by L. Divine
“Misty, I’m not interested in catching up with you about anything,” I say, reaching into my backpack to retrieve my notebook and pen.
“Ah, come on, Jayd. You can tell me all about your little date with Jeremy,” she says, smiling like she knows something, but she doesn’t. This is how she gets her information—by tricking her subjects into divulging their info because they think she already knows, but not me. I know her too well.
“Shut up, Misty, and watch the movie. I’ve really had it with you. First, you start all this BS with Trecee, and then you have the nerve to call me and apologize like we’re in kindergarten. Please know I want to kick your ass, but you’re not worth it. So, don’t mistake my calm for forgiveness because there’s none where you’re concerned.”
Misty looks genuinely hurt, which makes me feel a little bad, but not much. She deserves all the lip I can give her under the circumstances.
“Well damn, Jayd, a sistah can’t make a mistake?” she says as she reaches into her backpack sitting in the seat next to her.
“Yes, a sistah can. But you sure as hell ain’t a sistah of mine. And for the record, I’ve forgiven you several times only for you to repeatedly stab me in the back. No more chances for you to hurt me, Misty. From now on, you don’t exist to me.”
“Are you sure, Jayd? I’m pretty hard to ignore,” she says, smiling. That’s probably the truest statement she’s ever made. Her presence is so powerful there should be a hurricane named after her.
“Ladies, I said no talking,” Mrs. Cole says from her desk. “Not another peep, you two.” And, with that last warning, Misty and I watch the DVD in silence.
When the bell rings for second lunch, Misty rushes out before I even have a chance to get my backpack closed. I guess she can’t wait to get to South Central’s area in the quad and hear or spread the latest gossip, whatever that may be. I haven’t seen Jeremy all day, and I’m jonesing for a hug. I grab my backpack and walk through the main hall doorway to find him waiting by the entrance, ready to satisfy my craving.
“How’s my little jailbird?” he says, taking my backpack from my shoulder and slipping it onto his before hugging me. God, his arms feel good around my body, and he smells so sweet.
“That’s not funny. It’s boring as hell sitting in there with Misty all day. At least I don’t have to talk to her. But the movie we’re being forced to watch is so slow,” I say as we walk arm in arm down the crowded hall toward the quad.
“Yeah, the movie’s totally outdated,” he says like an expert critic.
“How many times have you seen it?” I ask.
“Oh, enough to know it doesn’t work. Hungry?” he asks as we approach the snack stand. I’m really hungry, especially since we weren’t allowed outside for break and I never bring a snack to school.
“Starved. What’s on the menu today?” Before he can answer, I notice Misty’s across the yard pointing and staring at me. She’s already made up some story to spread since I wouldn’t tell her anything about our date, I’m sure. Being alone in a room with her all day and not being able to punch her is pure torture.
“Well, there’s pizza, corn dogs and French fries. The usual. Interested?” Jeremy asks, totally oblivious to the looming drama across the yard. Misty has KJ, Del, C Money, Tony, and Shae looking our way. But I’m not going to let her get to me.
“I’ll have a slice of pizza. What are you having?”
“I’m having three of the same,” he says. “I’ll get our food. Why don’t you grab us a bench before they’re all gone.” Jeremy walks over to the long line, leaving me to seethe alone. I wonder what BS Misty’s spreading now. That girl can talk up a storm. I wish I could vibe with Nellie and Mickey right about now. I’ll have to catch them right after school before I catch the bus home and ask if they know what Misty’s up to now.
Lunch with Jeremy was fun, even though Misty and crew watched us the whole time, making up the sound track to my conversation with Jeremy, I’m sure. When I got out of in-house detention, Nellie and Mickey were still in the conference room as the bell rang. I knew they couldn’t keep their mouths closed the entire day. I would be in there with them if I had a choice in the matter.
