The Break-Up Diaries

by Ni-Ni Simone

  I start to cry again.

  I hear a knock on my door. “Go away,” I say. “This isn’t Layla. This is mom. I’m coming in.” This is one of those times I wish I had a lock on my bedroom door. My mother doesn’t believe in teenagers having locks. She says that until I pay some bills that I don’t deserve privacy. So unfair.

  She sits at the end of my bed and gives me her look of sympathy. I must look really busted, because she usually gives me this look when I’m sick with the flu.

  “Honey, I want you to get dressed and go somewhere with Cheyenne and Todrick.”

  “I thought I was on punishment until infinity.”

  “Well, your dad and I talked about it. We think you’re in enough pain, but you’re going to make restitution for that go-kart you destroyed with your recklessness. Your father asked them how much it’s going to cost to repair it and the owner says two thousand dollars.”

  “That’s a lot of money,” I say.

  “It is, and you’re going to earn every penny of it. Your father is paying them the money so that you aren’t banned from their establishment.”

  “I’ll never be able to earn that much money.”

  “Yes you will. Your father called his friend Herman who owns Good Eatin’ Family Restaurant, and you are the new prep cook and waitress.”

  My eyes just about pop out of my head. Good Eatin’ is a hood restaurant that serves delicious food, but it’s really, really hood. They’ve got duct tape on the windows and the place looks like a shack. Still, everyone goes there after church on Sunday for good old-fashioned soul food.

  “Mom, I don’t know anyone who would work there.”

  She smiles. “Yes you do. You know yourself!”

  “First I break up with Mario, now I have to be embarrassed by a job in the hood? Why don’t I just die?”

  My mother laughs out loud. “This will be good for you, and it will help you get your mind off of Mario. Why don’t you call Cheyenne? You guys can go to the movies or something to celebrate your new job.”

  My mom gets up and kisses my forehead. This makes me smile. As she leaves, I think about my new job. This does not make me smile. This gives me a straight up frowny face.

  Even if I do somehow survive being struck by a stray bullet in a drive-by shooting, this will be the death of my social life. Slinging chicken dinners in the hood. Soooo not my style.

  But then ramming go-karts into walls while trying to smash ex-boyfriends is not really my style either. Go figure.

  And wow . . . I just thought of Mario as my ex-boyfriend.

  5

  Cheyenne, Todrick, and I chill out at our favorite table in Applebee’s. We decided against the movies, because we have stuff we need to talk about. Namely, me getting over Mario.

  “So, Crash and Burn, does Mario need to be afraid? Are you going to run him down with your bike now?” Todrick asks before stuffing a riblet in his mouth.

  “Ha, ha. Not funny. I was not trying to run him down. I just wanted to make his go-kart crash into the tires on the side,” I explain.

  “Like yours did?” Cheyenne asks.

  “Yes. I wanted everyone to laugh at him.”

  “Like everyone laughed at you?” Todrick asks.

  “Yeah, pretty much. Thank you both for rubbing it in. You’re the bestest friends ever.”

  Cheyenne smiles at me. “You wouldn’t know what to do without us.”

  I scan the restaurant looking for a sign of Mario. If he steps up in here, we’ve got to go. And quickly. Everyone hangs out here on the breaks and stuff, because it stays open late, and if you get here before nine, they don’t kick you out if you’re not over eighteen.

  “Two days until Christmas!” Todrick says. “Can’t wait to get my stuff.”

  “Are you still having a Christmas?” Cheyenne asks. “I heard my mom telling my dad that your parents were heated about the go-kart incident.”

  “I am still having a Christmas, thank you very much. As you can see, I’m not even grounded,” I reply.

  Todrick asks, “So what’s the catch? I know your parents aren’t letting you off that easily.”

  “They feel sorry for me, because I’m so sad about Mario.”

  Todrick and Cheyenne look at each other, and then back at me. “Spill it,” they say in unison.

