Upgrade U

by Ni-Ni Simone

  “Nah.” He placed his book on the counter. “I can get this book another time.” He hunched his shoulders as we headed for the door. “Things happen.”

  But this wasn’t supposed to happen. The only thing that wasn’t covered by my scholarship were my books and my mother knew that…. So why wasn’t there any money on my card? I looked at my phone and saw that I had another hour before my first class started. “Courtney, I’ma catch up with you later. I need to call my mom.”

  “Okay, Seven,” he said. “I’ll be in the caf if you need anything.”

  I watched him disappear from sight and then I walked out of the bookstore and found a secluded bench to sit on. I quickly dialed home and crossed my fingers that my mother would answer the phone. God knows this was not the time for Cousin Shake and his shenanigans.

  Someone answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

  It was my mother. “Hey, Ma,” I said, relieved it was her.

  “Hey, honey!” she said, extremely excited. “How are you? Are you eating? Are you getting enough sleep? You’re not staying out too late, are you?” My mother had yet to take a breath. “I saw a story on 20/20 about college kids and drinking binges—”

  “Ma—”

  “And with us being in different states, I’m unable to keep an eye on you.”

  “Ma—”

  “I know what you’re going to ask me,” she said, “and no, Percy going to school there was not my idea. But anyway back to the drinking. You’re not twenty-one and you know better than to touch any alcohol. But if for some godforsaken reason you decide to act like you don’t have any home training, mess around, and get drunk, just know that you do have a mama who will come down there and straight wreck shop. Okay? So don’t and mama won’t. Now what’s going on with you?”

  Finally I could speak. “Ma, I just left the bookstore to get the rest of the books I need for my classes and my debit card was denied.”

  The phone went completely silent, and then my mother said, “Oh my goodness! I completely forgot.” I could hear her voice filling with tears. “All I had to pay for were your books, and I can’t believe I didn’t remember. Things have been so hectic here. Your stepfather was laid off again, your father’s company folded. Toi needed me to help her with Noah’s day care. Your brother has outgrown everything—the boy is just about taller than me. And Cousin Shake is helping me as much as he can, but he’s helping Miss Minnie with Percy’s tuition too.”

  My eyes filled with tears, I didn’t know what I was going to do. My funds were beyond low. All I had to my name was seventy bucks and I needed half of that to get my hair done. “Ma.” I took a deep breath. “I think I should try to find a job—”

  “Absolutely not! We’ve already discussed that college is your job and good grades are your pay. At least for this first year. Period. I can take care of you. Now I will have the money in your account by next week, Monday.”

  “Next week Monday! Ma, classes start today … this Monday.”

  “Seven, professors won’t expect you to have your books the first week. It’ll be okay, and by the time you wake up on Monday morning the money will be in your account. And I’ll put in a little extra for your pocket, and everything will be fine. Okay?”

  “All right, Ma.” I may have said that, but there was no way I believed it.

  “I love you, Seven, and I’m sorry, baby. I’ll try my best to see if I can get the money to you sooner.”

  “Don’t sweat it, Ma. I know you’re trying.”

  “I have to go now, Seven.” I could hear tears rattling her throat. “I love you.” And she hung up.

  Tears streamed down my face, and I fought with all I could to wipe them away. This wasn’t the end of the world. I didn’t think….

  10

  With you I fall so fast …

  I hope it lasts …

  —ASHLEE SIMPSON, “PIECES OF ME”

  Just when I thought I’d already strolled through hell, I walked into my creative writing class, ten minutes late.

  The professor’s name was Dr. Banks, and from the look she shot me I could tell that this woman didn’t play. She handed me, and a few other students who crept in behind me, a class syllabus.

  “Let me make this clear to you all,” she said as she walked around the classroom. “This is not high school. This is Stiles University. And while you may be your parents’ babies, you are young men and young ladies to me. I expect you to arrive to class on time.” She pulled the rim of her glasses down the bridge of her nose and it seemed her eyes landed on me.