When I get home, Mama and Daddy are both out, although I’m sure not together. My uncles, as usual, are in the streets somewhere and won’t be home until well after dark. Jay and Bryan are in their room playing chess, which leaves me to start dinner if I want to eat. I wish Mama was home because I need to talk. I’m so tired all I can think about is finishing my homework and going straight to bed. I guess I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to get advice from Mama. She always knows what to do.
4
Pullin’
“Don’t you know my hair’s so strong/It could break the teeth out the comb?”
—JIGABOOS & WANNABEES CHORUS/SCHOOL DAZE SOUNDTRACK
When I wake up this morning, Mama is already up which is highly unusual. After my shower and breakfast, I go out back to check on her.
“Good morning, Mama. Are you all right?” I ask. She and the dog, Lexi, both look up at me like I’ve interrupted their flow.
“Yes, Jayd, I’m fine. Just behind in my work. Come find me at Netta’s shop after you get home from school so we can sit down and talk. I want to hear all about your weekend.” The only thing about meeting Mama at Netta’s shop is I usually run into Felicia, Monica, and the other neighborhood haters on their way home from Compton High. They’re also tight with Misty, which makes them even more unpleasant to be around.
“Why don’t I meet you here and get some of this done for you while you’re at Netta’s,” I say, trying to get out of going to the shop. I’d much rather work in the spirit room than run into any more broads.
“I’ll have this done before I leave. But, thank you for the offer,” Mama says, giving me a kiss on the cheek before sending me off to school and what promises to be a drama-filled day.
Since Misty reported yesterday that I missed the party and went out with Jeremy instead, there was nothing but BS at school today. People in our government class were making kissing sounds at Jeremy and me when we walked in with each other and took our customary seats. Everybody now knows that Jeremy and I are dating. And, Misty’s having a field day spreading her version of the news. I tried to lay low all day, which wasn’t hard to do because Jeremy took me off campus for lunch today. Now he’s giving me a ride to the bus stop near my house. I don’t want him taking me all the way home just yet; I’m not ready for everyone on my block to be up in my business. After Jeremy drops me off, I head up Alondra toward Greenleaf and Netta’s shop, ready for some sound advice.
I like to watch Mama get her hair done. Netta, Mama’s long-time hairdresser and gossip buddy, always gives Mama a hot hairstyle that will last through the upcoming week, as long as she wraps it up in a scarf every night. Today, after her usual press and curl, Mama is getting a French twist with a little extra hair to give it some booty. Some of the best advice comes from Mama when she’s sitting in that chair. Just like when she’s cooking, Mama’s on a different level when Netta gets in her head.
“Netta, don’t be taking all afternoon. I got beans cooking on the stove,” Mama says, while Netta pushes the lever at the bottom of the salon chair to make Mama sit up a little higher. Netta shifts her weight from one side to the other on her cushioned stool behind the chair. Netta’s a big sistah, with pretty brown skin and platinum blond hair cropped real low to her scalp.
“I thought you said you wasn’t doing no cooking for them fools this week. That’s what you said last week.” Netta remembers everything like a tape recorder.
“Look, Ms. Nosey, I ain’t cooking for none of them fool men in that house, ain’t that right, Jayd?” Mama says, looking to me for validation. I just shake my head and say “whatever” because Mama knows she ain’t telling the whole truth. She doesn’t cook for Daddy anymore, but the rest of them fools still look to her for some table droppings every now and then.
�
��Jayd, I tell you what you should do,” Netta says, referring to the latest episode of Misty the Meddler. I already filled them both in on today’s drama. “You need to get your Mama to put a root on that girl, show her who’s boss,” Netta says, careful not to burn Mama’s ear. “It seems like every time you have a problem, that girl’s behind it.”
“Don’t tell that girl that, Netta. She already got them kids thinking we’re a voodoo house,” Mama says.
“But, Lynn Mae, you do have a voodoo house, or is this the wrong queen sitting up in my chair? Now, you want some hold spray with sheen or shea butter?” Netta asks Mama, already knowing what she’s going to do, no matter what Mama’s answer is.
“Hold spray,” Mama says.
