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Drama High: Holidaze. L. Divine
Читать онлайн.Название Drama High: Holidaze
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780758253804
Автор произведения L. Divine
Жанр Учебная литература
Серия Drama High
Издательство Ingram
“Sure,” Mr. A says, taking the yellow enrollment slip from our new classmate and signing it. “Okay, class, today we’re going to get our seat assignments in order and pass out the textbooks. Tomorrow I will hand out the syllabi for the semester and I expect everyone to familiarize themselves with the various sections of the textbook by tomorrow.”
“Damn, dude, chill. It’s the first day,” Del says, causing KJ and followers to chuckle. Now they should know better than to mess with the same brotha that served as the referee for the game between them and my boys. Jeremy shakes his head, crosses his arms over his desk and puts his head down for a quick nap. He has no tolerance for drama of any kind.
“It’s not the first day, it’s the third and I’m not your dude nor do I chill.” Mr. Adewale slams his teacher’s edition onto his desk, causing a cloud of dust to rise up and silencing the chattering class. Jeremy doesn’t budge. “No disrespect of any kind will be tolerated.” Mr. A walks over to Jeremy and taps him on the shoulder, waking him up.
“Sorry, man, my bad,” Jeremy says, sitting up straight in his chair. I wish I could fall out that easily.
“Jeremy, would you please pass out the textbooks that are in the back corner of the room. KJ, you can help.” Wow, Mr. A is serious about his shit this morning. “Rule number one of debate and speech is to respect your opponent, just like in any other sport. You may not like them or agree with what they’re saying, but they still deserve to be heard. Rule number two is to remember rule number one.”
Feeling someone’s eyes on me, I turn around and look behind me, scanning the other faces in the room. I catch Misty staring at me. She’s been going back and forth with Shae the whole time we’ve been in here. Just then, Nellie and Laura walk into the room, completing my nightmare of a class situation. I feel like I’ve died and gone straight to hell, and I don’t even believe in the place. Mama says life, like hell, is what you make of it, and this is as close as I could get to it on Earth.
“Like I said, this should be interesting,” Jeremy says, placing a book on my desk before continuing with the rest of the row. He’s no prophet, but Jeremy hit this one on the head. Mama’s definitely got to tell me how to deal with this situation, because keeping a cool head this semester will be next to impossible.
2
An Unholy Day
“This reminiscing with my past/
Has got me caught up in a daydream.”
—LISA “LEFT EYE” LOPES
Mama’s still not comfortable with me having a license to drive. She refuses to get in the car if I’m behind the wheel, saying she values the rest of her living years too much to let a teenager drive her around. Rather than me pick her up from the house and we both ride together to Dr. Whitmore’s office, which is next door to our neighborhood liquor store, Miracle Market, she’d rather meet me there. With all of the walking Mama does on a daily basis, it’s no wonder why she’s in such good shape. No one would ever guess she’s a mother of eight children and in her mid-fifties. Her salt-and-pepper, shoulder-length hair only adds to her youthful look, because her skin is seamless, not a crack to be found.
“Hey, Mama,” I say, walking into the small office. There’s a waiting room with Zen qualities, and two patient rooms on either side of us. It feels more like an Eastern medical clinic than a general practitioner’s office, like the sign on the door reads.
Dr. Whitmore delivered all of Mama’s children and has taken care of them ever since. My mom never liked Dr. Whitmore, just like she felt about Netta, and delivered me at a hospital in Bellflower. Mama’s never forgiven my mother for that, and blames her for my caul not receiving the proper burial it deserved. But Mama’s been taking me to Dr. Whitmore on her own since then, and he’s cool with me.
“Hey, baby,” Mama says, moving her right cheek slightly up to meet my kiss. “How was your day?”
I take my purse off of my shoulder and sit down next to Mama on the futon to wait for the doctor.
“It was cool until Misty said something that freaked me out.” Mama looks at me and her green eyes begin to glow as she probes my thoughts; looking for what, I’m not sure. But, by the way her eyes widen, I’d say she found what she was searching for.
“What exactly did she say?” Mama asks in a low voice that gives me the shivers. What the hell? The next time she asks me about my day I’m giving her a simple one-word answer. Dr. Whitmore’s office door opens and we can hear him wrapping up a phone conversation. “Word for word, Jayd. This is important.”
“She said that I’m ‘the bitch who death follows.’” Mama turns grey as soon as the words leave my lips. Before she can say anything, Dr. Whitmore walks into the waiting room to greet us.
“My two favorite ladies in the whole world,” he says, opening his long arms to hug us both. Daddy’s always been jealous of Mama’s relationship with Dr. Whitmore, but he really can’t talk, as many church women as he’s laid his healing hands on from the pulpit and beyond. “So, your grandmother tells me you’re having some problems sleeping, Jayd. What’s going on?”
“She’s been hexed,” Mama says matter-of-factly. When did she come to that conclusion and why didn’t she share it with me? “By Esmeralda and one of her latest followers.”
“When did this happen and where was I?” I ask as the conversation goes over my head. This always happens when Mama and Dr. Whitmore get together.
“While you were sleeping, I assume,” Mama says. Now she’s scaring me.
“That old bat. She still doesn’t get it, does she?” Whenever Mama’s around Dr. Whitmore, their body language becomes relaxed, but I know not to ask her too many questions regarding their relationship. Mama taught me at a young age to be quiet unless spoken to when I was out with her. I broke that rule once and can still feel the sting in my ass from that spanking.
“No, and she never will. We need to get to work on Jayd right away. Her powers are growing swiftly and Esmeralda knows it. She’s got one of Jayd’s school friends doing her dirty work now.”
“Misty’s not my friend,” I say. They both look at me like I’ve lost my mind for speaking out of turn. Mama’s eyebrows tighten into a frown, the usual scolding for intruding in what she calls “grown folks’ business.” I’m sorry for being rude, but that had to be said for the record. Misty’s no friend of mine. And with all of the adjectives there are in the English language, I know we can come up with something better than that to describe her relationship to me.
“No, she’s not,” Dr. Whitmore says, taking my chin into his cold hand and forcing me to stick my tongue out. “Mmhmm,” he says, looking closely into my mouth. I never get used to this part. I always think my breath stinks, especially after the Funyuns I ate for lunch today. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable in room number one. I need to get my tools and I’ll be in momentarily.” Mama walks me into the first patient room and closes the curtain, which serves as a door for the intimate space.
“Mama, what’s he looking at when he’s eyeing my tongue?” I ask, making myself comfortable on the table in the center of the room. This is a sanctuary compared to the other doctors’ offices I have to visit from time to time. There are several bamboo trees lining the walls and soothing Chinese music playing in the background. Mama sits down on the love-seat opposite where I’m seated. I notice hanging on the wall above her head are copies of Dr. Whitmore’s acupuncture and medical licenses, as well as the certified oath he took as a traditional healer, just like the one hanging up in Mama’s spirit room.
“He’s checking your vital signs.”
“Doesn’t he need a stethoscope and a thermometer for that?”