LITMIR.BIZ

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shit is way out of order, Jayd,” she says, snatching her arm away from my hand and almost causing a scene. I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “No matter what it seems like in your world, everyone doesn’t want your ass.” When the final bell rings above my head, signaling our tardiness, my friends walk off to their class and I go to mine without another word. What the hell did I just start?

      As I turn back toward the main hall to get my tardy slip, because I know Mrs. Peterson will ask me for it, I notice the girl’s bathroom door open and see Misty’s head emerge before she races down the other end of the near-empty hallway. She looks at me and smiles deviously, like she knows our secret. Ah hell nah, she didn’t hear us talking while we were in there. Mickey’s business will be around the entire campus before lunch if Misty has anything to say about it, if not sooner. She and the rest of South Central have history class right now, my girls included. I hope Misty keeps her mouth shut for the time being.

      “Jayd, what are you doing out of class?” Jeremy says as he walks into the hall from the office where I’m headed. “You’re always on time. This must’ve been good,” he says, holding one of the two doors open for me, allowing me to walk through. He’s such a gentleman even when he’s violating school rules.

      “Too good,” I say as we approach the attendance office. Usually a teacher wouldn’t make me go through all this for being a minute or two late. But Mrs. Peterson would be all too happy to make me walk back to the office and bring an unexcused tardy slip back to class. I might as well save myself the walk and beat her to the punch. “And what about you? What’s your excuse for being late?”

      “Oh, I just got here. I almost didn’t come but that would’ve meant missing the opportunity to sit next to you,” he says, stretching his arms above his head while yawning. His faded Old Navy T-shirt lifts above his belt displaying his slightly hairy stomach and firm six-pack. I wonder if he realizes how strong of an effect he still has on a sistah. “What happened to us hanging out yesterday? Too embarrassed to chill with a loser?” he says, smiling his bright whites and sparkly blue eyes at me. Damn, the boy seems to get finer every day.

      “No matter what you think of your skills player, you don’t have game,” I tease, taking the small pink slip from the student assistant and heading to class.

      “Yeah, don’t remind me,” he says and I realize I’ve bruised his ego. He’s still sore about losing the game against KJ a couple of days ago and I just rubbed salt in his wound. “I’ll be the first to admit that KJ’s got skills on the court, no matter how much of a jerk he is.”

      “Yeah, all too true,” I say. Jeremy opens the door leading back into the main hall toward our classroom, across the courtyard. There’s no one in the hall now except for us. If we could stay alone in our own little world we would probably still be together. “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’ve got some skills too, surfer boy,” I say, gently bumping into him, making him lose his balance.

      “Well thank you for the props, Lady J. But your boy needs to be humbled.” If Jeremy only knew the half of it. To let KJ’s fans tell it, he hasn’t lost a game of one-on-one in the past three years and he doesn’t plan on breaking his record anytime soon.

      “That’ll never happen. Waiting for KJ to retire his ego is like waiting for OJ to admit he did it.” Jeremy gently brushes his shoulder against mine, making me smile. I struggle to continue my thought as memories of our first kiss come into my mind. Why couldn’t Jeremy and I stay in that moment forever? “If KJ’s sure about one thing, it’s that he’s the greatest basketball player that ever walked the planet. If Michael Jordan walked in here right now, KJ would challenge him to a game and expect to win.” Giving Jeremy a good laugh, we walk into the classroom and meet Mrs. Peterson’s angry glare.

      “Thank you for joining us, Mr. Weiner and Miss Jackson.” Why does it sound so bad when she says our names together? I must’ve doodled them on my Spanish notebook a hundred times and they read well to me. “I trust you two know the way to the attendance office because I’m not letting either of you in here without a pass,” she says without looking up from her usual post behind her desk. Her retirement cannot come soon enough. In fact, I’m going to throw her a going-away party, but she won’t be invited.

      “Here you go Mrs. P. No worries,” Jeremy says, taking the pink pass from my hand and joining it with his before putting them both on her desk, wiping the annoying smirk from our teacher’s face. Now if I had done something that audacious, I would’ve been in detention for the rest of the week.

      “Don’t make a habit of being late,” she says, reluctantly looking at our passes before pointing us toward our seats. “You only get three tardies before a mandatory detention is issued. Now class, please write down your assignment and turn it in before the end of class. If you finish early, please work silently on your papers due in two weeks.” Before Jeremy and I can get comfortable in our seats, Mrs. Peterson looks up from her stack of papers and dead at me. “Miss Jackson, did you rethink your assignment?”

      “If you mean did I choose to do my paper on a leader besides Queen Califia, the answer is no,” I say, not backing down from her original challenge of my chosen topic. The class is silent and it’s not because of the no-talking rule in her class once the bell rings—they’re suspended in time, waiting for Mrs. Peterson to go off.

      “Fine then. Have it your way. But like I said, this is a nonfiction report and you’ll need to research and find supporting documentation. Fairy tales won’t do.” Jeremy and I look at each other and roll our eyes at her sarcasm. She’s such a hater and everyone knows it. I don’t know what’s got her bra so twisted every day, but I hope she gets over it before she’s the first person to croak from perpetual hating. She might be the first, but she probably won’t be the last.

      “Hey, don’t let her get to you. You know you’ve got it going on,” Jeremy says, making me blush. If Rah doesn’t return my calls soon, he might lose some of his clout with me. Jeremy’s a sweet guy and if I can give Rah another chance, I can certainly entertain the idea of giving Jeremy a second chance too.

      I’ve been calling Rah for the past three days with no return answer or text. I know Nigel would have told me if it were something serious. So I can only guess Rah’s silent treatment has something to do with his current ex-girl Trish. This brings back very unpleasant memories of the last time we were a couple. I don’t know why he shuts down like this, but he’s not getting away with keeping me in the wind for this long. I’m going to find out what’s up with him one way or another.

      During the long bus rides home, I had a chance to think about my approach with Rah. I hate when he keeps me guessing. As I wash my hands in the kitchen sink, I see Bryan approaching the driveway. I hope he’ll come clean with me if he knows anything about Rah’s silence.

      Making his way in from his day job at Miracle Market, Bryan throws his backpack down on the living room floor and takes a seat in front of the couch. I already put my stuff up in Mama’s room, ready to braid his hair and grill him for info on Rah at the same time.

      “Bryan, have you heard from Rah this week?” I ask, adjusting his head as I run the sharp comb down his scalp, making a clean part. “Damn. I forgot how much hair you have on your big-ass head. I should charge you for a head and a half.” Thick hair runs in our family and braiding it is no joke.

      “Less talking, more braiding,” he says, picking up the remote control from the coffee table and leaning back into his chair. I grease his scalp and begin to pull the cornrows into place. This must be how a surgeon feels when she makes her first incision and then stitches it back to perfection.

      “You didn’t answer my question. Have you heard from Rah?” Mama already came in here once warning me not to get hair all over the living room floor. If she lets me work with Netta, she won’t have to worry about it. Just like with Rah, I’m still waiting to hear back about that too. Mama hasn’t said a word about it again and I don’t want to call Netta without her permission. I’m learning patience but it’s not easy.

      “That’s not your business and ease up

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