LITMIR.BIZ

      thirteen

      I just stood in the center of my bedroom for the longest time, afraid to touch anything. Once I found the courage to move within the space, I went over to the vanity and looked at the products there. It was filled with Proactive Solution skin-care products, cotton balls, Q-tips and an assortment of nail polishes and other makeup items. I opened the top left drawer and discovered it contained feminine hygiene essentials, which I had to admit I was in desperate need of. I went over and sat down at the desk in the room and stared out the window. My view was of the backyard. There was a large tree directly outside of my window that blocked part of my view of the garage and swimming pool. I don’t know how long I’d been sitting there but I was startled out of my trance by a knock at the door. I didn’t say anything, so the person knocked again. This time a little louder. I got up, moved to the door and opened it.

      “What’s up, son?” A young boy was at my door. He had caramel skin, a thin trace of hair on his upper lip and an athletic build.

      “You’re Mike, right?” I asked, trying not to laugh as I studied his appearance more closely. He had a white scarf wrapped around his head, which I assumed was more for fashion than it was for hairstyle. He had a Band-Aid positioned under his left eye, which made him look like a Nelly wannabe. He contorted his face and puckered his lips into an expression he considered to be thuggish, but it only made him look as if he were sitting on the throne with a bad case of constipation. He had on an oversize Akademiks T-shirt with matching Akademiks Armor jeans and a pair of Akademiks gym shoes.

      “What? You see something funny?” he asked as he crossed his arms across his chest and tucked his fingers in his armpits. He appeared to be attempting to flex his chest and arm muscles, but he didn’t have enough muscle to flex.

      “Boy, you are not hard, so don’t even try to act like you are some thug with a reputation and a criminal record.”

      “You don’t know me. You don’t know the things I’ve done. I’m a straight gangster. You’re in my world now.”

      “Well, you’re the first thirteen-year-old hardened gangster I’ve seen,” I said, thinking he was joking.

      “I’m going to be fourteen in a minute,” he said, making a gesture with his fingers. It was then that I realized he was serious about the charade he was putting on.

      “Whatever, fool,” I said and was about to slam the door in his face.

      “Girl, why are you hating on me? Is it because I’m so iced-out? Is it because of my grillz?” He smiled at me, and I peeked at his teeth.

      “That is not a grillz in your mouth, those are braces,” I said. “Who do you think you’re trying to fool? Your money is not long, and you are certainly not a baller.” I’d suddenly become annoyed with him. I studied him closely for another moment and could tell he was up to no good by the way he shifted his eyes from left to right.

      “Okay.” He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “I may not be a baller or a thug but listen up, because I’m only going to say this once. If you want to get along up in here, all you need to do is stay out of my way, mind your own business and don’t be up in here trying to act like daddy’s little girl. Do you understand what I’m saying, son?” He stepped closer to me as if he wanted to knuckle-up and fight. I wasn’t afraid of his scrawny behind at all. I made a sudden move as if I were about to hit him and he flinched with fear.

      “Yeah, just what I thought. You’re just a little spoiled-ass punk!” I said with a vicious tone in my voice.

      “Well at least I don’t have a face that looks like pimple paradise. I mean, damn girl, did every zit in the nation take up space on your forehead?” Before I could stop myself, I swung at him. Mike saw the punch coming and quickly moved out of my reach.

      “Hey, you don’t want to throw down with me. I may not look like it, but I know how to fight,” he said as he backed away. I could tell that I’d scared him because his voice trembled.

      “You see that I’m not scared, don’t you?” I snarled at him, feeling a deep hate for him growing each second that ticked by. “Here is a word of advice for you, Chicken Little,” I called him out of his name. “You have to bring some ass in order to kick some ass. If you come at me sideways again, I will beat you down like a crackhead who stole my last two dollars.” I gave him the meanest, most threatening glare that my face could form. He didn’t say anything, only continued to back away. He went back to his room and shut his door. I went back inside my room and shut the door, as well. I didn’t feel good about being in this house at all, but until I could find a place to run away to, this would have to do.

      I decided to just chill in the room and pass the time by watching television. I was watching a movie called Save the Last Dance starring Julia Stiles. It was about this rich girl who lost her mother and then had to go live in the hood with her father. I suppose I identified with the movie because my situation was reversed. I had to move from the hood with my mother and live like some stuck-up girl in the rich suburbs. The movie was excellent, and I enjoyed watching all the dance moves she and the other characters did in the movie. The movie was just about to reach its climax when I heard Jordan’s voice.

      “Keysha.” I didn’t answer him because I was trying to figure why it sounded as if he was in the room with me.

      “There is an intercom on the wall next to your closet door. Go over to it and press the ‘talk’ button to answer me.” I looked over at my closet door and noticed the intercom. I did as he instructed.

      “We’re going to be going to dinner in about a half hour, so start getting ready. We’re going to the Outback Steakhouse so jeans will be the appropriate attire to wear.”

      Appropriate attire, I thought to myself. He sounds all nerdy.

      “Okay,” I answered him back and then sat back on the bed to continue watching my movie. I was dreading looking in the closet at the clothes my grandmother had picked out because I knew they’d be a throwback to the sixties or seventies. After the movie ended I opened the large walk-in closet and flipped the light switch.

      “Damn,” I spoke aloud. “This closet is big enough to put a bed in.” There were two dressers inside the closet along with plenty of shelf space for shoes and other accessories. There was also a large dressing mirror inside. The other thing that freaked me out was each drawer had a small label on it indicating what item of clothing was on the inside. I opened the drawer that said “jeans.” To my surprise, Grandmother Katie had pretty good taste. Inside were several pairs of Baby Phat blue jeans.

      “This is all right,” I said to myself as I opened up other drawers and located tops, underwear and other items. This entire change in my life was like magic. It was like living in a fairy tale, and it just seemed too good to be true. I matched up an outfit that was acceptable to me. I then went into the bathroom and got ready. About fifteen minutes later, I stood in front of my mirror fully dressed, fussing with my hair because I was trying to make myself perfect, but my hair wasn’t cooperating. Months of neglect and bad styling decisions couldn’t be erased in a matter of seconds. I decided to put on my night hair scarf to cover it up just like Toya was so fond of doing. It would just have to do for now until I could get something done with it. I had butterflies in my stomach because I was about to go down and really meet Barbara, my stepmother, who made me feel very uncomfortable. I decided if she was going to be mean to me, then I’d be

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