by Nyomi Scott
His thumb smoothed across my plump and bruised eye, causing me to suck my teeth and wince.
“Even with your busted-up eye.” He laughed, then, looking forward, he eased his foot off the brake and pulled up to the menu. With a touch of his fingertip, his window went down all smooth. He smiled at me and I knew in that smile that his words were true. “You ready to order?”
I forced a smile. “Yeah. And we should take something to Gram, too.”
And then we went on to order some food and while my daddy paid and we waited for it to be prepped and bagged, I eased back into my seat and watched the rain fall noisily across the glass, then slide downward, just like my eyelids.
As I drifted in the haze of half consciousness and half sleep, I realized that today could be one of those lazy days where we lounge around, watch movies, eat popcorn and just spend the day as a family, safe from the weather. Safe from the world.
And today I could ditch school—with my daddy’s help—and I could take cold medication, and forget about classes, homework, friends. Forget about my poppin’ off outta control Web site. Forget about boys and prom dates.
Forget about kisses, and dark, dark eyes that stroked my soul and made me want something.
Today was a day of forgetting and getting onward. Exactly what I needed. My daddy and home and sleep.
CHAPTER 11
My daddy had dropped me off back at school Wednesday morning on his way to the airport again. I hadn’t been ready to see him go, but after being home all day Monday and Tuesday, sleeping and getting the tender care of Gram’s chicken and dumplings, I’d been ready to see my peeps again.
In those two days of being home, I’d kept my cell off and had gotten online once, but then it had only been to check GettinHooked’s numbers. Tuesday afternoon they’d been 3,204.
And I found a problem. A hella huge frickin’ problem. All of ’em weren’t just from Howard and Creekside. Like stuff always goes down, someone had told someone else who then flapped their lips, and word had spread. GettinHooked was off the chain, and had spread across the entire area.
GettinHooked was bumping, straight blowing up. There were so many people now that they were just making dates on their own, hooking up, when they exchanged e-mails and messages. I wasn’t involved in the planning anymore, and I fo’ sho’ doubted Kayla was, either.
Feel apprehensive about all the area schools getting their sticky fingers into our find-a-prom-date idea, I’d sent Kayla a message, letting her know why I was home, and asking her what we should do about the jumping, pumping numbers.
She’d instantly e-mailed back, Nothing. It’s hot. And I met a guy. I tried to ask her about ’im, but she must’ve gotten offline right after hitting Send ’cause she’d quit replying to my messages. And I’d gone back to my spot on the couch anyway, to spend the time with my daddy. Even Gram joined us, deciding to venture from her room.
And I’d hardly checked the site or talked to Kayla after that, because returning to school on Wednesday had been hexa jacked, filled with makeup work and trying to catch up on missed exams, the messed-up thang about not being at school. And there’d been a lot to catch up on, too, since we were steppin’ from school for the next ten days for spring break, so tests and junk were on double uptake.
And the fact that we were at spring break already freaked me the hell out. Snap, less than three weeks after that was prom. Three weeks after chillin’ and marinatin’ while off school, and I was still no closer to having the perfect prom date than I was when I’d thought up this mess in the first place.
Trying not to think about it, I spent the week studying, my head in a book rather than on my dateless prom, and the fellas I had to choose from. At least my girls had been hooking up like mad, finding dudes to go along with their pre-picked dresses. And from Kayla’s less frequent messages, she had a boy spittin’ at her, too.
Shortened to a three-day school week, it still dragged on hella long, and I’d gotten to the point that I was avoiding the scrubs and beezies at Howard who wanted inside tracks on hook-ups because this whole thang had gotten out of hand.
By Friday I was more than ready to blow school and spend some time postin’ with Kayla. I’d already told Gram I was headed to my cousin’s right after school, so as soon as the bell rang after American Government, I headed toward her house rather than home.
The walk wasn’t far, and I spent most of it scrolling through text messages I hadn’t answered all week. Nothing really important, just “what ups” and “where you beens,” except there were a few messages from Darian, too, that I’d done a pretty good job ignoring.
