So Done

by Paula Chase

  Mila was wondering aloud how long they planned to stay when Christol walked to the court’s edge. She wore a pair of obviously homemade jean shorts. The shorts made her long body look even longer. The dangling frayed edges covered more thigh than the denim. Her hair, brushed just past her shoulders, was flat-ironed and bumped at the ends. It looked freshly done and shone in the bright sun like it had been sprayed with oil.

  She stood at the end of the bleachers watching her brother and the other boys run up and down the court, clapping and hollering for the ball. Every now and then she glanced back at the girls. Before Mila could wave her over, Christol’s eyes swept quickly back onto the court’s action.

  She gave her credit for coming to the court alone. Unless she was deaf, dumb, and blind, she probably felt the thick pettiness in the air around them. Mostly from Tai, but it wasn’t like anybody else had rolled out the red carpet.

  Tai’s head nodded Christol’s way. “So what y’all think about her?” She was smug like she already knew the answer.

  Mo folded her arms. “I think I need to work hard to make sure she don’t get my spot in TAG. Nothing personal, though.”

  “Nobody care about no TAG.” Tai scowled. “I mean, what you think about her, period?”

  “I don’t know.” Mo put her hand above her eye, shielding the sun. She peered over at Christol. “I haven’t seen her except in dance class. She stay inside, I guess.”

  “I would, too. We’re acting all shady like she’s done something to us,” Mila grumbled.

  Tai got extra loud. “This our hood. If she want be down, then she need to do whatever to be down.”

  Sheeda laughed. “And what’s that?”

  Tai’s eyebrows arched. It seemed like she actually thought about it for a minute before snorting a laugh and coming up with, “Whatever we say.”

  Tai said some off-the-wall stuff sometimes. Mila and Sheeda didn’t always agree with the things Tai said, but they rarely debated her. Mo didn’t mind debating but mostly just gave Tai a look that Mila always took to mean You’re wrong but I don’t feel like fussing right now. Because when Mo wanted to fuss, she did.

  Mila took Mo’s straight-face silence as a good sign. “It doesn’t have to be like that, y’all.”

  Tai sat up taller. “Be like what?”

  The familiar challenge in Tai’s voice was supposed to be her signal to back down. They were supposed to always be on the same page in public. But how could things change if she just went along every time they didn’t agree? She risked Tai’s wrath.

  “Be petty just because we can. Like Karissa and Jalessa did us our first year at Woodbury, acting like we had to go through them just to breathe.” She avoided Tai’s disapproving glare by looking to Sheeda and Mo for help. Remembering how much sixth grade sucked pushed her on. “I hated it. We all did. We don’t need to act like that with Christol.”

  “I’m not acting any kind of way,” Sheeda said weakly.

  Mo pursed her lips. “I already told you I don’t know the girl. . . .” She hunched down so she was talking into their circle and lowered her voice. “But it’s on her if she want be friends. She the one standing over there by herself.”

  Sensing Mo was on her side, Tai agreed. “Bean, you can be Frannie Friend to whoever you want. But I don’t have to be her friend just because we live in the same hood.” She crossed her legs with a prim uppityness.

  Quiet fury burned Mila’s throat as she asked, “For real, would any of y’all just walk up to four girls you didn’t know and push into their convo?”

  “I mean, probably not,” Mo muttered.

  Sheeda stayed quiet, eyes ping-ponging between everyone like she wasn’t sure which side to choose.

  “If I ain’t want be looking dumb by myself forever, yeah,” Tai said.

  Mila tore her eyes away from Tai’s tapping leg and waved Christol over before she thought over it too much. “Christol . . . hey, come sit with us.”

  “Bean,” Tai snapped under her breath. “Why you do that?”

  “Let’s at least get to know her before we throw shade,” Mila said. She breathed in and out through her nose, trying to steady her racing heart. She was sure Tai was burning a hole in the back of her head with her look. She faked a smile and kept her face turned toward Christol, who slowly made her way to the foot of the bleachers. Mila scooted over, inviting her to sit beside her, needing the comfort of the contact.

  “Hey y’all,” Christol said with a wave.

