Holidaze

by L. Divine

  “I bet you did. You need to ask for a refund. Those eyes don’t suit you well at all.” I continue to hold on to Misty, who looks a little less confident as I talk about her newfound sight. She can’t handle what Esmeralda’s giving to her, and she knows it. But her hate for me drives her on and it’s going to land her flat on her juicy ass if she doesn’t back down.

  “Do you want to get into more trouble, Jayd?” I’ve always wanted to kick her ass, but was worried about the repercussions. Now’s my chance.

  “This will be worth the trouble,” I say, snatching her by her extensions to everyone’s amazement. KJ backs up from the scene. He knows better than to get involved in a chick fight, as he would call it. And he also knows me, so he really should think twice about saving his little piece of tail, because we all know that’s all Misty is to him.

  “Damn it, Jayd,” Misty says, grabbing my hand as I pull her around to face the mirror. The spirit books says I have to get her to look at her reflection and mine at the same time in order to break the initial hold she has on my luck. But turning me into a dream zombie has to be broken in my dream world, and to do this I must deal directly with Esmeralda, because this trick has no real power. It’s all in Esmeralda’s hands.

  “What’s the matter? You can’t face yourself?” Misty refuses to look up at our reflection. I’ve got to get her to do it at the same time or the spell won’t be broken. Misty’s stronger than she looks, or I’m just getting weaker with every passing day that Misty’s got my power. But as Mama and my mom keep reminding me, even on a weak day I’m still stronger than Misty.

  “Misty, are you going to just let her grab on you like that?” Laura asks, stepping behind me as I try to force Misty’s head up. There’s nothing Laura can do, but I wish the trick would try. I’ve got Misty overpowered, and unless one of her fake friends steps up to the plate, her ass is mine.

  “Well, don’t just stand there. Help me,” Misty says, still trying to get my hands off of her cheap extensions. She needs to ask Esmeralda to help her get some money so she can keep up her hairstyle. Misty doesn’t even need hairpieces, but I guess it makes her feel better.

  “They can’t help you, but I can. You know you’re way out of your league, Misty. Look at yourself.” Misty tries to keep her head down, but she can’t avoid my gaze forever, just like I couldn’t avoid hers in my dream at first. Before I can get her to look in the mirror inside of my locker, Mrs. Bennett turns the corner, coming to Misty’s rescue. Damn.

  “Problem, ladies?” the evil teacher asks. Why is she even in the main hall this early? You’d think she’d be preparing for class like the rest of the teachers.

  “No, we’re good. I was just helping her out,” I say, loosening my hold on Misty, but not letting go. We’re far from done.

  “Your eyes are quite…interesting,” Mrs. Bennett says to Misty, her blue eyes shimmering more than usual.

  “Thank you. I just got them,” Misty says. She and Mrs. Bennett lock into each other’s eyes like it’s some sort of secret code. I know I’m tripping now.

  “If you want to take this up with the principal, I’ll be glad to escort you to the office,” Mrs. Bennett says, not losing her lock on Misty’s eyes. They don’t even know each other like that, but there’s a different kind of recognition going on here. I step in between them, since nobody else seems to notice what’s going on.

  “No, we’re good. Like I said, I was just helping her with her hair, and it got caught in the locker door. I was trying to be friendly.” If Laura and her crew had stuck behind Misty, she’d happily have sent me up the river for this altercation. But Misty’s not going to say shit, because I know she doesn’t want to see me once she gets home. Esmeralda or not, Misty doesn’t want to suffer a beat-down once we’re back in our hood.

  “Miss Jackson, I can tell the difference between a friendly gesture and a not-so-friendly one. I do have eyes that work very well. I can see what’s behind this façade. That said, I think you and I should take a trip to the office. Close your locker, Jayd. Miss Caldwell, you can go now.” Damn, this chick’s still going to make me go, even without Misty’s complaint—and she’s the supposed victim here. This is some hater shit for real.

