LITMIR.BIZ

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guess she needs to be perfect for her Associated Student Body meeting in a few minutes. It’s the last six weeks of school and ASB is in over-drive trying to raise money for prom and the rest of the end-of-the-year activities, including the cheer tryouts next week.

      “I didn’t know ASB members had to try out for their own activities,” I say, confused about the process. I’ve never wanted to be a cheerleader, but since dance class is over it might be fun to show off my dance skills in another way. I do miss making up routines. Weight lifting is cool but boring. If I make cheer, that will be my PE for next year and that sounds good to me.

      “Of course we do. And besides, I know I’ll make it whether I’m an Associated Student Body member or not,” Nellie says like she’s an officer of the group. Nellie won Homecoming princess for the junior class—not an actual election—making her an honorary member for the rest of the year. If Nellie doesn’t find another way into ASB’s tight-knit social and political circle, she’ll be out. Speaking of which, we’re voting for ASU officers soon and I need to make sure my speech as a candidate for president is on point. Even my haters will find it difficult to ignore the truth. I just hope they vote for it, too.

      “Hey, y’all want to come by after school and kick it for a while? We haven’t had a good session in a while,” Nigel asks, looking at all of us. He’s in an unusually good mood and I didn’t even have to cool him off. What gives?

      “Okay, what did I miss?” I ask, completely shocked by the mellow mood everyone’s in. The last time I checked, Nigel was still in shock over Mickey finally admitting the baby she’s carrying is Tre’s, and Nellie and Mickey couldn’t stand my ass because their boyfriends’ mamas happen to like me, but I was able to calm them down. I didn’t have anything to do with Nigel’s newfound cool. Maybe because Tre, a gangster from our hood, saved Nigel from getting shot by Mickey’s ex-man, he can live with his girl having Tre’s baby.

      “Nothing,” Mickey says, kissing her man’s cheek like they’re back in love. Whatever the case, I’m just glad they’re back on point. I know my goddaughter is happy in Mickey’s belly, too. She looks like she’s going to make her appearance sooner than later. Her parents need to get with the program, and it seems like they finally have.

      “Yeah, it’s all good, Jayd. Chance, you down?” Nigel asks, getting the tally from everyone for the spontaneous after-school session. I wonder if Jeremy’s invited even if Rah shows up, which is quite probable.

      “Yeah, man. Why not?” Chance says, kissing Nellie before she walks off toward the main hall. I know he’s thinking the same thing most of us are: Where’s the real Nellie, and who is this imposter who took over her head? Nellie had the most beautiful jet-black hair, and now the blonde has completely taken over.

      “I can’t. Got surf practice. That reminds me, our competition is next Saturday. Hope you guys can make it,” Jeremy says, smiling down at me. I still can’t believe there’s such a thing as a surf competition, but I’m there to support my man.

      “Cool, man. I got you,” Chance says with a strange pitch in his voice, like he’s trying to change the way he speaks. Something’s up with my friend and I can feel he wants to talk about it. I’ll have to check on Chance when we get a minute alone, which is rare. But I can still call him and chat if I have to. There goes the bell. Lunch always seems to go by fast, but it’s especially quick this afternoon because of the short Tuesdays for the weekly faculty meetings.

      “All right, y’all. My house after school it is. Jayd, after work, girl. Promise you’ll come kick it with your peeps,” Nigel says, making me feel loved. How can I say no to an invitation like that, even if a sistah’s going to be wiped out after getting off work at Netta’s this evening? But a girl needs to chill, too.

      “Bet. I’ll see y’all later,” I say, shaking the grass off my jeans before grabbing my backpack and heading down the hill to drama class. I’d much rather eat pizza and watch movies with my friends than sign up for cheer this afternoon. Luckily, it’s Mama’s solo hair day at the shop when Netta does only Mama’s hair, and there won’t be any other clients to take care of, making my job easier this afternoon. A kick-it session with the crew is just what I need to ease up on planning my future and enjoy my present.

      I missed talking to Jeremy this afternoon because I was so busy at Netta’s. As soon as I arrived, Mama and Netta had a grip of laundry for me to do, as well as other tedious tasks resulting from the aftermath of their initiations this past weekend. I’ve never seen so many white clothes and other fabrics. I was so glad to get out of there for the night. It’s almost eight and Nigel has assured me there’s still plenty of Domino’s pizza and breadsticks left over. I’m grateful because I’m starving.

      I pull into Nigel’s gated community off Crenshaw Boulevard, instantly aware I’m turning into the money side of South Central, the local hood. It’s funny how just on the other side of this fancy brick and iron gate there are homeless people, and three families living in one house they’re so strapped for cash. Driving into Lafayette Square is like going back in time to where families were supposedly picture-perfect, like the two- and three-story refurbished homes they live in. I park in front of Nigel’s picturesque home, ready to get my grub on and watch Gladiator in high definition for the fiftieth time.

      Walking up the driveway I can see Mickey, Nigel, and Mrs. Esop, Nigel’s mom, in the foyer through the screen door, and it doesn’t look pretty. I hope whatever’s going on doesn’t come between dinner and me.

      I knock twice before entering, knowing it’s already unlocked for me. I just want to warn everyone I’m coming through the door in case they want to censor their conversation and let a sistah pass by in peace.

      “Yes, I am well aware of the true paternity of the child in question,” Mrs. Esop says, looking at Mickey like she took a shit on the shiny hardwood floors. So much for me getting straight to the food. I wave to everyone, noticing Nellie and Chance in the living room witnessing the exchange I just walked in the middle of.

      “Okay then, so stop tripping, Mom. Please.” Nigel looks from Mickey’s stomach to his mother’s eyes and she softens her glare. “Tre took a bullet for me. If it weren’t for him, I might not be here right now. The least I can do is raise his seed like it’s my own, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Nigel grabs Mickey around the waist, unable to fully fasten his fingers around her, but he’s made his point. Nigel’s not letting go now or ever, and that’s good news to us all, except for Mrs. Esop.

      “Nigel, I am grateful for the boy saving your life, but we don’t owe her or that thug’s child a damn thing.” Mrs. Esop is no joke. “Now, this discussion is over. There will be no babies or baby-mamas in this house or their mother’s.” Mickey looks at Nigel, horrified by his mother’s stance. Mickey was counting on Nigel being her ticket out of the hood and her parents’ full house. I hate to lay it on my girl, but her plan was never a sure thing. I hope she’s got a back-up arrangement because if not, she and her baby will be sleeping in her parents’ living room.

      “Mom, I’m not letting this go,” Nigel says to his mother, who’s halfway up the first flight of stairs. Her and her husband’s suite is on the third floor of the massive home. There’s plenty of room, none of which Mrs. Esop’s willing to share with Mickey, no matter what her son says.

      Looking back at us and smiling at her son’s vehemence, Mrs. Esop looks at me as if her son didn’t say a word.

      “Jayd, I’ll see you at the tea on Sunday. And please dress appropriately. It’s customary for our debutantes to dress as the young ladies they are becoming,” she says, looking from me to Mickey and then walking up the remaining stairs. Mrs. Esop’s so serious about her shit. I’m actually starting to admire her no-nonsense swagger. If nothing else, Mrs. Esop’s consistent about what she’s about and what she’s not. I could learn a lot from that kind of thinking. But Mickey’s not feeling Nigel’s mama at all, or the fact that Mrs. Esop obviously favors me over her.

      “You’re such an ass kissing little heffa, you know that?” Mickey says to me as if I went after Mrs. Esop

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