It’s not that I didn’t dig the boy. He was fine, and seemed into me, but somethin’ kept me from wanting to get to know him better.
Maurice.
And the fact that I hadn’t been able to get him from my mind since he kissed me bugged and nagged at me. Not even while sick and sleepy had the memory of his mouth on mine been far off, and a couple times I’d been tempted to head back to the computer to check out his profile. Again. But I hadn’t.
I just felt so hella confused, because despite pushing ’im away and refusing to be bossed ’round by him, if there was a fella I wanted to spend time with, it was Maurice. Not Darian.
It was all gravity, though; hell no was I wasting time trippin’. I wasn’t a bopper, or a girl that’d let a dude get over. If either of them wanted to get at me, they’d have to step correct.
Slushing my sneakers along the sidewalk, my pace slow, the cool air on my cheeks froze up the increasing heat on my cheeks as I drew closer to Kayla’s. And Maurice’s. I had this weird crazy need to stay away from the boy, to not look into his hella fine face, or into dark eyes that made my stomach feel warm and my heart rate pick up speed.
Thinking of him, wondering about him did funny thangs to me. Made my pulse race. Made me want to smile. And cry. And all that bent out of shape emotion was running amok on how I was dealin’ with shit. Seeing him made it worse.
And even though I’d peeped him a couple times throughout the week, once while out with my dad and another after school Thursday, I’d straight dodged him, doing everything I could to avoid him.
Pausing at the end of the cul-de-sac, I could only hope he wasn’t outside today since it had at last quit raining. I took a few steadying breaths, then made my way around the corner so I could peep into the court, hoping the street was silent and empty.
Breathing a sigh of relief when I didn’t see Maurice, or anyone else, I lingered, hesitant, but also knowing he could drive around the corner any sec in his hella clean black Altima and see me standing here like a damn fool.
Sliding my pack from my shoulders, I reached into the front pocket and shuffled through for my iPod, then popped the tiny buds into my ears, found a bangin’ song and smashed my thumb gently to make it play. At least with music ring-a-dingin’ I’d be able to pretend to not notice Maurice if he did come out before I made it inside Kayla’s. Or I’d be able to make ignoring him seem reasonable.
Scoffing at myself, I flung my backpack on again, and headed down the court, my pace quicker now, and careful to keep my face forward and my gaze schooled, not trailin’ off toward his place. And before I knew it, I was heading around to the side gate of my cousin’s house to go in through the kitchen, and without having to deal with seeing Maurice.
The slider was open, as usual, so I let myself in. Besides Kayla, the house was wiped out, my auntie and uncle gone on a ten-day Alaskan cruise and Brandon staying with our unshared gramma, his dad’s side, for spring vacation.
Music echoed down the hallway from upstairs, so I jogged up to Kayla’s room, tapping my knuckles against the door as I let myself in.
“What’s crack-a-lackin’?” I said, dropping into the beanbag chair, tossing my backpack aside as I tucked my headphones back into the front pocket and put my iPod away.
She grinned at me, looking up with blue eyes so bright I knew something was up with her.
“
Hey, girl.” She whispered the greeting, but I could tell she was listening to someone else. Sitting on the floor, the phone propped between her ear and shoulder, her legs spread out into a wide V, pictures scattered on the carpet between, she was wiggling her bare toes to the rhythm of Diddy.
After a sec, she picked up a picture and handed it to me, her lips forming the word “fine” but not a sound seeping out. I laughed as I accepted the picture that had been printed off the computer, angling it so I could check it out.
Oh, yeah, the boy was a hottie, all right. A light-skinned brotha, with cornrows braided into his hair and hazel eyes that twinkled like he was ’bout to get over.
Kayla giggled at something said on the other end of the phone, her laughter drawing my attention right quick from the pic she’d handed me.
“Who dat is?” I asked.
She wiggled her pale brows, then lifted a second picture from the floor and handed it my way. The same fella, just a different pose. A different day, judging by the hair, now in a tight fade.