  “I know you’ve been through a lot lately,” Mrs. Bennett says, holding on to my right arm tighter than necessary as we head to the main office. Is she even supposed to be touching me? What happen to the “personal space” clause in the school’s manual? I read that thing cover to cover when I tried to find a way to keep Mickey from being forced off campus by the administration. “Maybe you need some counseling.” Why do I feel like I’m going in for a lobotomy?

  “I’m good, but thanks for your concern,” I say as we enter the double doors connecting the main hall to the main office. None of the secretaries look up when they see us: they’re too used to seeing me escorted by Mrs. Bennett. She leads me to the Special Circumstances counselor, who’s only here on Fridays—lucky me. When we walk into her office she instantly recognizes me from my last clash, which also happened to be with Misty. Mrs. Bennett gives her the rundown of why we’re here today, including the fact that I witnessed my friends get shot last month.

  “Miss Jackson, it is understandable that you might have some anger management issues after all that you’ve witnessed. I think it would be effective if you took a break from your normal routine and enlisted in our week-long intensive counseling course.”

  “I don’t think so, but thanks anyway,” I say, adjusting the heavy backpack on my shoulders.

  “This isn’t a choice, Miss Jackson. Either you voluntarily enroll in the program or risk suspension for your behavior. It’s your choice.” If that were true I wouldn’t be here in the first place. An entire week of this shit?

  “Fine. What do I have to do?”

  “Every day you need to report to the counselor’s office. Come prepared to write about your feelings. If it’s a successful week you’ll be able to go back to your normal schedule. If not, we may keep you in counseling a little longer. We really want to help you through your issues, Miss Jackson. You seem to be a very angry young lady, yet so gifted.” Why do white folks always think we’re angry? Okay, this time she’s right. I get hella pissed when someone tries to jack my life.

  I know the counselor wants to help, but she’s bugging if she thinks writing about my feelings is going to help shit. How do I write about the fact that Misty and Esmeralda are invading my sleep, stealing my gift of sight, and trying to turn me into a sleep zombie for their personal vendettas against me and my family? I don’t think there’s a notebook big enough to write about this drama.

  “And I’ll review the writings as well,” Mrs. Bennett says. Why is she so interested in what I do?

  “Oh, Mrs. Bennett, that won’t be necessary. Besides, whatever we discuss in our sessions is completely private, Jayd.” Mrs. Bennett looks at the psychologist like she’s lost her mind. “We can meet when I come back next week and discuss all of your writings.”

  This is going to be a long week. I need to chill out and cool my head off, as my elders keep telling me. I can take the weekend to work on me, since I have no clients scheduled, especially after what happened to Shawntrese last Sunday. After school I’ll go to the ocean and officially start my week of cleansing before I head to my mom’s.

  As I sit here on the beach watching the setting sun, it reminds me of how all things have their time, even friendships. Some stick around for life, and some for only a moment in time. And then there are some that are worth fighting for, even if it seems as if their end time has come. All of my real friendships are worth fighting for. Mickey, Nellie, Rah, and Nigel are my homies for life, I pray. We’ve had some bad times recently, but the good ones ultimately outweigh everything else.

  I look in my backpack and find the brownies Mama gave me from the portion she made for one of her clients last night. I almost forgot about them. And after my last sleepwalking episode on Wednesday she told me to wear our special jade brac
elets until I’m one hundred percent better.

  “I wish this picture were still accurate,” I say, looking down at the photo attached to my backpack of me and my melted crew, minus Jeremy. Jeremy and I don’t have nearly the same drama that me and the rest of my friends carry. Why is that, I wonder? A tear falls from my eye to the plastic picture frame and slides down, hitting my jade bracelets. The orange hues from the waning sun hit the wet frame and sparkle brightly. Suddenly, the picture seems to come to life, taking me back to that night. What was in those brownies?

  “Jayd and Raheem, stand here,” Nellie says in the photo. “Okay, now Mickey and Nigel, stand on the other side. Me and Chance will stay right here in the middle.” Nellie’s always got to be the boss bitch, even when there’s a professional photographer on staff.

