So Done

by Paula Chase

  “Daddy, some of these girls have been dancing forever. They were really good,” she said, in open admiration.

  “Yeah, but Jamila, this program was created for kids like you.” His eyes bored into her as if trying to pass a message without speaking it. Seeing her confusion, he held her hands and gently squeezed. “When Noelle proposed this program, she did it after seeing you dance. She wanted girls like you to have as many chances as possible.”

  The joy in Mila’s heart fluttered uncertainly.

  “Was I guaranteed a spot?” she asked.

  “I didn’t say all that.” Her dad chuckled. “I’m saying, Noelle went into the audition looking for more Jamilas. Luckily the original Jamila did well and scored high.”

  Mila digested it, torn between relief and shock. She was a good dancer. A really good one. She wanted to twirl around the room in celebration.

  Maybe getting into TAG would make living in the Cove better. Make living across from Mr. Bryant better. It made her want to tell her dad the truth about what had happened with Tai’s father. Tell him how sick she’d been inside but assure him that now maybe everything would be okay. Her mind seesawed from anxiety to joy while her dad talked on.

  “So how does it feel to be the poster child for a brand-new program?”

  Mila gave into the joy dancing inside her. “Really good. But I’m scared for my friends. Since TAG was made for kids ‘like me,’ does that mean we all made it?”

  Her dad’s hand went up like he was warding off a horde of reporters.

  “That I don’t know, baby girl. The auditions were real. Everybody may not make it.” His eyes probed hers, doing his mind art thing. “So getting selected makes you feel good? You’re not saying that for me, are you?”

  “Dancing for the judges felt good,” Mila said, letting herself fall back into the rush of the audition. She hugged her arms as they goose bumped with joy. “And Chrissy said being in TAG will be like being at a performing arts school. I think being around so many people really into dancing, singing, and all that would be like breathing new air.”

  He smacked his knee in triumph. “And that’s what I hoped it would feel like.” His huge smile returned.

  “I think it’ll be fun,” Mila said. She sent up a silent prayer that they’d all made it.

  “Good.” He put his hands up to his mouth, like he was praying, too, before declaring, “Okay. You did something scary not knowing how it was going to turn out. It’s only fair that I return the favor.” His eyes closed as if he was consulting with himself, then they popped open. “If you still want to move in with Aunt Jacqi for high school next year, you can.”

  Mila gaped at her dad. “But I thought—”

  He put his finger up, stopping her.

  “I said no before and you still made lemonade out of lemons. That’s something you and your brothers have to learn to do as long as we living here. But if you think living with Aunt Jacqi will make you happy, then I can support that.” His eyes glistened. “I’mma hate losing another one of my baby girls. But—”

  Mila threw herself into his arms. “You wouldn’t be losing me, Daddy,” she said, letting her own tears fall.

  Her dad’s grip was like a vise. She held on, not sure if she wanted to be let go.

  Chapter

  20

  Tai reread the group chat.

  Roll-O: Aight so we all meeting at the rec in 15?

  Chriss-E: Remember nobody look til we all there. Bet?

  She-da-Man: Bet

  Jah-Mee-Lah: Bet

  Yo’MChris: Bet

  Mo’Betta: Bet

  Somehow everyone thought it was the best thing since the Internet to meet at the rec center and find out together who had made TAG. Why would anybody want to be humiliated in public? It felt bad enough in private. Like having your stomach punched into your throat.

  She guessed she should have been grateful that Noelle had given her a heads-up. But it didn’t change how much it hurt.

  As the squad went back and forth on what time the list was going live, what time to meet, and ground rules on how to act when they saw the list, she thought about her own fate, already decided. Noelle had shown up at her house the night before.

  Thank God Nona had been home. Her father had been a total jack butt when he answered the door, flirting with Noelle. Tai hadn’t paid it much mind until she recognized the melody of Noelle’s accent from the door. “Allo, Mr. Jown-sen. I’m Noelle, Metai’s dance instructor. May I come in?”

  He’d stood there staring her up and down like she was a pork chop he couldn’t wait to chew.