“Okay. Shea butter it is. That’ll give it a little sheen plus protection from the elements,” she says, spritzing Mama’s hair lightly before pressing it, without waiting for Mama’s approval. “Your mama can get rid of any enemies, ailments, issues, you name it. Why you don’t give her a root bag or something, get that little hussy away from her, Lynn.”
“Netta, keep your voice down. Walls have ears,” Mama says. She don’t like airing her laundry all willy-nilly.
“Well, I’m sorry. But from where we’re from, Jayd, your mama’s a modern-day Marie Le Veaux.”
“Yes, and they persecuted me like her too,” Mama says, looking into the mirror while Netta parts another section of her hair. “I used to love working in the shop with Netta, Jayd. Thought I was gonna do hair for the rest of my life, until I met your granddaddy and moved to Texas and then, eventually, here.”
“Yeah, your mama sho’ could do some hair, girl,” Netta says, taking over Mama’s story. “She has a special touch, like every time she washes your head your whole body gets clean. Can’t nobody do a head like your mama.” Netta’s got that right. During certain cleansings, Mama washes my head, and it feels like every problem I’ve ever had instantly disappears. I know Netta misses working with Mama. Mama said they used to try out new styles on each other. Not anymore, though.
“It broke my heart when them people on Bourbon Street boycotted my chair. Granted, it was the sixties, but they picked the wrong cause to protest,” Mama says, looking close to tears. “I never did a thing to them people. See what rumors can do, Jayd? Those people heard I made a doll for the senator’s wife, and they got scared to let me in their heads.”
“But what does doing hair have to do with a doll?” I ask, a little confused. I’ve heard this story time and again, but each time I get a little more out of it.
Netta eagerly answers for Mama. “Some people say that if you want to put a curse on someone, you get a strand of their hair and pin it to the doll’s head. This will make the person lose their mind.” Netta continues, almost in a whisper, “That’s why your mama couldn’t get no more clients. Everybody in New Orleans knows your mama’s a very powerful queen.” As Netta says this, I picture Mama with her scarf wrapped tight around her head, like a crown. “Nobody would take the chance on becoming her next victim. They didn’t want to end up like the senator’s mistress, who wound up with a mysterious brain tumor that made her speak in tongues for the rest of her life.”
“Netta, how you gone remember all that but can’t remember what kinda spray to use in my hair?” Mama says, trying to change the subject. “Stop all that nonsense before you scare the poor child.”
Netta ignores Mama and continues with her story. “Jayd, your mama put all them Louisiana Catholic Creoles in their places when she left with your granddaddy. She didn’t look back not once,” she says, spraying Mama’s hair without missing a beat.
“They thought they would ruin her. No, not your mama. She stopped right in front of the shop we worked in on her way to meet your daddy, put her bags down in the doorway, untied her scarf, and let her long hair hang down, representing the Williams’ royal legacy proudly.”
Mama pretends to be bothered by the story, but she looks like she’s smiling behind the frown.
“It’s still considered ill luck to utter the name Queen Jayd, aka Lynn Mae Williams-James, in New Orleans to this day.”
“Queen Jayd? I ain’t never heard this part of the story before,” I say, hoping to get another good story out of Netta. The last time she told this story I found out more about Netta’s past too—that she and her husband, Lester, came to Compton in the late 1970s, same time as everyone else from Mama’s generation. Netta and Lester started their businesses—he’s a mechanic—and wanted to get pregnant, but couldn’t. That’s when Netta went to Mama for help, and she made it happen.
“People back home never thought it was a coincidence that like Marie the First, your mama named her first-born daughter after her.”
“That’s common in the South, Netta. You making something out of nothing, as usual.”
“And then,” continues Netta like Mama never spoke, “your mama names you, her first-born granddaughter, after her spiritual name, Jayd, the green-eyed voodoo priestess and conjure woman.”
“Netta, shut the hell up with all that talk and concentrate on my hair.” Netta has wrapped Mama’s hair in an immaculate French twist while telling the story.