  “Don’t worry, girl, I’ve got you,” Rah says to me, sliding his hands around my waist and pulling me in close to him. We had fun that night, even if he and Jeremy were more jealous than Bobby Brown of Whitney Houston at any awards show.

  “Okay, everybody. Say money,” Mickey says as the photographer snaps the shot, forever freezing in time a moment that’s long gone.

  I wish it were that easy to make a friendship permanent.

  “You can, and I’ve got just the thing for you,” my mom says, intervening in my personal “woe is me” moment. She has a way of answering my call before I can make it.

  “I hope it’s not another tea or punch, because I haven’t had such good luck with either of those,” I say aloud, kicking the sand beneath my feet. It’s getting late and cold: two signs that it’s time to go. One of the various couples walking along the beach look at me strangely and I don’t blame them. How are they supposed to know that I come from a long line of voodoo priestesses and as a result, my mom can talk to me via psychic wavelengths? I forget I must look like a crazy girl when I respond to my mom out loud.

  “Are you okay?” the white lady asks as her husband and collie dog run up to me, looking at me with pity in their eyes. They probably think my boyfriend just broke up with me, and right before Valentine’s Day. In their minds, that’s probably enough of a reason to go crazy. As if.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Just praying about a bad day disappearing,” I say. The couple smiles and walks on, with their pooch not far behind, satisfied that the unseen person I’m talking to is God. I wonder what it must be like to be that normal.

  “Oh no, you don’t, at least not for long,” my mom says, picking up where we left off. “You’ll never be normal like that, powers or no powers.”

  “How do you know that?” I ask.

  “Because our ancestors are still former captives in this reality, period. That couple’s world is very different from yours. It’s our powers that can help us through it all.”

  “I’m not so sure about that one,” I again audibly voice. My day was horrible, just like this entire new year has been so far. My powers haven’t helped me through shit.

  “That sounds like doubt, Jayd. Never disrespect your powers or the source they come from.”

  “What good are my powers if the people around me think I’m crazy? And to top it off, I can’t even help my friends when they need me most. My powers aren’t useful, they’re torture,” I say, bringing more tears down with every word. I don’t care what anyone thinks about me now. I know I’m crazy, and I’m ready to admit it.

  “Jayd, don’t you dare call yourself crazy. That’s worse than calling yourself a witch. This is all a part of the curse Misty and Esmeralda have on you. They weren’t strong enough to make you fail, so now they’re making you doubt yourself. And if they are successful with their hating, it’ll definitely lead to your self-destruction. As long as you believe in yourself and the purpose of your lineage, you will succeed and get out of this mess. But if you doubt yourself for another minute you will be beaten.”

  “I don’t want to play this game anymore,” I say, ready to leave both the beach and my destiny behind. The sun appears close to the water, giving the horizon a red glow. Soon it will disappear, taking this unholy day with it.

  “You have no choice in the matter now, young one. You chose your destiny before you got here, and you have to walk it out, no matter how tired you are.”

  “But I feel…” I begin, but my mom’s not having it today.

  “Nobody gives a damn how you feel, Miss Jackson. Get your ass up, dust your shoulders off and keep it moving, little queen. I may have screwed up my destiny, but I’ll be damned if my daughter does the same thing. You’ve got too many people depending on you, starting with your dumbass friends.”

  “Jayd, what are you doing here?” Jeremy asks, speaking of my friends. It’s hard to hear him when he’s wearing a tight, black body suit and dripping wet. Sometimes I forget how beautiful this boy really is. He’s also the only one of my friends who is seemingly immune to Misty’s visual hater virus.

  “I needed a place to clear my head.” Jeremy takes a seat next to me in the sand. Even with the cold sea breeze coming in from the ocean, this boy’s presence still warms me up inside.

  “That’s why I come here on a daily basis. The ocean has a way of doing that,” he says, smiling down at me. I feel like crying again, I’m so pissed at myself for getting in trouble—again. If I could undo my hotheaded actions I would. But it’s too late for regret now.

