It's All Good

by Nikki Carter

  “You just need some practice, ma. You’ll get it.”

  I crack a tiny smile. “Are you going to keep teaching me?”

  “Yes, but I’m wearing a helmet next time.”

  “Hahahaha. Jokes!”

  22

  Hope and I have been at the mall all day, trying to find an appropriate Christmas gift for Ricky. Seriously, what do you buy for your BFF who’s almost made it to boo status? Exactly! We don’t know either.

  “What about a sweater?” I ask.

  “No. Too boring. He’s not your uncle, Gia.”

  “Well, then what? Cologne?”

  Hope laughs. “No! That’s not sentimental enough.”

  “But I do like it when he smells good.”

  Hope shakes her head adamantly. “Absolutely not.”

  “Tennis shoes?”

  “My mother says that if you buy a man shoes, then he’ll walk right out of your life.”

  “Are you kidding me? So she’s never bought Pastor Stokes a pair of shoes?”

  Hope shrugs. “I think that only applies to when you’re dating someone.”

  This is crazy! Boys are too hard. There’s a ton of girlie stuff you can buy me. Especially when I love Tweety so much. Ricky has lots of choices.

  “I know! You can buy him a giant key and say it’s the key to your heart!” Hope squeals this as if it is a great plan.

  Gag on top of gag. But then again, this is coming from the girl who writes twenty-page letters in purple ink. What can I expect?

  “Hope, there is no way I’m doing something as lame as that. No, ma’am.”

  “Okay, then just get him that stupid, boring wallet that we saw earlier.”

  The wallet was not stupid or boring. It was leather and it was nice. Ricky needs a wallet. He’s always got his money balled up in his pocket.

  Hope asks, “What does Ricky like more than anything else?”

  “Sports,” I reply.

  “So why not get him something sports related?”

  I ponder this for a second. “Ricky will look scrumptili-cious in a Tennessee Titans jersey.”

  “Why the Titans? Isn’t Ricky a Browns fan?”

  “He likes the Titans too, and I just pictured him in that Titans blue and navy blue. Niiiice.”

  “E www, Gia. You are out of control.”

  “Come on, let’s see if they have a good one in Foot Locker. We can get a hat to match at Lids, too.”

  Hope laughs. “Dang, you’re breaking the bank on your little boo, huh. What’s everybody else getting?”

  I shrug. “Umm ... let’s hit the dollar store before we leave.”

  Hope bursts into giggles. “Wow!”

  We start toward the Foot Locker, which is, of course, at the other end of the mall. On our way over, we see a pack of Longfellow Spartans girls. Mostly rally girls, but some not. Hope waves, and they all rush our way.

  “Dang, Hope! You know I’m on a mission,” I fuss, not wanting to stop and have girl talk.

  “Chill out, Gia. We know what we’re getting now. We’ve been running around here for hours looking at stupid stuff. I need a break.”

  As the girls approach, I can tell that something isn’t right. Sascha is crying. Oh, wow. So not in the mood for a crying girl today, not in the middle of my power shopping.

  “Sascha! What’s wrong?” Hope runs to her and gives her a hug.

  “It’s not me!” Sascha wails. “It’s Susan. She’s in the hospital.”

  “What?” I ask. “Is she hurt?”

  Cecile, another of the rally girls, says, “She took a bunch of pills and wrote her mom a letter saying that she doesn’t want to live anymore.”

  “Why would she do something like that?” Hope asks.

  Sascha replies, “Some boy that she met on Facebook told her to do it. She really liked him, and she thought he liked her too. But then he started being really mean and told her that she should have never been born.”

  All of a sudden my legs are wobbly. I stumble over to the nearest bench and sit down. They just told me that Susan tried to commit suicide because someone was teasing her on Facebook. And I know that someone is Valerie’s mother.

  I have to tell someone now. I have no other choice.

  I walk back over to the group. “What hospital is Susan in?”

  “Lakeside. But she can’t have any visitors.”

  She may not be able to have visitors, but the person I’m telling can go into the hospital any time of the day or night without an invitation.

