LITMIR.BIZ

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      “I’ll holla at y’all later,” Nigel says, following Rah back toward the parking lot. Nigel’s supposed to be at basketball practice right now. But because football is his first love, he slacks off in B-ball a lot, unlike KJ and his crew, who live for this season. They made it to the finals and will be ready to take it to the state championships before it’s all said and done. Their only real challenge is Westingle, and that game is coming up soon. Nigel knows all of those cats, too, and I’m sure his loyalty is split, just like it is between his newfound friends here and his old friends there, like Rah.

      “What the hell was that all about?” Jeremy asks, relaxing his stance a little bit now that Rah’s disappeared off campus.

      “Do you want the short version or the long one?” I ask, looking at Chance’s watch for the time. Neither Jeremy nor I wear watches, and I left my phone in the room with the rest of my belongings.

      “Whichever one includes Rah giving you this,” Jeremy says, flicking the gold charm with his middle finger. “Why didn’t you tell me he gave this to you?” I look into Jeremy’s magnetic blue eyes and wish I had the opportunity to chill his mind out and tell him what all went down last night, but there’s no time. The bell’s about to ring and we all have to get back inside.

      “I was going to, but I didn’t know what to say.” Chance makes a sound indicating I’m not being completely honest and he’s right. But damn, did he have to sell me out like that?

      “You don’t know what to say? Since when? I’ll let it slide for now, Lady J, but we need to talk about this.” Jeremy kisses me on the nose before jogging back up the hill.

      “What the hell, Chance?” I ask, socking my homeboy in his arm. “I didn’t tell Nellie about your little date at the beach last weekend. What the hell are you trying to do, break us up?”

      “No. The exact opposite. If there’s nothing to hide then spill it. Otherwise it’s just lying, and I know Jeremy. If there’s one thing he can’t tolerate, it’s being lied to for whatever reason.” I know he’s right and I didn’t really do anything, but I still feel guilty. “Tania lied to him about being pregnant, and then when he finally did find out, the bitch was already engaged and making baby plans without him. He’s never gotten over it and won’t. I know this isn’t as serious, but it’s still a lie, Jayd, and you need to clear it up—fast.” We walk back into the room and take our seats with the rest of the class. Mrs. Sinclair has reentered the room, talking with the groups individually about their casting and scene choices, which Chance and I are still mulling over.

      This isn’t like me, and I’m the last person I want to remind Jeremy of his ex-baby-mama, Tania. The only thing that makes his situation more dignified than Rah’s is money. Otherwise, I’m sure they’d have similar issues. Maybe I can explain it to him tonight after work. But right now, I have to get back on my grind and let the energy pass because, as of now, Jayd Jackson is officially back on her shit. And that starts with choosing the best audition monologue and scene.

      Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that, my mom says, interrupting my reading. And don’t worry about your audition, Jayd. I don’t think you’ll go blind again by playing a blind woman. It doesn’t work like that, and besides, what are your jade bracelets for? Use them and have faith. ’Bye, my mom says, checking out of my head.

      Maybe everything will be okay and I’m tripping for nothing. Still, I’m not sure if this part’s for me, but I’ll try it out for size. If I never challenge myself—even when it’s not necessarily my thing—I’ll never grow, and that’s what I’m here for. I love my hoods, but I don’t want to stay in Compton or Inglewood forever. College is my preferred way out, and doing as many notable activities in high school as possible is my way into the University of West LA. So if I have to try out for tainted lead roles or drink expensive tea at debutante meetings all day long to get in, I’m on it.

      2

      Cup of Tea

      “If I was a rich girl.”

      —GWEN STEFANI

      After working at Netta’s shop all afternoon and well into the evening, I was too tired to move when I got back to Inglewood. Of course Mama tried to convince me to spend the night in Compton because it was so late when we left the shop, but all I wanted to do was soak in a long, hot bath and call it a night. My mom’s quiet apartment is always the path of least resistance, even with all of the spirit work and homework I have on my plate, because my mom’s always at her boyfriend Karl’s place.

      I spent an hour last night getting myself organized for the week ahead and finally took a bath and called it a night. I’m praying that I make it through to the end of the school year as drama-free as possible. I know I just have to keep pushing and it’ll be all right. Unlike these rich folks up here at South Bay High, I have to work hard for mine and I don’t mind one bit. I’m used to it. If one of these privileged rich girls had to live a day in my shoes, she’d probably break down and cry.

      I don’t know why Mr. Adelizi wants to see me this morning. I’ve been on my game academically all year long—as always—and I’m sure he’s well aware of my Advanced Placement exams being complete. It’s too early to choose classes for my senior year, so what the hell does he want? Maybe the scores for the AP exams are in early. I’m anxious to see what I got on all three of my exams, but they’re not due for another week or two.

      I walk through the nearly empty main hall toward the main office, thankful to have escaped government class for the remainder of third period. My first two classes were pretty uneventful, and Jeremy and I spent the nutrition break together avoiding the looming conversation about Rah’s impromptu school visit yesterday and belated birthday gift still hanging around my neck. Usually Jeremy’s pretty laid-back about everything, but seeing me with another dude always gets his feathers ruffled. I could tell he needed to cool off before bringing the subject up again and I’m happy to wait as long as possible to have that conversation.

      I step into the main office and head straight for the counselors’ offices. There are five counselors on campus: one for each grade level and an extra one for “special circumstances.” Luckily I haven’t been in that office at all this semester and I’m trying hard to keep it that way. But broads like Misty, my former best friend turned worst enemy, and Laura, the rich white bitch from hell, make it difficult to maintain my cool. Hopefully I won’t run into Misty or her mama this morning. She works in the attendance office. I’ve never had a problem with Miss Caldwell, but now that she’s under the influence of my crazy next-door neighbor and Mama’s enemy, Esmeralda, I don’t want to take any chances.

      “Miss Jackson, it’s good to see you. Have a seat,” Mr. Adelizi, the junior class counselor, says, gesturing for me to sit down in the only available seat in the cramped space. I guess the end-of-the-year paperwork has overwhelmed him a bit because the other student seat is stacked with folders and so is every other available space in his office, including his desk. Even his chair has a bag hanging from the arm with overflowing pages hitting his left elbow. Don’t they have housekeeping every evening in the main office?

      “What’s up, Mr. Adelizi?” I ask, trying to avoid as much small talk as possible. Coming to the counselor’s office is always uncomfortable to me. It usually symbolizes some sort of change, and if it’s not voluntary or positive, I’m really not in the mood to deal with it.

      “Well, Jayd, I’ve been reviewing your transcripts and you should think about adding more diverse activities to your academic resume if you’re still planning on applying to colleges in the fall,” he says, pointing at the computer screen in front of him. If I add any more activities to my already full schedule I might go crazy.

      “Mr. Adelizi, if you see what I see, I already have a full plate,” I say, squinting at the screen. Lately my vision hasn’t been very clear. Maybe I just need more rest. I have been up reading late and my mom’s apartment doesn’t have the best lighting for studying, since most of her light consists of low lamps and candles. It’s a great atmosphere for relaxing but horrible for getting any work

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