by Anne Schraff
Destini didn’t know quite what to say. Jasmine finally spoke up. “Means no cheatin’, girl. No double dealin’. That’s what it means.”
Destini glared at Jasmine. “I’d never cheat on Tyron, not ever,” she snapped.
“See that you don’t,” Marko advised. “You are one lucky girl, little sister. Tyron is my main man and you got a winner there. He’s on the football team, he’s got a lot of friends, and he picked you. No offense girl, but you’re not exactly the hottest chick on campus, yet he picked you. You got to appreciate that.” Marko walked off then with Jasmine hanging on his arm.
Destini felt insulted. At this moment she hated Marko Lane almost as much as she hated Jasmine. Marko acted as if Destini wasn’t worth much and Tyron was doing her a big favor by dating her. But Marko was Tyron’s best friend, so Destini made up her mind to just ignore what he said.
The American history test was in two parts, multiple choice and two essays. Usually upon seeing such a test, Destini would have groaned in despair, but she had prepared. There were a lot of details about the Jimmy Carter administration and the first term of President Ronald Reagan. Destini felt good about her multiple-choice answers. One essay asked about the Iran hostage crisis and its root causes. Destini had read the chapter in the book about it, plus she went on the Internet for more information. Now she wrote a pretty good essay. The second essay asked about Reagan’s appeal in the 1980 election. Destini did well on that too. Most of the test looked familiar to her because she was ready for it.
When it was time to turn in the test, Destini didn’t have the usual queasy feeling in her stomach. She wasn’t fearful of having flunked the test. She was just hoping for a B, maybe even a B plus.
On Saturday, Destini and her mother went shopping at the local supermarket. As they pulled into the parking lot, Destini recognized Bennie Becker’s old Chevrolet parked there already. You couldn’t miss it. Both front fenders were mashed in. Destini thought the Becker family might be here doing their shopping for the week too.
Destini didn’t see Bennie or Tyron in the market as she shopped with her mother. It was a big store and they could easily have been in another part of it. When Destini and her mother were checking out, Mom said, “I got to go to the dollar store next door, baby. You put the groceries in the car and I’ll be there in ten minutes. I got to pick up a few things.”
Destini took the car keys and pushed the shopping cart into the parking lot. She unloaded all the groceries into the trunk and glanced over at the Becker Chevrolet still parked. Then she saw them, a heavy man and a slender woman coming from the store with their shopping cart. There was a lot of stuff in the cart, and the woman pushed it by herself. When they got to the car, the man opened the trunk, got into the front seat of the car, and sat there. Mrs. Becker began unloading heavy jugs of orange juice and milk. She lifted several twelve-can cartons of soda into the trunk and almost dropped one of them. She had to put some of the stuff in the back seat of the car. She seemed to stagger as she stuffed the bags through the door, as if she were exhausted.
Mr. Becker had turned on the car radio, and he was drumming his fingers to some rap music. Once he looked back and said something to his wife. Destini couldn’t hear what he said, but the wife said, “I’m hurrying.”
Finally Mrs. Becker had finished unloading the cart, and she looked around for a safe place to place the empty cart. She began walking toward a cart corral. Mr. Becker saw her pushing the empty cart and screamed, “Just leave the freakin’ cart and come on!”
Mrs. Becker abandoned the cart in the middle of the parking lot and ran to the car. The cart went rattling across the lot, almost hitting a parked car. Mrs. Becker’s feet were barely in the Chevrolet when her husband started it up and roared off.
Destini felt sick. Poor Tyron, she thought again. His father didn’t seem to be a very nice man. He should have helped his wife unload the groceries. Now, at home, the poor thing would probably have to unload them again and put them away.
Mom came from the dollar store with a bag. She was smiling. “I got a lot of little things, all for under ten bucks. I just love that store.”
On the way home, Destini asked, “Mom, you don’t know the Becker family, do you?”
“That your boyfriend’s family?” Mom inquired. “No, I don’t know them. I’m not a gadabout like some women. I got too much work to do to go nosing into other peoples’ business. Sometimes I wish I could just sit down and drink coffee and yak with the other women, but it ain’t happenin’ anytime soon. How come you ask, Destini?”