  Everybody except Tai said “hey” back.

  “So you named after that Champagne rappers used to talk about?” Sheeda asked with a genuine curiosity that made Mila want to hug and shush her at the same time.

  “Probably. It’s not spelled the same, though,” Christol said with patience and a tiny crescent moon smile. “You can call me Chrissy.”

  “It’s kind of crazy how long you’ve been dancing,” Mo said in open admiration, and Mila knew everything would be okay. She let herself breathe.

  “I’ve never done nothing else,” Christol said, proud without bragging.

  “Shoot, your mother must be rich then,” Sheeda said. She leaned her elbows back on the burning bench, winced, then sat back up. “If it wasn’t for Ms. Noelle, no way I could be in dance.”

  “I know that’s right,” Mo said.

  Mila smiled gratefully at her friends. If they had clammed up and expected her to start the conversation she would have died on the spot. Before she could jump in, Tai did what Tai did best—start drama. Her ticking leg wagged even harder.

  “Puh. Please. If her mother was rich, she wouldn’t be living here.”

  “That couldn’t be more obvious,” Christol said.

  “What does that mean?” Tai’s voice carried across the empty bleachers. “You trying say we all poor here?”

  “Oh my God, Metai, simmer down.” Mo laughed. “You the one who said the girl’s mother can’t be rich. Now she agreeing and you all rrrr, rrrr, rrrr.”

  Her and Sheeda whooped loud and open at the joke.

  Mila envied that they had each other in Tai’s storms. She stayed quiet, not smiling or agreeing in any way even as she silently applauded Mo.

  “My mother work two jobs so I can dance and so Chris can do music and play ball,” Christol said. “Getting into TAG could save money on dance classes. That’s why I’m pressed to make it.” She turned to Mila. “So how long you been dancing? Your double pirouettes are so good.”

  “Two years,” Mila said, managing not to cheese her butt off at the compliment.

  Christol’s mouth dropped. “For real?”

  Mo teased. “Mila’s what they call a ‘natural.’”

  Mila waved away the praise, embarrassed by it as much as it swelled her with pride.

  “For two years you’re really good,” Christol said. “You trying out tomorrow, right?”

  “Why is every conversation about TAG this and TAG that?” Tai exploded.

  Everyone stared at her wide-eyed as she ranted.

  “Y’all acting like TAG gonna get you jobs dancing in a video or something.” She smirked. “I don’t mean no harm, Bean, but it’s just another one of the ideas that your father always be coming up with trying save the neighborhood.” She raised her arms. “Save it from what? We fine here, except maybe you. You the only one unhappy here. So go.”

  “Girl, what are you talking about? Why you say that?” Sheeda asked. She looked torn between laughing and being worried.

  Mila snipped back, “And you know I would if I could.”

  “I wish you could, too,” Tai said with extra bite. “Then everybody could stop always having to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing around you.”

  The words made Mila’s ears ring. When had Tai ever worried about saying the wrong thing to anybody? When did she ever worry about anybody else, period?

  “Me?” She clasped her hands on her chest in dramatic sarcasm. “I’m the one people gotta tiptoe around? Wow.”

 
Beside her, Christol leaned her elbows on her knees and stared straight ahead at the basketball court. Mila felt bad for inviting her over. She and Tai had never fought in front of everyone before. She wanted to stop it. Christol probably thought they were all crazy. But the snowball rolled down the hill getting bigger.

  Tai’s eyes were glazed over. Mila knew the look. She was trying to act like she didn’t care. Just in case Mila didn’t notice she didn’t care, she scooted down, putting distance between them on the seat. “I know you not trying say I’m like that.” Tai’s voice was tight. Every word coiled to bite. “As long as people say stuff to my face, they can say whatever they want.”

  “Yeah, you took me asking you to stop calling me Bean real good. And that was to your face,” Mila said. The words were out before she had completed the thought. Her throat closed. It was all going so wrong so fast.

  She took comfort knowing that if things got too ugly, Mo would step in. For now, she only watched them with furrowed brows, mouth slightly open.