“You need to go back under the dryer and let the spray stiffen,” Netta says, leading Mama to the hair dryer. While Mama’s under the dryer, Netta continues to tell me about the rumors that were spread about Mama in New Orleans, or as they say it, “Nawlins.”
“Your mama’s mama was said to be this French woman from Paris herself. She fell in love with this dark Haitian fella named Jon Paul Williams. His mama was a voodoo priestess in Haiti, and he a priest.
“Your mama was pulled toward the priesthood, but wanted your grandfather more. Besides, she was getting tired of people’s envy. She left her legacy in Louisiana to become the first lady of First AM E of Central Compton. Your mama never did like that title, though.”
“All right, Jayd, that’s enough for today. See you next time, Netta,” Mama says, surprising us both as she takes off her hair cap, pulls the cotton from behind her ears, and grabs her purse from the lounge area.
“All right, Queen Jayd, and little Jayd too. See y’all next week.”
While Mama and I walk the six blocks across Wilmington back to Gunlock, I tell her all about my date with Jeremy and the week’s drama so far.
“Jayd, if you really like the boy, then date him. Misty will always be around. You just have to learn to ignore her.”
“Ignoring Misty is like trying to ignore a bee stinging me. It can’t be done,” I say.
“Yes, it can, Jayd. You’re stronger than your enemies. Always remember that.”
As we turn the corner onto our street, I see Bryan talking to someone on the porch, but I can’t make out who it is.
“I see your uncle made it home today. Who’s that he’s talking to?” As we get a little closer to the house, I clearly see it’s KJ.
“Jayd, what kinda mess you starting now, girl? Does that boy know you dating Jeremy?” Mama asks.
“I didn’t tell him, but I’m sure Misty gave him the four-one-one. KJ and his boys were staring at me and Jeremy at lunch yesterday.”
“Oh, that girl is something else,” Mama says, shaking her head from side to side. “Just be cool, Jayd. Just keep a cool head and everything will work out. You’ll see.” As we walk up the driveway, KJ comes to meet us halfway. Bryan stays on the porch looking like he’s got a ringside seat and the main event is about to start.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. James,” he says to Mama.
“Good afternoon, KJ. What brings you by, unannounced, I assume?” Mama looks at me out the corner of her eye and smiles. Mama’s so bad sometimes.
“Well, I was hoping me and Jayd could go out and talk for a while. I haven’t been able to track her down since last week,” he says, looking in my direction.
“And yet, you still came by,” I say. Mama frowns at my rudeness.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure you were all right. It’s not like you
to ignore a brotha.”
Mama feels the heat rising and proceeds into the house. Bryan, smirking, reluctantly follows Mama inside.
“I’ll talk to you later, man. And don’t forget to listen to my show,” he says to KJ.
“All right, Bryan, I’ll check it out. Bye, Mrs. James.”
“I’m sure I’ll see you soon, KJ,” Mama says, leaving us alone in the driveway. Once they’re completely inside, I let KJ have it.
“Look, KJ, you can’t just be poppin’ up at my house like you’re still my man.”
“Why not? Is the White boy hangin’ out in Compton now?” he says, oozing with jealousy. I actually like seeing him this way; he deserves it.
“You’re not funny. And, so what if he is? It ain’t none of your business no more who hangs out with me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got homework to do,” I say as I push past him toward the house.
“Jayd, what happened to you?” KJ asks, looking a little hurt. “You don’t have feelings for me no more?” he says, grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him. His touch sends shivers down my spine.
“KJ, you must have convenient amnesia or something, because I could have sworn you broke up with me last weekend, almost got me beat down last week, and now you want to be all up on me again. You must be out of your ever-loving mind if you think I’m gone let you back in that easy.”
“Well, tell me what I can do to win you back.”
I look at this boy, shocked. “Nothing, KJ. That’s the point. I’ve moved on, just like you.” I snatch my arm from his grip, turn around, and walk up to the porch. A part of me wishes neither of us moved on and could forget everything that happened last week. But, the larger part of me knows better than to let him near my heart again.