So, So Hood

by L. Divine

  “It was cool,” I say, returning the polite conversation while he flips through his load. “Busy, but good.”

  “How’s cheer working out for you? I can’t wait to see your completed college applications.” Him and me both. And as for cheer, I’ll avoid having that conversation with Mr. Adelizi for as long as possible. He submitted my name at the end of June for the program funded by the local colleges and universities to recruit the top students from local high schools. I did my part in order to get on the list by adding more activities onto my already full school plate, almost losing my mind in the process.

  “It’s going.” I don’t even want to think about all the work I have to put into applying within the next few weeks. Part of the program is paying for the applications so at least I don’t have to worry about that. The application’s just the beginning. The essay and exams are my biggest concern.

  “Good to hear,” Mr. Adelizi says, handing me the information I was coming for without my asking. Somebody had his Wheaties today. “I advise you get on your personal essay pronto. I’m sure you have a very interesting story to tell, coming from an underprivileged background and all.” Why do white folks always think that kids from Compton are less privileged than they are? Money’s not everything.

  “Yeah, I’ll do that. See you around, Mr. Adelizi.” I’ve had enough of this uncomfortable conversation to last me a lifetime.

  My background’s interesting, but not just because of my zip code. If I really put my life story on paper—voodoo priestess, crazy friends, and all—it would be a New York Times best seller, forget the college application.

  “Have a good first day and don’t hesitate to drop by my office if you need anything else.” I open the manila envelope with my name and grade in the top right-hand corner. It looks good in print.

  “Thanks, Mr. Adelizi,” I say, speed-walking toward the main hall to check out my new locker assignment before heading to my first class with Mrs. Bennett. I can’t believe I have to start every day off with her. I know this is some sort of test and like I said when I signed my name in the spirit book, I’m ready for the challenge.

  The main hall is loud with chattering students, bouncing basketballs, and slamming lockers. Making it down the packed corridor isn’t going to be easy. On the way to my locker I bump into my school mom, Ms. Toni, who’s always a welcomed sight for sore eyes. Her office is housed inside of the ASB office in the center of the hall. I don’t know how she deals with hundreds of students all day long, but I guess she wouldn’t be the Activities Director if she didn’t like the excitement.

  “Jayd, baby. How’s my girl doing?” she asks while wrapping me up in her warm embrace. It’s so good to see her. I wish we had time for a good visit but I can’t get off my mission. I’ll be damned if I give Mrs. Bennett the pleasure of marking me tardy from jump.

  “I’m good, Ms. Toni,” I say, stepping out of the stampede before we get knocked down. “How are you?” The faint smell of cigarettes tells me I still need to see about making a potion that’ll rid her of the nasty habit. I’ll get on it this week when I check on solving Mickey’s issues.

  “I’m blessed. Come see me soon so we can catch up,” she says, unlocking her office door. “There’s something different about you, I can tell.” Ms. Toni’s very intuitive. That’s one of the things I love about her.

  “Yes, ma’am. Have a good day.” Ms. Toni closes the door behind her and I rejoin the mad dash to first period. There’s no time like the present to dive right into my destiny. Misty, Mrs. Bennett, Cameron, and any other haters in my path can’t keep me from doing me. Knowing they’re out there is half the battle; being prepared for their attacks is the other.

  Against all odds I’ve been on time to first period the past few days. I’m glad the week is finally coming to an end. It’s been quite hectic as usual, but having Mrs. Bennett has been more than a challenge—it’s a prison sentence. I feel like I’m doing time for a crime I don’t remember committing, and until I fulfill my debt to society I can’t move on.

  The spirit book said something about being challenged as an iyawo in more ways than we can imagine and so far that’s the gospel. Taking care of my new personal vessels at my mom’s house has been hard for me to balance with my stack of college applications, school, and spirit work. I’m used to taking care of the family shrines with Mama and the ones at Netta’s shop. But having my own to be responsible for is more than a notion. The vessels are a manifestation and constant reminder of my path. Each container has its own special requirements and days for cleaning. I fully understand what Mama meant by stating the orisha are living beings. Consecrated vessels on a shrine are like having pets that have to be fed, cared for and they demand your time.