  Sheeda, on the other hand, looked like she had shrunk an inch. She was leaning back, burning bleachers or not, as if she was afraid sitting up near the circle of conversation would force her into it.

  Mila threw her hands up in surrender, intending to squash the disagreement. “All right, Tai. Naw, you’re right.” But Tai couldn’t even win graciously.

  “Exactly. ’Cause I’m the realest chick out here.” She pierced Mo and Sheeda with a look, then threw daggers at Christol like it was her fault they were arguing.

  Christol sat on the edge of the bleacher. Her eyes followed her brother from one end of the court to the other. Mila expected her to call out to him and run from the madness.

  “Nobody saying you fake, Tai,” Sheeda said, trying to help.

  But Tai wouldn’t be calmed. She jabbed her finger at Mila. “She is. She trying say people gotta watch what they say around me. Since when?”

  Mo playfully pushed Tai’s leg. “Stop. Don’t even come for her like that. Bean always been the chill one.” She flashed a confident smile Mila’s way. “Ain’t nobody mad. Let her live.”

  “Oh please.” Tai sneered. “Jah-meel-ah from these streets just like the rest of us. Youn think she can get grimy?”

  “So now we name-calling?” Mila asked. The words croaked out of her dry throat. “How am I grimy, Tai?”

  Tai did the prissy leg cross again. Her foot swayed softly like she didn’t have a care in the world. “’Cause I think the real reason you like the Woods so much is ’cause you can do your dirt over there and nobody be knowing.”

  Mo stood up, her hands out like a school crossing guard.

  “Okay . . . what in the world y’all talking about?” She looked from Mila to Tai, unsure who to start with before deciding on Tai. “Tai, stop being salty and just say what’s what. We don’t need start the school year on no drama stuff.”

  “Um-hm . . . Jamila got grimy in her.” Tai’s mouth was pooched like she smelled bad fish. “Ask her who she kicked it with this summer and ain’t tell nobody?”

  The sound of the boys’ sneakers shuffling on the court and the tingy pounce of the ball filled the silence. All eyes were on her, except Christol. Mila absently moved closer so their legs touched and sent up a silent prayer of thanks when Christol didn’t scoot away.

  “Rollie, that’s who,” Tai blurted triumphantly. She joined the circle completely until her knees touched against Mila’s. “Now we supposed to be girls and you ain’t tell me that you ran into the dude I’m crushing on . . . not once but twice. Tell me that ain’t grimy, Jamila.”

  Mila’s head swam. God, had she forgotten to tell Roland not to mention them running into each other? Keeping up with lies was hard.

  “It wasn’t even like that,” she whispered.

  “Then what was it like?” Tai asked.

  “Whoa, whoa, wait,” Mo said. She peered at Mila. “So, like, did you and Rollie hook up?”

  Mo’s eyes softened when Mila shook her head no.

  Tai wasn’t having it. Her arms flailed as she folded and unfolded them. “Mo, don’t even sit up here and act like that don’t make it wrong. How long have I liked Rollie?”

  “For forever,” Sheeda said with an eye roll.

  “Exactly,” Tai said, missing Sheeda’s sarcasm. “So I don’t care what happened or didn’t happen. You was wrong for hiding it from me.”

  “I didn’t hide it,” Mila said, blanching at the lie. “I just never got the chance to tell you.”

  Sheeda readily agreed. “I mean, she was away all summer.”

  Tai shut her down with an icy look. “Please. She never got the chance because she never texted me back. Always too busy doing this with Aunt Jacqs and too busy doing that with Cinny.”

  The words dug into Mila like a knife, twisting. She shot up off the bleacher, towering over Tai. The motion surprised Mo into sitting back down. Mila’s voice matched Tai’s accusing tone. “So my real crime is I went to my aunt’s instead of being your shadow all summer.” The shock on Tai’s face spurred her on. “I can’t help that you don’t have any brothers or sisters or that your father always high.”

  Mo inhaled sharply.

  “Oh God,” Sheeda groaned.

  The words that had been welled up inside of Mila wouldn’t stay down. Tai said whatever she wanted, no matter how mean, like it was okay just because it was how she felt. It wasn’t. It never had been, but Mila had never said anything, until now.