  Tai popped up beside him. “Hey, Ms. Noelle.”

  “How you doing? I’m Bryant,” her father had said, putting his hand out. Instead of shaking Noelle’s hand he’d kissed it. She’d laughed politely.

  “Nona, Ms. Noelle is here,” Tai called up the stairs. She watched her father make a fool of himself, insisting on making conversation.

  “Umph, I wish all of Tai’s teachers looked like you. So what, you French?”

  “I’m from Montreal,” Noelle said.

  “Montreal?” His mouth corkscrewed as if she’d said Mars. “How you talking like that from Canada?”

  “Excuse my son and forgive his manners. I swear I’ve raised him better,” Nona said, bumping her son aside with her hip. “Have a seat, please.”

  Noelle sat in the overstuffed arm chair. She was bright and fresh in a sundress that left her toned shoulders bare. In their small living room, she looked like a flower growing in the middle of raggedy grass.

  “I actually came to talk to Metai.” She crossed her legs properly and looked from Nona to Bryant, unsure which of them to address, then settled on Nona. “Would it be okay if me and Metai talked . . .” Her lips pressed together in thought, for a single second, then her face cleared with knowledge. “In private. For just a minute?”

  “Oh, of course,” Nona said in her proper voice usually reserved for talking to White people. She got up and pulled at Bryant’s shirt. He ogled Noelle, his glance going up her leg as he passed by.

  Noelle got right to business. “Metai, I want to talk to you about TAG.” She took Tai’s wooden head nod for agreement. “You did not make it.” She was up and by Tai on the sofa in a blaze. She held Tai by the shoulder, whispering as if they weren’t alone. Her breath smelled like Doublemint gum. It blew in Tai’s face as she talked furiously with the type of passion she used to teach when they were down to the last twenty minutes and everyone was tired. “Listen to me. You weren’t rejected. You were placed on the wait list. And that is a good thing. Yes?” Her fierce stare forced Tai to agree. “Mr. Sommers was very impressed by you. He said you have raw talent. The type of talent that dance teachers love to get their hands on. We all want to be a part of molding a great dancer. What lowered your score was ballet technique.” She waved it away. “You were not the lowest by any means. However, Mr. Sommers said that he is worried about your commitment to dance. Your score for the interview was . . . well, not good.”

  Tai immediately thought about the Romanov teacher and how her nose was turned up the whole interview. She’d probably given Tai a zero. Stinky wench.

  And who were they anyway? None of them knew her.

  Noelle’s grip was relentless. She shook Tai’s shoulders gently, forcing her to listen. “This lack of dedication, it is the problem I see in you as well. Metai, it is okay to care about something,” she said, pleading. She nodded toward the window. “Out there, in the streets, yes, you must be a certain way. But in the studio and on stage you can be free. You can be who you want to be. But most of all you don’t have to be ashamed to enjoy being free. Mr. Sommers and I both think that TAG would be good for you. But the scores were the scores. No?”

  Tai hated when she did that Yes and No stuff. She was never sure how to answer. Not that Noelle gave her that chance.

  “But there is good news. Maybe we have your grandma and poppa to come back now?”

  Ta
i was reeling. Noelle seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing. You didn’t make it and we need you to care more, but oh, now let’s get your grandmother back out here.

  Before she knew it, Noelle was back in the chair and Nona at her side. Her father hadn’t bothered to come back downstairs. Likely Nona’s doing.

  Noelle was explaining the point system, sharing Tai’s scores and explaining the wait list. Tai faded out. All she could think about was that she hadn’t made it. Then it got quiet and she realized they had stopped talking.

  “Would you like that, Tai?” Nona was asking, her eyebrows caterpillared. “I mean, you could take the bus to classes, I guess, and then I could pick you up after work.”

  “Classes?” Tai asked. Didn’t Nona understand she hadn’t made it into TAG?

  “Mr. Sommers is offering you a scholarship to attend classes at Hip-hop Heads,” Noelle said. She played mad. “I told him he has lots of nerves stealing my students. But he believes that you would fit in at his studio. I cannot disagree.”

