“I think we should play truth or … truth,” she says.
“Don’t you mean truth or dare?” I ask as I drape my legs over one side of the armchair.
“Nope. In this game, you have to admit something about yourself no one else knows.”
“Like what?” I sip some more of my drink.
“Like, for instance …” But before she can say anything else, she bursts out laughing. There’s a faint door slam and Keisha shushes us. I hear footsteps and voices, then another door slam.
“Yuck. Kevin and his Neanderthal friends are here. Wanna go check and see if your boyfriend is one of them?” Keisha teases me.
“No. I wanna play truth or truth,” I say, trying to ignore her. Actually, I don’t really want to play, but it’s better than Keisha ribbing me about Curvy Miller. “So you go first, Nicole.”
“Okay. Lester Johnson from my global studies class—I made out with him.”
Keisha gulps half her drink and nearly rolls off the bed. “What? When? Details, details!” she shrieks as she pulls Nicole back down onto the bed next to her.
“It was down in the basement. Music class. I got a pass to go to the bathroom and ran into him. He started telling me how much he liked me—”
“He always tells you how much he likes you,” Keisha interrupts.
“Yeah, but usually I ignore him,” Nicole continues. “But something about the way he said it this time … and he has such nice lips. Next thing I know, we’re in the stairwell.”
“Oh man, if one of those nuns had caught you …,” Keisha whispers.
“I know, but they didn’t.”
“So how far did you go?”
“Only to second. If I had had more than ten minutes on that hall pass, well, I don’t know which base we would have ended up sliding into.”
“Okay, wait. I just wanna be clear. When you say second base, what exactly is included in that?” I ask.
Nicole looks around as if she’d forgotten I was sitting in the armchair.
“You know, everything above the waist in front and below the waist in the back.”
“Oh,” I mumble. “What’s first again?”
“You know, Faye, a long, juicy kiss,” Keisha answers.
“Then I guess home base would be nothing, then, huh?” I wonder out loud. Based on that explanation, I suppose there might have been one occasion where I happened to trip and fall somewhere between home base and first. Wow! How pathetic is that?
“So what’s the deal? Do you really like him?” Keisha asks Nicole.
“Kinda. I mean, your brother’s not paying me any attention, so … And like I said, Lester has really nice lips. And he wants me to come to his brother’s birthday party in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh my God. Nic, you have a boyfriend!” Keisha shrieks. And the two of them giggle and flop around on the bed. And I’m left in the armchair feeling like a third wheel.
“Okay, well, what about you?” Nicole asks Keisha. “And make it good.”
Keisha is silent for a while. I can’t imagine what secret she could possibly have.
“Okay, I’m gonna show you something,” she says. “But neither of you can tell anybody.” And she bounces off the bed and disappears into her closet. A few seconds later, she comes back out with a couple more magazines.
“Is it the new Right On! with the Michael Jackson interview?” I ask.
“Not even.” Keisha reveals the cover of one of the magazines. There’s a blond woman with the biggest breasts imaginable.
“Hustler!” Keisha says, all giddy. “It’s the worst. Ten times worse than Penthouse. Fifty times worse than Playboy.” She opens it up and I’m bombarded with skin and tongues and body parts.
“Eww. Where’d you get this from?” I ask. And I’m trying to figure out whether I find it disgusting or appealing or both.
“Ray hides them in the basement.”
“Look at all the veins in it,” I say.
“I think it’s kind of cool,” Keisha says. “Have either of you ever seen one?”
“Are family members stumbling out of the bath without a towel included?” Nicole asks.
Keisha shakes her head.
“Then, no, I’ve never seen one up close and personal.”
“Me neither,” I say.
“I have,” Keisha says.
“What?” Nicole and I yell at the same time.
“Jason. You know, the guy I told you guys I like. The one who lives around the corner? Well, he showed me his.”
“Just like that?” I ask.
“Well, we’d been talking and I told him I’d never really seen one, so … And he’s asked me out to the movies.”