  My mom’s been pretty supportive of keeping my shrines in her apartment even if her fiancé is not fully aware of my mom’s lineage. If Karl walks into her bedroom now and sees the small shelves dedicated to my ancestors, the warriors, and my head orisha, Oshune, and as well as to my father orisha, Legba, behind the front door he’s bound to know something’s up. I don’t know why my mom doesn’t come out and tell the brotha what’s up. Karl’s going to have to get used to the fact that we are voodoo priestesses from Compton by way of New Orleans if he’s going to marry into this family. If my friends can deal with it so can my mom’s.

  Mickey’s relaxed a bit after I helped her cast a protection spell on the scarlet letters from her ex-man. Until I can figure out something else to do, the best thing is to keep him from harming us. I wish I could make something similar to keep Mrs. Bennett from riding my ass. All of the new textbooks didn’t come in on time so we’ve had to copy our assignments off the board. The rest of these high-tech junkies have lap-tops and other personal note-taking tools while my pen and pad have been doing the trick. Mrs. Bennett’s notes, of course, grew in length as the week progressed, but I’ve got her today. After playing with my phone last night I discovered it records voice notes. It may have taken me until Friday to figure out a counter move, but that’s okay. Slowly, but surely I’m learning the game.

  “Before you get too comfortable there’s a summons for you in the front office.” Mrs. Bennett says, stepping into the room with a smile on her face. She hands me a yellow slip and points toward the door.

  “What’s this all about?” I glance around the buzzing class and rise from my desk. I can’t be in any trouble. I made it all the way to Friday without doing anything to Misty or Cameron and should be rewarded for my good behavior.

  “You’ll see when you get there. And don’t forget to take your things with you.” I don’t like the sound of this. Mrs. Bennett’s too sure I’m not coming back.

  On my way out I pass up Laura and Reid entering the classroom with Cameron right behind them. Cameron looks at me and then quickly diverts her vision down. I’ll handle her guilt-ridden ass later. I’ve got to see what type of drama’s waiting for me now.

  “Jayd, where are you going?” Jeremy asks, stopping me in the main hall. I’ve skillfully avoided alone time with him all week. But as fate would have it, we’re in the vast space all alone. The bell for first period rang a few minutes ago clearing the hall of any stragglers.

  “I’ve been called to the office,” I say, waving the slip in the air. “What about you?”

  “I left my books in my locker.” Jeremy walks up to me and touches my forearm sending chills up my spine. There’s something about Jeremy I can’t help but crave, but I also can’t get the sight of him and Cameron kissing out of my mind. I wish he’d never gone away for the summer. Now everything’s different and I don’t know if we’ll ever find our way back to the center.

  “I’ve got to go,” I say, continuing my trek to the principal’s office. Jeremy looks sad, but lets me go.

  “We’ve got to talk one day, Jayd. You can’t avoid me forever,” Jeremy says to my back as I enter the double doors leading to the main office where the administrative offices are held.

  No, I guess I can’t run f
rom Jeremy forever, but I’m sure going to try to avoid talking to him without the proper ammunition to prove I’m right about Cameron. Until then, I have nothing more than the necessary polite words to say. I wish I could put my arm around Jeremy’s tall frame and kiss his soft lips until this all blows over, but there’s no downtime when bitches are plotting my ruin.

  The main office is unusually full of students this morning. I guess there’s a lot to get straight at the start of a new school year with schedule changes and other paperwork to deal with. I’ll wait my turn like the other students in line at the principal’s office. It makes me feel better knowing I wasn’t the only one sent for this early in the day.

  When I finally make it to the front of the line, one of the secretaries I don’t recognize calls me to her desk. “Miss Jackson, what is your home address, please?” the secretary asks, looking down at the file in front of her. Why do I feel like I’m on the witness stand? Maybe it’s because I’m perjuring myself and we all know it.