“Oh, I just wondered,” Destini responded. “They work hard, but they don’t have much money.”
“Join the club,” Mom sighed. “One thing this ’hood ain’t big on, and that’s rich folks.”
After Destini and her mother unloaded all the groceries into the house, Destini went to her room to admire the gold chain Tyron had given her. She trembled at the beauty of it, gently touching the shining links with her fingertips. Then Destini checked her teddy bear bank. She had thirty dollars. If Mom would put a little more to that, Destini could get a really nice dress, and she could wear the gold chain with it. Tyron would be so proud of her.
On Monday, Ms. McDowell returned the history tests. “Some of you did quite well and others left much to be desired,” the teacher said as she handed out the tests. Destini glimpsed at Marko’s grade—C plus. Marko looked disappointed. He often made Bs in history.
Destini was eager to see her grade. She was really hoping for a B. When Ms. McDowell put the test down on her desk, Destini let out a little gasp. It was an A minus. Destini had not gotten an A in anything since middle school. Ms. McDowell wrote on the paper, “Good work. I knew you could do it!”
As the students milled around after class, Destini said, “Oh wow, I got an A!”
Jaris smiled at her. “Good for you. I got a B minus,” he replied.
Destini couldn’t wait for lunch to tell Tyron her good news. Getting that A was really a big deal for her. When Destini saw Tyron at the beverage machine, she rushed over. “Tyron! I just got an A in history!” she cried happily. “Is that amazing or what?”
Marko was standing beside Tyron and he said, “Old McDowell, she prefers chicks. She hates guys, you know. She’s one of the freaky man-hating women who like to screw guys over. She gave me a lousy, freakin’ C!”
“That’s too bad, Marko,” Tyron said, ignoring Destini’s good news. “It’s really unfair when a teacher sides with chicks and messes up a guy’s grades.”
Destini was disappointed. She wanted Tyron to share in her happiness over her A. But all Tyron and Marko wanted to talk about was how unfair Ms. McDowell was in her grading.
Derrick Shaw came along with a smile on his face. As much as Marko abused Derrick, he didn’t bear grudges. Marko hailed him, “Hey Shaw, you flunk history? I got a C, so I figure you probably got an F!”
“No,” Derrick said, “I got a C too. C plus. I’m happy with that.”
Marko looked shocked. He said out loud, “That weirdo got a C plus and I got the same grade? What’s going down here?”
Alonee heard the commotion and joined the little knot of students around the beverage machine. When she heard about Destini’s A, she gave her a hug. “Way to go, girl,” she said. Then Alonee turned to Marko. “You got a C? Lemme see your test.” Alonee began to laugh as she read Marko’s essay. “You big goof—listen—you write that the root cause of the Iran hostage crisis was that Saddam Hussein was mad at the United States. He was from Iraq! You’re lucky McDowell didn’t flunk you!”
“Stop laughing at me, you little witch,” Marko snapped. “You side with McDowell because you hate guys too. That’s why nobody wants to go out with you except that fool Trevor Jenkins.”
“Oh Marko,” Alonee blew him off, “why don’t you crawl back into the woodwork where all the good little insects are?” She laughed and walked away.
Destini kept looking at Tyron, waiting for him to say s
omething about her A. She thought at least he’d tell her he was a little proud of her. But he didn’t say anything until Marko walked away. Then he turned to Destini and said, “Do you still like the gold chain I gave you, or are you tired of it?”
“Oh Tyron, I love it. I’ll always love it,” Destini told him.
“Destini, let’s go to a party Friday night. Marko’s dad is having a party at a classy club. You can wear a nice dress and the gold chain, okay?” Tyron asked.
“Okay, Tyron,” Destini responded. “I’ll buy a dress just for the party. What color do you like?”
“Yellow,” Tyron said. “You’ll be a knockout in yellow, babe. Make it sleeveless with a vee neck, okay? Above the knees, right? Oh baby, every guy there will look at you and eat his heart out. They can look but they better not touch, ’cause you’re mine!” He laughed and said, “I can’t wait to see that gold chain around your beautiful little neck!”