  “After today if you are more than five minutes late, then I will not allow you in my class. If you miss your homework, I will not remind you that it is due; your falling grade will teach you. And you are to have your books”— she looked at my bare desk—“the next time we see each other.

  “Also, I will not accept any notes from your parents. Please keep all pets away from your homework, sleep at night”—she tapped on a dozing student’s desk—“and not in my class. I am here to teach you, and together we will enjoy the love of creating literary art. Hopefully, when you leave my class you will have learned something that you’ll carry with you for the rest of your lives.” She looked around the class, and if I’m not mistaken I think she cracked a smile … well, at least a small grin.

  “Now let’s get started.” She clapped her hands together. “The first expression of writing we will explore is writing fiction….”

  O … M … G … why couldn’t we start with poetry? I don’t know anything about writing fiction.

  “Does anyone know that there is more to fiction writing than first and third person?”

  No, and I never really cared. I write poems—that’s why I took this class … along with needing—what I thought would be—an easy elective.

  The professor looked around the room, and seeing that no one chimed in, she continued on, “There’s second person, third person total omniscient, third person limited omniscient, stream of consciousness….”

  This was so not my day. I didn’t mind learning about writing fiction; it’s just that it would’ve been easier to start with poems. I swore nothing was going my way this day, and just when I thought things couldn’t get worse the professor said, “If you will refer to your syllabus you will see that your first assignment will be a short story.”

  Jesus, please …

  * * *

  Three classes back to back, all the professors pretty much gave the same freshman speech about us not being babies but being high school graduates. They all had the same policy about lateness and at least one of them made sure that we understood that they already had what we wanted to get. Blah … blah … blah …

  I hated that I wasn’t as excited about my classes as I really wanted to be…. I mean, it was no secret that I loved school. Heck, I worked hard to get here, but I was soooo embarrassed about not having my books that it kept me from enjoying my classes.

  And it wasn’t like I was lazy and simply needed to go to the bookstore. My mom didn’t have the money for my books … and that was a hard pill to swallow.

  The sagging economy seemed to affect everyone, even my middle-class family. We never had money woes and my mother worked two jobs to make sure we never felt a pinch. I always had a part-time job. But now I was broke, and totally dependent on somebody else. Thank goodness my meal plan was included in my scholarship or I would be on the corner with a sign that read HELP A SISTAH OUT, PLEASE.

  I was so glad to be back in my dorm room. I tossed my backpack on my desk, kicked my heels off—which after my hustle from class to class around this humungous campus I would not be wearing anymore during the day … unless I was on a date. I pulled my hair back into a single shoulder-length ponytail and lay out like a snow angel across my bed.

  I closed my eyes and the very moment I prayed for sleep there was a knock on my door.

  Please … oh please … do not let this be Courtney….

  I laid on my bed a few minut
es longer contemplating if I really wanted to open the door, but before I could decide the knocks beat against the door in succession.

  Despite the short distance I took my time walking to the door, and when I opened it, all I could do was smile, because suddenly my bad day had floated away.

  Josiah leaned against the door frame, gave me a sexy smile, and said, “Yo, somebody told me that this hot and fly girl named Seven lived here, and that I needed to come check her because she had a big day today.”

  “Oh, really?” I blushed. “I’m Seven and I’ve had a horrible day.”

  “Really?” Josiah said, and pulled me by the belt loop to his chest. “What happened?”

  I recounted for him what happened today, and then I said, “And my creative writing professor. OMG, yo, that lady was something else.”

  “Yeah, some professors are like that. But it’s cool.” He kissed me. “You’re smart. You’ll get through it, and when all else fails and this is all said and done, you’re going to get further in life simply by being Josiah Whitaker’s girl anyway.”

  “Excuse you.” I chuckled in disbelief. “Feeling yourself, maybe?”

  “Nah, just a little confidence.” He kissed me passionately.