  I repeat the Redondo Beach address my mom uses to keep me in the district, subconsciously giving her the wrong zip code.

  “I meant 90278,” I say, correcting myself, but it’s too late. That little slipup is just what she was apparently looking for. She takes a fat, red marker from the pen jar on her neat desk and puts a huge checkmark on the front of the folder adding it to a small pile to her left. What the hell just happened?

  “Jayd, your guardian needs to be here first thing next week,” she says, stamping a letter with my mom’s name on it and handing it to me. “She will need to bring current proof of residency as well as sign a sworn affidavit stating that you do indeed live within South Bay High School’s zone. Enjoy your day.” Damn, my mom’s not going to be happy about this shit.

  “You’re damn right I’m not happy,” my mom says, screaming in my head. I guess she heard everything.

  “But it was a setup,” I mentally whine, but my mom’s not feeling my pain.

  “Of course it was. And because you were distracted thinking about that silly boyfriend of yours you missed the trap laid out right in front of you. Shit. Now I have to take the morning off work to drive all the way to the beach. Do you know what that salty air’s going to do to my hair?”

  “Mom, my educational future is on the line and you’re concerned about your press and curl?” I think back as I make my way out of the office and back into the hall. In about two minutes this same empty space is going to be crawling with people.

  “Whatever, Jayd. Bye,” my mom says and I’m thankful she’s out. The last thing I need after being bamboozled is being made to feel worse about it.

  I’ll get my books for Spanish and head to class early. It’s always nice to see Mr. Adewale. I’m glad I have two classes with him again this year and my drama class hasn’t changed, either. Cheer starts up again next week and this week we’ve been in the weight room working out. It’s been a welcomed reprieve from the norm. The only class that’s still up in the air is math and that should be settled by Monday. Apparently it’s hard to find good Math teachers.

  “What up, Virgin Mary?” Misty says, catching me off guard as she exits the girl’s bathroom near the middle of the hall. My locker’s on the other side and in order to get there I have to pass up this wench. My good week is officially a thing of the past.

  “Do you mind? Some of us have better things to do than hang out between classes.” I attempt to walk by, but Misty steps in front of me blocking my escape.

  “Nice necklace,” she says, attempting to touch my eleke with my family’s veve.

  I back up, which amuses the hell out of my nemesis.

  “Nervous aren’t we?” Misty asks, smiling wide to show off her fangs. Does KJ know he’s dating a succubus? She’s had him under her bootylicious spell since last year so he probably doesn’t care as long as she keeps quiet and lets him do his thing.

  “What, Misty? You think you’re better than me now that you’ve got new mouth bling? I could care less about your latest stunt via your evil godmother. You see, that’s the difference between us. You’ve always strived to be something you’re not instead of going out for what’s already yours. So what, you’ve got a new grill? I’ve got a gift that’s mine and it trumps your circus illusions anytime.”

  “Illusion? I guarantee if I bit your ass right now you’d feel it.” Misty moves toward me more quickly than I’ve ever seen her short ass walk. The only thing that slows her down is the four-inch high heel boots she’s rocking with her mini, blue sundress. Even pseudo-vampires have to humble themselves to stilettos.

  “Try it and see what happens.”

  Misty stares at me and I glare right back unmoved by her threat. She may have a different look, but I’m the same chick she’s always known around the block. Misty better recognize before she ends up hurt. Sharp teeth, acrylic claws, and all are no match for me once I see red.

  “The time will come for you to humble yourself to the real voodoo queen soon enough, trick,” Misty says as the bell for second period rings crisp in the massive space.

  The almost deafening sound bounces off the metal lockers and concrete walls. Once it’s gone so is Misty. She thinks she’s so damned special now that she’s got a dark strut about her. I’m just the girl to shed some light on Misty’s fantasy world. If she thinks Esmeralda’s anyone’s queen she’s more far gone than I thought. I touch the brass charm on my chest feeling the support of my ancestors. If it’s the real voodoo queen Misty wants to see, her wish is my command.

  6

  Ghetto Snob

  It’s not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave to me/

  You, you, you oughta know.