  “Well, it’s really not so bad. It’s actually kind of cool what I have to do to help pay for the repairs on the go-kart.”

  “What do you have to do?” Cheyenne asks.

  “I just have to get a job. That’s all.”

  Todrick says, “That’s not so bad. Do you want me to see if I can get you a job at the rec center with me? We could always use another person on bathroom detail.”

  I shake my head. “Thanks, but no thanks. My dad already got me a job.”

  “Cool. Where are you going to be working?” Todrick asks.

  “Good Eatin’.”

  Cheyenne spits a mouthful of soda across the table. “What?”

  “I know you’ve been there, Cheyenne. Stop tripping.” I roll my eyes at her and eat a nacho full of skillet queso. Isn’t this already bad enough without her tripping?

  “You’re going to work in that greasy cholesterol factory? Everything they make there has a layer of grease on top of it,” Cheyenne says with obvious disgust in her tone.

  “Their food is good. That’s not what I’m worried about. Have you seen their employees?” Todrick asks. “I don’t know how well you’ll fit in.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ll be fine.” I don’t know if I’m convinced of this, but whatever. I’m not going to let them ride me about this.

  Todrick says, “The teenagers who work there are kind of . . . rough. Those girls aren’t anything like you.”

  “What exactly are you trying to say Todrick?” I ask.

  “Okay, let me break it down for you. You sing in the Glee Club! I bet their school doesn’t even have a glee club.”

  Cheyenne laughs. “Okay! Girl, you are too suburban for that crew.”

  “I’m not listening to y’all! I’m just glad that I don’t have to be grounded.”

  All of a sudden, Cheyenne and Todrick get eerily silent. Since they’re both staring at the door, I’m afraid to look.

  As our waitress walks by, Cheyenne says, “Can we have our check, please?”

  “I’m not done eating!” I say.

  Todrick says, “Yeah, you kinda are.”

  Against my better judgment, I turn my head to look at where Todrick and Cheyenne are looking. I should’ve known. Of course Mario and Dorie would be here. That’s exactly the kind of week I’ve been having.

  They’re walking over to a table on the other side of the restaurant. Thank goodness for that. They’re with some seniors, too. A perfectly fun looking crew. Dorie hangs all over Mario like she’s his Siamese twin or something.

  “Ugh,” I say. “Gross. How is it that they are already so close? What did I miss? I thought Mario and I were kicking it hard.”

  “There were signs, Zoey. You just weren’t paying attention,” Cheyenne says.

  “What signs? I was just thinking about this earlier. I had no idea that he was playing me.”

  “Okay, maybe you didn’t know he was playing you, but you should’ve known that he wasn’t feeling you anymore.”

  I shake my head. “Nope, didn’t know.”

  Todrick asks, “Check your phone. How many texts did you have from him last week?”

  I take my phone out and count them. There were seven.

  “Seven texts. I don’t know what that proves.”

  Todrick asks, “Did he initiate any of them or are they all responses to you?”

  I look at my phone again. Every single last text message that I have from him was in response to something I said first.

  “Okay . . . so they are all responses. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It means that all week, he didn’t think of you enough to send you a text on his own
. When I like a girl, I text her,” Todrick says.

  “You have girlfriends?” Cheyenne asks. “Who knew? You must introduce me to these unfortunate females.”

  Todrick shakes his head. “Whatever.”

  Hello! This is so not about their joking around. This is about me discovering that my ex-boyfriend was cheating on me.

  Cheyenne says, “So he didn’t text you last week. Did he even call?”

  I bring up the call log. I see four calls from my phone to Mario. I remember making all four, because I was irritated that he wasn’t calling me right back. Was it because he was talking to Dorie? It didn’t occur to me then, but of course, it occurs to me now.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Not once.”

  “See, Zoey. He’s been giving you signs. You just haven’t paid attention.”

  “So now what?” I ask. “I’m supposed to go to school every day and see them together? What’s that gonna be like? I’m going to ask my mom if I can go to private school or something.”