  “Come on, Hope. Let’s go get this jersey. Call your dad so he can pick us up. I want to talk to him,” I say.

  “You sure you don’t want to hang with the rally girls for a while, just until everyone is okay?”

  I give Hope my most serious glare. “Hope, I need to talk to your dad, like right now. It’s an emergency.”

  Hope gives an apologetic look to her crew. “I’ll catch up with y’all later. Gia is tripping.”

  I walk quickly to Foot Locker, with Hope barely able to keep up. When she finally catches me she says, “What was all that about?”

  “I know who the boy is on Facebook.”

  Hope shakes her head. “No, you don’t. It’s this guy named Javier, and he doesn’t even go to our school.”

  “I know. He lives in Puerto Rico, actually, and can’t speak any English,” I reply.

  “What? That doesn’t make any sense! He posts in English all the time.”

  “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about, and I need to tell your dad. Pastor Stokes will know what to do.”

  “It’s Valerie, isn’t it?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. But I can’t tell you who.”

  Hope takes out her cell phone and calls her dad. “Daddy, can you come pick us up from the mall? We’ve finished shopping for today and Gia wants to talk to you about something ... Okay, see you in a few ... Bye, Daddy!”

  She looks at me and says, “Okay, my dad is on his way. Satisfied?”

  “No, but I will be once I pay for Ricky’s jersey.”

  I look at the selections on the rack and find a perfect one for Ricky. He wears a large, because he likes a little extra room to layer it with a turtleneck or long sleeve T-shirt. How do I know the size? Because I have stolen many of his jerseys to rock with jeans and jean skirts. Yeah, that sounds like a girlfriend kind of thing to do, but I’ve been swiping Ricky’s clothes since middle school, and there was no romance going on then.

  Actually, there’s no romance going on now, but we’re moving in the right direction, I think. He’s trying to be my official boy.

  Pastor Stokes drops Hope off at home and takes me for ice cream. I love talking to my uncle, because desserts are always involved. He has a sweet tooth and is constantly looking for a good reason to buy something yummy to eat.

  We’re sitting at the table in the very uncrowded Baskin-Robbins shop. I guess since it is winter time, not too many people are trying to eat ice cream. Pastor has a banana split and I’ve got a one-scoop sundae.

  “So, what’s going on, Niecey? What do you want to talk about? Everything okay at home?”

  I nod. “Everything is cool. LeRon and Candy are cool, I guess. I think I just had to get used to them.”

  “Glad to hear that!” he says with a smile. “So what’s bothering you then?”

  “A girl in my class tried to commit suicide.”

  Pastor gasps. “In your class? Is she okay?”

  “She’s in Lakeside Hospital. She did it because she thinks a boy was being cruel to her on Facebook.”

  Pastor’s eyebrows go up, almost forming a straight line on his forehead. “She thinks a boy was being cruel? Was he not being mean to her?”

  “Oh, he was being mean, but he isn’t really a he.”

  “Ah. Is there some girl tormenting the young lady?”

  I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and scratch my head. I know that once I say this, I can’t take it back. And it’s going to be all bad for Valer
ie’s mom once I say something.

  “It’s not a girl, Pastor. It’s my friend’s mother.”

  “What! Which friend, Gia?”

  “It’s Valerie’s mom, Mrs. Lopez. She’s pretending to be a teenage boy on Facebook.”

  Pastor shakes his head. “And a young girl tried to kill herself over that?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid Valerie’s mom won’t stop.”

  “Why would she do something like this?”

  I shrug. “First, I think she was angry that Valerie didn’t win the Homecoming Queen title. But then, I think she was mad that Mr. and Mrs. Chiang came up to the school and embarrassed her.”

  “I have never heard anything so crazy in my entire life,” Pastor says.

  “Valerie is going to be so mad at me. I doubt she’ll want to be friends with me anymore once this comes out.”

  Pastor sighs. “Gia, do you think that Valerie or her mother wanted someone to die over this?”

  “No, I hope not.”

  “Well, then they have to know that this has gotten totally out of control. Don’t worry. I’m going to call up to the hospital and talk to the Chiangs. I won’t even bring your name up.”