  —ALANIS MORRISSETTE

  My clients have suffered gravely in my absence. Sistahs and brothas alike have been sharing their horror stories with me all day long about visiting other stylists. I’ve heard everything from my mom’s neighbor, Shawntrese, getting her hair burned out to her boyfriend getting his hair pulled out. I get it. They missed my mad skills. The deserted feeling was mutual: my bank account missed having money.

  “Do you have any more of that shea butter repair cream for my hair?” Shawntrese asks, touching the damaged area in the back of her hair. I told her not to put any heat on her hair and keep rocking twists for a while. But the woman she chose as my substitute advised her differently and now my homegirl is paying the price.

  My cell vibrates with a text message from Rah. I pick the phone up from the table cluttered with hair products and check the text.

  “We’re taking baby girl to Simply Wholesome for her third birthday. Hope her godmother can make it. Peace.”

  I hope by “we” Rah’s not including his estranged baby mama, Sandy. That girl can make even the happiest occasion feel like a funeral.

  “I’ll text him back later,” I say, twisting the last row in Shawntrese’s hair.

  “You know you’re going,” she says, claiming my cell from my slippery hands and quickly typing Rah back without my approval.

  “Shawntrese,” I say loudly, snatching the phone up but she’s already pressed “send.” Damn, she’s got quick fingers. Am I the only person who hasn’t mastered texting? “I wanted to chill alone tonight.”

  “You can do that after you have some fun. It’s Saturday night, you’ve been working since seven this morning and you don’t have any other plans.”

  “How do you know what I’ve got going on?” I say, setting the phone back down on my mom’s glass dining room table and tugging her hair harder than necessary. She can be so nosy when she wants to be.

  “Because you spent the last two hours telling me all about the ho trying to steal your man. I know you ain’t seeing Jeremy tonight and other than Rah, who else do you kick it with?”

  I haven’t told anyone about Keenan, my new coffee buddy. All of my crew met him at Rah’s school event in June where Nigel was heavily recruited by UCLA where Keenan plays football. Everyone could feel the energy between me and Keenan,
but they have no idea we talk regularly. I know he’s working at the coffeehouse tonight and wanted to drop by for a while. I have work to do, as always, and could use the escape. I haven’t seen Keenan for weeks and really need one of his calming hugs.

  “That’s not the point. I’m tired and have a long day tomorrow with heads back to back like today. I don’t feel like leaving the house.”

  “Not even for your godbaby?”

  Shawntrese is right. I know I’m going to Simply Wholesome even if I do get tired of Rah not making plans. Why is everything last minute with that dude? Now I have to run to Target real quick to get her a gift. Her birthday’s not until tomorrow and I planned on hooking Rahima up after my last client. Keenan will have to wait because I can’t be a no-show to the party nor can I show up empty-handed.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I admire Shawntrese’s overzealous attitude about anything, but sometimes she’s a bit much. Maybe I should let her loose on Cameron’s ass. By the time Shawntrese has her say, Cameron would bow down to Shawntrese’s mighty mouth. She reminds me of an older, more athletic version of Mickey. She’s not into the bling, but gangsta men are her preference and fighting before chatting is her way. The only reason I haven’t told Mickey or Nellie about all that’s going on with me and Jeremy is because Mickey’s on probation and would get expelled for any confrontations, and frankly I don’t trust Nellie’s wisdom when it comes to dealing with the rich girls she emulates. Nellie wants to be a permanent resident of their elite clique so badly she’d do anything they ask. That reminds me I need to ask her if she knew about Cameron’s true feelings for Jeremy. With nowhere else to go Nellie should be at dinner tonight.

  The smell of curry and fried fish fills the packed parking lot on the corner of La Brea Boulevard and Overhill Drive. I always feel self-conscious about parking my mom’s old ride in here with the parade of fancy cars shining there so clean. My mom’s Mazda Protégé’s in good shape but it’s over fourteen years old and needs some bodywork. Other than that, there’s nothing wrong with her car.