Destini laughed too. Tyron seemed so happy with her. And she was so happy now with him, and with her success in American history, and with everything. To top it all off, she was going shopping for a yellow dress.
Chapter Nine
After school, Destini rushed home to tell her mother of her special need for a dress.
“I’m going to this really nice party where all the girls will have really great dresses, Mom, and I so want to look extra nice and I need to wear something special,” Destini blurted.
“Go look in your closet, baby,” Mom advised. “Plenty nice dresses there. If something needs to be cleaned or pressed, we can do that. We got no money for fru-fru dresses like those movie stars wear. I’m saving every extra penny I make for your college. That’s what important child.”
Destini thought that now was the time to spring her good news on her mother. “Mom, I studied and studied and read and went on the Internet and everything. And you know what? Ms. McDowell gave the tests in American history back today and I got an A!”
Mom stopped in her tracks. She spun around. “Get outta here,” she cried. “No way you made an A in American history or in anything else, girl. You ain’t done that since you were twelve years old!”
Destini giggled and pulled the test from her binder. “Look what Ms. McDowell wrote, Mom. See, right by the A!” Destini pointed out her teacher’s comment.
Mom’s eyes got as big as supersized ginger snaps and she shouted, “Praise the Lord. I didn’t think I would live to see the day when you got an A, child. Destini Fletcher, you have made me a proud and happy woman!”
“So . . .” Destini went on, “about the dress. I saw dresses in the Sunday paper at Lawson’s on sale and they’re marked down to thirty-six dollars and I’ve got thirty dollars saved, Mom, so maybe if you’d give me a little bit more. Oh Mom, I so want a yellow dress and I don’t have any yellow dresses. I’ll get a lot of wear out of it. Please Mom? We could go now and look at Lawson’s racks. If we wait any longer all the nice dresses will be gone.”
“Ohhh, all right,” Mom relented. “Come on, I guess you getting an A in American history calls for a celebration—and a new dress.”
“Oh Mom, thank-you-thank-you-thank-you,” Destini chanted, racing to get her thirty dollars from her teddy bear pouch.
Not much later, at Lawson’s, Destini flew into the store ahead of her mother, heading for the sale racks. She saw a lot of dresses she would have liked, but Tyron wanted her to wear a yellow dress and she would not settle for less. Destini hurried from rack to rack, and then she saw it. She held her breath to see if it was the right size. “Size 6, Mom. This cute dress is size 6!” Destini squealed. “It’s got a vee neck and it’s sleeveless, Mom. Isn’t this an amazing dress?”
“It’s too short,” Mom complained.
“No, it’s not,” Destini protested, remembering that Tyron wanted it above her knees. “I’m gonna try it on, Mom. Where’s the dressing room?”
“Right over here,” Mom said, leading the way. They went inside a tiny dressing room and Mom sat on the narrow bench. Destini wiggled out of her jeans and tank top and climbed into the yellow dress. It fit her perfectly. It hugged her tiny waist and swirled around her legs. “Mom, it’s so beautiful! Oh, I love it. Don’t you love it, Mom?”
“No, I don’t love it,” Mom declared, “but I love you, girl, and I do admit you look very pretty in the dress, so you can have it if you want it.”
When Destini got home she tried on the dress again, and this time she put on the gold chain and locket. The effect was stunning. Destini was so happy she felt like running outside and dancing down the street to tell everybody she was the luckiest girl in the world.
Friday night finally came, and Bennie picked up Destini at six-thirty. He told her Tyron was already at the party waiting for her. “He gonna freak when he sees you, little girl,” Bennie commented with a smile.
They drove down to a beach restaurant with a view of the ocean. It was closed for a private party. The occasion was Marko’s father’s fortieth birthday, and he had invited all his friends as well as Marko’s. There was a good-sized dance floor and a recognized band that was already on the hip-hop charts.
