. The second is kind of a glam Gia outfit: a low-key, pink Baby Phat sweater, knee-length jean skirt, sparkly pink leggings, and white boots. The third outfit is anti-Gia. It’s one hundred percent bedazzled and sparkly and, yes, it came from Hope’s closet. She couldn’t resist.
“Which one?” I ask.
“Don’t you think that two hours before your party is a little late to be asking for fashion advice?”
I ignore Hope’s question. “Pick one or you are completely useless as a friend.”
“Well, you know which one I like the best.”
“But help me pick the one that I would rock the best.”
Hope twists her mouth to one side in silent deliberation. “I like the Tweety combo, but it’s too tomboy for this occasion. I’m picking the pink sweater ensemble.”
“That’s my fave too,” I confess. “I think it goes well with my hair.”
Gwen helped me put puffy, curly two-stranded twists all over my head. They’re pinned to one side and cascading over my shoulder. Trust, it’s hotness to infinity.
“Don’t forget to wear your charm bracelet,” Hope says.
See, here’s the thing. I’m debating on whether or not I should wear it. Does wearing it give Ricky too many props? Will it seem like I’m sweating him? I don’t know.
“You are wearing it, right?” Hope asks.
I pick up the bracelet and turn it over in my hand. “I guess so.”
“Look, Gia, this should be a no-brainer. Ricky throwing this party is totally a crush thing to do. You know that, right?”
“Kinda. But Ricky and Kevin are having the party.”
“Okay, seriously, Gia. Ricky’s mom made him spend his own money on decorations and food. He spent like two hundred dollars out of his stash.”
I snap the bracelet on my wrist. I guess the least I can do is wear Ricky’s gift. It’s not hurting anything.
When I’m fully dressed, I stand in the mirror admiring myself.
“Gia is hot indeed,” I say to my reflection.
Hope groans. “If you start referring to yourself in the third person, I am so disowning you.”
“Gia is not worried,” I reply.
Hope snatches my oversized Tweety pillow and hurls it at me. She better recognize this is my birthday and I can be a diva if I feel like it!
17
The music is bumping as Hope, Candy, and I step into
Ricky’s basement. A few early birds (Kevin’s band friends) are already here and burning up the dance floor. But it looks like everyone else has decided to be fashionably late.
Sidebar. I don’t get that whole late-on-purpose concept. I guess it’s supposed to prove that you aren’t really pressed about the party. But, for real, most everybody picks out their outfit days in advance of a hot party, and they’re totally bummed if they don’t get an invite. So, show up on time already!
I just had to get that out of my system.
Kevin notices that we’ve arrived. “Hey, birthday girl,” he says and gives me a hug.
“Where’s Ricky?” I ask after scanning the room and not seeing him.
“He’s upstairs getting snacks. He’ll be down in a sec.”
Instead of joining Longfellow High’s band on the dance floor, Hope and I take a seat next to the pool table. Candy decides that she wants to dance and Kevin is more than happy to be her partner.
<
br /> “Do you think your parents are really coming?” Hope asks.
A smile teases the corners of my lips. Gwen is so funny with her threats to crash my party. I heard her on the phone with Ricky’s mom, making sure that she would be here chaperoning. Ricky’s parents are nowhere near as strict as Gwen, but they’ve got enough of the parent gene to not allow any foolishness.
Slowly but surely, people start to trickle in. By the time Ricky has transplanted the snacks from upstairs to downstairs, the dance floor is almost full.
“Happy birthday, Gia,” Ricky says. Then he surprises me by planting a soft kiss on my cheek. Even though it feels completely innocent, my face doesn’t know the difference because I feel myself blush. Hope isn’t making it any better, because she’s one step away from giggling.
“Cool party, Ricky,” I say. “Thank you for having it for me.”
“You’d do the same for me, right?”
“Of course!”
One of the rally girls dances over to us and says, “What’s up, Ricky? The dance floor is calling you!”
Ricky looks at me. “Uh, sure. I guess. Gia, Hope, y’all dancing?”
I wave one hand. “I’m good. Go ahead.”
When Ricky leaves with the rally girl to get his groove on, Hope pinches my arm.
“Ow!”
“What was that, Gia?” Hope asks.
“What was what?”
“I’m good? Are you kidding me? The boy kisses you and asks you to dance, and you say, ‘I’m good’?”
Hope doesn’t understand! I’ve got total noodle legs right now and I still haven’t processed Ricky’s beyond-BFF-STATUS kiss. I couldn’t make it to the dance floor, so forget about dancing. It would not be pretty.
“Well, sit here looking crazy if you want to,” Hope says. “I’m going to dance with James. He’s looking real nice tonight.”
“Okay, have fun.”
A few seconds after Hope’s ungraceful exit, Valerie takes up residence in her seat. I mean, seriously, can Gia get some alone time? Dang. (Okay, I promise that will be the last time I refer to myself in third person ... it’s addictive.)
“Happy birthday, Hi-Stepper,” Valerie says.
“Thanks. Where’s my gift?”