“He’s cute.”
“Yup.” She handed me a few more pictures to check out, then turned her attention back to the caller. “Hey, lemme call you back, ’kay? My cousin’s here.”
She was quiet for a quick min, only Diddy’s voice interrupting the silence, and while Kayla listened to what some boy was spittin’ at her, my gaze slowly drifted to the window, and my mind to Maurice.
Was he at home? Was he chillin’ with Brie? Had they hooked up? And why had he been so demanding, why had he kissed me? Was there something more than his busted-up pride at steak?
“Oh, my God, I like that boy,” Kayla said, her tone light with joy, drawing my attention back to her.
“He’s a boy? He looks older. Where he from?”
“Chicago, but he’s in Arizona now.” She reached forward, blond strands falling in her face as she gently touched my cheek. “Your eye doesn’t look too bad.”
I knew what the girl was about, trying to change the subject, thinking I might miss the mention of her diggin’ a dude from another state. “Much better than it was,” I replied, smoothing my fingertips across skin that had been so tender a few days back.
“That was crazy. Did Michelle get suspended?”
“Nah, but can you believe how messed up it is that Mr. Alton tried to make me take some blame?” And in a way I knew he was been right: some of the responsibility did lie on my Web site.
“Messed up, Imani. I’m glad you didn’t get in trouble though.”
“Me, too.” I lifted a different photo, slanting it foward, wanting to get back to this guy and the mention of Arizona. “What’s his name?”
“James Drew, isn’t he so frickin’ hot.”
“How you meet him?”
Her cheeks went from pale peaches to strawberry in the thump of a heartbeat. “Gettin’ Hooked.”
“Gettin’ Hooked! Kayla, you gotta be kiddin’ me.” Panic started speeding through my blood as I pushed off the beanbag and went to her desk to flick on her computer.
I knew our profiles numbers were insane now, but I’d assumed they were all semilocal high schools wanting on board. But if Kayla was talking to someone out of state, then our Web site had to be all over the freakin’ place now.
“He’s a Sun Devil. A freshman at Arizona State.”
The computer was taking a sec to come out of sleep mode. “In college, Kayla, dayum.”
My hands were trembling as I scrolled the mouse through some of the new profile pages, the browser laggin’ probably because of how huge the site had become.
“He’s just nineteen, though,” she mumbled, her tone just sharp enough to sound a little defensive.
“Is this the guy you were telling me about?”
“Nope.” She moved in behind me, the pictures that had been on the floor gathered into a stack in her hand. Kneeling right behind me, she reached over and took control of the mouse. “This is him.” She clicked on a profile.
“Chris Lewis,” I said, not needing to read his name. He went to Howard and I’d known him since we were eleven. “He’s nice. What happened to diggin’ him? You were hella hyped on him all week.”
“Nah, just for a few days, not all week. And besides, that was before I peeped out this boy.” She dropped the photos onto the desk.
“So you’re just blowing Chris off?”
Kayla shrugged, but I could see the guilt in her blue eyes and by the way she kept looking away, unable to meet my gaze. I knew this girl and there wasn’t much she could hide from me.
“We were supposed to go out tonight, but I told him my parents said another time.”
“Your parents aren’t even home.”
She laughed. “I know.”
My mouth plopped open as I stared at my cousin, having a hard time figuring out what was going on with her. She’d grabbed up all her hair and was busy twisting it into a braid.
“Darian said you’re not callin’ him back.”
She brought up Darian to change the subject again. And just like she’d closed down, I wasn’t in the mood to share, either. A first for us. It was hecka weird. I forced a smile and shrugged. “I will.”
Pushing away from the computer, I got to my feet, then took her hand and yanked her up. “Come on, I’m starved. Let’s find grub and put on a movie or something. Then we can decide what’s up for later tonight.”
“Okay, Imani, nice one.” She laughed as she shut off Diddy and followed me out of her tie-dyed room and down the hall. “Don’t talk. I see how it is, girlfriend.”