  “Nobody can say what they want around you because you always got something to say about everything.” She paused. “If you don’t want to do it or don’t like it, it’s wack or dumb. You don’t even care if you’re putting down something somebody else likes. It’s played out.”

  “Ohhh. So somebody finally got enough nerve to say how she feel to my face,” Tai said. Her voice was shaky through her set jaw. “That’s messed up about you, Bean.”

  Mila lost it. “Stop calling me ‘Bean.’” Her voice was so loud the boys looked up from the court. She dug her fists into her thighs. “How am I the one that’s messed up because I’m being honest?” she asked. Controlling the anger made her cheeks hurt.

  “Oh, now you being honest?” Tai’s laugh was big and phony. “That’s right. . . .” She paused, then spit out Mila’s name. “Jamila, go ahead and play the shy ‘who, me?’ role. That’s what you do best.”

  With that, she stormed down the bleachers.

  “Tai, don’t be like that,” Mo called after her. She turned to Mila, sighing. “Go make her come back.”

  Tai stood at the edge of the gate, where Christol had stood just minutes ago. Every few seconds she swiped at her face. She was crying. It made Mila want to obey Mo’s request. Then it struck her. Tai was wrong. What Mila really did best was play nice, every time. All the time. She’d played nice, grateful when Tai said she’d try and remember to stop calling her Bean. And she’d played nice for months pretending that it didn’t make her sick to her stomach to sit in Tai’s room, wondering if Mr. Bryant would wander up there trapping her exit.

  She couldn’t play nice today. She shook her head. “Mo, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Mo’s eyes flickered surprise. She silently walked down to Tai, where they talked in low voices. Every now and then Mo would look up, her eyes pleading with Mila to join her.

  Mila stayed put. If she gave in now, she’d never stand up for herself again. Then the Cove would eat her alive. She knew it like she knew the sun would rise each day.

  Not this time.

  Chapter

  12

  Tai had been to the Players Cultural Arts Center twice. Once in third grade, for a field trip to see a play where everybody on stage wore big horse heads that looked heavy, then another time to watch her cousin graduate from high school. Both times had been boring, boring, boring. The only exciting thing that had ever happened there was when her favorite go-go band, the Rowdy Boys, had a concert. Not that she knew for sure it had been exciting because Nona
hadn’t let her go. She’d been all, “Too much fighting break out at those go-go’s,” not even giving Tai a chance to explain that it wasn’t one of those fake concerts at a tiny Elks lodge crowded with more people than the fire department allowed. The TRB show was a real concert with an opening act and everything. Plus the Rowdy Boys were a boy go-go band. How much fighting did Nona think was going to break out among a bunch of twelve-year-olds? But Tai hadn’t been able to convince her.

  She was still a little salty about it. Low-key she had a crush on the lead dude and nobody would ever convince her that Nona hadn’t ruined her chance to run into him so he could autograph her Rowdy Boys T-shirt. Seeing the building come into view reminded her of the missed concert, souring her already bad mood.

  Everybody else around her was losing their minds. It was so loud the bus driver had yelled at them the entire trip. He started out polite-ish with “quiet down,” but the last demand was a straight “y’all kids need to shut up.” Nobody listened. The entire bus was jacked up.

  Two long lines of buses crawled into the circular lot in front of the arts center, pulled up to a set of double doors, unloaded, then moved on. To Tai it seemed like there were thousands of kids streaming into the building.

  Why was she doing this again?

  Then Rollie’s hands tapped out a beat on his lap, reminding her exactly why she was stuck on a bus, at the end of summer break, in the morning like it was a school day. She’d gotten herself into this by lying about being hyped to audition.

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if her and Jamila weren’t fighting.

  It was official, she couldn’t call her Mila. It was Jamila or nothing. And in her head she was Bean and always would be. Not that it mattered right now. They weren’t talking. Now her mind was cramped. Every time she tried to get into the mood for auditions, the argument flashed, shutting down every other thought.

  She turned her head as far left as she could, pretending to check out the chaos outside. From the side of her eyes she could see Bean, four rows back, her braided bun bent in conversation with Christol.