LITMIR.BIZ

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court? You can always trust me to do my job.” He seems sincere, but even he can’t be that clueless. Nothing about KJ screams treasurer.

      “Does Trecee ring a bell?” I ask. KJ had unprotected sex with her, and she was nothing close to clean. If that’s not being irresponsible, I don’t know what is. I hope Misty’s being smarter about using protection than he’s known to be. “If we can’t trust you with your own body, we sure as hell can’t trust you with our money.”

      “That was cold, Jayd,” Del says, shaking his head at my low blow. Before KJ can respond with his visibly steaming head, Misty interjects, defending her man.

      “Oh, this coming from you, Miss ‘I’ll babysit from downstairs while the baby is upstairs.’ Real responsible, Jayd.” What did this heffa just say to me? And how did she know about my sleepwalking incident when I left Rah’s daughter, Rahima, upstairs late at night while I walked downstairs, unaware that I was dreaming at the time? If my mom’s neighbor Shawntrese hadn’t woken me up, I don’t know what would have happened to Rahima or to me. Luckily, Rah doesn’t know about that, and Shawntrese doesn’t remember because with my mom’s and Mama’s help, I erased all of Misty’s evildoings from when she and Esmeralda decided to hijack my dreams during the holidays. But I guess Misty still remembers every damn thing. We’ll have to work on that before Misty does unnecessary damage with her loose lips and hips working overtime these days.

      “Misty, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” That’s all I can say without further incriminating myself. Nellie and Mickey look from me to her, wondering what they missed.

      “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Mr. A says, rising from his seat and standing at the whiteboard behind him. “We’ll have an actual runoff for all the officers next month. That’ll give everyone plenty of time to think carefully about who should be in which position. So let’s shoot for at least two nominees for each office.”

      “That’s a great idea, Mr. Adewale,” Emilio says, the best teacher’s pet ever. “We should also consider a logo for our club. I’ve taken the liberty of sketching down a few ideas.” He stands up behind his desk next to the teacher’s and passes the sketch pad to a visibly impressed Mr. A, who looks over the drawings carefully before commenting.

      “Very talented, Emilio. And I like your initiative.”

      If I didn’t know better, I’d say Emilio was gunning for president, when just a couple of weeks ago he was rooting for me to claim the throne. I guess he’s not completely over the rejection I served him for kissing me without my permission. It’s not my fault he came on too strong and self-righteous for me. And I see I was on point about his ego after all.

      “Thank you, Mr. Adewale.” Mr. A passes around the sketch pad of ideas about how we should represent ourselves. When the pictures finally make it to me, I look at them carefully, noticing that Emilio conveniently left out my deity, Oshune. From what I can see, most of the images are of the main orishas, with an outline of the African continent in the background, but the rest of the club members don’t know, nor could they care less. To them, they’re black superheroes, and, so far from their reactions, they like what they see.

      “Ah, man, these are tight,” KJ says, passing the pad around to the rest of his crew. “The black man and woman together—man, that’s where it’s at,” he says, looking dead at me. If staying so-called “true to my race” means I have to date these idiots, I guess I am the sellout everyone’s calling me. That’s why Emilio left out Oshune—because he knows she’s the only female orisha who knows no boundaries and is as powerful as any of the male orishas alone or all together.

      “Okay, there’s the bell for fifth period. We’ll continue this discussion next week, and be ready with your nominations.” Ready’s right. I’ll be damned if Emilio and KJ take over this club when it was my idea, sneaky bastards. I know Emilio’s new to the game, but he’s acting like an old player. We each gather our lunch trash and other belongings, ready to get the last two classes of the day over with.

      “I like your drawings, Emilio. Have you been sketching the orisha very long?” I ask, easing into my threat. He needs to know I’m not afraid to go up against him or anyone else who tries to keep me from my spot. I didn’t really want to be president, but now that it’s officially up for grabs, I want it bad. Misty’s conniving ass can wait until I get home. I’ll give her a piece of my mind in private.

      “As long as I can remember,” he says, grabbing his backpack and sketch pad before leading the way out of the classroom. I have only four minutes and counting to make it down the hill to the drama room, so I’d better make this quick. We both wave good-bye to Mr. A, who is caught up in conversation with Misty about her tardiness. I’m glad someone else is tired of her trifling ways.

      “I noticed you didn’t include Oshune in the pictures. Any particular reason why, when you and I both know that without her there is no life at all?” Emilio stops in his tracks and looks down at me, thinking carefully before responding. I guess he’s trying to find the right words because English isn’t his first language.

      “You know, Oshune is sweet, but she’s also very promiscuous,” Emilio says, the words rolling from his tongue like the gospel truth it isn’t. “I think we should choose a more dignified female deity like Yemoja or Oya to honor, along with the male orishas, to balance it all out.” He obviously didn’t take enough time to choose his words, because he just ignited a fire in me I didn’t know existed.

      “What did you just say about my mama?” I don’t care what Emilio’s first language is—he knows those are fighting words. If it’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s when someone talks about my mothers, both spiritual and physical.

      “Jayd, I did not mean to offend you. I know how sensitive Oshune’s daughters are, which is another reason I think we should choose someone else.” Emilio’s thick Spanish accent has completely lost its charm. I wish he would shut up, but he’s on a roll this afternoon. “We are trying to set a certain standard with the African Student Union that I don’t think you understand quite yet. We can discuss this more later,” he says, leaving me shell-shocked as he walks toward his class. What kind of standard does he think we’re trying to set, and why wouldn’t I understand it, being that it was my idea in the first damn place? I’m so pissed that if I still had Maman’s—my great-grandmother’s—powers like I did when Reid came at me with his arrogant bull about the formation of the club a few weeks ago, Emilio would be squirming on the ground by now like the snake he is. Mama took my powers from me, saying that I wasn’t ready to keep them, even though they were left behind from one of my dreams. But wait until I tell Mama about Misty’s apparent memories of stealing my powers, coupled with Emilio’s disrespect of our lineage. I know she’s going to feel my fire and hopefully help me chill out before it gets out of control.

      When I make it to the beauty shop after school, Mama and Netta are in their own world, which is the usual when it’s just the two of them. Mama and Netta are like twins separated at birth; both are powerful women in their own right, but together they are unstoppable, and they know it. Mama and Netta stop their chatting to greet me and get right back to their exciting conversation about this past weekend’s ceremony for Netta’s son, Jeremiah. I can’t help but be calm when I’m in their collective aura.

      The homemade vanilla-and-almond-scented candles burning throughout the quaint yet open space soothe my frayed nerves and welcome me to the communion that is Netta’s Never Nappy Beauty Shop. Emilio’s pompous ass really works me up. I don’t even remember what happened in my drama or my weight-lifting classes. All I could think about was my pounding headache from my dream last night, which was made even more apparent by the cold blow Emilio served up about our mother, Oshune, after the ASU meeting. I didn’t even get to ask him if he’s thinking about running for club president, and I hope the answer’s no. That position is rightfully mine, and no matter what my haters may think of me, everyone knows I’m the best woman for the job, and I’m willing to fight for it if I have to.

      “How’s Jeremiah doing, Ms. Netta?” I ask while placing my work apron over my head, ready

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