  A few minutes in our kiss, “All right, all right,” poured from behind us. “Enough of that.” It was Shae and Big Country.

  I wiped my lip gloss from Josiah’s lips and said, “Don’t hate.”

  Shae laughed as we all entered the room. Big Country and Josiah exchanged dap and we sat coupled up on me and Shae’s respective beds.

  “Yo, this is hot,” Big Country said. “Ya smell me?”

  “What, boo?” Shae asked him, while stroking his cheek.

  I promise you this bearilla here looked more like Rick Ross than Rick Ross did himself. I was tempted to ask Big Country if he could rap, but I didn’t want Shae to get offended; so instead I said, “What’s hot, Melvin?”

  “Us, being here like this,” he said. “You know, like old times.”

  “Yeah.” I chuckled. “This is sorta like old times.”

  “Uhmm hmm,” Big Country agreed, “and now that we’ve gotten a little older and you not as sensitive, shawtie”—he looked at me—“I can tell you, man, you used to get on my nerves real bad.”

  What did he say? Who is he talking to? Me? “You better get your boyfriend, Shae. That’s exactly why we used to beat y’all in every game we played and took all ya lil money.”

  “Hollah!” Shae slapped me a high five.

  “Nah.” Josiah smirked. “Ain’t no hollah. You’ve never beaten me.”

  “Shawtie, stop lying,” Big Country said.

  “You, are crazy.” I laughed. “Shae, would you tell ‘em?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “We pretty much had y’all shook.”

  “And when was this?” Josiah asked.

  “Arizona’s,” Shae said. “Ringing any bells? We whipped y’all—”

  “Azzes!” I started hunching my shoulders and doing a dance.

  “We let y’all win,” Josiah said.

  "Oh yeah?” I arched my brow. “Puhlease, you know you’re making things up, me and Shae could beat you two in anything.”

  “Not in hoops.” Josiah gave a sly smile.

  “No, ‘cause you’re ten feet tall,” I spat.

  “Hmph,” Shae said, hyped, as she stood up. “I believe I can take him.”

  “Shae,” I said, tight-lipped, “didn’t we already have this conversation about you not growing anymore?”

  “True.” She sat back down.

  “Just give it up,” Big Country said. “We’re the kings. We can beat y’all in just about everything.”

  “Oh really?” Shae twisted her lips. “Well, name something besides ball and I betchu we’ll take you.”

  “Bowling,” Josiah said.

  “Oh please!” Shae stood up and slapped me a high five. “We will bury y’all!”

  Josiah and Big Country looked at us for a moment, and then they fell out laughing. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Seven.” Josiah snickered.

  “You can’t hurt me,” I said, “ ‘cause I’ma get the last laugh in the end.”

  “Fa’sho',” Shae said.

  “Well then, why don’t we be about it,” Big Country challenged.

  “A’ight,” Shae agreed. “Twenty bills.”

  “Pause.” I looked at Shae like she was crazy. “I don’t have no money, girl,” I whispered.

  “Me either, but this is called a short-term investment, a gamble on something that has a high probability to pay us and the only risk we take is time.” She arched her brow. “I learned that today in Accounting 101.”

  I smiled and looked at Josiah. “Forty bills.”

  “That’s my girl,” Shae mumbled.

  Josiah stood up and snickered. “Let’s go knock them down real quick, Big Country, and take all their lil money.”

  “Let’s,” Big Country said as we walked out the door. “Seems they need to learn once more who’s the boss.”

  "You know y’all cheated, right?” Big Country said, as we left the bowling alley and walked the few short blocks to campus. Shae and I were heartbeats away from missing the 2 A.M. freshman curfew we had during the week; but the fact that we each returned twenty dollars richer was pretty much worth the risk of the RA slapping us with a violation ticket.

  Shae and I each waved the twenty-dollar bills the boys had lost in their faces.

  “We didn’t cheat,” I said. “So don’t even think you’re getting your money back.” I tucked it in my bra.