Nicole lets out this high-pitched, alert-all-dogs squeal, and she and Keisha bounce off the bed and begin dancing around and laughing.
“We both pretty much have boyfriends,” I hear one of them say. I kind of watch them for a while, realizing I don’t have any good truths. I’ve got no stories about circling bases, or naked men, or boys kissing me. They’d think I was a loser if I ever divulged the whole babysitter situation. And they’d get depressed if I went into detail about my mom knocking me upside the head. I take another sip of my drink. When I look back up, I notice both Nicole and Keisha gawking at me.
“Well?” Nicole says.
“Yeah, Faye. It’s your turn,” Keisha joins in.
All I can think of are some of the biggest, baddest things I’ve ever done. And maybe I’m a little drunk, because my lips start flapping before my brain can catch up.
“Okay, have you guys ever done something that’s wrong, that you knew was wrong, but you feel good afterward, like excited good? But then suddenly, you start feeling not so great about it?”
“You mean like drinking Keisha’s parents’ liquor?” Nicole asks, then bursts out laughing.
“No. Something bigger. Something you could really get in trouble for. Like, for instance, stealing something. In your whole entire life, have you ever taken something that didn’t belong to you?”
“Sure I have,” Keisha says. And I turn to face her, a little surprised at her answer.
“You? What did you take?”
“A pack of Juicy Fruit. Once. I was gonna buy some potato chips and a Sunkist, then I decided not to, but I forgot to put back the gum.”
“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound deflated. “That doesn’t really count. You have to mean to do it for it to be stealing.”
“Oh. I guess I never really stole anything, then.”
“I take stuff from my sister,” Nicole admits.
“You do?” I realize I sound kind of hopeful.
“All the time. But I always put it back, so I guess that’s more like sneaking than stealing. But to really take something that didn’t belong to me and never give it back? Nah. ’Cause if somebody did it to me … that just wouldn’t be right.”
“Exactly,” Keisha chimes in. “Like when that junkie stole the steering wheel from Ray’s car. I mean, he didn’t even steal the whole car. What are you gonna do with just a steering wheel? Anyway, I don’t like thieves.”
“Yeah, me neither.” I try to cover for myself.
“But you didn’t tell us a truth,” Nicole realizes. “What about Curvy Miller?”
“Oh, Faye never has anything good,” Keisha blurts out. “She won’t even talk to him. What truth could she possibly have there?”
“No. I don’t have anything good,” I mumble. “I was just gonna talk about the robber I walked in on, but Keisha knows that story already.”
Thank God for the effects of alcohol, because once Keisha gives Nicole the Cliff’s Notes version of that incident, they quickly move on to another topic.
Bad thing about alcohol, it wreaks havoc on my bladder. Two glasses of rum and I’m running to the bathroom at twenty-minute intervals. So I roll off Keisha’s armchair and head for the door.
“Hey, don’t let Kevin or any of his friends see you,” Keisha calls after me. “You’re k
ind of buzzed, and he’ll never let you live that down.”
I flash Keisha the okay sign and creep along the hallway, careful not to knock into the walls, which are lined with family photographs that all seem to have been taken in the seventies. I’ve never seen so many Afros, giant collars, and bell-bottom pants in my life.
It’s almost time for me to wrap up “math study hall” and head to Ms. Viola’s. But the great thing is, when I get back, there won’t be much time for her little baby-tending chores. I’m so happy to have come up with this idea that will give me breathing room at least a few times a week.
After peeing for like three minutes, I stand and am getting ready to flush the toilet when the bathroom door comes flying open. I quickly bend over to pull up my uniform pants, but I make the mistake of looking up at the door as I do this. Bad move. Because my eyes catch sight of my number-two potential husband, Curvy Miller, and I become frozen in my awkward position with my pants around my ankles and my oh-so-unsexy white cotton panties around my knees.