  “I wouldn’t be at La May anymore?” Tai asked, looking from Nona to Noelle. It was too much information to process. She listened through a haze.

  “They’re the hip-hop studio, right?” Nona asked.

  “It is a full dance studio,” Noelle corrected her. “But they specialize in hip-hop. Yes. And I believe Metai has an interest in that form. And sadly that is not my forte. I am what they call a bun head.”

  Noelle and Nona laughed.

  “If you would still like to take classes at La Maison, you may,” Noelle said. “But I believe that your schedule would be quite full. As I said, as number one on the wait list, if just one student does not accept the offer to enroll in TAG’s dance program, you are next. H3. TAG. Together this is a lot. No?”

  “Indeed it is,” Nona said with an eye roll. “This girl’s activities already take up what little money I make.”

  Noelle nodded in sympathy like she had a house full of kids to feed. She and Nona chatted, assuming Tai was mulling it over. Minutes later when Tai still hadn’t answered, Noelle stood up and informed her she had some time to think it over but needed to decide soon. With a little more chitchat, she was gone.

  To Nona it had been all good. “Looks like somebody answering your prayers after all that complaining you do about ballet class,” she’d said.

  Tai didn’t have a comeback. Her hate for ballet wasn’t a secret. But not getting into TAG hurt. Instead of admitting it to Nona, she’d only faked a smile and muttered, “I guess.”

  The next day she checked herself in the mirror. A black cropped T-shirt with the number one on the front. Black shorts and black Converse. All black like she was hitting up a funeral. It wasn’t on purpose; the outfit had just come together like that.

  The short side of her hair was getting bushy as it grew out. Weeks ago Nona had pointed out she needed a visit to the salon soon. First Tai had begged off thinking she might need it long for the stupid required dance bun. Not anymore. H3 dancers had all kind of hair styles.

  She grabbed a water bottle and spritzed the hair, watching the poof turn into pretty curls.

  She tied a white bandana around her head to finish off her gangster girl look. She could see herself wearing one of the H3 jackets with this outfit. She’d fit right in, too. She hoped.

  If she was going to play down not making TAG, she had to believe it herself first.

  She topped off the look with a pair of shades and raced down the stairs. When she opened the door, her father’s voice called from the sofa. “Ay . . . Tai. Ay.”

  She pushed the screen door open, prepared to pretend she hadn’t heard him when he shouted, “Ay . . . where your little friend Bean been at?”

  “Why you asking?” Tai asked, her back to him. Her jaw was clenched tight as a fist.

  “I haven’t seen her since I ran those hardheads off. Just wondering what’s up.” He snickered. “She ain’t go and get herself in trouble with one of them boys, did she?”

  His sneaky little laugh echoed in her ear. Heh-heh. She hated that laugh. Her finger gripped the door. Heh-heh. She fought the memory bubbling its way into her mind—her, her father, and Bean in the backyard. That laugh. Heh-heh. It shimmered foggy in her mind, wavering into a real picture.

  Nona had asked them to dig holes for a bunch of potted flowers. Tai hadn’t wanted to but Bean thought it would be fun. And it had been, sort of, until her father came out there, standing on the back step talking on the phone, glancing over at them trying to give nonsense directions on how to plant a flower. He ended his call abruptly and walked over to them like he really had to play Head Gardener. He reeked of stale smoke. He planted himself between them, pointing to the ground, showing them where Nona usually put things.

  The first time his hand brushed against Bean she moved down an inch, not much, just enough so his gestures wouldn’t poke her. But then he moved, too. Tai saw it. And he pointed again. Then again. The fourth time, as his hand slid back, his fingers brushed, then lingered on Bean’s breast.

  Tai wished she hadn’t seen it or the horrified look on Bean’s face like she’d just seen someone rise from the dead. She wished she hadn’t heard that stupid heh-heh laugh and him saying, “They’re grapes now, but they gon’ be solid oranges one day. Trust.”

  He’d walked off, leaving them both frozen.