  Todrick replies, “You would leave me and Cheyenne because of Mario?”

  I wouldn’t want to leave them, but just having Dorie and Mario across the restaurant from me is so painful. I can’t even begin to imagine seeing them every day, in the hallway, holding hands or on the Glee Club field trips sharing a seat on the bus.

  “First of all, Mario and Dorie will not be dating long. Her dating life span is like three weeks tops,” Cheyenne says. “He’ll probably try to get back with you . . .”

  “You think?” I ask.

  “Yes, and you’re going to say no.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes, because you are going to be on to the next one,” Todrick says.

  I slide down in my seat so that I can no longer see Mario and Dorie. “I’m done with boys. I don’t know when they like me, and I have no idea what to do when I like them. Mario happened completely by accident.”

  “Aren’t there rules?” Todrick asks. “I mean if there were it would be so much easier for everybody.”

  “There are rules,” Cheyenne says. “But Zoey only needs to know what not to do when she meets a boy that she likes.”

  “Well tell me. Not that I think I’m going to meet another boy that I like . . . but just in case . . .”

  “Rule number one. He makes the first move.”

  Todrick rolls his eyes. “That is so not fair. What if the guy is shy? Sometimes I like to know that I at least have a chance before I holla at a girl.”

  Cheyenne throws a french fry at him. “Hush, Todrick. You don’t talk to girls anyway.”

  “Okay, I always follow that rule anyway. I never talk to guys first,” I say. “What else do you have?”

  “Let him request you as a friend on Facebook, not the other way around.”

  “That doesn’t matter at all,” Todrick says. “You’re just making stuff up.”

  “It does matter.”

  “Where are you getting these rules from, Cheyenne ?”

  She shrugs. “Where else? Cosmo Girl!”

  Todrick bursts into laughter. “Oh, no wonder this doesn’t make any sense. Zoey if you see a guy that you like, you should smile at him and let him know, then if you’re friendly, he’ll holla . . . unless he has a girlfriend. Because you’re pretty and funny.”

  I give Todrick a blank stare. It feels weird getting a compliment from him. He’s like a brother or something—not a boy.

  Cheyenne says, “I cut an article out of the magazine for you to read.”

  She hands me the cutout piece of paper. “Thanks, I guess. Can we go now? I don’t want to be under the same roof with them anymore.”

  As we stand to leave the restaurant, I steal a glance over in Mario’s direction. His laughter actually drew my attention. He seems to be having such a great time with Dorie. I don’t remember him ever laughing that hard when we were dating.

  “Come on,” Cheyenne says. “You’re staring. Remember ? On to the next one, like Todrick said.”

  I’m not an ‘on to the next one’ kind of girl. Why don’t they understand that? I don’t want to move on. I want to be sad for awhile, and then . . . well I don’t know what’s next. And isn’t that okay? I don’t want to follow any rules.

  Rules are for suckas.

  6

  “Open my present now!” my sister Layla squeals. My mother makes a huge production of opening our gifts. It started when we were little and my dad took us shopping for little pieces of fake jewelry or plants that died a week after we bought them. Layla is always more eager than I am to have her present opened.

  My mom smiles and opens Layla’s gift. It’s a coconut scented bath set from Bath and Body Works. Pretty decent gift. Coconut is our mom’s favorite scent and she buys stuff like this all the time.

  “Should I open yours now, Zoey?” my mom asks.

  “Sure.”

  My gift is a Terry McMillan book, my mom’s favorite author, a new coffee mug, and some herbal tea. I know that I really hooked it up!

  “Zoey, this is great! Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I glance under our tree, and see the two gifts that I had wrapped for Mario. I meant to take those away, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It seemed like such a final thing to do.

  “Whose are those?” Layla asks. “Are those mine?”

  My mom shakes her head. “I think they belong to Zoey.”