This has just surpassed every disaster I have ever experienced—and there have been plenty—to become the number-one, all-time greatest catastrophe in the history of my being. It’s the Titanic sinking and the atom bomb exploding and the Hindenburg crashing all rolled into one. Everything inside me is boiling and percolating and moving at warp speed, but I can’t seem to do a simple thing like pull up my nasty gray polyester uniform pants!
“Sorry about that,” Curvy says as he withdraws a puffy Cheez Doodle from a bag and pops it into his mouth. His eyes are focused on my bony legs. “But you didn’t lock the door.”
I hear something come from my throat, but I’m not so sure it’s from the English language. It sounds like a screech.
“You need help with your pants?” he asks as he steps in and closes the door behind him.
What is he doing? Why the hell is he coming toward me? I guess his movement snaps me out of my stupor, because I somehow manage to yank pants and panties up in one swift motion, then quickly flush the toilet.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble as I fidget with my vest.
“What for?”
“I don’t know.”
“So, what’s up?” he asks as he crunches on another Cheez Doodle and acts as if we’re hanging out someplace normal, like Keisha’s kitchen, and not in the bathroom, where he just caught me hunched over half-naked. I mumble something I don’t even understand as Curvy extends the bag toward me.
“Oh no. I haven’t washed my hands,” I say.
I walk over to the sink and he do-si-dos to the other side of me, closer to the toilet. I’m looking at him through the mirror and he’s looking back at me. I notice how red his eyes are. It’s as if he’s part lab mouse.
“So you’re friends with Kevin’s sister?” he asks.
“Yup.”
“That’s good.”
I quickly dab my hands on a towel, hardly even drying them. I just need to flee.
“Well, I’ll get out of here so you can use …” But before I can finish the sentence, Curvy has moved back over to the door, quick as lightning, and is leaning against it crunching on his Cheez Doodles. The tips of the fingers on his right hand are all orange. He holds the bag out to me again, but I say no. I never did like the puffy ones, only the crunchy.
“Your hair’s different,” he says.
“You noticed? Well, it was longer, but … Well, it was longer.…” I have to tell myself to slow down, to not stumble over my words. “It was longer, but I had to get it cut.”
He shakes his head, and all of a sudden, I’m wondering how ugly I must look to him, especially compared to the girls he’s always looking at. Girls like Charlene Simpson. And I’m feeling small and skinny and bald and I’m wondering what I’m doing in Keisha’s bathroom with him and why he just keeps crunching those snacks and looking at me all weird.
“I didn’t even think you knew who I was.”
“Of course I do. You’re Keisha’s friend. So who all’s in the room with you and Keisha?”
“Just us. And Nicole.”
“What kind of trouble are you guys getting into?”
“Nothing. Talking, you know, flipping through magazines.”
“Is that all?” he asks as he steps in closer to me and makes a sniffling noise.
“You can smell it?” I ask. He nods. “I can smell you too.” He smiles and watches me some more.
“Well, I should probably get back.…” But I stop speaking when I see his face coming toward mine. I’m not sure what’s going on here. Maybe there’s some schmutz on my nose and he’s going to remove it. But before I can even formulate a full thought, his mouth is attaching to mine and swallowing the lower half of my face. And his lips are all soft and wet and Cheez Doodley. And then I feel his tongue. And my eyes open wide and I look up. The ceiling lights above my head seem to be going around in circles.
“Just relax,” he says as he backs off a little. “You never been kissed before?”
And I just stare at him, because I have been kissed. In my dreams. By Michael Jackson. But it didn’t feel anything like this. Michael never used his tongue. And he didn’t taste like a bag of cheese snacks. He just put his soft Thriller lips on mine and pressed real hard, then smiled, started pop-locking, and yelled out “Hee-hee!”
Curvy comes for my mouth again. Only, this time, he puts his tongue in even deeper and it feels like a wet, wiggly fish. Maybe like an eel would feel, if I went mad and decided to stuff one into my mouth. And then I feel a hand on the left side of my chest, only, since nothing womanly has really developed there yet, I’m wondering if he’s just trying to check my heartbeat.
“I want you to give me your hand,” he says as he removes his mouth from mine and steps back.