“Fa shizzle, Kayla. I’m just hungry.”
“Riiiight.” She made a clicking sound with her lips, and when I turned and glanced at her she was rolling her eyes at me. “But you should know—” She giggled. “Darian got it bad for you. What’s going on with you two? I was kinda feelin’ you and Maurice hooking up.”
I paused, turning to look at her. “Why you think that?”
“He asks about you, is all.” She tugged on my hand, swinging our arms like we did when we were little. “Besides, he looks at you different. I don’t know how to describe it, just different. Like warm or somethin’ crazy. And he did put his number in your phone.”
“He didn’t ask me to call him though.”
“He needed to ask? I’d have thought the digits programmed in woulda been a clue and a half.”
“Guess I’m clueless then.”
“Look atcha, a playa playa with two hella fiiine boys on the hook. Which one you want, Maurice or Darian?”
I laughed, but that nagging guilt started coiling up in my gut. I didn’t want Darian liking me like that because I was fo’ sho’ not going to return it. “Whatevah. Feed me.”
And with that our conversation fell away from boys for a bit, chatting instead about what we were gonna eat and what flick we were gonna put on. And it felt cool just hanging out, just the two of us.
CHAPTER 12
“What’s wrong with you, Kayla? I’ve been suggesting shit to do tonight for the last hour and you’re doing nothing but throwing tude. What the hell?”
“Whatevah, Imani. Maybe I’m just not in the mood to party.”
I took a deep breath and held it for a sec, trying to let some of my tension go, but it was wound so tight that it making me see red and feel nothing but annoyed. “Of course not, Kay, you want to stay here and talk to some guy who lives states away. Sure thang, girlie, makes sense to me.”
Kayla and I had munched down on Ritz crackers and sliced salami, then brushed off all the crumbs and lounged on the sofa in front of her big screen and watched Step Up for the hundredth time, admiring the white boy with dance moves. Besides, Mario was in it and it made me want to get up and shake-shake my groove thing.
Usually we laughed and talked and giggled over the movie since we’d seen it so many times, but today we sat in silence, Kayla totally distracted by a flood of text messages blowin’ up her cell.
“Nothing’s wrong with wanting to stay home and
talk to a dude I like. Maybe you should try it.”
I shoved a chenille throw to the side and stood up, turning toward her with my hands on my hips. “Maybe I should try it? Hmmm, lemme think about it. Talk to a fella while dissin’ my cousin or realize where my blood is.”
“Whatevah, Imani. I’m not forgettin’ you’re my blood, but I like this guy. I want to get to know him.”
“And how you gonna do that? With texts? He doesn’t even live around here.”
Kayla closed her cell for the first time all night. “So what?”
“So what!” I was losing my temper now, damn irked that she didn’t get it. “You met some guy on GettinHooked.com who lives in Arizona. Who’s in college. This was supposed to be about Howard and Creekside. Only. A local MySpace, remember?”
Kayla reached for the remote and turned the TV hella loud, then sank back into the cushions and opened her phone when it beeped, proceeding to ignore me.
Aww, hell no. “That’s f’d up, Kayla!” I shouted to be heard over the bass bumping from the surround sound speakers.
“You’re not always right, you know!”
“But I’m right about this. GettinHooked needs to be shut down. My friends are fighting, peeps are using it to cheat. This whole frickin’ thing was so we could get hooked up with prom dates. How the fuck you gonna go to prom with James Drew, Chicago transplant to ’Zona!”
“Maybe I’m not as obsessed as you. Maybe I don’t give a shit about prom.”
I stood there gaping at her, my hands balled into fists, my body trembling, a funky haze of anger straight up tainting the entire room. I took a deep breath, squeezing my lids closed as I tried to put myself in check.
Letting out the breath slowly, I lowered my voice and looked at Kayla as she fiddled a message into text. “We have to shut down the site.”
“Hell no.”
“We haaaave to. It’s not right. It’s not how I wanted it.”
“No, Imani, peeps love the site. They’d be hella mad at us.”