  “Thank you, Pastor.”

  I feel relief rush over me like a wave at the beach. Not one of the tiny ones that just tickle your toes, I’m talking the wave that picks you up off the ground and throws you onto the sand.

  Yeah, super relieved.

  Because I know that my uncle is not going to drop this, and he’s going to do the right thing. I kinda feel like it’s my fault that it went this far, because maybe I should’ve told my uncle from the jump.

  “Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Pastor Stokes asks.

  I take a very long pause. Should I mention the whole Sascha thing? I think my mom would completely flip out if I go over her head to my uncle to get Sascha back into PGP. But she and my aunt are not listening to reason. Hmmm ... I think I’ll wait to ask him about this. He’ll be my last resort.

  “Umm ... that I want an iTunes gift card for Christmas?”

  He smiles. “You kids and those little iPods! I’ll get you a gift card if you promise to only download gospel songs.”

  I scrunch up my nose. “How about if I download one gospel song.”

  “Deal. You drive a hard bargain, Gia.”

  I give my uncle a fist pound. “Thank you, sir. Good doing business with you!”

  23

  I’ve just finished wrapping Ricky’s Christmas gift with my shiny, cartoon-print wrapping paper. I actually wrapped everything, and no, I did not get everyone else’s gifts at the dollar store.

  I got Hope and Candy cute House of Deréon baby tees. I bought my mom a cookbook. No explanation needed. For LeRon, I got a slamming tie at Macy’s. His selection is pretty old-school, so I scored him a DKNY tie on sale. Kevin gets a copy of Eragon. He’s gonna love it.

  My phone buzzes on my hip. “What it do?”

  “Hey, you.”

  An involuntary smile pops up on my face. It’s Ricky. “Hey. What are you doing?”

  “Watching TV. You?”

  “Just got finished wrapping gifts.”

  “We going over to Pastor Stokes’s house?”

  Everyone always goes to my uncle’s house on Christmas. The entire day, members of our church stop in and say hello to the family. Sometimes they bring gifts for Pastor and Aunt Elena. Some of them stay and have a plate of food. Grandma Stokes usually cooks enough for everyone. I’m sure with my mom doing the honors this year, there won’t be too many people sticking around.

  The young people all chill in Pastor’s basement, playing pool and exchanging gifts. It’s like our own little youth ministry Christmas party. It’s the one time all year that no one has a curfew.

  “You know I’m going over there. I’m helping Gwen cook this year.”

  Ricky laughs. “You in the kitchen? What are you making? The water?”

  “You’re such a comedian. Hope is helping too. My mom is doing most of it.”

  “Aw, man. Sister Gwen burns hot dogs. She can’t be cooking the Christmas dinner.”

  “We tried to tell her, but she’s determined to show Aunt Penny that she can do it. I think my grandmother will be there to oversee, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

  I can’t believe Ricky brought up the burnt hot dogs. One time when we were little, my mom made us eat these hot dogs that she boiled until all the water left the pan. She tried to convince us that they were barbequed outside. We were ten, but we weren’t stupid. That had to have been the nastiest hot dog I’ve ever eaten.

  “What did you get me for Christmas?” Ricky asks.

  “You’ll find out when you open it.”

  “Is it good? Am I gonna like it?”

  I laugh out loud. “Dang, Ricky. You’re worse than a little kid. But to answer your questions, yes and yes.”

  “Sweet! I can’t wait.”

  “Ricky, I told Pastor about Valerie’s mom.”

  There’s silence on the line for a moment. “You did? Why?”

  “You heard about Susan, right?”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s messed up. I overheard my mom on the phone talking about it.”

  “Well, that’s why I told. I couldn’t keep the secret anymore after that. If Valerie is mad, then oh, well.”

  “I know that’s right.”

  Both of us are quiet now, but I don’t think that he wants to get off the phone. I know that I don’t. It’s a good thing it’s evening, or my mom would flip out if she knew I was using daytime minutes on my cell phone to listen to Ricky breathe.

  “You ready to go driving again?” Ricky asks.