“What for?”
“Because I want you to feel something.”
“What?”
His eyes shift downward. I can’t believe this is actually happening. In the space of five minutes, I’ve gone from being stuck just past home base to rounding first. And now I’m quickly approaching second—or is it third? I’m excited and scared, all at the same time.
Curvy reaches behind his back and clicks the lock on the door.
“Give me your hand,” he whispers. I do, and he places it against his chest. Then he starts moving it downward.
“How far are we going with this?” I ask.
“As far as we can.”
“Curvy,” I say as he adds kissing my neck to the routine.
“Hmm?”
“Are you drunk?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Is that the only reason you’re doing this?”
“Hmm, nope.”
And as I feel my hand being pulled lower and lower, my words start coming out machine-gun-fire fast.
“You know, uh, my aunt Nola had this talk with me when I turned thirteen. And she said that unless you’re in love with someone, you shouldn’t … you know. I mean, if that’s what you were thinking about doing … with me.”
“I don’t think your aunt told you the whole story. You know how you fall in love with somebody?”
“You just do.”
“If that was the case, everyone would be in love with everyone else. You fall in love when you go all the way with somebody. See, that way, you two become a part of each other forever. That connection, that’s what love is about.”
I back away a little and look at him. My brain is spinning so fast.
“What about Charlene?”
“Charlene?”
“Yeah, the one you’re always hanging all over.”
“Just a friend. That’s how I am with all my friends. Now, why don’t you and me make that connection?” he whispers. He walks over to the toilet, puts the lid down, and sits.
“Why don’t you come over here,” he says as he pats his leg.
I’m kind of frozen in place as Mama’s one-sentence sex talk pops into my brain. Two months after my twelfth birthday, I got this red Hi-C
fruit punch stain on my dress. Figured I must have sat in some at Uncle Paul’s. Only, I went to the bathroom and there was more Hi-C fruit punch in my panties than there was on my dress, and I couldn’t really figure it out, unless there was a tiny little Hi-C gremlin going around pouring juice in people’s underwear. Later, when I apologized for sitting in juice, Mama just laughed this weird laugh, lit up a cigarette, and stared at me for like ten minutes.
“You have your period now,” she said finally. “Screw around and get pregnant, I’m not taking care of it.” And that was that.
A door suddenly slams somewhere in the house, and I snap back to my senses.
“I have to go,” I say as I fumble with the lock.
“Wait, you just gonna leave me like this?” Curvy asks as he rushes over to me. His eyes are all squinty, and his Cheez Doodley breath is so warm. “Come on. You know how much I like you. And remember what I told you about how people fall in love.… Just a couple of minutes. Maybe I’ll end up falling in love with you.”
And I want to yell with joy at the top of my lungs. Because he actually likes me. Me with 1984’s most unattractive haircut and flat-as-a-board chest region. I go to give him a peck on the lips, only, with all the adrenaline coursing through me, I kind of head-butt him in the chin. But it doesn’t even matter.
Once I get the door open, I run out of the bathroom and back toward Keisha’s room. I can’t wait to tell her and Nicole what happened. To think, I could actually have a boyfriend. Take that, pretty and perfect Charlene.
* * *
“Did he actually tell you that you were his girlfriend? Did he ask you out to the movies or to lunch or to the park?” Keisha asks.
I’m sitting at the edge of her bed, looking at her like she’s got three heads. I finally have a truth that pertains to a guy, a truth that could soon put me in boyfriend territory too, but she doesn’t seem at all excited about my news. Quite the opposite.
“What does that have to do with anything? He didn’t have to. Did you hear what I told you?” I whisper.
“I heard you, but I’m telling you, Faye, I know how my brother and his friends talk, and all that doesn’t matter. Half the time they’re just horny little toads trying to feel up some girl just because they can or just because they want to get a little something. Sometimes they don’t even like her all that much. Sometimes it’s just because she’s always in their face.”
Revenge of a Not-So-Pretty Girl Page 12