  “If I wanted it back,” Josiah said, as his phone—which had been ringing pretty much all night—now rang again, “I’d go in there and get it.”

  “Whatever.” I gave a playful smirk. “And who keeps calling you, like they spotted you on the milk carton or something? Geez.”

  He walked up close to me and said, “Why? Are you jealous?” He slid his hands in the back pocket of my jeans.

  “Do I have a reason to be jealous?” I hoped like heck my voice sounded as if I were telling a joke, although I was serious as cancer.

  “Never.” He kissed me softly on the lips. “You know you’re number one.”

  “And who’s higher than number one?”

  "No one,” he said as we started to kiss passionately. And just as the stars and the moons aligned and sweet darkness settled upon us, Big Country said, “Y’all wanna hook that up at the Super 8 or something?”

  I gave Josiah one last peck on the lips, and he said, “Good night.”

  “Good night?” I whispered against his lips. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question, Seven?”

  “Who keeps calling you?”

  “Seven.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “You have to stop sweatin’ me. I don’t know who was calling me, since we’ve been together not once have I picked up my phone. And I haven’t picked it up because when I’m chillin’ with you I don’t care. Which is what I want you to do: stop caring, focus on me. There’re a million girls out here, but you’re the only one that I know is for me. All these other chicks are on it because of basketball and what they know I’ll have when I join the NBA. But I’m not thinking about that. I’m thinking about you, and me, and us. A’ight?” he said softly.

  Maybe he has a point. “A’ight,” I said as my heart skipped beats.

  “Straight, now give it to me,” he said and I slid my arms around his neck and kissed him again. “Now, good night,” he said, giving me a few last pecks.

  “Good night.”

  “All right, Big Country.” Josiah stepped out of our embrace. “I’ll catch up with you.” He walked backwards out to the courtyard, blew me a kiss, and winked his eye at me. “I love you,” he mouthed as he faded into the night.

  I swear I couldn’t move. All I could do was stand on the bottom step of my dorm and bask in the beauty of love … a feeling that I desperately wish I could explain, but I couldn’t. All
I could do was feel it….

  “All right, shawtie, gon'-get now,” Big Country snapped at me, disrupting me from gettin’ my glee on. “Cut me and my Cornbread some space, smell me?”

  “What?” I frowned.

  “Let me put it like this—skip yo behind inside.”

  “Excuse you.” I frowned. “And good night to you too.”

  “Good night, shawtie,” he said as if I couldn’t leave soon enough.

  The doors closed behind me and I heard him say to Shae, “Now plant one on me and I want a real sloppy one with extra gravy.”

  11

  Every time I look up

  He be sliding through in

  the F-150 pickup …

  —CIARA, “OOH BABY”

  The crisp amber of the late Louisiana afternoon hovered over us as heavy sun showers blew drops of rain into our faces. We fought to stay dry beneath the glass awning, where we stood for the last hour waiting for the trolley. Our backs were against the cold storefront window while a neon pink sign blinked CLOSED above our heads.

  We’d just left Trina’s A Cut Above the Rest, which at first glance looked to be a hot-pink-painted hole in the wall. But it wasn’t. It was the hair hot spot, where we spent our last few dollars—not to mention our entire day—getting my hair done in sexy coils of bouncing curls, Khya’s bob laid, Shae’s natural waves hooked up, and Courtney’s finger waves redone.

  I promise you, it was the pits trying to protect our freshly done dos from the elements. Let me say that again, the pits.

  Josiah called this morning and told me he had a roman- tic date planned for us and I needed to be at his apartment by six o’clock so the dinner he cooked wouldn’t be cold.

  Follow me here, my baby cooked for me….

  Well, now I had a problem because it was already 5 P.M., and not only did I have a twenty-minute ride back to campus, I still had to freshen up and get dressed. And where was the trolley …? I don’t know. And what made matters worse is that on the weekend this thing ran like a turtle and we had absolutely no money for a cab.