  In her head Tai ran into the house screaming for Nona, to tattle. If she’d done that, Nona would have handled it right then and there. He was high and probably drunk, too. She would have kicked him out and told him to stay away until he got himself cleaned up. He would have listened that time because Nona would have been more furious than she’d ever been. And then he would have come back clean and been a real father. One who worked a real job and helped her with homework and came to her dance recital. If she’d run into the house. But she hadn’t.

  Instead, she’d stared after his back, afraid to look Bean in the eyes. When she finally turned around, she played it off like it was normal for a grown man to do that. “He’s so ignorant. Just ignore him. I know I do.”

  She prayed so hard in her head that Bean would go along, her temples pounded.

  Bean was frozen beside her, staring down at the ragged holes they’d dug for the flowers. A few minutes later she mumbled something about having to get home and shot out of the yard like lightning.

  The first couple of days, Tai had wanted to apologize a hundred times, but they’d never talked about it again. She knew her father had gone too far. But Tai hadn’t known what to do. If Bean had said something, anything, maybe it would have been different. They could have told Nona together. When Bean didn’t bring it up, Tai really thought she’d forgotten about it. It was just another one of those messed-up things that happened, sometimes, in the Cove.

  They’d seen other wack stuff in the hood. Afterward people kept it moving. Like the time they were taking the shortcut to the Wa and saw Lil Mario lying in the middle of the path. Tai thought he was dead for sure. He had gotten into somebody’s stash. They had gotten help just in time. It took days for Tai to forget how he’d looked, face ashy and his chest still like he wasn’t breathing. They’d talked about it for days. The whole hood was out to celebrate when he got out the hospital. He was fine and like usual, life went on.

  But life hadn’t gone on like normal, and Tai hadn’t realized why until it was too late. She kept saying Bean was different, because Bean was and had been since that day. Her not telling Tai she’d talked to Rollie wasn’t like Bean at all, but deep down Tai knew it wasn’t ’cause Bean was scheming. She was just . . . different.

  Standing there watching her father lay on the couch, not a care in the world, Tai realized now how much that day had changed Bean.

  Fury burned in her gut until it scorched her throat. She was at the edge of the sofa in three steps, chest heaving, eyes bugging.

  “Girl, what’s wrong with you?” her father asked, putting bass into his voice.

  She stared him down. �
��Why you asking about Bean?”

  “I just told you why.” He scowled. “You needa watch yourself. You getting too grown, Metai. I’mma tell Momma.”

  “You don’t never have spit to say to me unless you asking about Nona. Ever. You probably would never even talk to me, for real, if you wasn’t too lazy to find out stuff for yourself.” A single tear fell and dangled on her chin. She swiped at it angrily, scratching herself. “You don’t ask me ’bout school. Dance. Who my friends are. But out the blue you gon’ ask about Bean?”

  He laid back down, his body taking up the whole length of the sofa, and stabbed the remote at the TV. Tai walked in front of it before he could click up the sound.

  “Stop playing, Tai,” he threatened.

  “Don’t ask me about Bean no more,” she said, almost polite in her anger.

  He sat up straight. Newly alert. They’d battled back and forth before, but never like this. He put strength in his voice to back her down. “Don’t tell me what to do. Remember, I’m your father.”

  “Youn ever act like one,” Tai spat. She stepped closer until she was only inches from her father’s angry and confused face. Her words were a whisper. “Don’t ask me about Bean no more or I’m telling Nona what you did.”

  Bryant Johnson’s eyes narrowed as he recoiled from her. “I know that’s not a threat.”

  Her father had never dared hit her. But the certainty that he never would was gone. His eyes flickered up and right as he searched his memory for what she was talking about.

  “What lie you gon’ tell her this time?” he sneered.

  Tai didn’t want to say the words out loud. It would make it too true. But she made them come out. “About the time you touched Bean.” A stomach pain made her wince.

  Her father’s rant filled the entire house. “Man, you crazy. Momma let you get away with mess but she ain’t gonna believe something like that. And you lying anyway.”

  Tai’s head shook vigorously. “No, I’m not. Just ’cause you was too high to remember don’t mean I’m lying.”