  “Yeah, it does. I wish I’d come this morning. Maybe the day would have turned out better.” I don’t want to tell him about Mrs. Bennett catching me snatching Misty up, but he’ll eventually find out. There are no secrets on that campus, even if it is the second largest high school in Southern California.

  “I got into a bit of an altercation earlier and now I have to spend the next week in involuntary anger management counseling.” As the words escape my mouth tears again fall down my cheeks. He strokes them away before kissing me on the forehead.

  “What happened?” I know Jeremy’s sincere but I can’t help but feel he’s being paternalistic with his concern. And I’m in no mood for a daddy lecture from him right now.

  “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”

  “Look, Jayd, you’re right. I don’t know what you’re going through, and I never will if you don’t tell me,” Jeremy says, putting my right hand between both of his. “Let me in. Let me help you, and if I can’t help, let me help you find whatever or whoever can.” It’s nice to have someone want to take care of me for a change. But the fact that my great-grandmother’s lover was Jeremy’s great-grandfather complicates things for us a bit. And it’s not like I can tell him that small detail in our shared family history.

  “You’re so sweet,” I say, wiping away the last of my tears.

  “Come on. You can tell me all about it over dinner.” Jeremy rises from his seat next to me and dusts the sand off of his damp body.

  “Sounds good,” I say. I’m too hungry and broke to turn down a free meal. I get up and follow him toward the showers, where he can change back into his school clothes. “I’ll wait for you to pull around.” I head to the street where my mom’s car is parked, ready to leave the drama behind, but not before my mom finishes our initial conversation.

  “I know it seems like this insanity will never be over, Jayd, but hang in there. It’s always darkest before the light. And right now, you are in the eye of the storm.”

  “Yeah, a storm named Misty,” I say, opening the car door and getting in. I throw my backpack on the passenger’s seat and close the door.

  “Good. You’ve identified the enemy. Now do something about it. You’re not a victim, Jayd. Quit acting like one. I’ve got to get back to work now. Bye, baby,” my mom says, finally checking out and leaving me to focus on following Jeremy. She’s not giving me any love this evening. Maybe Mama will be more sympathetic when I check in with her once I make it to Inglewood tonight.

  After slamming down the Italian dinner Jeremy treated me to this evening, all I can do is pass out on my mom’s couch, but not before talking to Mama. She hasn’
t stopped going off about my mandatory week of head shrinking for the thirty minutes we’ve been talking on the phone, and I’m ready to fall out. Mama’s more pissed at me for losing my cool than getting mandatory counseling, which she doesn’t think is such a bad idea, given the circumstances.

  “Take this week off from your social scene and focus on getting your mind right. Ever since your winter break you’ve been having a lot of issues. I told you to keep track of your dreams. Now I want you to systematically write down everything you’d want to change for the better if you could. Write them down as the dreams you wish to have. I’ll see you Sunday, baby.”

  “Good night, Mama,” I say before we finally end our call. I settle into the plush couch and think about Mama’s advice. I wish I could go all the way back to the first week of school and whip Misty’s ass properly. She’s gained too much footing in the past couple of months. If I could have it my way, I’d undo all of the mess she’s created this school year, starting with gaining my friends back. Without them, nothing seems real.

  13

  Home for the Holidaze

  “My life’s make-believe without you.”

  —SAM COOKE

  It’s been a week since I started my anger management counseling courses and I’m just as pissed off as I was when they first began. This school sucks. But at least I was shielded from all of the impending Valentine’s Day bull. With it being the week of the dance, ASB is in overdrive and so is my nausea.

  My teachers sent my classwork to the counseling office and I finished all of it in two days, leaving me plenty of time to focus on my spirit work and on strengthening myself. I admit, being separated from all of my school drama was an unexpected benefit. And with the dance being tonight, everyone’s too focused on their dates to worry about me and my crazy-ass issues.