  “Not yet.”

  Ricky laughs. “I had fun that day, Gia. You were so scared.”

  “How is it that me being scared equals fun for you? I don’t get that.”

  “I just like being with you period, Gia. So that’s why it was fun.”

  Gulp. I hate when Ricky does this. He’ll just spring some random boyfriend-like sentiment on me when I’m not ready. He likes being with me? How do I even respond to that without sounding totally foolish?

  Maybe I shouldn’t care how I sound.

  “Yeah, it was kinda fun, I guess.”

  Yes, I know this was a total cop-out, but I’m not ready to go there yet. Because what if when I get there, I start acting stupid like Sascha? What if I start saying ridiculous stuff like, “I would die if he’s not with me.” Dude! Totally not trying to go there, and yet it seems inevitable that teenage love goes there.

  “You talked to Chase lately?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “Nah. He and I aren’t that cool, especially since he started putting his hands on girls. That’s not cool.”

  “Sascha is still trying to be a part of the PGP cotillion, but my mom and Aunt Elena aren’t trying to hear it.”

  “Did she break the rules?” Ricky asks.

  “That’s the thing! She didn’t break the rules at all. They just don’t like the idea of a girl who has an abusive boyfriend being one of the debutantes.”

  “That sounds like Sister Gwen. You’ve already tried to talk to her, I guess.”

  “Yep. She’s being completely irrational about the whole thing. She won’t even hear me out anymore.”

  “That’s messed up. Do you and Kev know the date for your SAT test yet?” Ricky asks.

  “Yes. We go on January twelfth. You can go too, if you want. The deadline to sign up is the day after Christmas.”

  I can’t believe we’re taking the SATs! We’re almost seniors. It feels like high school has just gone by way too quickly. One day we were pimply, skinny little freshmen and now we’re almost grown. It’s just crazy. I guess I understand how my mom feels about me growing up.

  We’re quiet again, but like I said before, the quiet is cool. I feel my eyelids getting heavy, so I know that I’m gonna be asleep in a few minutes.

  “Ricky, I’m falling asleep. Do you want to j
ust talk tomorrow?”

  “Okay, but you hang up first.”

  Seriously??? I can’t stop smiling. “No, you first.”

  Ricky laughs. “Okay, on three. One ... two ... three ...”

  We both burst into laughter because neither one of us hangs up.

  “Good night, Gia.”

  “’Night.”

  24

  “Merry Christmas! Wake up, Gia!”

  What is the meaning of Candy hovering over my bed at the crack of dawn like she just saw Santa Claus fly up the chimney? We are not three years old and I need my beauty sleep. I’m seeing Ricky today and I can’t be all puffy-eyed and grumpy.

  I’m just glad Christmas morning didn’t fall on a Sunday this year. Pastor Stokes always gets ridiculous with calling for a sunrise service when a holiday falls on Sunday. The choir always sounds a hot mess on these days. Sopranos sounding like tenors—everybody singing in their hot morning-breath voices. Trust. All bad.

  “I’m not awake, Candy. Come back in a few hours.”

  “It’s Christmas! Don’t you want to open your gifts?”

  Well, I’m awake now so I might as well get up. “All right. I’m up.”

  “You want to make breakfast?” Candy asks.

  She’s way too gleeful for it to still be dark outside. And she has on antlers. Why is she wearing antlers? That is just unnecessary and I’m almost sure it’s against some rule somewhere.

  “Yes, how about some bowls of cereal.”

  “Don’t be a grinch, Gia. Let’s do pancakes.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m not trying to make pancakes.”

  Candy leans on the counter and takes a deep breath. “Okay, Gia. I’m only going to say this one time, so listen up. My mom made pancakes with me every Christmas morning, until last year when she decided that her life was more important than me. So, just chill and make the pancakes, okay? I need this.”

  “All right then, pancakes.”

  We go into the kitchen where it looks like there’s already something going on. My mom has piles of neatly stacked recipes on the counter and when I open the refrigerator, ingredients are lined up in some kind of order. There are little sticky notes with numbers and letters on them.