  I feel the serious urge to share a little Christmas cheer and take the gifts over to Mario’s house. Would that be so bad? I mean, I bought them for him. I would feel crazy taking them back to the store, plus is there a rule that says I can’t be nice to my ex-boyfriend and that we can’t be friends? I’m sure that Cheyenne would create one if there isn’t.

  “What are you thinking about honey?” my mom asks.

  “I was thinking . . . that I want to take a walk. Is that okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, sure. Just be back in time for breakfast.”

  I grab up the two gifts that I got for Mario and walk toward the door. His house is three streets over from ours, but he lives all the way at the other end of his. It’s about a ten minute walk, so I’ve got plenty of time to talk myself out of this venture.

  “Zoey. Are you sure you want to do this?” My mom asks.

  I should’ve known I wasn’t going to get away without hearing a lecture. “Yes.”

  “I know that you bought those gifts for Mario, but honey, it’s kind of desperate.”

  I look at the floor and let out a big sigh. It is desperate. I just want to have a face to face conversation with him. I need to see his face when he says that he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore.

  One of the gifts falls from my hand to the floor. I can’t go over to his house. What if Dorie is over there? Unlikely, but possible.

  “Thanks for my presents, mom and dad,” I say with a quivering voice. “I’m going upstairs now. I’ll be down for dinner.”

  My dad says, “No, Zoey. You’re not going to go into your room and cry the day away. You’re going to spend it with your family. Today is a holiday.”

  Why won’t they just let me go into my hideout to cry? I don’t want to do this in front of them. My dad pretends not to look at me when he puts a DVD in the player.

  “Who’s up for some Despicable Me?” my dad asks.

  Watching movies all day on Christmas, while we’re waiting on dinner, is our family tradition.

  Layla says, “Me, daddy! I want to watch it!”

  I roll my eyes and give a little headshake. Layla takes this Daddy’s Little Girl routine way too far sometimes. Usually, it doesn’t bother me, but today I’m not in the mood.

  As soon as my dad turns off the lights in the family room, I let my tears fall. Every time I think that I’m done crying, it starts all over again. Sitting here watching this stupid movie with my dad and little sister is not helping.

  I thought that I was going to be with Mario forever. I know that’s kind of crazy since we’re only sevent
een, and hardly anybody ever stays with their first boyfriend for the rest of their life, but I thought we’d be the exception.

  Since I can’t pay attention to the movie, I think about our first dance. Mario took me to the Spring Fling, and we dressed alike. We both wore white T-shirts, jeans, and black and white Chucks. Very simple, but everyone could tell we were together when we walked in.

  I remember wanting to dance. Mario had said, “I don’t really dance all that well, but I’ll try if you want me to.”

  “You can’t dance?”

  “Um . . . no. You think that just because I’m a blatino that I can dance?”

  I had laughed out loud at Mario’s word that he’d created. Blatino. His mother is Puerto Rican and his father is black. He’s biracial and bilingual. I remember thinking that him being able to speak fluent Spanish was hot.

  Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks that he’s hot. Dorie sure had no problem snatching him up. I am surprised that she likes him, though. He’s not incredibly popular like all of her past boyfriends.

  My mom calls from the kitchen. “Someone’s at the door. Go answer it!”

  Since daddy and Layla are wrapped up in their stupid movie, I get up to get it. It better not be Christmas carolers. I am soooo not in the mood.

  I throw the front door open, ready to dismiss whoever’s there, and guess what? It is someone in total need of dismissing—Mario.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  He holds out a box. “I’d bought you this for Christmas, so my mom told me to bring it over.”

  I look down at the box, but I don’t take it. “Why don’t you just give it to your new girlfriend ?”

  “Have you been crying?” he asks.

  “No. Allergies.”

  “Oh, well. I was just bringing this. My mom is waiting in the car. We’re going to my grandmother’s house. Are you going to take it?”

  I take the box from him and consider giving him the gifts that I have under the tree. “Hold on a second.”

  I run to retrieve the two packages from under our tree. My mom just stares at me with a hopeful look on her face, but she doesn’t say anything.