Most of the cars in the parking lot were expensive. The old Chevrolet looked out of place. Destini walked in with Bennie, and she immediately spotted Tyron and Marko standing with a tall, handsome man in a silk Italian-made suit. He wore many golden chains.
“Destini,” Tyron called out. “Babe, you’re a vision! My golden angel. Come and meet Marko’s dad.” Destini hurried over to be greeted by the tall, smiling man. “Well,” he grinned, “so this is the little sister you’ve been telling us about, Tyron. She is most lovely.”
“Thank you,” Destini replied.
“This is Chuck Lane, my dad,” Marko said with obvious pride. “This is the man.”
Chuck Lane was handsome enough to grace the covers of any fine man’s magazine. Destini thought he probably did. He had deep, dark brown eyes and classic features, and Destini could see where Marko got his good looks. “So, Destini,” the man said, “you go to Tubman High with my son.”
“Yes, we’re in a lot of the same classes,” Destini answered.
“Delighted to meet you,” Marko’s father said and moved toward a cluster of newly arrived guests. Destini didn’t recognize most of the people in the place. They seemed to be in their twenties or thirties. There were some beautiful women in stunning dresses. And Jasmine appeared wearing a beautiful red dress. She also wore gold chains.
Destini was glad when Tyron led her off to a little corner where they sat down. There was a spectacular view of the ocean from a nearby window. “Tyron, is Marko’s mother here?” Destini asked. The moment she asked the question, she felt foolish. None of the women looked like they might run a house-cleaning service.
Tyron laughed a little. “No, she couldn’t make it,” he said. Then he added, “Babe, Marko’s parents travel in two different worlds.”
“Who are all these people?” Destini inquired.
“Marko’s father’s friends. Business associates. He runs a modeling agency. Those are some of the girls. And he’s into indie movies,” Tyron explained.
“I guess we’re the only ones from Tubman except for Jasmine,” Destini commented.
Tyron laughed again. “Babe, you are so funny,” he chuckled.
Outside the restaurant was a little tiled patio. The moon was overhead, peeking through the royal palm trees. Tyron led Destini out there and took her in his arms, and they danced. A man was playing the piano inside between the hip-hop sets.
“Tyron, don’t you feel funny here?” Destini asked him.
“Yeah, sure,” Tyron replied. “But it’s Marko’s father’s world. All the good stuff Marko has and what he does for me. This is where it comes from.” He laughed in a strange, bitter way. “I can imagine my old man stepping in this place. It’d be like a wild boar in a castle. My old man would think he’d been captured by aliens and brought to a strange planet.”
“I suppose your f
ather does the best he can,” Destini suggested.
Tyron didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “I don’t want to be like him. Like my father, I mean. I want to be like Marko’s father. Look at him. Look how everybody kisses up to him. Like Marko says, he’s the man . . . ”
“What exactly does Marko’s dad do?” Destini asked.
“He charms the world, babe,” Tyron said. “He makes stuff happen.”
But Destini wanted to know what he did for a living, other than running the model agency and the vague indie business. What did all these well dressed men and women have to do with Marko’s father? Did they give him money? For what?
“I don’t ask questions, babe,” was all Tyron would say. And that was the end of it.
They went inside and had a fabulous dinner: white fish and chicken spiced up with cayenne peppers. It was Tunisian food. Destini had never tasted it before but she liked it. One of the waiters said Tunisian hot sauce, harissa, was hotter than the Moroccan version. Destini liked the dinner, but more than anything she liked dancing with Tyron, being in his arms and feeling close to him.
“Your dress is fantastic,” Tyron whispered. “It’s just what I hoped for. You’re my angel, babe. Do you still like the gold chain? It looks perfect with the dress.”
“I will always love the gold chain because it’s from you, Tyron,” Destini cooed.
It was a strangely beautiful evening, but it was unreal. Destini did not feel at home here. She was relieved when the evening ended, she got into the old Chevrolet with Tyron and Bennie, and headed for home. Bennie drove as usual, and Tyron and Destini sat in the back. Tyron put his arm around Destini’s shoulders and pulled her close to him and they snuggled.
“I can’t believe you’re mine, babe,” Tyron remarked.